Driving into the Satpura Range
My visit to Chindwara was rife with mixed feelings, an anticipation not unmixed with a certain uncertainty ( what an oxymoron!). It was a project that had been on the burner for all of a 365+365 plus some days and now that it had been tossed into my lap or rather our organisation’s, it came with the rider that it had to be done in x number of days, starting NOW, with not a minute to be expended on wasteful activities such as drawing a deep shuddering breath and getting one’s addled thoughts into some order. My trepidation of course had a history to it. It was an intervention amongst weavers, where the weaving tradition had all but gone into a comatose state and what remained was a stale whiff of nostalgia amongst the old hands, who harboured dim memories of a glory, which in many ways continued to shine rather brightly in their imagined perception of it. And what touched me very deeply during my various interactions with them, was the hope that still made their eyes sparkle as...