A volunteer's rest days

After 6 months in India, struggling to keep going working a 6 day week while looking after my home, walking everywhere to get to work and do my shopping, doing all my washing by hand I realised I was getting completely exhausted.  I spoke to my manager, asking if we could talk about reducing the number of Saturdays worked, expecting to compromise with having every 3rd or 4th Saturday off but he said straight away, stop working Saturdays.  Hurrah!  (and thank you).

Last weekend was my first Saturday off when we went to Vizag, something I'd been thinking about doing for a long time and would have taken a day of leave to achieve.  This weekend was my first full weekend at home.  So what did I do?  I crawled out of bed on Saturday morning feeling dreadful, staggered around the house for the morning, forcing myself to eat some breakfast before giving up and going back to bed late morning.  Which is where I stayed for most of the day, just getting up late afternoon to make a cup of tea and decide I couldn't face cooking any dinner.  A couple of hours of sitting up in the evening was enough to finish me off and send me back to bed where I managed to get around 8 hours sleep.  That must be the first time I've slept that long for about 30 years!

At least I managed to do one of my intended jobs on Saturday morning and defrosted and cleaned my fridge before retiring to bed.  The daily (sometimes several times a day) power cuts had left the ice box with thick layers of ice making it impossible to put anything into it and reducing the efficiency of the fridge.  At least the relative warmth here made it quite quick to defrost and wipe clean.

Sunday seemed a much better day after a good sleep and I walked into the market to do some shopping although much slower than usual.  I then decided that I would do one of the other jobs I had on my list for the weekend and wash the floors.  I have given them all a fairly regular mopping down with string mop dipped in a bucket but this usually has the effect of swilling dirty water around and spreading the dirt.  This time I was going to wash them down the Indian way.  All the floors are solid with drainage holes in various places at floor level.  This means that you can give them a good dousing down with water and just sweep the water all over the floor and towards the drains.  I lifted all the mats and furniture and put them outside out of the way

I don't have a hosepipe so had to fill buckets with water in the shower and carry them through to chuck over the floors.  The water turned an alarming shade of orange with the soil and dust residues that had accumulated staining it but it got gradually better as I threw more buckets of water over the floors and swished it around a bit.  The tricky bit was steering the water towards the drains as the gradient of the floors isn't ideal.  I then found that one of the drains didn't go outside but into the Puja room, now used as a store room and filled with various bags of things left behind by another VSO volunteer.  I opened the door to see what it was like and found a couple of inches of water had accumuted in their, swilling around the bags on the floor.  This was not quite what I'd intended. I fished the bags out of the water, put them on shelves to drip dry and tried to sweep the water back out of that room and towards the other drain at the front of the house.

I heard lots of giggles and squeals of laughter and looked out to see the 6 women who are working on the building site next door standing on the wall gazing into my house in fascination, seeming to take great delight in watching me wandering around in bare feet with the legs of my salwar rolled up out of the water, bending down with my broom trying to persuade the water that it really did want to go outside.  I'd love to know how they can work all day doing really heavy, dirty work while continuing to look beautiful and elegant in their saris with not a hair out of place while I ended up hot and sweaty, filthy and with my hair all over the place.  They clearly have a talent that I lack.

After that job I had to have a shower and wash my clothes, deciding to leave washing the other half of the house until next week.  The thing is, I know the floors are clean but they don't look any different.

A weekend of rest and and recuperation

I arrived in India in the middle of July, attending a month of in-country orientation training on Delhi before travell ing to Koraput, arriving there 23rd August.  I realised recently how tired I was feeling.  I have of course had days off, rest days and festival holidays but most of these days have been spent just doing basic chores with the occasional day trip somewhere.  I've also had two trips back to Delhi but these were to attend workshops which, although a change from normal work were not relaxing or real time off.  As it was my birthday at the weekend I decided to have a few days away with my friend Sheila, recently arrived in nearby Rayagada who also celebrated her birthday recently.

We decided to go to Vishakapatnam (often known as Vizag ), a city at the north of Andhra Pradesh, a couple of hundred kilometres south-east of Koraput, on the coast in the Bay of Bengal.   After a bit of a battle with my internet connection I managed to buy rail tickets for Sheila to get from Rayagada to Koraput on Saturday then for us to travel together to Vizag and taking a slightly different return route (to fit in with the available seats) of Vizag to Rayagada on Monday evening then me to travel on to Koraput on Tuesday.  Easy, we thought.

Sheila arrived on Saturday only slightly late.  I found an auto driver to take me to the station to meet her and managed to do a deal for him to take us to my house for us to spend a few hours before returning to collect us and transport us back to the station for the next leg of the journey (directing anyone to my house is a challenge given the lack of house name or road name, it can be awkward living without the benefit of an address).  Safely on our way on the next train we had a bit of a delay at one station where we stopped for about an hour without obvious reason but arriving safely if a little late at our hotel in Vizag.  My guidebook described the place as looking like the inside of an Ambassador car and although I'm not sure that's how I'd describe it, it was very nice and we had a really nice dinner of prawns.  I then luxuriated in a nice hot bath with bubble bath.  The first bath I've had since leaving UK.  Bliss!

The next day we decided to hire a car with driver for the day to take us round a few of the sights of Vizag.  We were taken to a couple of temples, a film studio where we walked round the set of some soap opera and watched some actors being choreographed while practicing dance moves, a park where we watched women playing games and beautiful Rishikonda beach for a long walk where I had to go paddling in the sea.  We had a nice lunch of crab and prawns at a restaurant near the beach supplemented by yet more prawns and chicken for dinner and another hot bath in the evening.  It seemed a nice way to spend a birthday.

The next day, Monday, we walked along the beach near the hotel, returned to the hotel for a late lunch of yet more prawns (we can't get these in Koraput or Rayagada) before getting the train back to Rayagada in the evening where we went to Sheila's and I slept on the floor.  We had a fairly leisurely morning there before I packed away my sleeping bag and weekend bag, preparing to get my last train south to Koraput.   Which is where things started to get tricky.

I had an SMS message from Jon back home in the UK, telling me he'd seen Corey (Koraput VSO colleague) posting something about a bandh on Facebook.  A bandh is a strike.  This worried me a little and not having access to the internet where I was, I asked him to check the Indian rail website for my train.  All trains to Koraput were cancelled.  I phoned Dusmant back in Koraput (forgetting that he as on holiday as it was Republic Day) and asked for his help.  He told me to get the Hirakhand Express the next morning, another train due to leave late morning or the Howrah Express in the evening.  I didn't want to get the Hirakhand Express as it leaves Rayagada at 5:30, it's too far to walk (along a very dangerous road) and it's impossible to get an auto to collect from Sheila's house early morning.  I made a quick call back home to ask Jon to check the rail timetable for the next day.  The only train going to Koraput on Wednesday was the Hirakhand Express, presumably all the the rolling stock for all other train services was in the wrong place after the strike.  A cup of tea was needed to take me back to my previously relaxed state.

Then Sheila had an idea and went round to see her landlady, who lives next door, returning a few minutes later having got her landlady's assistance to find a solution.  The auto driver who takes her daughter Rinki to school today had agreed to come out to collect me.  Which was good news except it meant another night sleeping on the floor then getting up soon after 4:00am to be sure I was ready and packed up on time and Sheila was woken up by the alarm and disturbance as well.  We waited.  And waited.  At 5:30 we gave up and went back to our beds as that was when the train was due to leave.  At 6:30 the doorbell went.  It was Rinki, asking what had happened.  We explained the auto had not come so we were trying to get more sleep.  At 7:30 the doorbell went again, this time Rinki with her mother, offering more assistance the following day.  I decided I really needed to try to get back to Koraput today or I'd end up missing yet another day of work.  It seemed a bit early to make phone calls so I sent an SMS message to Dusmant asking for his help to get a taxi.  At 8:00 he phoned me to work out a plan followed by another call half an hour later to tell me the taxi would arrive at 10:30.  Good news although I thought it seemed a little optimistic to expect the taxi to arrive by 10:30 as it had taken me around 3 hours to do the same journey the previous week.  I spent some time with Sheila in her NGO office, looking at some of the things she'd been working on before leaving Rayagada at around 12:15.  The end of a nice weekend away.

We eventually found out that there were 2 strikes, one called by Congress and the other by Naxalites (Maoists), affecting road and rail traffic, educational, business and commercial work.  Fortunately the drive home was good, travelling through interesting scenery with a good driver, stopping briefly on the way to see his sister and young nephew.  I was amused to see a jeep travelling along with a good load of people on board with the addition of goats both on the roof and more peering out of the back

I've nothing against builders but....

Followers of my blog will be familiar with my moans about the builders next door.  I've been getting increasingly annoyed by the mess left behind each day.  The builders had taken over my roof every day to use as a platform to do much of the building work, leaving trails of filth behind them as they carried bricks, sand and mortar up the steps.  I lost the plot a bit one day when I came home feeling unwell and was trying to relax in the house when several of them started shouting and messing around just outside my open door before racing upstairs to eat their lunch on my roof.  The plot-owner frequently meanders up the steps, sometimes with wife, son and other family members to inspect works and of course the child likes racing around on my roof. 

I'm not a particularly house-proud person but I try to keep it reasonably clean so that I have a nice place to return to, not one where I have to pick my way through rubble, sand and cement.  I'm starting to feel like my personal space has been invaded and am wary about putting out my laundry with all the red dirt and other mess.  I asked the leaseholder to raise it with house owner and the builders did start cleaning up at the end of the day.  For about a week.  Then they took a couple of weeks holiday and have returned to their old habits.

I decided to do as I'd threatened previously and put a padlock on the gate to stop them getting into the yard.  They climb over the wall instead.  Anyone got any broken glass I can cement onto the wall?

To sum up, the once empty plot that was home to cows and various wildlife now has a house slowly emerging using interesting building techniques.

This is the roof - or will be eventually

I thought there might be a boundary dispute in the offing when the wall at the front of the new house was built partly underneath the overhang of mine at the front but they've just managed to mould the new wall around mine.

Koraput times

I had a day out of Koraput yesterday, travelling north to the town of Rayada (sometimes spelt Rayagarha). This was to see my friend Sheila, a recently arrived VSO volunteer living alone in that town. I went there in a hired car with Michele from VSO UK who was visiting us Orissa volunteers and we had a really nice day out. On the way we asked our driver to stop so we could take some photos of paddy fields being cultivated. It looked hard work, wading through all that clay mud and water

We drove through some spectacular countryside, mostly forested with lovely hills

I wasn't sure whether I'd be able to go as I'd had a really bad night on Saturday with a bout of the dreaded Delhi belly and was feeling a bit delicate. However, I decided that I'd stopped vomiting and with the reassurance of an Immodium tablet I'd take the risk. I came to India with a small supply of first aid and medical supplies which included 2 packets of Immodium. I hadn't used any until Sunday but while my son was staying with me, he asked if he could have a pack to take with him in case he was struck while travelling on the trains and my husband had also used some when he was unwell but I assumed I'd be able to restock without any problem. I went to three drug stores today to try to buy more supplies, only to be told no, they don't sell anything like that. Oh dear,I only have 2 left.  You can buy almost anything over the counter in India but not Immodium.

Last week I ventured into a shop that had recently opened up which looked like it might supply some of the foods I like to treat myself to now and again with the added advantage of being significantly closer to my house so not so far to carry heavy items home. First I was really pleased to be able to buy some very nice jam and marmalade. Back home, I make my own preserves and the jam I'd had in India was all very sweet, very processed and not very nice at all. This jam tastes of the fruit it's made from and even more exciting, doesn't contain added refined sugar but is sweetened with grape juice. I asked if they sold brown bread and was told that he could get some in if I called later in the week so we agreed on Friday.

I went in on Friday only to be told that my neighbours from just up the road had bought both the loaves in the shop but he'd get some more in for the next day. I was a little irritated that the loaf I'd ordered had been sold to someone else but true to his promise, there was a loaf of brown bread for me the following day. Although it is not up to the home-made standard of wholemeal loaf I eat at home it was much nicer than the sweet white sliced bread I'd been consuming up till now. Another good result. The shop-keeper had asked if there was anything else I wanted so I asked for muesli. He promised me faithfully he'd get some in and to go back on the 18th. So, back I went today, the 18th. He looked horrified when I went in and told me that the 2 packs of muesli he'd got in for me had both been sold just a few minutes earlier - to the same neighbours who had purloined my brown bread. This is war - you know who you are!  The shop-keeper was mortified and promised he'd get me more in as quickly as possible and bring it round to my house.  Which will bring the next problem as I don't have an address for my house.  Life in Koraput can get very challenging sometimes.

I bought some fabric a few weeks ago ready to get some more salwar kameez suits made up. So far I'd only had 3 suits which is just about enough but does mean that I have had a never-ending cycle of washing and drying to make sure that I always have a clean one ready to wear. I decided I'd splash out and get another couple made up. The first ones that were tailored last year were a perfect fit and very well sewn. Unfortunately the new ones were sewn too tight and were not going to be wearable. When they tailor clothes here they leave big seams so that the garments can be adjusted if needed so I just needed to take them back and ask for them to be adjusted. That brought the challenge of working out how to tell explain the problem to the tailor. That shop is staffed mostly by deaf men. There is one speaking-hearing man but he does not speak English. I decided the easiest way would be to take a well-fitting kameez with me and show the difference in size between that and the new ones. Great idea as he immediately realised the problem, except that he then took possession of the properly fitting one to use as a model for resizing hte others, which meant that I was reduced to just 2 sets of clothing suitable for me to wear to work.

We worked out that I'd return to collect the adjusted garments on Friday, at the same time as picking up the choli (sari blouse) that was also on order. Back I went on Friday. He gave me the choli but when I gestured that I also wanted the kameez he shook his head and pointed at the calendar to show the next day. OK, it's tomorrow. Tomorrow came and I arrived there at around 6 in the evning. He looked at me, shook his head again, looked at the clock and pointed to 8. I shook my head and pointed away, trying to explain that I had already arranged to meet up with friends for dinner. He pointed to the following day. I gestured that I was out for the day so would go back on Monday.

Momday evening arrived. Down into the town I went to buy some bananas and tomatoes and stopped at the tailor on the way back home. He looked at me and when I saw his face I immediately realised that they'd forgotten all about the order. So I sat down for about an hour and a half while the hurriedly fixed the problem. I managed to have a good conversation with the tailor, probably the longest conversation I'd had with anyone all day.  He now knows I have 2 children although I think he thinks that my daughter is studying to be a doctor rather than doing a PhD in history and we know how old we and our respective children are.  He nipped out to the shop next door and returned with a man who said hello to me, then the tailor gestured drinking - which I assumed meant I was being offered chai. Han, I said. The man went off and returned a few seconds later with a bottle of sweetened flavoured milk, which apparently contained nature-identical artificial flavouring. But it was a very kind thought and helped to give me the energy I needed to finish the walk home. Fortunately my adjusted suits all fit me very well now.

A little bit of wildlife

I've been interested to see the different flora and fauna that exists in Koraput. Many things are familiar - sparrows, crows, cows etc and of course some are variants on the familiar - bats with huge wingspan and spiders come to mind. I was curious to see the occupant of this spider's web but all I managed to spot was one fat hairy leg lurking at the bottom of the funnel.


I have tried many times to get photos of the big bats flying overhead without the aid of a tripod but this is the best I have managed - pitiful isn't it?!

You see cows wandering around everywhere here, eating cast-off vegetables, cardboard and sometimes even pulling posters off walls to munch when something takes their fancy. What I like to watch is the way that they seem to love being groomed by birds that are presumably feeding off parasites.

I am still on the lookout for the bears and tigers that are said to exist in the vicinity.
I've seen a couple of snakes, something that I think was a praying mantis (regular followers of my blog may remember a photo of a green insect on some of my laundry in October last year),  insects and butterflies constantly darting through the air, cockroaches and ants scuttling around, the all too numerous feral dogs and inevitable rats.
I share my house with lizards and as they seem to like feeding off mosquitoes I am happy to share my accommodation with them.  I was surprised by a splashing noise last week, late at night, just as I was dropping off to sleep.  I assumed at first it was something to do with my water filter so got up to investigate, half expecting to find it had overflowed or broken but it looked completely normal. Curious and slightly alarmed by a continued splashing coming from somewhere around the bathroom I ventured forth, half-expecting to see something emerging from the squat toilet.  I found that a lizard had fallen off the wall and into a bucket of soapy water that I'd left, soaking some laundry.  The poor thing had tried to get out but couldn't cope with the slippery, wet plastic walls of the bucket and was trapped. I grapped a big slotted spoon from the kitchen to fish it out and scrutinised it to try to work out if it was still alive when it leapt off the spoon and scuttled off across the room, leaving a trail of soapy water behind it. I guess it was still alive.

More outings

The people at SPREAD work hard.   Really hard.  The travelling can be tiring because of the distances and the state of the roads. Transport and travel can be a real challenge in Orissa where the roads are rough and buses are limited or non-existant.  Even for people lucky enough to have a motorbike, it can take a long time to get places.  Some of the work is probably emotionally draining as well as all the official bureaucracy that has to be battled through to achieve their objectives, to say nothing of the exhausting travel on Odissi roads and buses. 
But they know how to enjoy themselves and yesterday we had another picnic.  This one was in a different part of the district to the last one I went to and gave different people the opportunity to attend.  We were in a jeep-type vehicle and it took us 2 1/2 hours to travel the 80-90km to get there.  We had to have a last-minute change of plan for the venue.  We were hoping to go to a waterfall somewhere by the Machkund Dam but the road had been blocked by naxals so a new site had to be selected.


We ended up in a forest by a very nice river, giving us a water supply for the cooking (all well boiled!), for washing up afterwards and place to play and pose.

A groundsheet was laid out for us to share and Amin directed proceedings from a comfortable spot.  

That knife came into good use again for chopping the vegetables that went into the curries, along with the chicken, herbs and spices.

When it was time to go home we had to make the most of the transport available.  I was lucky enough to be ushered towards the front passenger seat of our jeep.  I think there were 11 of us on board!  One of the twins came and sat on my knee and soon fell asleep.  Fortunately the weather had been kind to us while we were out in the forest but the journey home was through lashing rain making it even slower and harder for the driver.  Potholes get hidden in floods all too easily.

Someone explained to me that the Odiya word for picnic translates to forest feast, forests being the preferred location to gather for the festivities.  I noticed creepers climbing up some of the trees was told were peppercorns (I tried one of the berries and it was definitely pepper) and there were lots of coffee plants growing under the trees.  I'd seen many of these plants growing in Koraput district and had no idea what they were until yesterday.

For those of you suffering the current snowy weather in UK

I measured the temperature on the roof of my house this morning - fairly early, before the day really warmed up - it was over 34 degrees centigrade.  I did like the satellite image I saw on the web the other day
http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/in_depth/8447023.stm

Walking to work a couple of days ago I stopped to watch the paddy fields being ploughed.   There were 3 teams pulling the ploughs, I think one pair were water buffalo but the rest were oxen.  The herdsmen had bare feet.  I don't think my feet are tough enough to survive such rigours.


On arriving at the office I met 3 colleagues on their way out to the car.  After our initial namaskars and subha sakālas (hello and good morning) I asked them where they were headed and on being told that they were heading for the village of Ramagiri to a meeting with the district sub-collector and development officer to tell the villagers about development plans for the surrounding forest.  This is required under the Forest Rights Act but it's good to hear that the act is being followed.  When they asked me if I wanted to join them I jumped at the chance.  I wasn't carrying my really nice camera which is much too heavy and bulky to carry around with me all the time but at least I had a nice little compact camera that J gave me for Christmas and I now carry with me at all times for those unexpected photo opportunity moments.  In I jumped and off we went over the very rough roads to Ramagiri, close to the Chattisgarh border, stopping for a cup of particularly delicious cha en route.

This being a meeting held to tell the Adivasi community of the area about the future of their forest it was well attended and held outside, under a tree for some shade.

I was pleasantly surprised to see the official visitors chose not to use the chairs and desks that had been provided for them, instead sitting down on the ground with the people who had come to listen to them.

As usual, I suffered the language problem although this may also have been an issue for the visitors as the local community speak their own tribal languages.  However, despite my pathetic inability to understand the words that were being spoken the body language of all participants told me a lot.  It got noticeably more relaxed as the meeting continued.

After a while I wandered off roumd the village.  This was my third visit to this settlement and each time it's been a real treat.  The place is spotless, kids play in the streets and the people very welcoming despite me shoving my camera in their faces. 

I spotted a couple of very recent arrivals among the population.  I didn't go too close, she looked a bit fierce and probably would have given me a good butting if I'd gone any closer to her new babies which were very wobbly on their legs.

This man made it look really easy to create a neat, dense, woven bamboo fence.  I can just imagine how it would end up looking if I had tried to do the same thing!

A different sort of works' outing

There seems to be a tradition of going out for picnics to celebrate new year here in India and typically many NGOs will hold a picnic for all the staff and their families to attend.  The picnic organised by my NGO was unlike any picnic that I've ever been to before.

First we had to drive for around an hour to get to the chosen picnic spot, somewhere near the tribal village of Nandapur.  We met up with colleagues who had travelled from their home villages.  Then we made our way to a good spot, well away from all the other revellers and the road.

It seemed like a nice spot, nice views in both directions.

The camp-fire was stoked and the pots put onto heat

Meanwhile the vegetables needed to be prepared - enough for about 40 people.  I need to learn how to use one of these knives.  They have a flat metal handle that comes off the blade at a 90 degree angle which is held down with a foot or a leg, leaving the blade pointing up.  The vegetables are then sliced by being pushed down onto the cutting edge and the pieces caught in the hands.  Very neat solution to no chopping boards.

Everything was cooked to perfection over the fire, well-tended by some of the men in the group.

While lunch was cooking some of us wandered upstream to a waterfall and watched people swimming and zooming down the water-slide.  I was very tempted to join them, it looked great fun and was a very warm day (compared to a UK winter).

As is the way with such natural attractions everyone wants to have their photos taken in front of the view.  By the time we returned to our picnic spot we had worked up a good appetite and thoroughly enjoyed a what is probably the best picnic meal that I've ever had.  I think Jon was a bit taken aback by the whole day!

The clearing up after our lunch was pretty easy, a few passing cows clearing up the leaf plates and the cooking pots being taken down to the river for a good scrubbing with grass and water to clean off the food residues.

The obligatory group shot that has to happen at such events.  For once, I am in this shot, I usually manage to hide behind the camera and escape the photos.

Of course, this being an event largely populated by adivasi people, there had to be a dance in it somewhere.  The end of a great day out.

I now have to settle back down into a more normal day to day life on my own here in Koraput with the departure back home of husband Jon and son Sam elsewhere in India, suffering from the effects of street food or ice made with dirty water. Get well soon!

Happy new year to all my family and friends

We saw in the new year in a subdued fashion, falling asleep at some ridiculously early hour, exhausted by life here in Koraput.  I guess it's constantly feeling like an alien, unable to communicate except in the most rudimentary fashion but it doesn't take much to make me feel very tired.  However, an early night meant that I was bright and fully of energy again on new year's day.

We hired a taxi today to take us to the village of Kotpad, near the border with the neighbouring state of Chattisgarh.  Kotpad is famous for it's traditional fabric dying and weaving, using pure cotton or silk, natural vegetable dyes and handlooms, weaving traditional patterns into the fabrics.  The taxi driver did not speak English but with the help of my friend Dusmant over the telephone we managed to convey what we wanted to see in the village.  With the assistance of a few pedestrians in the town and one who jumped into our car to give directions we managed to find what we were looking for down a tiny little back street where we were made very welcome by the family running that particular weaving and dying enterprise.

The cotton is brought in from Chattisgarh in its raw state.  Castor oil and cow dung paste are massaged into the hanks of yarn and then dried in the sun for 12 days to get an even, light, natural colour.  

The yarn is then massaged by the dyers stamping on them.  The fibre is left incredibly soft by all the soaking and massaging.  The yarn that this woman is holding here felt really soft, similar to cotton wool

The weavers grow aal and harvest the roots.  Bits of the root are chipped off and collected for drying. The brittle red root-bark gives the color and is chipped off and ground to a fine powder in a stone mill like the ones used for spice or flour.  This is then mixed with hot water and used to dye the yarn, being left to soak for around 12 hours with a bit of pummelling to help the dye to impregnate the yarn.  The colour of the aal dye can be varied by adding iron dust to give a browner colour and a variety of other dyes are used to get other variations.  Unfortunately my lack of Oriya limited my understanding of the explanations that the family were really keen to give.

The yarn is hung to dry then wound into hanks ready for the weaving process.

Kotpad weavers do everything on a simple loom.  Everything is done by hand with small shuttles of yarn.  The patterns are created by looping yarn in the weft and into the warp.  The loom is very rudimentary with thread heddles tied to foot pedals.  It apparently takes 20 days to weave a sari length!  These saris and shawls are generally done in two colors,  one ground and one ornament color, traditionally red on white grounds.  All ornament is made with the secondary color.  They weave in pure cotton, silk and silk/cotton mix. When you feel this fabric it is incredibly soft.







The finished fabrics were gorgeous and of course I fell for far more than I could really afford but when I compared the prices being charged with those being charged for machine woven fabrics available in the UK they were a bargain.   I hope will brighten the day for a few people at home but I did treat myself to a sari length which I will need to take to my friendly deaf tailor to get the choli made up.