Tag Archives: India

Decorating in Italy – Asian Style: Adding Some Eastern Touches to Our Lake Como Home

When we moved to Lecco, we consolidated the contents of our household from Milan with Enrico’s parents’ stuff from their apartment in Rome (they were by then retired to a much smaller place on the seaside in Abruzzo).

In this way we acquired some beautiful furniture, fixtures, knick-knacks, and paintings – all lovely stuff, but… it wasn’t mine, and didn’t reflect anything about my life, nor even our life together.

I did have a few items to contribute, such as these paintings – the one on the left my mother commissioned for Rossella from Iowa artist Killy Beard, the one on the right Mom had done for me by a Thai artist many years before that.

Our ground-floor half bath also displays some of my Asian history (along with our collection of humor books, for those who like to read while enthroned).

There’s a Balinese mirror frame (from my stepmother, Ruth) and two Javanese shadow puppets (Samar, the dwarf protector of the city of Semarang, and Arjuna). Reflected in the mirror is a Kathakali dance mask I bought in India in 1980.

^ During my recent trip to India, at Dilli Haat I bought some leather shadow puppets, if I remember correctly they come from the central Indian state of Madhya Pradesh. The figures are (left to right) probably Sita, definitely Ganesh (who else?) and probably Lakshman.

But my favorite is this guy:

Ravana: there were several versions of him, but I couldn’t resist the shit-eatin’ grin on this one.

Finally, as you can see in the photo at the top of the page, I have hung outside a long string of Tibetan prayer flags that my classmate Teeran gave me for my birthday this year. I probably failed to observe the auspicious time and style for hanging them, but at least we are in the mountains!

post script: I later returned to Italy after a trip to the US (or maybe after I’d moved back to the US) to find  that Enrico had taken down the prayer flags. “The neighbors asked about them,” he said, “wondering if we were having a party.” Sigh.

The Crafts Museum in Delhi

Sunday, my last day in India, I hired a car to go into central Delhi, where I visited the Crafts Museum (on the advice of friend and commenter Alice). The collection is very interesting, some of it so beautiful and well made that I had to wonder where one draws the line between “handicrafts” and “fine art.” Explanations were of variable quality – some very enlightening, others non-existent. Poor lighting made it hard to really appreciate some of this fine work, sadly, especially the textiles – and I do love textiles, though I was already overwhelmed by many days of shopping for saris.

When you finish with the museum part, there’s a small courtyard surrounded by booths selling more crafts, some quite good, and the usual dance troupe – seems to be the same family, and certainly the same style, as employed at Dilli Haat.

There is also a museum shop, featuring a clutter of stuff from all over India that you might not easily find elsewhere. I loved the wrought-iron works by tribals from Madhya Pradesh (which I recognized thanks to a placard I had seen in the museum – the shop is devoid of explanation). These pieces feature delicate dancers in a style reminiscent of Native America’s Kokopeli. Human and animal figures are arrayed to form window gratings and other objects unfortunately too large and heavy to take home this trip. Someday. I did buy a little monkey, and another statuette whose provenance I know nothing about (pictured above).

I also bought a collection of plaster figurines from Bengal. I’ve seen these for years at the Central Cottage Industries Emporium in Delhi – and much better ones years ago in Calcutta – but always wondered about them because they seem too breakable to be kids’ toys, yet not artsy enough to be intended as decoration. But, thanks to another helpful museum placard, I now may have an explanation for them – somewhat different from the explanation I’d found for some similar figures at the Folk Art Museum in Santa Fe.

One big glass case in the Crafts Museum holds an entire miniature village, bustling with equisitely detailed and realistic clay figures (about 6″ tall), painted and dressed in real cloth. The attached placard explained that this was the work of a group of clay artisans originally famed for their representations of Hindu deities. The British in India, uninterested in gods, instead encouraged the sculptors to represent real Indian people of all sorts and professions, as souvenirs the Brits could take home to illustrate life in India to their untravelled friends and relatives.

My guess is that the set of figurines I bought is based on pieces originally intended to illustrate the staff of a typical British household in the Raj era, though this modern version makes a few subtle (or sloppy) changes. Let’s see whether we can figure out who all these people are.

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From the left:

  • The ayah (nanny) who would have looked after the British family’s children, though here she’s shown breast-feeding a child. This is confusing. She would not have been taking care of her own child while in the employee of a British household, but in all my readings about the Raj, I never heard of a “native” wet-nursing a white child. Hmm.
  • The valet – you can’t tell in this picture, but he is brushing a classic sola topee (pith helmet), though it’s the wrong color here.
  • Cook. Judging by the beard, he is probably Muslim – the preferred religion for cooks as they did not object to cooking meat (except pork).
  • Guy #4 may be some sort of general cleaner – is that green thing over his shoulder a dustcloth?
  • Guy #5 has books under his arm – the kitmadgar (butler) coming to do the household accounts with memsahib?
  • The big bundle of cloth over his shoulder indicates that this is the dhobi – laundry man. There are still plenty of these around, and they still carry your clothing the exact same way.
  • Greengrocer, carrying his wares on his head. It’s still possible in India today to have groceries (and many other things) delivered to your home.
  • This guy is wearing some kind of uniform; he may be a watchman (chowkidar).
  • Another probable Muslim carrying a possible leather bag over his shoulder – bhishti (water carrier)?
  • The last one on the right has a piece of clothing over his arm – probably the darzi (tailor), who would come to your house to sew your clothes. This, too, still happens – during a visit to Midlands, the girls’ dorm at Woodstock, I saw the darzi sitting in the lounge with his sewing machine, where girls brought him clothing for minor repairs or alterations.

any thoughts on this? I could be wrong about all of it!

Shopping for a Sari in Bombay – Part 2

You might think that shopping for a sari ends when you purchase the actual sari, but you’d be wrong.

You don’t even get to take it home right away. First the salesman cuts off the blouse piece, a section of cloth woven together with the sari that you will have made into the choli – blouse – to wear with it. You take that home with you, pending discussions with your tailor. The shop keeps the rest of the sari for a few days to sew in a fall, a strip of lining along the bottom, to add weight at the bottom and help it drape gracefully, and stitch up the raw edges. This service is included in the price of the sari.

Some saris don’t include a blouse piece, so you need to find material in a matching (or contrasting) color. For that you go to a shop like the one pictured above – the photo shows only a portion of the goods on offer! – where you can find the precise shade of silk or cotton desired, with or without a decorative border.

matching cloth for sari blouse, red and gold

Alternatively, you can get a gold or silver crepe or brocade.

This shop is also where you will buy the petticoat, a drawstring-waisted skirt that goes underneath, into which you will tuck the pleats and wraps of the sari. The petticoat is chosen both for color (more critical for a transparent sari, obviously) and for a material which complements the sari material and helps it drape better.

matching cloth shop assistant

As always, every shop bustles with smiling salesmen ready to make helpful suggestions!

Shopping for a Sari in Bombay

Though some articles on this site might lead you to believe otherwise, I am not usually an enthusiastic shopper. Shopping, for me, is not an end in itself; “retail therapy” has never worked for me. I don’t go out just to see what’s there – I like to have a specific mission.

Ross is good at providing me with shopping goals (one of her life’s missions seems to be to spend all my money!). Right now, we are on the hunt for a sari for her to wear for her Woodstock School graduation in May. (Mussoorie offers very limited choices, and she won’t have other opportunities to look elsewhere before school ends.)

So my classmate Deepu has been gamely escorting us all over Bombay, on the hunt for the perfect sari. This has turned out to be an endurance event, though the shops strive to make it pleasant.

A sari shop usually features a soft surface covered in taut, spotless white cloth. In the first place we visited, this was a counter that the salesman stood behind, and we had comfy chairs to sit on – refreshments were offered as well.

In the next shop (pictured above), the surface was a low platform, wide enough for the salesman to sit on, while we sat on cushioned benches.

In the third and most traditional, we sat on the cloth-covered floor (shoes off at the door) and reclined on bolsters, while the salesman sat cross-legged in front of us. This was very hard on the knees after a while – I’m too creaky to sit that way for long.

Once you’re settled and have established a range of what you’re looking for, the salesman begins to pull out long cardboard boxes…

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…from which he unfolds meter after meter of textile miracles.

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These are Benares brocades, an ancient art that may be dying out because it’s not in sync with modern tastes.

I love this material so much that I’m tempted to buy practically everything in sight, though I have no idea what I’d do with it, having no particular occasion, nor the necessary skill, to wear a sari myself. (I don’t even know enough to buy one without help, there are so many styles and origins and other factors…)

As the mind begins to boggle with colors, borders, and styles, saris to be kept for further consideration are tossed aside rather casually:

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…while the rejects are folded back into their boxes. Like every other organization in India, sari shops swarm with employees – assistants stand ready to do the folding.

Prices range from Rs. 2000 into the stratosphere, depending on the quality of the material, whether the gold is real, and how much of it is woven into the material. A very fancy wedding sari can be heavy to wear from the sheer weight of precious metal in it. Though they can be expensive, a good sari lasts practically forever, always fits (you can have new blouses made to wear underneath), and can be handed on to your daughters.

When you find something you really like, someone will help drape it around you (over your clothes – no need for a changing room) so you can judge the effect in the mirror:

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later – It took us until this evening – and an hour at a fourth store – to actually buy anything. But I won’t describe it, so as not to spoil the surprise. Suffice to say that Ross will look stunning!

photo top: At a large sari shop in Santa Cruz. The gentleman got nervous after a while and asked me to stop taking photos.

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Shopping in Delhi: New Discoveries

I have written before about shopping in Delhi; here I’ll add some more details and tips, organized by location. It’s a good idea to plan your shopping days geographically, as Delhi is very spread out and traffic is horrendous
– it can take over an hour to get from one place to another, worse during evening rush hour, which begins around 3:30 and ends at 9 pm!

Connaught Place

The multiple concentric circles of Connaught Place, in the heart of New Delhi, are going increasingly upscale (at least in parts), perhaps in response to competition from all the shiny new malls further out. There are shops for Levi’s and Lee’s jeans, Van Heusen and other American brands, and even some Italian mid-level fashion brands. At the moment, it’s still possible to buy some very nice clothing at lower prices than you’d find in Europe or the US – though it’s also possible to spend just as much! Depending on the relative values of the rupee and the dollar, this advantage is probably destined to disappear.

Connaught Place can be annoying, however. You can’t walk a yard without being accosted by touts: “Come look my shop”. For some reason the Kashmiri shop owners are the most aggressive; they manage to completely turn me off the mere idea of buying anything Kashmiri, no matter how lovely.

(A TV ad exploits the annoyance factor of many Indian shopkeepers to suggest that you shop on eBay instead!)

Near Connaught Place you will also find the Central Cottage Industries Emporium, and the long row of state emporiums, which I observed in passing seem to have been upgraded in the last few years, but I didn’t get to them this trip.

Greater Kailash N-Block

Full Circle Bookstore: A nice selection of coffee-table and other books on everything Indian, plus music, DVDs, and a nice coffee shop on the top floor.

Fabindia: Shops on both sides of the square. Hand-woven, printed, etc. cottons and silks for home and wear. Fabindia also now has an interesting line of organic cosmetics and foods, including spices, grains, jams, chutneys, etc.

Episode: Beautiful silver items for the home, including elegant modern Ganesh statuettes.

The Next Shop: Some fascinating home decor items, most of which, unfortunately, are too heavy or too fragile for me to carry home in a suitcase. But here’s where I first discovered the range of incredibly designed stainless steel and porcelain dinner and serving ware from Magppie:

“This Indian enterprise is an offshoot of a 30 year old family run business of rolling stainless steel.” It’s a fascinating synthesis: the design team, at least as presented on their website, is entirely foreign, but many of the products reflect Indian sensibilities as well as Indian uses and traditions. Beautiful stuff!

We later found an entire Magppie store at a mall in Gurgaon. If only they offered international shipping…

Khan Market

I only knew Khan Market for Anokhi, the home of fine hand-printed cloth items. Anokhi has now split into two at that site, one on each corner of the block for home furnishings and clothing.

Khan Market has some other interesting shops, including a Biotique, which I noticed because there was an autographed photo of Johnny Depp in the window thanking them for the almond kajal that he wore in “Pirates of the Caribbean.” So I went in and bought some, and it is indeed very nice kajal.

Gurgaon

This suburb which used to be a village is home to many multinationals as well as bedroom community for the city. It now boasts a long row of shopping malls, some specialized in housewares or clothing, others a bit of a mix. As you can see in the photo above, many of the brands are familiar!

more shopping in Delhi

share your shopping tips for Delhi