[And with Narendra Modi, the party’s strongman
of Hindu nationalism, as prime minister, fears that the country would head into
a phase of aggressive nationalism have largely come true. Members of minority
communities, accused of being disrespectful to cows, sacred to Hindus, have
been lynched. Critics of Mr. Modi have been branded as “anti-national,” some
shot and killed by Hindu nationalist activists.]
By Asgar Qadri
 |
|
Drying
saris on the banks of the Ganges River in Varanasi, a holy city in India.
Credit
Dhiraj Singh/Bloomberg, via Getty Images
|
VARANASI,
India — Over the last two
decades luxury brands have eyed India’s fast-moving economy, booming middle
class and youthful population, already among the world’s largest, hoping they
had discovered their next big market. But it wasn’t to be.
Along with India’s protectionist policies
(talks with the European Union on a free-trade agreement have been stalled
since 2007), the rise of Hindu nationalist politics has become a major obstacle
to realizing the country’s promise of growth.
Since the Bharatiya Janata Party formed a
national government in 2014, the Indian fashion industry has been pressed to
aggressively promote traditional attire and bypass Western styles. The effort
aligns with the party’s broader political program: to project multi-faith
India, a country of more than 1.3 billion, as a Hindu nation.
And with Narendra Modi, the party’s strongman
of Hindu nationalism, as prime minister, fears that the country would head into
a phase of aggressive nationalism have largely come true. Members of minority
communities, accused of being disrespectful to cows, sacred to Hindus, have
been lynched. Critics of Mr. Modi have been branded as “anti-national,” some
shot and killed by Hindu nationalist activists.
Fashion, and how Indians think of it, has not
been exempt. Mr. Modi has made traditional dress a priority and, as many in the
country want to please him, the fashion industry has followed along.
“There is a clear connection between the
rising Hindu nationalism and the aesthetic production of leading Indian fashion
designers and the country’s luxury industry at large,” said Tereza Kuldova, a
social anthropologist and author of the 2016 book “Luxury Indian Fashion: A
Social Critique.” “Aesthetic production has an uncanny tendency to materialize
ideological currents in any given society.”
Mr. Modi’s effort to restore Indian-ness in
Indian fashion began with his Make in India campaign, announced just months
after he took office. The initiative to encourage local manufacturing was
initially led by an urbane party politician and fashion designer from Mumbai,
Shaina Nana Chudasama, popularly known by her nickname of Shaina NC.
And in August 2015, Ms. Chudasama introduced
what she called the Banarasi Textiles Revival Movement at a fashion exhibition
in Mumbai.
The exhibition, which brought together the
work of some of the country’s leading fashion designers including Anita Dongre
and Manish Malhotra, was organized in collaboration with the Ministry of
Textiles and intended to promote the Banarasi sari, the traditional garment
known for its fine silk and opulent embroidery — and primarily worn by Hindu
women. Since then, there have been frequent state-sponsored fashion shows and
exhibitions, most recently the “Symphony of Weaves,” a fashion showcase for the
country’s textiles, held in July in Gujarat, all with the aim of promoting
traditional Indian clothing styles.
India’s leaders have always made political
use of traditional clothing, from Mohandas K. Gandhi’s adoption of the dhoti to
Jawaharlal Nehru’s jacket. But active state intervention and patronage of the
fashion industry have never before reached this scale.
“A subtle current of Indianizing the fashion
was already there, but now, with the government’s backing, it has gained a new
momentum,” said David Abraham, one of the country’s leading designers and the
creative director of Abraham & Thakore, the New Delhi-based fashion label.
The Banarasi sari is woven in the northern
Indian city of Varanasi, formerly called Benares or Banaras, which happens to
be Mr. Modi’s political constituency. It is also one of the holiest cities for
Hindus, who consider it the eternal home of Lord Shiva, the Supreme God.
For Hindus, the city’s ghats — flights of
stone steps along the banks of the Ganges — are the site of liberation, or
moksha, from the sins that afflict them in the earthly drama of life. Hours
after Mr. Modi was elected prime minister, that was where he went to thank the
voters. “God has chosen me,” he announced amid the chanting of hymns and “Har
Har Modi,” a campaign adaptation of “Har Har Mahadev” (“Everyone is Lord
Shiva”).
During his campaign, Mr. Modi had promised to
revive the tradition of the Banarasi sari and to help its weavers, a
significant percentage of the constituency’s electorate. The weavers, who are
mostly Muslim and following a family trade, largely live in poverty.
In late October, I visited Varanasi to learn
whether anything had changed in the three years since Mr. Modi came to power.
Mohammad Bashir, a wiry middle-age man who
was my guide, led me through the narrow alleys of Saraiya, a village about 10
miles from the city. There were open drains clogged with thick black sewage,
and half-dressed children played nearby.
As soon as we reached what looked like a
community center, about 50 men, old and young, gathered around. A few told
their stories on behalf of the group: Nothing had changed for them.
“We can’t send our children to school,” said
Mohammad Yusuf, who, in his mid-50s, was one of the older weavers. “The fee is
too much. Each family earns about 100 rupees to 125 rupees a day,” or $1.55 to
$1.95.
But Mr. Modi’s call to revive the Banarasi
sari certainly has benefited the merchants in the city, who employ the weavers.
“The demand for the luxury sari has gone up,” said Hemang Agrawal, creative
director of the Surekha Group and a businessman based in Varanasi.
The project of Indianizing popular fashion is
now in the hands of the country’s textile minister, Smriti Irani, who was
appointed in July 2016.
As personalities, both Mr. Modi and Ms. Irani
have contributed to the cause. Mr. Modi’s choice of colorful kurtas — a tunic
shirt with half-length sleeves — and Ms. Irani’s saris have become popular
fashion statements. Before becoming a politician, Ms. Irani was a household
name as a soap opera star. Tulsi, the character she played in “Kyunki Saas Bhi
Kabhi Bahu Thi” (“Because the Mother-in-Law Was Once a Daughter-in-Law”),
popularized her as a traditional Indian daughter-in-law draped in sari.
The government’s aim certainly has been to
produce a popular fashion aesthetic that matches the broader political program
of Hindu nationalism. But the world is more open to cultural change than it
ever has been before, so will that effort ultimately succeed?
Only time will tell.
