The Mutwas| Dhordo Village, Kutch.

Flashback:

Weeks before our scheduled trip to Kutch, travel books were devoured, online friends contacted, gave Tripadvisor.com maximum number of daily hits, spoke on the phone for hours.....

....and then suddenly we stopped.

People travel for different reasons, different interests, different purposes.

What was our purpose?

We wanted to experience the land; the dry, harsh, unyielding land of Kutch.

The people; the strong people who looked at natural disasters in the eye, who boldly faced the fury of nature and yet remain warm; hospitable.

The craftsmanship; the needle & thread combination creating magic along with twinkling mirrors.

The history; the past.

So we re-drew our plan. Re-plotted the destinations on the map.

Last week of December, 2011:

Fueling ourselves with hi-octane enthusiasm, a heavy Lowepro bag and a tube of sunscreen we set out with Akil our driver from Bhuj into the villages.

The Mutwas, a Muslim Community who hail from Sindh in Pakistan, inhabit the Banni area in Kutch. They are known for their extremely intricate embroidery using tiny mirrors. We decided to visit one such community in Dhordo village.

We reached the doorsteps of the very hospitable Miyabhai Hussein Mutwa. The Mutwa embroidery is done by the women of the community and according to their customs outside men aren't allowed inside.

So while Mr. Husband spoke to the men in the outer room, I & the daughter were led into a open courtyard of a traditional Bhunga complex.

Within a matter of few minutes I had shook hands with a dozen smiling women and children, made to sit on a soft quilt covered charpouy and examined by twelve pairs of inquisitive eyes.

They asked me about my life in the city. I inquired about their work, their life there in the village.

Suddenly Shabnam, one of the Mutwa women came to me with her needle & thread, pulled the edge of my mirrorwork shawl and started working on it. Within a minute she had made an intricate eyelet around one of the mirrors.

I didn't need to see any of their work after that.

Before she weaved the magic around the mirror...

After the magic...

A priceless souvenir that will remind me of the Mutwa craftsmanship and hospitality....and of Shabnam.

Will share photographs of Mutwa embroidery work in my next post:-)

Lucky Tea Stall, Old City Ahmedabad

Diagonally opposite the House of MG in Ahmedabad, across the busy road is Lucky Tea Stall.

Gujaratis take their cup of tea quite seriously and their saucers too.

We observed that even the hole-in-the-wall tea stalls served their tea in a cup & saucer. Piping hot tea would be poured into saucer, blown, made into a drinkable temperature and then sipped.

Lucky Tea Stall too served their tea in floral-print cup and saucer.

This popular tea stall was apparently the favourite haunt of eminent painter M.F. Hussain.

The speciality here is the masala tea & maska (butter) bun jam.

We opted for marie biscuits to dunk in our tea...

We sat on a table next to two beautifully decorated Muslim tombs inside the stall enjoying the camaraderie of past and present lovers of chai:-)

a handful of bokul phool for you Ma!

Having seen this intricately carved structure on the way to The House of MG, Ahmedabad, we decided to explore it later in the evening.

This is in the Hatheesing Jain Temple compound, a temple built in the 19th century dedicated to Dharamnath, the 15th Jain Tirthankara.

We got there as dusk set in bringing with it the ochre glow of ghee lamps in the temple.

Marveling at the ornate marble architecture, the peaceful atmosphere in the courtyard we sat on the warm stone corridor just to be in the moment. What a serene moment it was...

As we stepped out, my daughter came running to me with tiny pale white flowers that she had collected from under the tree in the courtyard.

Oh that mild fragrance! It is the bokul phool!

My mother's bokul phool. The flower that is so dear to my Ma.

She had told me stories of her growing years in Kolkata where trees of bokul phool that lined the streets would spread a carpet of these delicate flowers on the black tar roads. How she would run to gather them in the pallu of her half saree. String them together and adorn her long black plait with it.

With the fragrance came the memories of the stories that I had heard and vividly visualized. I passed on the story to my daughter, saw that twinkle in her eyes as she ran to collect some more...

So here is a handful of bokul phool for you Ma!

A very small gift for you on your special day. Happy Birthday Ma.