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BIKANER
Fettered CreativityConvicts bring colour into their dour lives by weaving
exquisite carpets.
By Rohit Parihar
The hunt is in full swing; a fleeing lion is
swiftly pursued by a king and his huntsmen. Under Chinder Singh's deft hand, the hunters
and the hunted spring to life. Ironically, the man who weaves magic and creates works of
such abiding beauty is in jail -- he has been lodged in Bikaner's Central Jail for 15
years now -- for having committed a murder. Having learnt carpet weaving from another
lifer, Arjun Singh, Chinder Singh, in turn, teaches other convicts the finer points of the
art. "I will retire soon,'' he says, awaiting a decision on his application for
release, "and someone else will carry on this tradition.''
Many surmise that these exquisite carpets were first made in
1872 when the jail was constructed by Maharajah Dungar Singh of Bikaner. Legend has it
that towards the end of the 19th century, Maharajah Ganga Singh bought some carpets from
abroad and on returning home showed them to his ministers. They vied with each other in
showering praises till they were cut short by a jailer who pointed out that the carpets
had been made in the maharajah's own jail. Testifying to the excellent weaving are more
than a dozen medals, some dating back to the period 1900-12. Carpets made in the jail were
displayed during the Imperial Exhibition at London in 1911 and the industrial exhibition
of the Indian National Congress at Mumbai in 1904.
What make the carpets unique are the Persian and Rajasthani
motifs and the vibrant colours used. As carpet-making is part of the convicts' sentence,
they are not given any money to weave the minimum stipulated one inch of carpet a day. A
sum of Rs 3.50 is given to them for any extra inch that they may weave but few do that.
The fact that the prisoners have been demanding a cup of tea while working is a pointer to
their privations. Arun Duggar, director-cum-ig, prisons, makes light of the situation,
saying: "We try to motivate them by promising remission in their jail terms if they
consistently work beyond the prescribed limit.'' A.R. Niazi, jail superintendent, is more
blunt: "Some of the convicts are really lazy, but then we cannot use force to
increase their output.''
For the convicts, weaving carpets is not an easy job.
Consummate patience and care are qualities integral to the job. Since the prisoners are
undergoing punishment, they cannot exercise any option in selecting the sort of work they
do. Some try to shy away from weaving. Says Krishan, a lifer: "The tedious work on
carpets is so time consuming that we barely manage to complete our targets.'' In practical
terms, scarce resources will prevent convicts from setting up their own looms once they
are released.
A fine carpet takes a long time to make. For the past three
years, Kulvinder Singh is weaving a beautiful 12 ft by 15 ft carpet which will take
another two years to complete. It is expected to fetch Rs 20,000. Like him, at any given
time, about 50 prisoners are busy making carpets which yield a return of between Rs 1 lakh
and Rs 1.5 lakh a year. Old-timers recall that foreigners have at times paid as much as Rs
1.7 lakh for a carpet. Master weaver Chinder Singh has been credited with making four
carpets in a year, each measuring 9 ft by 6 ft. Modestly dismissing his expertise, he says
it is a matter of "interest''.
The jail staff at times displays ingenuity in harnessing
creativity. Recently, when some currency forgers were arrested, the officials used their
help to create new designs for the carpets. And when a loom -- one of the world's largest
-- needed repairs, help came from unexpected quarters: the Army's local division, which
offered to undertake the work for Rs 1.75 lakh. But all is not well: the looms are grimy
with pigeon droppings and falling plaster, and inadequate illumination makes working
difficult. Yet the work goes on. "This is our rich tradition,'' says Duggar firmly,
"and we are struggling to preserve it.'' For the prisoners, though, this is all the
colour they can boast of in their colourless lives. |