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| Available here. |
The word "kantha" comes from the Sanskrit kontha, meaning rags. One legend surrounding the origin of kantha links the technique to Buddha and his disciples, who wore robes of discarded rags that were patched and sewn together. Kantha also means "throat." Lord Shiva was also named Nilikanth, or blue throat, after swallowing the poison created by the churning of the ocean. It also means "throat chakra."
Ruhee Das Chowdhury argues that the African concept that whatever the artist was thinking is forever contained in her textile, the kantha makers, while embroidering these concepts, were always thinking about whatever was their desire, and so it was stitched in their universe forever.
This is another possible origin myth (discussed here):
Kantha is an integral part of country life, and is an important cultural icon. It is the subject of films, poetry, ballets, and fine art. It is becoming popular all over the world, and village women create pieces together to sell internationally.
Ruhee Das Chowdhury argues that the African concept that whatever the artist was thinking is forever contained in her textile, the kantha makers, while embroidering these concepts, were always thinking about whatever was their desire, and so it was stitched in their universe forever.
This is another possible origin myth (discussed here):
There was a guru by the name of Kanthalipa (plastering guru). By caste he was a sweeper. He used to collect old rags and torn cloth which he found while sweeping. One day a needle pricked his finger; it hurt so much that he started crying. Hearing his wailing a dakini (witch or spirit) appeared before him. "She reproached him: 'If you cry at such little pain,how you would be able to bear the pathos of rebirth over and over again? Kanthalipi answered to her 'That is true but I do not know what I should do, 'the dakini advised him: 'The sky is nothing but a great void in endless space. Between the earth and the sky is also a vast emptiness. While sewing the pieces of rags you should achieve unity of spirit and purpose with all living creatures in the world. The sewing of rags symbolizes the use of all discarded things. To do this you needto consolidate your deep feelings and knowledge. Sitting in the void you will have to combine your thoughts and knowledge with the help of the needle of kindness. The pieces of rags sewn together to make a new cloth of new Kantha will turn into a complete piece. Similarly all the universe's living things will be able to create their own entities (Stella Kramrisch, 1983).
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| Hanging on my bedroom wall. |
Not only does kantha exemplify thrift, but also respect for old cloth. Old cloth is thought to have magical benefits like warding off the evil eye and protection from general harm. The motifs also have magical benefits, reflecting the needlewoman's or needlewomen's desires, such as marriage, prosperity, fertility, and other things. Popular motifs are tree-of-life, flowers, swastikas, kitchen utensils, animals, chariots, scenes from Hindu mythology, and secular scenes like dining or dancing. Some even contain lettering with blessings and proverbs. Some are signed by the artist.
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| Detail of the awesome horses. Notice how tight the embroidery is? |
I don't see any signature on this one. The ground is a white silk sari, and it is embroidered with brown, gold, green, and black thread. The horse is decorated with lotuses (discussed below) and trees-of-life. Could these horses have wings? Are those things rising from their backs wings? If so, they may reference the legendary first horse, Uchchaihshravas, who emerged from the ocean during the churning of the oceans. Sound familiar??? The legend says that the horse was taken away to the celestial abode of Indra. Indra severed the wings, keeping them, and presented the horse to humankind. The wings were severed so that the horse would not fly back to heaven, but would stay on earth.
The tree of life, according to Chowdhury:
...connects us to the three worlds...it is the tree that both soars upward and plunges deep down while standing erect on the ground (Dhameeja, 2004). The Tree of Life concept is sacred to most cultures. Its significance transcends conscious reality,touching the subconscious and beyond the indefinable. Even if the original meaning is obscured,the symbol retains an unconscious link with our primeval memory and becomes a source of strength.
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| Lotus wheels. Each one a little different. |
Chowdhury argues that the lotus is important to the economic wellbeing of the artist.
Considering the fact that, the people were not so well off yet very religious; they embroider lotuses with a lot of variations to impress Goddess Laxmi. They probably believed that the goddess might bless them with better status in life.Lotus is also a symbol of cosmic harmony and essential womanhood. As the women use to embroider these quilts to take with them as a dowry item, embroidering lotus was considered auspicious. For a woman who is going to be married or was newly married, becoming a mother was the most important blessing she would want. For a woman, bringing prosperity in the Newhouse where she is wedded and taking the family name forward by bearing children would earner the maximum respect from the family. And hence she would symbolically pray for these by embroidering lotus on the quilts. It was a manifestation by these young women to happiness.
My little interpretation!
The motifs all seem to refer to unity, specifically contentment and happiness in life through unity with all other realms and beings of the cosmos.My little chart of symbols.
Horse with wings
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Tree of Life
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Lotus
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Indra
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The universe
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Laxmi
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Originating and rising from churning ocean
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Cycle of life
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Cosmic harmony
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Travel between the cosmic realms
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Rejuvenation
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Prosperity
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Gift of the gods
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Fertility
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Fertility
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Kantha itself
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Travel between the cosmic realms
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| Bangladeshi women working on a kantha together. How awesome is this picture? It's all peace and happiness. |
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| Bengali kantha showing the ladies making kantha! |
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| Kantha showing kantha makers! |
For more information, and there is LOTS of information out there about this amazing artform:
Here is a piece of jasimuddin's poem
Naksi Kanthar Math (Field of the Embroidered Quilt), written in 1929
Naksi Kanthar Math (Field of the Embroidered Quilt), written in 1929
This is a folk love story ending in tragedy. Here's a synopsis taken from this discussion here:
A young man named Rupai falls in love with Shaju, a beautiful girl from a neighboring village. With the aid of a match maker, and the joyous consent of their parents, Rupai and Shaju get married. For some time, they live happily. One day Rupai goes out to see the harvesting of the crops. Unfortunately he gets into a fight. In the consuming battle, men get killed and Rupai must go into hiding. Shaju waits for her love to return. To help pass the time, she starts portraying the sad tale of her life in a Nakshi Kantha, a quilt sewn from old clothes with delicate stitches. Days, months, years go by, and Shaju still waits for Rupai to return to her. Finally, out of anxiety and hopelessness, Shaju falls down and dies. According to her wishes, her grave is covered with the Nakshi Kantha. Rupai finally returns to his wife and in grief joins his wife in death. The people of the village renamed their village `Nakshi Kanthar Math’ (Field of Embroidered Quilt) to immortalize the tragic saga of Rupai and Shaju’s illustrated love.
Spreading the embroidered quilt
She works the livelong night,
As if the quilt her poet were
Of her bereaved plight.
Many a joy and many a sorrow
Is written on its breast;
The story of Rupa's life is there,
Line by line expressed.
She is a daughter beloved at home
When the embroidery begins;
Later a husband sits at her side;
Her red lips hum as she sings.
The self-same quit today she opens,
But those days ne'er return;
Those golden dreams of joy have vanished,
To ashes grey they burn.
Stitch by stitch she carefully draws
The last scene of pain,
The farewell of Rupa, slowly going,
Then truning a littles again,
At the door his peasant wife
Standing dishevelled, gazing at him,
Who is going to leave her for life.
She wept upon the careful stitches,
That last scene shown so weil.
Her face turned pale as ashes
Down in the quilt she fell.
In this way many days have passed,
Carrying unberable pain;
At last came the tempest that smote the trees;
Her body broke with strain...
(Shaju tells her mother)
Wipe your eyes and listen to me mother),
On the floor my quilt outspread,
Propped on pillows, let me hold once more
The needle and the thread.
The pale hand take the needle,
And stitch by stitch she works;
Contemplating the design completed,
Wiping the tear that lurks.
She has drawn her tomb upon the quilt,
A shepherd stands beside;
Dark night there sits like one bereaved
From the grave a little aside,
Playing a flute,. while the ceaseless tears,
Are falling from his eyes.
She draws according to her fancy,
She looks and looking cries.
Weary and calling her mother, she says,
This quilt on my grave shall be spread;
The morning dew will weep on its breast
When I am dead.
And here if he ever returns again
His tears may break the sleep of death,
I may rise at night from the ground,
How will he bear this pain, mother,
On this quilt lies all of mine;
All my pain and ·all my grief,
Emroidered line by line.
So lay it on my grave, mother,
This picture of my grief,
That his and mine upon its breast,
May mingling find relief.
She works the livelong night,
As if the quilt her poet were
Of her bereaved plight.
Many a joy and many a sorrow
Is written on its breast;
The story of Rupa's life is there,
Line by line expressed.
She is a daughter beloved at home
When the embroidery begins;
Later a husband sits at her side;
Her red lips hum as she sings.
The self-same quit today she opens,
But those days ne'er return;
Those golden dreams of joy have vanished,
To ashes grey they burn.
Stitch by stitch she carefully draws
The last scene of pain,
The farewell of Rupa, slowly going,
Then truning a littles again,
At the door his peasant wife
Standing dishevelled, gazing at him,
Who is going to leave her for life.
She wept upon the careful stitches,
That last scene shown so weil.
Her face turned pale as ashes
Down in the quilt she fell.
In this way many days have passed,
Carrying unberable pain;
At last came the tempest that smote the trees;
Her body broke with strain...
(Shaju tells her mother)
Wipe your eyes and listen to me mother),
On the floor my quilt outspread,
Propped on pillows, let me hold once more
The needle and the thread.
The pale hand take the needle,
And stitch by stitch she works;
Contemplating the design completed,
Wiping the tear that lurks.
She has drawn her tomb upon the quilt,
A shepherd stands beside;
Dark night there sits like one bereaved
From the grave a little aside,
Playing a flute,. while the ceaseless tears,
Are falling from his eyes.
She draws according to her fancy,
She looks and looking cries.
Weary and calling her mother, she says,
This quilt on my grave shall be spread;
The morning dew will weep on its breast
When I am dead.
And here if he ever returns again
His tears may break the sleep of death,
I may rise at night from the ground,
How will he bear this pain, mother,
On this quilt lies all of mine;
All my pain and ·all my grief,
Emroidered line by line.
So lay it on my grave, mother,
This picture of my grief,
That his and mine upon its breast,
May mingling find relief.
