HELLO! India Exclusive: The textile tales from Awadh

If one were to keenly pore over the costume history of Awadh, they would come across the shaluka, a corset-jacket originally worn by the region’s aristocratic women over their Farsi pyjamas. While many attribute western inspirations for this garment, Asma Hussain — a noted couturier, costume restorer and textile revivalist — traces the evolution of the shaluka for the uninitiated, establishing the authentic Indian origin of the garment.

This cropped jacket was, in fact, the angiya worn under a diaphanous cotton kurta, embellished with fine chikankari work that came atop the Farsi pyjama — the Indian equivalent of a bodice worn under English gowns. As years passed, the angiya evolved into a shaluka, with sleeves and heritage embroideries added to accentuate the surface. Ornate shalukas — worn as part of a complete Awadhi ensemble — were made using Banarasi Meenakari brocades; velvets for winter looks, and lighter silks for summer jackets that lent them a rich sheen. As 19th century segued into the 20th and women began stepping outside of their homes, this little garment became a prized fashionable blouse for special soirées and festivals, worn over the voluminous Farsi pyjama.

“This Farsi pyjama is what you see as the gharara with a trail today,” Asma says. “One side of the skirt would be slightly lifted and tucked at the waist, presenting a unique silhouette for the feminine form. To complete the look, a stunning dupatta of almost three metres would be stylishly draped over both.”

“The shaluka was the oldest part of the complete Awadhi get-up, which, over the years, took the form of the longer kurta worn these days. If the look is recreated now, and we do it for young brides, we hear the refrain that the shaluka resembles the corset blouse worn in the West.”

Anecdotes and information about the lesser-known details of Awadh’s costume chronicles pepper our conversation with Asma, who is known for bringing back silhouettes reminiscent of the fashionforward folk of the princely and elite circles of Lucknow. Considering her own royal legacy, her grasp on the subject comes through as she deconstructs the history of the gharara, another gorgeous emblem of Awadh’s imperial couture.

Nawab Nasir-ud-Din Haider Shah, the second king of Awadh, was fond of everything English in his private life. This fascination for the British lifestyle rubbed off on his sartorial sensibilities, as he noticed elegant women wearing breathtaking English gowns during formal gatherings. “At that time, they also had the gharara, which wasn’t exactly like the kalidar lehenga of today. Nawab Haider pondered over it and instructed artisans of the royal household to craft the gharara. So you can call it his brainwave… Creating something that was inspired by English gowns but resembling the ghagra,” Asma shares.

“Women in Awadhi households wore simple cotton gharara paired with crisp handblock-printed kurtis and a light dupatta. During festivals, weddings and special soirées, begums would bring out their special Farsi ghararas that dazzled with rich zardozi kaam, kaamdani and cutwork. The trails and artfully draped dupattas would give these ensembles the imperial grandeur that Awadh was renowned for. Tiny ghararas would be stitched for little girls the way achkans and sherwanis would be tailored for young boys. It was an intrinsic part of luxurious Awadhi dressing.”

The recollections veer towards Asma’s maternal grandmother, Qaisal Jahan Begum, who she grew up seeing wear the most fascinating attires during her time. “Nani instructed karigars and tailors to stitch Farsi ghararas for nikaahs and walimas, while there would be chhoti got ka gharara made for more subdued occasions. You see, the Farsi gharara was an elaborate garment with yards of fabric. When women started stepping out often, the trail — earlier held by the lady’s maid from behind — would be clipped to make it less cumbersome and more practical for daily wear. This brought the chhoti got ka gharara into existence, and it’s relevant till date. You’ll see a lot of women in Pakistan wear this silhouette, too, but its origin lies in Awadh, as this was a fashion-forward place that gave the world roughly 30 types of apparels we see around us today,” Asma says. 

She shows off a pink tissue gharara paired with a brocade kurta. The mukaish work on the skirt is delicate yet delightful, infusing the ensemble with quite a scintillating aura. “Ghararas, their accompanying shalukas or kurtas and dupattas became the canvas for showcasing the most exquisite embroideries reflective of Awadhi craftsmanship,” Asma emphasises. “At our atelier, we’ve retained this vocabulary of vintage allure and refinement. It’s a legacy of Awadhi costume, culture and craftsmanship that we are steadfastly carrying forward by reviving heirloom designs, forgotten yet glorious silhouettes, authentic zari brocades and fine embroideries.”

One of these would be the superlative tukdi ka kaam that celebrates geometry on textiles. It involves having small pieces of silk being cut up into coordinated shapes and then stitched onto the base fabric of the gharara using real zari or resham threads to form a geometric pattern. The final product exhibits a kaleidoscopic pattern that glimmers in the light with a multidimensional effect. “This tukdi ka kaam wasn’t just fine art through embroidery; it was the creation of a different textile itself that boasted different design elements focussed on the form of the fish, the flower or simple geometry,” she explains. “There are names for these, as well. For patterns resembling the fish, we say ‘maahipusht.’ For florals, it is ‘phool’ and ‘harshpehel.’”

“In modern parlance — and with the erosion of fine aesthetics — tukdi ka kaam was misnamed ‘chatapatti.’ But aristocratic families in Lucknow would chide artisans if they used this word. For the elite and those who still live by such refined standards, it will always be tukdi ka kaam se shajaya hua gharara [ghararas embellished with tukdi ka kaam],” Asma trails off, as our mind lingers on the gorgeous Awadhi regalia that’s a living reality of the costume traditions of India.

This story was featured in the Vol 1. Issue 5 of HELLO! India. For more exclusive stories, subscribe to the magazine here.