Some time in the early ‘90s a few women in a village in Bihar were working as bonded labourers under a zamindaar. Their crime: they had borrowed a petty amount of `500 from him 20 years ago. These widows would work all day and yet, somehow, the amount would never get paid up. Spinning the yarn day and night was not sufficient to buy them their independence. The story of these women reached the ears of Laila Tyabji, Founder and Chairman of Dastkar: A Society for Crafts and Craftspeople. Unfortunately, this is not a unique tale of Indian poverty. But something about this story stayed with Tyabji and bothered her deeply. The very same day at a “fancy diplomatic dinner”, when she narrated the story to a friend, Gita Mehta, the famous author and daughter of Biju Patnaik, a solution was born. Gita said that she would give the royalties from her new book for the freedom of these women. And that’s how the foundation of the Bihar Tussar Project, one of India’s most successful crafts projects, was laid. As Tyabji puts it, “Today, from Shabana Azmi to Sonia Gandhi, all call us to check whether the new stock has arrived.” Tussar silk sarees, mirror-work kurtas, chickan salwar kameezes, block print dupattas — these have become collectors’ items in Delhi. Such is their popularity that in the last bazaar, the craftsmen sold Tussar silk worth `27 lakh. But it has been a long journey to reach this point. In 1981 six women — Jaya Jaitley, Poonam Muttreja, Bunny Page, Gauri Choudhry, Prabeen Singh and Laila Tyabji — all hailing from different walks of life, came together to form a society that would work for the welfare of Indian craftspeople. Most of these women didn’t dream of being a part of the developmental sector some day. They were normal working women. What motivated them to get into the social sector, and especially mix crafts and developmental work? Laila Tyabji, who had grown up in a family of connoisseurs, spent her life around rich textiles, gorgeous artifacts and furniture. She thought that these beautiful objects, which she was surrounded by, dotted all the neighbourhood markets across cities. It was only when she started working as a freelance designer that she realised, not only were quality handicrafts rare and unique, but that ordinary citizens had forgotten about the craftsmen, who were living marginalised lives and going through untold suffering. Tyabji honestly admits that there was no single epiphanic moment that made the group of like-minded individuals decide to get involved with Indian crafts. But when the decision was taken, they didn’t waste time. They started Dastkar as a part-time voluntary organisation. Tyabji admits that even when they began, none of them thought that they would be able to sustain the NGO for such a long period. However, not only has Dastkar managed to survive, but it has also changed the lives of thousands of craftsmen. Dastkar follows a simple model: it’s an organisation which serves a platform. It travels to parts of the country, interacting with the communities of craftspeople, getting in touch with local NGOs and then training people there. It makes craftspeople aware of the government schemes and helps them avail of the benefits. Dastkar Nature Bazaar plays host to a variety of crafts from 19 Indian states and provides a platform to 200 groups and 32,000 craftspeople every year. These Bazaars have managed to breathe new life into the dying crafts culture completely unique to India. Other than reviving the crafts, Dastkar has given craftspeople a sense of purpose. Today, they travel nationally and internationally with great confidence. But this is not all — Dastakar realised early on that bringing traditional crafts to the mainstream also meant impacting the lives of the artistisans. The final goal is to make the artistisans, most of who live in rural India, independent and aware of the value of their own art, so that they can negotiate with “middle men” without being exploited in the process. The organisation also works especially with women trying to liberate them and make them realise the importance of issues such as education, nutrition and healthcare. Have they been able to achieve all this and more? Tyabji modestly says that the answer “depends upon the side of the bed I get up in the morning”. She tells us a story of Dhapu, her friend from Kutch, who committed suicide because she couldn’t arrange money for her daughter’s wedding. Indira — Dhapu’s daughter — then started working for Dastkar and within five years, was the most soughtafter bride in the village, as she was smart, independent and earned quite a packet. This story, she says, makes her feel that some may have taken their steps to independence. At the same time, Tyabji believes that with this liberation, an extra burden has been dumped upon the women. Now, along with their household chores, the women also work five hours extra to make enough money. While talking about their goals, Tyabji warns us of not labouring under misapprehensions. She says that while they want to empower existing craftsmen, they don’t wish to create more artistisans; despite a clear demand craftspeople live in distressed conditions. Creating more of their ilk for an already saturated market would make a bad situation, worse. This approach has invited Dastkar a lot of criticism. The women however shrug it off and move forward with a “begging bowl” for funds. For years a generous European company — Eco — funded their work. But Dastkar’s real money comes from within the circle. The craftsmen pay back by giving a significant share of the profit they make in the bazaar. And this money is then used to train new groups. On a final note, Tyabji tells us that if we fail to do our bit to save the crafts, we will be deeply sorry as we will lose our heritage. And when asked what our bit could be, she smiles and says “You could start by attending the bazaar next year”.