A textiles conservationist currently based in Bhutan, the spouse of the Indian ambassador talks about preserving memory, pastoralism, and the nuances of being a cultural collaborator

It starts with an unapologetic stare which quickly turns into a reflective observation. The stare-gaze directed at Namrata Dalela’s thoughtfully chosen woven sari, a silk ikat in pink-mauve-purple is hijacked by her body language. Her smiles are wide and warm. She greets guests with resonating attentiveness, her persona signaling sensitivity as well as a hard to describe simplicity.

The occasion is a dinner hosted at India House in Thimpu, by Sudhakar Dalela, the Ambassador of India to the Kingdom of Bhutan and his spouse Namrata, for participating authors and hosting teams of the Bhutan Echoes Literature and Design Festival 2024 held in August this year. Namrata Dalela’s name was among the moderators at the literature festival, for a conversation on memory and language. But even before you listen to her, it is clear that her soft diplomacy, perhaps the predictable armour and wrap of diplomatic wives, barely sums her up.

At the ‘Threads of Tradition’ at Bhutan Echoes Literature and Design Festival 2024.

Later, as diverse conversations roll out, on the sidelines of other formal dinners, continuing later from India for this interview, answers to what instantly echoes about Namrata emerge. She has a collaborator’s non-intrusive timbre, held finely in place with a conservationist’s glue.

Born and raised in what’s now Chhattisgarh, Namrata studied at boarding schools in India. The culturally rich land of her birth, tuned her early observations towards the wears and wares of the Santhal tribe and other local influences long before she would join Lady Irwin College in Delhi. In 1993, the thesis of her post graduate course in Clothing and Textiles was on a comparative study on kantha embroidery in East and West Bengal.

By the time Namrata chose to pursue her second masters after a gap of sixteen years, this time in Conservation from the National Museum Institute in New Delhi, a lot had transpired.

With the king and queen of the Kingdom of Bhutan, alongside husband, Sudhakar Dalela, the Ambassador of India.
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Personal curiosity, fuelled by curiosity shops and stops across in the world given her husband’s global postings, would refine the textures now poignantly visible in what she does. Her exposure to conservation in museums, she says—dwelling at length on the scientific aspects of the expertise—came from the Ethnographic Museum in Geneva where she volunteered in 2002-2003 during her husband’s posting.

She fondly cites her work as a Textiles Conservation consultant with the Crafts Museum in Delhi in the late 2000s, and a later association in 2018 for the exhibition, ‘Making Visible: The Rafoogars and the Journey of a Shawl’ which was displayed at the India International Centre. Rafoogiri (traditional darning) in India, Sashiko in Japan, kantha embroideries, Rajasthan’s Pichhwai paintings, the heat and dust of textile conservation… stain her conversations.

Now in Thimpu, she is an insider-outsider-connector for the local crafts and design community among whom she builds bridges of crafts-oriented dialogue that will last.

Here, Namrata talks about some of her projects, textiles that hold forgotten stories, why pastoralists matter in the contemporary world and what defines a sensitive cultural collaborator.

As the spouse of an Indian Ambassador posted to different countries on diplomatic missions, how do you retain consistency in your work as a collaborator/conservationist?

It has been a mixed bag of learning opportunities while navigating our postings. Textiles have always come into focus with my engagement with people in different countries and with the diplomatic community. Presentations on the appreciation of Indian textiles with students at a design school in Israel, Harvard alumni, and with a group of students at the Osher Lifelong Learning Institute (OLLI) at American University, came with the responsibility of studying the breadth of Indian textile traditions and keeping up with the design sector in India.

The English translation and original ‘Nakshi Kanthar Math’ from Bangladesh.

Looking at the shar sheeba, a decorative tassel on camel bridles, and works of embroidery made by Bedouin women in Israel was a humbling reminder of pastoral communities in India who engage in creating artisanal objects for everyday use. Bobbin lacemaking in Fortaleza, on Brazil’s north eastern coastline, was a learning in how techniques travelled with colonisers. Lace in Europe was a fashionable commodity and underwent a cycle of handmade production, followed by mechanised production, and then the revival of handmade, between the 16th to 19th century. In Bangladesh, I got to see an embroidered ‘Nakshi Kanthar Math’ based on a poignant narrative verse written by Jassimuddin in 1928.

In addition, it has been advantageous to learn about Indian collections in museums in different countries as textiles have been the most traded and gifted objects. Conservation should ultimately translate to not only recognising and safekeeping objects for posterity, but also supporting the community in their journey to keep the craft alive. This has been my recurring endeavor in all the postings abroad, in Delhi, and travels throughout India.

The ‘Khadi Thagzo’ event (2019).

What are the synergist impulses you notice in Indian textile design and Bhutanese textiles?

The Khadi-Thagzo collaboration between Indian designers and Bhutanese designers supported by KVIC (Khadi and Village Industries Commission), FDCI (Fashion Design Council of India), and the Indo-Bhutan Foundation marked the 150th birth anniversary celebration of Mahatma Gandhi in 2019. Bhutanese designers attended the then Lotus Make-Up India Fashion Week, to pave a path in fashion retailing in India. Traditional textile production is firmly rooted in different regions of Bhutan. There is a range of exquisite designs. There is a vast potential for Bhutanese fabrics to be used in collections by Indian designers.

Indian fabrics, especially brocades, are found easily and used for women’s traditional jackets in Bhutan. Lower cost mill fabrics from Assam are also used to make men’s and women’s everyday wear. Gyasar brocades from Banaras have been used for framing Thangka paintings and in textile adornments in monasteries and temples. Eri silk thread from Assam is used in weaving and eri fabric is used for the kabney, a mandatory drape worn by men on formal occasions.

The Bhutanese design community has used a lot of traditional fabric for product development and now is the time when fabrics and dress will help instill a strong sense of identity in the growing diaspora. There is some production of womenswear such as semi-formal jackets using Bhutanese fabrics, and demand will continue growing with the increasing number of young women in the workforce.

In your opinion what are the finer qualities of a crafts and cultural collaborator?

It takes a lot of practice to develop an attitude of observation. Settling in a new land is an exercise of adaptation and it helps to observe people—their aspirations, language, and culture to make meaningful connections.

A representative image of natural dyeing.

Expanding knowledge partnerships in collaborations is always a win-win situation. For example, Bhutan has a wealth of natural dyes. Madder, walnut, turmeric and viburnum, rhododendron, dogwood, indigo and artemisia leaves, are found and used commonly in addition to lac from India. Recently, there was an opportunity for practicing natural dyers to attend a workshop to foster the exchange of techniques. I reached out to organisations that could benefit and facilitated their participation. Natural dyes are an exclusive and limited resource and I feel that Bhutan has the potential for marketing them and sharing expertise. During the workshop, participants from Bhutan gave the dyeing community in India access to Bhutanese dyes and knowledge of traditional techniques employed by experienced dyers.

A collaborator is best described as a strong bridge. Most projects only need you at an initiation stage. Skills in coordination and communication are essential, your creative ideas are not important, but how you tailor them for people on board, determines the outcome. Art and crafts traditions need a forum for visibility and if you encourage communities to participate, half of what you intend is done. Having said that, the responsibility to recognise the crafts and communities, rests on you.

Can you tell us a little about Lost & Found, the community-based Memory Project you worked on in Washington DC in 2022?

It was named Lost & Found for a reason—memories never disappear, they are uniquely owned and safely kept for times when they are needed. Once found, they must be communicated and celebrated. The pandemic was a time of reflection – people were evaluating their needs vs. their desires, and adapting their levels of consumption and consumerism. At times, this allowed people to return to meaningful or heirloom objects in their homes. With such objects as starting points, conversations about family memories, personal history and heritage took place. The community was approached to share objects from their lives for display, or objects, photos and memories for an audio-visual archive. The Indian community in Maryland (in the US) for instance, responded with a multitude of objects and related memories, including textiles (Kashmir shawls, Banaras brocades, phulkari embroidery), heirloom jewellery, paintings, awards (Order of Indian Empire by George VI), books (Punjabi Century: 1857-1947 By Prakash Tandon), and an ikebana arrangement by a master. The exhibit labels had information about the objects and narratives in the voices of participants. The audio-visual archive too was made with commentary by the participants.

As a trained textiles conservationist, which Indian textile most holds your interest?

Conservation adds information to the story of a textile. Textiles leave a unique footprint in time, based on the materials, design, technology employed in their making and the purpose for which they were made. As textiles are utilitarian, their value as works of art and elements of culture is often undermined. Curators and conservators work towards propagating the essence of our textiles – the tangible and intangible processes.

From the ‘Living Lightly’ exhibition.

Kantha embroidery has been particularly interesting to me. Kanthas were made by recycling old saris, so they have to be treated as composite and layered objects, and some parts may deteriorate differently. I keenly observe how kantha embroidery collections are maintained in museums, making note of the deterioration and mitigation measures that can enhance their life. Kantha production has been commercialised since the 1980s, resulting in changes in embroidery designs, motifs, and execution of stitches. Identifying and recording these changes has also been an interest of mine. In the future, I would also like to work with pastoral communities, since their existence as pastoralists is under threat. A travelling exhibition in India called ‘Living Lightly’ (the first in 2016) included objects from pastoral communities, oral archives, crafts, food, and performances that gave insight into the philosophy and culture of pastoralists. This community should get all the support and freedom to follow the path they have established in this fast- changing world.