Inseparable, some say, from the Independence movement, and irrelevant now, outside of sarkari rhetoric? But the khadi story is not so mundane. It can become a chic, green ethos-friendly fabric. That also means it becomes a high-priced, luxury consumption item. Bureaucrats and designers need to think clearly
On a monsoon afternoon, Ponduru village in Srikakulam district of coastal Andhra Pradesh wears a silver-grey light. Amid clucking fowls and scampering children, Mangamma is at work at a charkha, her hennaed fingers cradling the spindle as she slowly turns the wheel with her right hand. Her neighbours join her to spin the yarn on her verandah. There is a charkha in every home here; young or old, every woman spins one.

Ponduru is part of a cluster of villages where India’s traditional spinning technique is still alive. Here, everything is done by hand: from cleaning and de-seeding the short-staple hill cotton with the jawbone of the valuga fish to spinning the yarn. The khadi has a distinct weave and a full-bodied texture that is only accentuated by use and repeated washes. It is expensive: one metre can cost up to Rs 542 and a sari or men’s dhoti is priced at Rs 6,400. The rare connoisseur of khadi, from within the country and outside, travels this far to buy this exquisite almond-coloured (or natural white) fabric. Politicians and local residents buy the medium variety of Ponduru khadi; it is available at a few khadi bhandars in the state.

But it is yet to make an appearance on Indian fashion runways; you could stump the majority of designers by its mention. Even Fab India and Anokhi regulars willing to pay for khadi chic are not aware that such a luxurious fabric exists. When the Andhra Fine Khadi Karmika Sangham (AFKK), a government undertaking based in Ponduru, set up a stall at Delhi’s Pragati Maidan three years ago, not a single sale was made.

https://archive.indianexpress.com/news/wearing-khadi-today-/659863/