“Soon it got dusk, a grapy dusk, a purple dusk over tangerine groves and long melon fields; the sun the color of pressed grapes, slashed with burgandy red, the fields the color of love and Spanish mysteries.”

― Jack Kerouac, On the road

Colours are the journal keepers of the moments as they pass by, just like the sense of smell.

Colours add fragrance to the visual world.

When I offered different colours of yarn to this Mising weaver, she picked so many for the weave in the pallu. I asked her if she really wanted to use so many all together. She said “yes, it’s spring time!”

She is right! Nature doesn’t choose and pick colours in the spring, it just splashes colour in all shapes and sizes!

Mising weaves woven at Majuli, believed to be one of the largest river island on earth. Mising weavers draw complex graphs to weave poetry on textile. Their meticulous count in weaving motifs is a respected art form.

Plain and check fabrics are woven by weavers of Tai Khampti tribe. Nang Amlavati began engaging untrained weavers, single mothers, and older women to engage in weaving plain, checks and striped fabrics. Rather than buying plain handloom fabrics from mainland, we began creating livelihood opportunities by weaving less intricate weaves as a medium of training new weavers and convenient income for trained ones.