First visit

I have come to wonder if the word Fabric Producer is translated into “monsoon” in Hindi. After a slightly disappointing week last week, we were super excited about visiting the first fabric producer and woke up to rain and very dark clouds. Determined to not let a little monsoon stand in our way this week, we got ready and headed for the train station to meet with Pooja.

Pooja was a little delayed and I had hoped that the delay would translate into an easier commute on the train. It did, and it didn’t. I do not know how to describe the fight to get onto the train, except try to imagine that 40 people need to get through the limited amount of space provided by the train doors and then find room inside a compartment about the size of 6 x 12 feet which is already occupied by another 40 people, all this while 20 people are streaming out of the doors and there is only about 1 minute to accomplish all the flows of human bodies. Then you get the joy of being squished, elbowed, smooshed, bent, and pushed around all while enjoying the local flavors of lack of deodorant. It is indeed an experience.

Nevertheless, nothing two women from South Dakota can’t handle, so we got on and after a few stops even got some place to sit. We reached Bhayandar after half an hour ride and from there we caught a bus. This added a whole new chapter to our experience into daily life in India. You can get on either through the front or back door and even if the bus is in motion. Once on, you buy your ticket from a controller who walks up and down to see who gets on. The bus sounded like it would fall apart any minute and took us out of town through narrow, winding streets that really should not have a bus in them. Additionally, the road is full of speed bumps, so the bus speeds up, slows down, speeds up again all while passing the rikshaws that somehow also fit on the same road.

However, the trip took us to a rural village and gave us a whole new glimpse of life in India. We saw rice fields, villages and a whole different pace of life. After nearly 45 minutes we got off in the middle of a village named Utan. I don’t know if we did most of the staring or they did, but it was a surreal moment as we all just stood there. Finally, we found a rikshaw and all of us (Pooja had brought her mother-in-law) piled into a rikshaw that normally fits Hanna and myself and maybe a bag of groceries on the floor. I am learning much about being a space hog.

Ten minutes later we reached the producer and were greeted by the kindest and warmest people you can imagine. Zia, the husband, does not speak English but his lovely wife speaks some, so she and Pooja translated for Zia and us. We were first treated to Indian coffee and then had a great orientation and saw so much how they operate and produce the spectacular fabrics they do, everything by hand! Without getting into too many technical details about dyeing and printing, let me just say that I sure hope you appreciate any batik or block print fabric you might have. It takes incredible skill to produce with the accuracy and speed we demand.

At the end of the day, we returned to our apartment so excited and filled with more enthusiasm to go back tomorrow and learn even more. Tomorrow we are on our own, so commute and language barrier could be some interesting challenges to overcome, but those are tomorrow’s problems.