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Khadi courts chic label

Shubhra Gupta

I belong to the lost generation which wore khadi as a fashion statement. Teamed with American blue jeans, the oversize gents' khadi kurtas in basic blue and green, flaming red and orange were where it was at. Those not in the know, wore salwaar kam eez -- as far as we were concerned, the neon-bright, droopy-shoulder-kurtas were the ultimate in campus cool.

Next time I noticed, as a card-carrying working journalist, there was no khadi to be seen on the trendsetting young. On a visit to the sprawling Delhi University campus, shepherding a nervous applicant, one saw all kinds of artificial fabric in a bundance, nary a shred of khadi. Clearly, the Age of Aquarius had been overtaken by the Era of Lycra. So it was with great pleasure that I read about the new khadi store in one of the Capital's centrally-located market places (actually, Lok Nayak Bhavan doesn't have the snob-appeal that next-door Khan Market has, but it is a convenient marker for directions). The store is called, simply, `Khadi'. It is tiny, if you are used to the cavernous Khadi Gramudyog outlet in Connaug ht Place. But the selected goodies displayed on the tastefully-done, bleached wood shelves more than make up for the lack of room.

To see how far the time-honoured idea of khadi -- home-spun clothes for the Indian masses -- has travelled, take a look at the display window. A mannequin shows off a spaghetti-strap top, designed by Rohit Bal, in fluorescent fuschia pink and y ellow -- the off-the-shoulder creation announces khadi's emphatic entry into contemporary fashion, shaking off the fusty image which has clung to khadi for decades, as something only the fossilised `jholawalas' and other People Like Them, wore . Once in, one is struck by the clean lines of the new white, green and yellow packaging and labelling on familiar products, most of which have been available for decades in the old outlets -- honey, dalia, churan, mangodi (dal dumplings), tr ifla and shikakai hair oils, `dant manjans' (tooth-powders), and even, quaintly, an ayurvedic aphrodisiac, etc. Except for the odd brand-new face wash and shampoo, what you get in Khadi is what you will get in their other stores, minus the sm art packaging.

What is truly novel about Khadi is its bold designer streak, implementing the Minister of Small-Scale Industries, Vasundhara Raje Scindia's directive of broadbasing khadi's appeal. The outfits by well-known designers Rohit Bal and Malini Ram ani, the attentive staff informs me, have been walking off the shelves since last month, when the store opened. A few of the popular boxy kurtas, done by Bal, immediately catch the eye -- the colours are muted earth-brown, beige, cream. T he style is simple, and elegant -- at Rs 255 a throw, with the standard 10 per cent discount, they are a steal. Think about it, where would you get a Rohit Bal original at that price?

The range of apparel is a mix of the old and the new -- non-designer `khaddar kurtas', to be found stacked to the ceiling in khadi `bhandaars', big and small, all over the country (Rs 150-Rs 400) and Gandhi topis, Bal-designed embroidered kurta-pyj ama sets in very fine khadi (Rs 800-Rs 1,100), the familiar printed khadi silk saris (Rs 700-Rs 900) and materials which hover on the more expensive side (at Rs 300 plus a metre), short skirts, embellished by mirror strips by Ramani (Rs 610) .

A friend who is along, and who knows her fabric, vouches for the quality of the khadi. Like all natural fabrics, khadi breathes, making it wonderfully comfortable all year round, especially for those who can't abide nylons and rayons -- an all-whi te plain kurta-pyjama (Rs 945-Rs 1,100), is ideal evening wear for muggy summer evenings anywhere on the Indian sub-continent. And it is classy. It looks as if the revival of khadi is well on its way -- in the next year, nine more designer Khadi sto res are planned in Delhi, and outside.

Pic.: The Khadi store, New Delhi

Picture by Ramesh Sharma

(The author can be reached at Shubhrag@vsnl.com)