Fanning memories of beating the heat
At this time of the year, the sun saps one’s energy and good humour. The sultry weather is many a time described as a silly season because the heat and humidity cook the brain.
The other day when there was a long electricity cut that led to the inverter giving up in the sweltering heat, I began to fan myself with a newspaper. With no TV to watch and little else to do, I’d read the newspaper from the first to the last page. he mention of hand fans conjured up images from times when power used to be erratic and no one had heard of an inverter. Mothers affectionately fanning children to sleep or fanning the chulha (hearth) were common sights in the ’70s.
Pankhas (fans) made of plastic, bamboo and grass were a necessity in every home to bring in a whiff of cool breeze on a lazy afternoon as the electricity conked off frequently. Memories of the hand pankha opened a cupboard of cultural heritage, traditional patrimony and personal histories. Right then, came out those utilitarian light weight eco-hand fans crafted out of varied material to beat the heat.
At homes of friends and relatives, there were hand-stirring pankhas. At my Bengali friend Smita’s house, for instance, there used to be an intricate fragile filigree of white Sholapith fan from Bengal.
Once when we went to Rajasthan, we bought multicoloured zardozi painted fans with elephants and camels, flora and fauna along with emblems of royal heritage. They were embroidered with different designs and crafting techniques.
Mirror work fans with embellishments from Gujarat and rare silk zari fans can be still found in exhibitions. In my childhood, I saw magnificent ornamental silver fans being given away as temple offerings by my elders. During rath yatras (religious processions), idols of gods were fanned with reverence. They were used as decorative artefacts on the mantelpiece.
Named after pankh or feather, there are fans made of peacock feathers. Those made of bamboo, cane, palm leaf, silk and brass tell stories of different conventions and culture, history and geography, religious rituals, social ethos and class hierarchy. Many of us have read and seen pictures of large hanging painted pankhas to be pulled by attendants in darbars of kings and living rooms of queens. Even English sahibs in history books are shown being fanned by huge fans.
Jatin Das, who is an ardent collector of fans and holds exhibitions, is doing his best to preserve the tradition of pankhas. He calls the hand fan “a tool to cajole, seduce, care and love”. One is at once reminded of yesteryear actor Asha Parekh singing the soulful ‘Sayonara, sayonara’, fluttering the Japanese bamboo fan in her hands.
Today, the hand fan is a rarity in urban homes. It may even evoke a sense of awe among children.
Earlier, it had an intrinsic role to play in surviving the Indian summer. Though not a dying art, the handicraft of the hand-held fan market is getting eroded with the advent of modern gadgets. The product entirely made by hand exhibits different dimensions of art. As I sat fanning myself with the newspaper, I pondered on the journey of fans from homes to museums. Hope there are enthusiasts who will extend support to make the hand fan’s journey back from the museum to home.
FANS MADE OF BAMBOO, CANE, PALM LEAF, SILK AND BRASS TELL STORIES OF DIFFERENT CULTURE