The wind hollered across the sands. The land was dry. Summer was making its way in. It was time for me to leave. Far, far away to the western most land of India, close to the border of Pakistan, lay a small remote hamlet named Kuran, my new home home.
I am the only one from my family in this country now who weaves the carpets, or Kharad. We were determined to hold on to the strings, but I am the only one still holding. Kharad weaving originates from what is now known as Pakistan. It was made for the royalty. The kings and queens of the time would adorn their palaces with Kharad.
My father used to travel to find work. Working as laborer he often visited the regions that now lie in Pakistan. On one such journey, he came home having learnt the craft. It was he who brought Kharad this side.
Having to work as early as the age of six, my brother and I picked up the threads from our father. We made products for Maldharis, large rice baskets and luggage holders that went on camel backs.
The earthquake in 2001 took a heavy turn in our lives. Loosing our home and large amounts of material I was forced to look for work elsewhere. I had to work as a mason. As 12 long years went by, I found light at the end of the tunnel. An organization in Bhuj offered to help me with my weaving. I earn well. Soon, when I have enough I will go home.
My family awaits.
