There are things that you eye on, things that you buy some of which you forget you ever bought and some you use/wear it until it breaks/tears. And there are some things that are indispensable; that cannot be replaced by any other. That encapsulates your past and your present, weaves your identity, tells a tale of your existence. This pouch is all of that for me.
This Thikma designed pouch was my grandmother's handwork. She wove it on a weaving machine, hand stitched it and dyed it with naturally. The name (Thikma) comes from the cross pattern which was created by using a thick string. The string was dipped in a bowl of color to dye and the dyed string was pressed onto the woolen fabric to create the two lines and lines can be translated as 'thik' in Tibetan. Hence, Thikma.
The circle behind the cross also has an interesting story. The round portion is actually the natural color of the fabric. She had wrapped those circled areas with a piece of fabric and tied it with a thread and dyed the red portion with the help of madder. After it had dried, she untied the circled portion which was left un-dyed.
The pattern had already grabbed my attention and when I was narrated the tale behind the making of this pouch I loved it all the more. I realised a new sense of respect towards it. It's not just an antique piece, not ordinary. It is a part of me. With it I feel closer to her. When I was listening to the story, I imagined my grandmother going through all the procedures to make this classic piece. With a lot of queries, I wondered how old she was when she made it. Was she young? Mid-thirties? Or in her older days? How was she looking then? Do I resemble her? Was she under the bright blue sky with the sun shining on her face and her careful hands? Did the thought of it being handed down to me one day ever cross her mind? How was the ambiance around her? All of this, I'd never know.
This is one of the few belongings we have that I treasure the most. It would not be an exaggeration to say that it is priceless for me.