The silk route to Ahimsa

The rearing of silkworms for the production of silk is called Sericulture, a practice that originated in China. The silkworms or rather the larvae of the Silk Moth (Bombyx mori) are used for making silk commercially. The female silk moth lays around 300 eggs at a time on the leaves of the Mulberry plant, and when they hatch, the silkworms feed on the same leaves.

The worms moult or shed their skin four times, after which they enter the pupal stage, where they spin a cocoon. It is this cocoon which is made of a continuous thread of raw silk, around 300-900 metres long, which is spun out of the glands of the worm. The strength and elasticity of the silk thread comes from the proteins Fibroin and Sericin present in the silk thread.

While Fibroin is the thread like component, Sericin is the gum that holds the threads together. Once the worm has metamorphosed into an adult moth, it breaks out of the cocoon. In sericulture, moths are not allowed to break out of the cocoon as this breaks the silk thread, making it commercially useless.

Hence, the cocoons are steamed/ baked to kill the moths inside, and then dipped in boiling water to extract the silk thread. Mahatma Gandhi was highly critical of silk production because of this very reason, and instead supported the production of Eri silk or Ahimsa silk, which involves obtaining silk from cocoons of wild/ semi-domesticated moths,

where the moth are allowed to break out of one end of the cocoon and then used for silk extraction. A new technique involves placing larvae on a pedestal where they spin silk which winds around the stand, but does not form a cocoon. Yet, they metamorphose into adults.

Daddy, when will we reach?” Reshmi asked for the umpteenth time. Her dad laughed. “Have some patience Reshmi”, he said, “I told you it would take an hour more!”

Reshmi smiled and hugged herself, unable to contain her excitement. It was her ninth birthday, and she was sitting in her dad’s car, waiting for her birthday surprise. Reshmi looked pretty in her brand new dress- a beautiful blue long skirt and blouse made of fine silk.

But most of Reshmi’s dresses were silk anyway, whether it was her birthday or not! Being the only daughter of well-to-do parents, Reshmi had always been pampered with the best of things. Her parents had named her “Reshmi” after the Hindi word for silk- “Resham”. Her doting parents also made sure that she always dressed in rich silks, and told her they had named her so after the fine fabric that implied royalty and elegance. And true to her name, Reshmi was a sweet child, as soft as silk in her mannerisms and nature. She was high-spirited, but never impolite or hurtful towards anyone in her words or deeds. Reshmi herself, seemed to realize the importance of her name, and was careful to not even hurt any living creature. All those who knew her, agreed that she was as beautiful and soft-natured as silk.

Reshmi liked wearing silk too. The soft material that came in various colours and patterns caught her fancy, and the only time she did not wear silk was when she wore her school uniform to school! Even when she got gifts, she preferred getting silk dresses and frocks to anything else. What she prized most among her possessions, in her own words, was what she was called- Silk.

That birthday, her father had promised her a surprise. Reshmi wasn’t sure what it was, but she secretly hoped it was a visit to her grandfather’s ancestral home. Reshmi had never been there, though her grandpa had come to visit her several times. Reshmi had tried asking her dad where he was taking her, but he wouldn’t tell her. She tried asking her mother, the cook and the maid who seemed to be in on the secret, but none of them would tell her. So she had to contend herself with sitting in the car quietly as her dad drove her to the surprise destination.

Almost two hours later, the car drove up into the grounds of a large country cottage. Reshmi, who had never been there before, gaped in wonder at the new surroundings full of greenery and the quaint old cottage, which were in stark contrast to their city home. Her joy knew no bounds when the door of the cottage was opened by her grandfather.

“Dadaji!!” she cried, rushing into his arms. She was very fond of her grandfather and missed him, because he hardly ever stayed with them in the city. He always said he “had work to do” in the village, and wouldn’t stay longer than a week in their city home.

Her grandfather was equally delighted to see her as well. Seating her on his shoulders, he took her around the house, showing her every nook and cranny of the ancient structure.

“So this was the surprise you planned for me!” Reshmi said to her father, who was standing by and watching the grandfather- granddaughter duo at play. “Well, this is of course a surprise, but it was something else that I actually meant to show you!” replied her father, his eyes shining in merriment.

“Aah, yes”, said her grandfather. “We thought we would show you how your most favourite object – silk – is made.”

Reshmi was surprised. For all her obsession with silk, she had never given a thought to how it was made. She had taken it for granted that silk was bought at shops, and had never pondered further than that.

“Do you know where all the silk that you wear comes from?” asked her father. “Your grandfather has a silk production unit right here!”

Reshmi looked at her grandfather in awe. “Dadaji, you never told me!” she said. “Do you have huge machinery and a big industrial building here to produce silk? What do you make it from?”

Her grandfather laughed at her naivety. “Come with me, I’ll show you”, so saying, he led the way towards the backyard. He first led her to a loom, where numerous weavers were at work. “Here, they weave the silk thread into silk cloth, in different colours and patterns that you’re so fond of.”

“But where does the silk thread come from?” asked Reshmi.

Her grandfather next led her to a huge room full of baskets and trays stacked one on top of another. There was a continuous pitter-pattering sound, as if huge raindrops were falling on the roof. “Brrr... it’s quite cold in here Dadaji”, said Reshmi. “And what’s that strange sound?”

“Open one of these baskets and you’ll see”, said her grandfather. Reshmi lifted the cover off one to find it full of green leaves and grayish white worms munching away on the leaves. She leaped back in shock. “Worms!” she cried.

“Not just worms, my dear”, said her father, “Silk worms.”

“Here are your silk producers”, said her grandfather. “These silkworms are the larvae, or the caterpillars of the Silk moth. From the time they hatch, they feed ferociously on the leaves of Mulberry trees.”

“And once they have had their fill”, her father continued, “They prepare themselves for a long nap all wrapped up in a cocoon, during which their bodies change to become moths.”

“Ooh…just like the butterfly!” said Reshmi. “But where does the silk come from?”

Her grandfather led her to a different room; where there were several workers handling what looked like small white balls. “Those are the silkworm cocoons”, he said, “and the silkworms produce the silk fibre from their saliva, from certain glands in their body, and wind this fibre round and round themselves several times, to make the cocoon.”

“But we have saliva too”, insisted Reshmi. “How come it doesn’t form strong fibres like silk?”

“Raw silk made by these worms is made of two proteins- fibroin and sericin”, said her father. “The fibroin protein is insoluble and like a thread. The sericin is a gum-like protein that binds two strands of fibroin together.”

Her grandfather then showed Reshmi how the workers extracted the silk thread from the cocoons. “Just before the moth emerges, the cocoons are steamed to kill the moth inside, and then dipped in boiling water allowing the silk thread to come loose from the cocoon…which is then spun onto a reel.”

Reshmi stood rooted to the spot. She had enjoyed the entire experience till she realised that the moths in the cocoons were killed to produce her favourite silk. Her eyes filled with tears as she saw hundreds of cocoons being steamed. Before her father could stop her, she ran away crying, and went and sat down inside her dad’s car. She wouldn’t stay there a minute longer.

Her father tried to pacify her, but she wouldn’t listen. Finally, he gave up, and drove her back home. As soon as she reached home, she removed all the silk clothes from her cupboard. “I won’t wear silk anymore”, she sobbed. “If I had known that my silk is made after killing so many harmless creatures, I would never have worn it!”

Try as they might, her parents couldn’t convince her. Months passed, and she stuck to her resolve.

Then one day, arrived a parcel from her grandfather, along with a letter. “My dear Reshmi”, the letter said, “I never thought how terrible it was to kill so many moths to make silk, till you made me think of it. Just for your sake, I have now started making silk differently- without harming the moths in the cocoons. We let them come out and fly away, and then extract the silk from the cocoons. We call it Ahimsa silk. You’ll find your first dress made of Ahimsa silk in the parcel. –Love, Dadaji.”

Reshmi opened the parcel to find a beautiful red silk dress. It was not as fine to touch as the regular silk; but she held it close to herself, feeling happier that no more worms would be killed to produce silk.

By:Sneha Verghese is a research scholar in Journalism at Osmania University, Hyderabad. Also a post-graduate in biotechnology, she loves teaching and writing stories for kids to explain scientific concepts.