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In the Sindh Province of Pakistan, the ancient, sustainable textile art of ajrak helps to keep a village afloat.
When we pulled into the small village of Moledino Sahito, several people were waiting for us. A gang of children were peeking out curiously from behind the adults’ elbows. In an open lot in front of us, workers were busy dunking fabric into large vats filled with dye. The fruit of their labor was drying in the sun, held down by rocks.
I was spending a couple of weeks in Pakistan with The Wander Adventures, and we traveled to Moledino Sahito to learn about ajrak, or geometric patterns that are block-printed in vivid colors on fabric that is used to make clothing, shawls, tablecloths, and more. This form of textile art, unique to the Sindh Province, is thought to date back to the Indus Valley Civilization, which thrived here around 2500–1500 B.C.
In Moledino Sahito’s Ilfa Ajrak Center, the prints are designed by sixth-generation ajrak maker Muhammad Ishaq Soomro. Ishaq, who has a master’s degree in textile design, was eager to show me the village’s art.
“It’s an old craft, learned from my grandfather and father,” he explained. “14 steps, 14 steps,” he repeated again and again, referring to the process of creating the textiles, as he ferried me to different open-air buildings in the village to witness the steps in action.
First, I saw men washing sheets of fabric in bowls filled with lime juice and water, a solution that prepares the cloth for better absorption of dye, and putting them in the sun to dry. Then, I watched as a man seated on the floor dipped a block Ishaq had designed into dye and stamped the border of the fabric. In the next building, I witnessed a man applying a paste made of clay, gum, water, brown sugar, flour, buffalo dung, and ground rice husks to the wet stamped design, to protect the color of the pattern while the fabric is dyed a different color.
From there, the men repeat the printing and dyeing steps as often as necessary to achieve the desired design and color combination. Then the fabric is soaked in a combination of natural ingredients that seal in the color. Finally, workers wash and dry the cloth, at which point, it’s ready for sale. The entire process takes around 16 days, Ishaq said. “This work has been done in our village for 400 years,” he told me proudly. “Our ancestors did the same work.”
According to some estimates, the fashion industry is responsible for 10% of the world’s carbon emissions, and textile dyeing specifically is thought to be behind 20% of the world’s water pollution. Studies have also noted the harmful health effects of the toxins found in synthetic dyes.
With this in mind, I asked Ishaq about the vibrant colors of the ajrak, which he explained come from natural sources: red from pomegranate rinds, yellow from onion skins, and blue from indigo, which are then mixed to make secondary colors. The community sources their ingredients from a local wholesale market and collects the onion skins from the floor. “The sellers laugh at us,” Ishaq said.
Once I’d seen the entire operation, Ishaq invited me back to his home for lunch. As we ate, he told me that more than 100 of the 4,500 residents in the village make a living from ajrak. Most residents of the Sindh Province work picking cotton and live in poverty, so running their own textile printing business offers the villagers of Moledino Sahito an opportunity for a better way of life. The textile art has recently come back in style in the Sindh province, boosting their business. But Ishaq has aspirations beyond the local market.
“My life will change when our product goes international,” he said, noting that customers can purchase ajrak directly through the center’s Facebook page and have it shipped abroad. He also hopes to host more visitors. “We want people to see our work, understand our culture, and connect with us,” he said.
As I got back to the car with textiles I’d purchased in hand and waved goodbye to the villagers of Moledino Sahito, I wasn’t sure whether I was more blown away by the beauty of the art, the way this ancient art sustains a community, or the hospitality I’d been shown. Perhaps they are all intertwined. As Ishaq put it: “Ajrak is our culture.”






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