Tangail shari: After winning GI battle, the 250-year-old heritage fights extinction

When I was a child, my grandmother used to proudly show me one of her most precious belongings — the Tangail shari from her wedding day. Deep maroon with fine golden threads, it remained soft to the touch even after all those years.

"This one came from Tangail," she used to say. I didn't quite understand its significance back then, but I remember how carefully she handled it.

Last year, a major controversy erupted over Tangail sharis when India staked a claim for Geographical Indication (GI) status, shocking the handloom community in Bangladesh.

But Bangladesh successfully secured the GI recognition for Tangail sharis, ensuring that the iconic handloom is officially a part of its cultural and historical heritage.

However, after all the fighting, a bigger and more important question remains, "Can we preserve this art form?"

To find the answer, we recently visited Tangail — the hub of the iconic shari — to see for ourselves whether this renowned tradition is thriving or quietly slipping away into the sands of time.

Tangail sharis are mainly produced in five specific areas — Bajitpur, Krishnapur, Pathrail, Balla, and Rampur. Among these, Pathrail union in Delduar upazila is considered as the hub of Tangail shari production. 

This craft is mostly sustained by the Basak community, who have pioneered and have been weaving these sharis for about 250 years. 

The handlooms are locally known as "khat-khati taat" because of their rhythmic clattering sound, which once filled entire villages with life and livelihood. Unlike the faster, noisier powerlooms, these handlooms were simple yet remarkably effective.

Stories of loss and change

At Balla union in Kalihati upazila, we met Kashem Sikder, a local resident who reminisced about growing up in the middle of the endless clatter of handlooms. "The sound was like music, it was always there, day and night," he said.

Kashem's family once relied on the weaving business for survival, but those days are gone. He and his children now pursue different professions, far removed from the rhythmic art of weaving. We visited Five Star Textile Mills, where he now works. 

The owner of the thread mill, Nur Izaz, shared his story. His family once owned a major shari brand called "Sufia Shari," famous across 30–35 districts about 30 years ago. At its peak, the factory operated 300 looms.

As raw material prices soared and demand plummeted, the family was forced to close the shari factory and switch to the thread business. While Izaz and his family managed to rebuild their lives, he admitted that not everyone in the weaving community has been so lucky.

The hollow capital of sharis

We made our way through narrow village roads to Pathrail — which was once the largest hub of Tangail shari production. 

There, Maksud Ali, a weaver who, like many others, is trapped in a dying trade, said, "We don't know any other work; our ancestors did this, we grew up learning this. But now, this occupation is becoming worthless."

Maksud also explained the troubles of small-scale weavers, who often work under the control of mighty "Mohajons" — wealthy traders and loom owners who offer minimal wages while taking a major portion of the profit. Many independent weavers, disillusioned by continuous financial losses, have already closed their handlooms.

Golam Mostofa, a wholesaler, agreed with Maksud's sentiment. He pointed out that societal changes are affecting the shari industry too. "Women wear fewer sharis these days, the demand is falling. And at the same time, the price of yarn and dye has gone up," he said.

The actual scenario in numbers

Data from the Kalihati and Sadar Basic Centres of the Bangladesh Handloom Board shows there are currently about 30,000 handlooms across Tangail. Of these, 16,000 fall under Kalihati centre and 14,000 under Tangail Sadar.

But this number hides a devastating decline.

In the 1990s, according to the Tangail Central Cooperative Artisans Society, the district had more than one lakh handlooms and employed 1.5 lakh weavers. At least three lakh people were indirectly involved in the trade.

Today, less than 20% of those handlooms survive. In fact, Gourango Basak, a respected member of the Basak family — pioneers of Tangail Taat sharis — believes that the real number could be even lower.

"We now have less than 1,000 functioning handlooms across the entire district. If this situation continues, most of the looms will be gone within a few years," he said. 

He believes the only hope lies in serious government intervention. "Weavers need proper training and subsidised prices for weaving materials. Otherwise, we will lose this heritage forever," he said.

In Rampur village, another traditional weaving centre, Md Fardous Wahid, a shari shop owner, explained how powerlooms have overtaken handlooms, producing sharis faster but at the cost of quality.

"The handloom sharis are far superior. But the market does not value that anymore," he said.

Utpal Basak, who weaves sharis with his family in Bajitpur, shared similar frustrations. "Even after our entire family works together, we hardly make any profit," he said.

He also alleged that an organised syndicate of merchants is driving up prices of yarn and dyes, squeezing weavers' already thin margins.

Further insights came from Avishak Dhar, a labourer originally from Sirajganj who moved to Bajitpur to work as a hired artisan labourer in the weaving industry. He said that when he arrived several years ago, Bajitpur had over 3,000 handlooms. Now, only a few remain operational.

"Work is available only before Eid or Puja. It takes almost two days to weave one shari, and we earn only Tk500–700 for it. A day labourer earns more," Avishak said.

Reasons behind the fall

The demise of Tangail sharis is rooted in several interwoven factors. 

First, the price of raw materials such as yarn and dye has soared, yet the selling price of sharis has remained almost the same. Many small-scale weavers cannot afford to pass on the additional cost to consumers, trapping them in an unsustainable cycle of loss.

At the same time, social changes have diminished demand. Fewer women wear sharis regularly; to be precise, the traditional handloom ones, favouring modern clothing styles that are easier to produce. On the other hand, imported cheap sharis from neighbouring countries are flooding local markets, giving customers cheap alternatives.

Another reason is the rise of powerlooms. They produce sharis faster and in higher volumes, but at a significant compromise in quality. Unfortunately, most of the customers cannot differentiate between handloom and powerloom sharis — and since both are sold at similar prices, artisans see little reward for their painstaking work.

Corruption and market manipulation by merchant syndicates have also played a role. The artificial inflation of raw material prices makes it even harder for weavers to survive. The lack of regulatory oversight means that these syndicates operate unchecked.

Finally, declining quality, driven by desperate factory owners cutting costs, is damaging the reputation of Tangail sharis themselves. As more sharis are produced with lower-grade materials to stay afloat, buyers lose trust, worsening the industry's death spiral.