On our first full Saturday in Ahmedabad, my fellow BIF Fellows—Garrett, Ananya, Marcos—and I, along with a new friend and colleague, Kavya, decided to explore some of the city’s most famous landmarks. We began our morning at Adalaj Stepwell, a historical site in the nearby city of Gandhinagar. Our second stop was set to be a well-reviewed local crafts market in Pethapur. While we couldn’t find a clearly defined location for the “Craftsmen Village,” so frequently praised online, but the reviews made it sound like a spot we couldn’t miss—both literally and figuratively:
“Craftsmen’s Village is this place which endows tourists an excellent opportunity to understand and learn from the rich culture and tradition of Gujarati’s. As this place is home to a huge number of craftsmen, it’s referred to as the craftsmen’s village.” – Trodly
“Set behind the Sabarmati river and popular for its Bandhani Sarees, the Craftsman Village in Gandhinagar is visited by hundreds of tourists and shoppers everyday. Sarees and dresses are hand painted and decorated with wooden printing blocks in vivacious colors. The clothes available here are carefully worked on by skilled craftsmen and are quite economical too.” – Holidify
“Craftsmen’s Village is a unique and vibrant cultural destination located in Gandhinagar…Craftsmen’s Village is spread over a large area, and visitors can explore to learn about different handicrafts and art forms.” – Indian Holi Village.com
As our Uber driver approached our set drop-off location, however, it became clear we were nowhere near a Craftsmen Village. We found ourselves outside a gated residential area, with no shops—let alone craftsmen or tourists—in sight. Our driver generously sought advice from some locals up the road and then took us to a more bustling, central neighborhood in Pethapur. Already far past our Uber time, we thanked our driver and decided to walk the rest of the way. We figured if we followed the nondescript Google Maps location, we would eventually find this famous spot near the Sabarmati river.
As we continued down the road, we found ourselves getting farther away from the heart of the city and moving towards another increasingly quiet, residential area. Ananya and Kavya took it upon themselves to begin asking local shopkeepers for directions. The locals were receptive to our confusion and kindly tried to help us, but it seemed no one was familiar with what we were describing. The supposedly well-acclaimed and bustling “Craftsmen Village” was seemingly non-existent.
Just as we were collectively agreeing it might be time to give up on the search for the market, and instead opt for finding a place to have lunch, a local man (whom we called “Bhaiya” in respect) assured us he knew a craftsman and could take us to the right place. For a moment, it seemed we had found someone familiar with what we were looking for. He led us behind a gate into a residential area, then up an alleyway toward what appeared to be a home. He walked up the steps, opened the door, and we followed him into a dimly lit, wooden room filled with tools and hand-carved metal stamps. We had entered a literal artisan’s workshop, and we realized there had been a miscommunication. We expressed our gratitude but let him know this wasn’t quite the place that we were looking for.
Before we could be on our way, he asked us to wait so he could call the owner of the workshop. He dialed, gestured for us to stay, and after a brief phone exchange, told us his friend would come to greet us in about ten minutes. We exchanged hesitant, questioning glances, whispering to each other about whether it was appropriate to have the owner come all the way back to his shop on a Saturday if we didn’t intend to purchase anything. I remember thinking it might be best to delicately bow out. We tried to graciously decline, but he was insistent, so out of respect, we remained.
After a few minutes of standing outside, he invited us into the home of another neighbor. I was once again reluctant, increasingly feeling that we should make a polite excuse and continue on our way. It felt strange to enter the home of someone who hadn’t extended the invitation themself, but Bhaiya was persistent and assured us that this neighbor was also a craftsman. We followed him again, though I continued running through simple Hindi phrases in my head that I might use to excuse myself.
Walking through the front door, my hesitation was almost immediately put at bay. We were greeted by a kind-eyed elderly woman preparing chapati dough in her kitchen. We were guided to the back room where her husband, the master craftsman, Govindlal Prajapati, came to greet us. Smiling warmly, he began showing us his tools and stamp blocks. He handed each of us some of his stamps and enthusiastically shared about his lifetime of work dedicated to mastering this craft. With Ananya generously handling most of the translating, we learned more about the process of crafting the stamps, how long he had pursued the art, and what it takes to become a certified master artisan.
He also opened his file cabinets to show us record books filled with messages from previous satisfied clients and invited each of us to add our own contributions. The pages were filled with praises from those whose lives he had touched through his work. Looking through the decades of messages written in multiple languages, I couldn’t help but feel immense appreciation for the somewhat random yet truly heartening and educational experience we were having. It felt like a privilege to be speaking to a man so dedicated to his craft in his own home, and I was regretful of my initial reservations about meeting him.
While we wrote, Govindbhai also shared his dismay that this multigenerational craft was not being passed on. As young people are increasingly moving towards cities and pursuing booming careers in tech and up and coming industries, artisanal handiwork is losing its appeal. It therefore seemed as if he was genuinely happy to share his passion with a younger generation. I remember hoping our exchange was mutually enriching.
After signing his ledgers and expressing our appreciation, we said goodbye. He remained at the door, smiling and waving as we left. We then returned to the studio next door, where the other craftsman was waiting to show us his work.
Like Govindbhai, this craftsman was also a stamp maker. He shared briefly about his journey into the craft as we looked around his studio at the various metal and wooden stamps and the corresponding prints he had displayed. I noticed two cardboard boxes filled with smaller wooden hand stamps and asked if I could pick one up. He was receptive and quickly poured the contents of both boxes onto the floor. Dozens of intricate designs were laid out for us to choose from. There were beautiful Indian motifs and national symbols—such as elephants, peacocks, lotuses, and Hindu deities like Lord Shiva and Lord Ganesha—as well as decorative flowers and other animals, including birds and fish.
We looked through all the options, helping each other choose which ones to buy as gifts for loved ones or to keep as personal souvenirs.
After completing our purchases, expressing our gratitude once more, and finally saying goodbye to our local guide (Bhaiya), the five of us paused by the entry gate to debrief that special moment.
We were all surprised at the truly unique experience we had just enjoyed.
That evening, I took my wooden stamps out of my bag and reflected on the day as a whole.
Had I been left to my own devices, I might have politely excused myself or found a place for lunch. While I thoroughly enjoyed every minute with the craftsmen, I’m almost certain I would not have opened myself up enough to allow this exchange to happen in the first place. I was fortunate that others were there to encourage us to proceed, and that this Bhaiya did not let up…
Treasured, more intimate exchanges, such as this one, require time and space to unfold. By nature, they demand that I be surprised, uncomfortable, and/or delayed, and it is often only afterward that I realize that these are the moments which shape why I feel an affinity for a place, rather than a distant, awe-struck visitor.
I find it easy to forget to make space for exploration. I generally consider myself a flexible person who accepts confusion or discomfort, but there is a difference between actively embracing the opportunity to form connections with people, and simply going with the flow or being polite. My reluctance to follow this kind and insistent man might have robbed me of this beautiful memory, and it makes me wonder about the other situations in which I have kept someone at arm’s-length who might have had much to share.
This is not to say that every persistent man I encounter on the street should be trusted, or that every plan gone astray will lead me into some uniquely cherished experience. This was indeed one of those rare, serendipitous moments I could not have previously sought out. Still, it evokes a sense of what is possible when I make room for newness, and remain actively curious to engage with others when I feel safe—not necessarily comfortable—doing so.
Living here in Ahmedabad for an extended period of time, I have ample opportunity to explore much of Gujarat. I have a set list of ‘must-try eateries’ and historical sites I intend to visit. I could plan out every weekend, and I think I would reap fruitful and enjoyable experiences if I managed to follow my agenda to a tee. However, this exchange reminded me of the joy found in making room for synchronicity to unfold. To see the potential and beauty that lies simply in getting to know people, even if it may seem odd or awkward, at first.
I’ve noticed that across India, in particular, people are usually hospitable and willing to converse, especially if I initiate conversation. There is a warmth and neighborly inclination here (perhaps related to “Atithi Devo Bhava“) that I may step into and embrace more fully. From moment to moment, I may encourage a new conversation, or, in times when I feel lost or uncomfortable, ask myself: am I unsafe, or am I discovering something new? What might I potentially learn from this exchange? Is life being made more full?
This encounter might have otherwise blended into all that I may see, do, and learn over the course of the Fellowship. But happening so early on, it’s made a lasting impression that I’ll carry with me. I am reminded to consciously open myself up to others and welcome the opportunity to uncover new places. Some of the most special, memorable moments in my life have also been born from situations in which I was temporarily ‘lost,’ and things seemingly weren’t going as I intended. It sounds cliché, but there is truth to these platitudes.
In this case, my friends and I never found the famous Pethapur Craftsmen Village, but we did find a village where brilliant craftsmen lived and they welcomed us into their private spaces. Similarly, while their respective workshops did not constitute a market, we came away with handmade crafts that are all the more meaningful. Each stamp will spark memories of this unplanned experience for years to come.
This year, I hope to be curious enough to let my plans go wrong so that they can go ‘right.’ Moments like these will become the heart of my experience as a Fellow, if I only allow them to manifest.
Sources:
Holidify. “Craftsmen’s Village, Gandhinagar.” Holidify, www.holidify.com/places/gandhinagar/craftsmens-village-sightseeing-122336.html.
Indian Holiday Trip. “Craftsmen’s Village.” Indian Holiday Trip, www.indianholidaytrip.com/gujarat-tour/gandhinagar/craftsmen-s-village.
Trodly. “Craftsmen’s Village, Gandhinagar.” Trodly, www.trodly.com/india/destination-5825/craftsmens-village-gandhinagar.
