It was around three years ago when I decided to search for the indigenous Baloch doll, while visiting my ancestral home in Kharan in central, south-western Balochistan. Locally known as the chappal, the doll that once served as an embodiment of Baloch culture has almost ceased to exist today.

I grew up listening to my mother’s stories of her childhood, with the doll part of the narrative. During our visits to Kharan, she would point to a corner of the spacious house, where my grandfather’s quarters were located. “Every spring I would visit Kharan in the spring, due to the pleasant weather, and my father would make me a new doll’s house,” she would tell me. The doll’s house would mostly comprise two small clay rooms, with a smattering of utensils, including brooms and earthenware, rugs and a fireplace.

But that was back then. Now, nobody in my immediate surroundings owned a chappal doll, to say nothing of its house. Undeterred by this disappointment, I decided to get a custom-made chappal doll.

I asked friends and neighbours, including Mehnaz, whose mother was known for making such dolls. Unfortunately, she did not know how to make the doll. Quite a few older women could recall the tradition of making chappal dolls, sharing stories of how they made it and how they played with it. Girls in the courtyard and women my age had heard about it, but hadn’t seen one.

Unable to find someone who could make the doll for me, I decided to do it on my own.

A young woman from Kharan sets out to make a traditional doll that has all but disappeared in modern times as a cultural treasure…

MAKING YOUR OWN DOLL

To create the chappal doll from scratch, I studied a blurry picture from a calendar shoot my mother did when she was around eight years old. In the picture for a local calendar, she is holding the doll, given to her by an aunt. In the photo albums, I found another photo of my mother, in her school uniform, holding a plastic mass-produced doll.

Next, Mehnaz and I made a beeline for the local market in search of the material I needed for the doll. The scattered shops were stocked with all types of merchandise, mostly fashion-centric. The jewellery shop had golden and sparkly items covering every inch of the wall and the shelves beneath the glass counter were filled with more. They had replicas of designs of traditional Baloch jewellery, and I bought a set comprising a necklace, a brooch and earrings, and colourful glass beads — to become part of the headdress.

The most striking fixture of these shops was the slanted mirrors placed on the attic walls, magnifying the quantities of the material things, stationed just for the eyes. There were ready-made Balochi outfits available for women — some hand-made, but mostly machine embroidered by men. There were even motifs available, so you could buy them to create a completely new outfit. I went home and sat with the image of the cheap plastic toys and machine-embroidered outfits.

From the same market, I acquired a piece of cloth, traditionally worn by Baloch women and known for its endurance, as well as ornaments to be embroidered on the dress.

While there, I saw Mehnaz getting a toy for her niece — a plastic doll.

BRINGING IT ALL TOGETHER

Mehnaz told me how her mother would make dolls for her and once also gifted one to my mother. “She would make plenty for me, especially the smaller ones, the ones that can fit into a matchbox,” she explained.

It was best for me to attempt making an average-sized doll, as it is not easy to assemble the chappal doll. I cut up a cardboard in a round shape, and stuffed it with cotton picked up from the field to give shape to her face. The eyes were exaggerated to give the appearance of them being kohl-lined. While I sketched the face out, somebody else stitched on it. The doll had three spots on her chin, which I was told used to be a sign of beauty.

Previously, the chappal would also be wearing a tagazo, a chain attached to the nose rings that would go over the forehead to provide support for the nose accessories.

A slingshop-shaped tree branch was the wooden foundation that serves as the body of the doll. It was peeled and smoothened with sandpaper, before wrapping it in thread to further support the doll. We used hookah pipes to make the shoulder and arms, which were sliced from the centre and pierced at the corners.

A bunch of young girls, some piqued by my journey to create my chappal doll, helped with stitching the green-coloured cloth into a traditional Balochi frock and shalwar [loose trouser], embellished with traditional motifs and designs.

While making these dolls, we discussed not only our lives and challenges but those faced by women in the past. One of my favourite stories was that of my great, great grandmother, Shah Bibi, who had led an unconventional life, which included riding horses and looking after the family land. It was a story I had heard from my mother, and one that I told to the young girls working with me.

CULTURAL TRANSMISSION

Playing with dolls encourages children to develop social skills, by providing them with a conducive environment for role-playing. Like a large number of girls my age, I grew up playing “ghar ghar” [House], where the family of dolls would also host events with as lavish a menu as means dictated. In this, we were often joined by our male cousins.

Imbued with symbolism and meaning, dolls are integral for children to find connection, reiterating inclusion and otherness. Something as benign as ‘doll culture’ can provide insight into societal values, beliefs and practices.

However, the adoption and assimilation of a foreign culture — in this instance the Western plastic doll replacing the hand-made chappal doll — intertwined with a coherent and compelling narrative, can reinforce the power and authority of the dominant group, particularly how the dominant narrative in pop-culture portrays the relationship with the opposite gender, subduing the position of women in society.

As the British anthropologist Mary Douglas observes, the task of a society is to establish a common order, so that each member can make sense of their contributions. This highlights the importance of each member’s role in creating a sense of belonging within their communities, where activities intertwine generations into an intricate web of relationships, rights and responsibilities.

The making of the chappal doll was not undertaken for profit or competition, but for the sustenance of the community and as a way to introduce sacred teachings, traditions and culture at home. These valuable artistic expressions, such as the chappal doll, work towards preserving and promoting this distinctive and unique culture. A representation of beauty and distinct culture, they may also inspire girls to embrace their unique cultural attributes.

My niece, raised on Western dolls, already had her eyes on the doll that we were making. An aunt wanted one to gift to her granddaughter. The chappal doll remains a powerful way for Baloch women to pass on their stories to the next generation — from our joys and trepidations, to our hopes and fears — making it a repository of our collective experience.

The writer is a thesis student in the art and design graduate programme at the Indus Valley School of Art and Architecture in Karachi

Published in Dawn, EOS, October 27th, 2024