Natural Fibre Lamp Wicks 2: Lotus Silk

This is the second installment in a set of four, on extracting natural plant fibres to fashion lamp wicks. The first was on working with banana fibre, the next will be on panampazham/toddy palm fruit and giant milkweed/madar or erukku thiri.

---

It feels odd to call what comes from the lotus stem a “fibre” though that’s just what it is, because the strands are so very delicate, airy and silken. Score the stem, break it gently, and pull the lotus stem pieces apart, and you will know what I mean. These wisps of almost nothing start to emerge and they seem to have no beginning and no end because you can pull and pull and pull and they’ll still draw out. Each new segment scored and broken and pulled yields thread of infinite lengths. And yet, when you cut multiple segments of the lotus stem, you see just how they hang like beads on a necklace, how you can pull the threads through them. So does the lotus stem present a mathematical paradox: the co-existence of the finite and the infinite.

Whatever their length, catching the strands is the challenge. Your fingers are too unwieldy for them, your arms not wide enough. So you stop because you have to and, working in an airless room and yourself almost not-breathing because the slightest draft will pick these up and carry them away, layer them and layer them until a thick enough strand to call a wick finally emerges. I’ve tried to capture the full process and the delicacy of the lotus fibres in this image set, below.

I’ve extracted just enough fibres for a few lamp wicks–a process which took about 10 lotus stalks, and a few hours. The very same manual process is used to extract fibres for lotus silk garments, but the number of stems needed go up exponentially; some estimate a thousand stems for a single scarf [Source]. These were at one point, in the history of Burmese–Cambodian–Vietnamese weaving, fibres used only to manufacture monks’ robes, and the whole process was sacred. Chaw Su Hlaing writes of making lotus silk robes as the traditional handicraft of the Innthar (an ethnic group residing around the Innlay Lake) in Myanmar, and of the origin of this practice in Buddhism:

“According to the Buddhist doctrine, the lotus robe emerged a long time ago. When the world came into existence, five buds appeared on a lotus plant and each contained a complete set of Thingan Pareikaya (prescribed items in use for the Buddhist monks). So it was prophesied that five Buddhas would appear in this world and would show the Path to Liberation. Then the age-old Thuddawartha Brahmas brought all the five buds to the place where “Ariyas” holy persons lived and offered the sweet-scented lotus robes to them. As only four robes have been so far offered, there is still one robe outstanding. That was said to be the origin of the lotus robe.” [Source: Chaw Su Hlaing, “Lotus Robe in Kyaing Khan Village Innlay Lake, Shan State (South): An Anthropological Perspective.” Dagon University Research Journal 2016, Vol. 7, No. 1.]

The sheer effort it takes to extract lotus stem filaments, roll them into threads, transform them into yarn, dye the yarn, weave the fabric (all this must happen within a set time-frame) and then stitch garments makes these fibres and fabrics both incredibly special and rare. Production tends still to be at the small-scale, family-enterprise level, highly specialized, and with specific proscriptions, even when the resulting fabric is marketed to tourists: men and women may harvest lotus stems, but only women who are single, not-menstruating, and have adopted Buddhist precepts will actually extract fibres and prepare the yarns. There is a belief that departing from these norms will make the fibres pulled commensurately brittle.

Because lotuses are aquatic, their fibres have certain hydrophobic or waterproof qualities, much like the leaves themselves, and just seeing the filaments that become yarn and fabric eventually gives you a sense of just how light and breathable they must be. An article by Kavita Patil on lotus fabric manufacturing in Manipur lists multiple, remarkable virtues from crease-resistance to quick drying.

Both because of historical Hindu-Buddhist associations and because of the fine-ness of lotus silk fabric, the vast symbolism of the lotus flower transfers easily onto its filaments, whether these become simple household lamp wicks or elaborate garments. Across the subcontinent and into South East Asia, the lotus tells a story of purity and divine beauty emerging from the muddiest of ponds—rising incredibly from the primaeval soup below, all life, all knowledge, all wealth, all perfection. The lotus is both mired and transcendent, at once a sign of what we are and to what we must aspire. Goddess Lakshmi emerges from a lotus, Saraswati is shown seated on one, so it is that lotus silk wicks in India are customarily used in burning lamps for the Mother in all Her forms.

Step 1: Getting ready

Here is what you will need:

• 10 lotus stems. You can buy the ones sold outside temples, as long as the stalk is reasonably long–about 12″ or so. Stems should be fresh, green and firm. If they are greying or drying, they cannot be used. This will get you about 3-4 thick wicks, each one about 6″ in length.
• A very clean cutting board or other work surface
• A small box in which to store the prepared wicks

Fabric manufacturing follows a specific, technical process, using primarily stems which have been submerged in water, soaking them for 2 days prior to filament-extraction (but not long and so on. The younger the stem the less the fibre. For home lamp-wick making, just the length of stems that typically come with lotuses sold outside temples is good enough.

Make sure your hands are very clean as any dirt will transfer over to the lotus fibres and ruin their luminous white quality. Also be aware that the tiniest roughness on the surface of your hands will cause the lotus fibres to catch, producing a feeling of “stickiness.” It helps to oil your hands–but just very very lightly, or the grease will transfer rather unpleasantly to the wicks, too.

Step 2: Pull the filaments, roll the wicks

Score the lotus stem about 1″ or less away from one end. Do not cut all the way through, just score.

Now break the 1″ piece off and gently pull–you should see the filaments emerging.

Gently catch the filaments connected to the small cut piece with your fingers, and pull until the cut piece releases fully. It is easier to control the fibres if you catch the fibres, pull a little, and release, catch-pull-release, catch-pull-release until all the fibres are out and the cut piece comes away without resistance.

Now Place the stem and fibres down on the board so that you can hold the stem with your left hand and the fibres with your right (or the reverse, if that’s more comfortable). Now as you pull the stem, you can (with your right hand), gently keep rolling the emerging fibres–this is as the women who make lotus silk yarn extract thread. Note, however, that this makes for a tight thread, the sort that might be used for fabric weaving.

I prefer more loosely gathered fibres for a wick, so I pulled the fibres out a little at a time from the stem, laid them down/arranged them as gently as I could, folding them into the length of a wick meanwhile, and only barely rolled them together.

This is the process that gets repeated, in 1/2″-1″ stem segments for all 10 lotus stems. If the stems are fresh enough, this should yield 3-4 thick lamp wicks, each one about 6″ in length.

Allow the wicks to dry for about 10 minutes and then gently roll and place them in a storage box. Use them for a festival or some other very special occasion!