CLASSIC CUTS: Aiyyelu's tiny tailoring shop is a veritable costume museum

Aiyyelu Tailors on Bharatidasan Road in Chennai is a small shoebox of a shop with a patchy, finger-tainted glass door and a peeling nameplate tacked on a good three decades ago. Yank the glass door open-don't forget to leave your footwear by the door-and enter D.S. Aiyyelu's fabric fortress. Across a small mountain of crumpled cloth, spools of thread and needlework, Aiyyelu is sitting hunched over a pile of silk brocade, cutting it, sewing it up with silvery thread the colour of his hair.

He's 75 and hard of hearing, but Aiyyelu's eyes are sharper than his needle. It has come with practice. After more than six decades in the business, it has to be but practice. The master craftsman is hard at work, unmindful of the clients pouring in and squatting on the mat beside him. Most of the time, the customers walking past the glass door are celebrities any ordinary tailor would not meet in his lifetime. Actors Hema Malini and her daughter Esha Deol, Vyjayantimala Bali, Meenakshi Seshadri, Shobana and Revathy; and classical dancers Chitra Visweswaran, Padma Subrahmanyam, Malavika Sarukkai and Alarmel Valli-they all tread the way to the tiny shop to stitch elaborate dance costumes in time for an important performance. Be it for Bharatnatyam, Kuchipudi or Odissi, Aiyyelu is the man to consult.

Valli, who has known Aiyyelu from her childhood, calls him the moolavigraha (presiding deity) of the shop. "I have known him for the past 30 years," recalls Valli. "He has been on that same spot, in that same seat. I have seen him age and wrinkle. And I have not known a more thorough gentleman than him." Aiyyelu started by designing film costumes at Gemini studio in Chennai in the 1940s as an apprentice under legendary costume-maker Ambedkar. He slowly crafted his reputation on the seams of trust and the skill of his dexterous fingers-his flair for fittings and cuts is unrivalled in the classical dance and Kollywood firmament. "Artistes come and go," says Valli, "but not Aiyyelu. He's a consummate artist, a true karmayogi. There's a seamless quality about his work."

Aiyyelu's orders have been mounting by the day. True to Valli's eulogies, he can never say no to a request. All that you get out of him is a disarming smile and a loaded "Hmmm..." as an answer. And he works day and night to meet your deadlines. Silently, resolutely, he strives to be a part of every classical dancer's dream and, ultimately, career. He began by designing costumes for Vyjayantimala's films. Later, he got noticed for his work in the hugely successful Nagin and Amrapali, both dance-oriented films starring the actor, and in a Rabindranath Tagore ballet she performed at the Birla Theatre in Mumbai in 1962. Testimonials of those days-worn-out albums with sepia pictures of his work and designs-are found strewn around him. In a way they are also a study in dance costumes down the ages. But Aiyyelu is not aware of the historical value of his work. For him it has only meant a lifetime of good, honest work.

Even today, Aiyyelu gets offers from the Chennai film industry, but he has no time. "Who will do all this?" he asks, pointing to the growing pile of silk around him. Orders trickle in by phone and post and even from abroad. NRI dance gurus and their students who have heard about his classic cuts are ready to pay any price for them. Such is the trust they repose in him that they leave it to him to choose the fabric, texture and colours. Aiyyelu is a designer label they proudly flaunt. But does he know? Perhaps not as fame rests lightly on his wizened figure.

It is in December that things get out of hand for Aiyyelu and his six tailors, toiling ceaselessly on a shaky mezzanine floor in the shop. That is the time Chennai comes alive with its annual Music and Dance Festival. Aiyyelu and his men rarely get time to sleep during that period and the shop is seldom shut as they work into the small hours, delivering brilliant costumes on the eve of performances.

It's not surprising that Aiyyelu's admirers, most of whom first came as clients and returned as well wishers, see him as "an institution by himself". He may be just a foot-soldier in an art form that has no awards or recognition other than-thankfully-the multiplying customers, but Aiyyelu is grateful: "Luckily for me, Chennai is a big centre for dance. So many girls are into Bharatnatyam now. Thanks to them, I am alive and kicking." There is no hint of retirement in the sage-like visage. The old, wrinkled fingers seek out yet another needle. Deadlines are for work. Not life.