There was a craft of weavers. Makers of mosuleen, named after its city of origin, Mosul, in Iraq. A fabric so fine, you could fit a 30 yard length of it into a matchbox. There was a force called capitalism. Armed with a switchblade, designed to slice the heart out of craft. So down the alleyways of Dhaka stamped the [British] legionaries. Hunted down the terrified weavers, chopped off their index fingers and thumbs. More here.