Why Textiles? A Personal Journey Through Threads and Tradition

Throughout history, people have always moved, from one place to another, across regions and borders, or sometimes just to the next village through marriage. And with them, they carried memories: of home, of belonging, of identity. Often, these memories were stitched into the very garments they wore, motifs passed down through generations, threads woven with meaning, and embroidery that spoke of place, family, and tradition. Each stitch is a quiet echo of where someone came from.

I’m often asked why I’m so drawn to Indian textiles. And while it’s tempting to point to the colours, the pretty patterns, or the sheer artistry of it all, the truth runs much deeper. Yes, they’re beautiful - achingly so - but for me, textiles have always been about the stories. The hands behind them. The people, the places, and the pulse of tradition stitched into every fold.

Textiles in India are never just fabric. They are movement. They are memory. They carry the weight of history, migration, belief systems, and a collective sense of identity. Every motif has meaning. Every technique, a lineage. And when you begin to understand that, you realise that these pieces are not just crafts - they are quiet acts of cultural resilience.

Unlike many people who discover textiles through the act of making, I’ve never been a creator in that sense. My relationship with cloth has always been more anthropological, rooted in observation, in listening, and in connection. I am endlessly curious about the cultural ecosystems that shape these traditions - the stories behind the looms, the rituals of dyeing, the way certain patterns are worn only at certain times of year or for specific ceremonies.

Each textile journey feels like a key into a deeper understanding of India. Visiting artisan homes isn’t just a visit, it’s a true privilege. Sitting on the floor, drinking tea, watching someone work with their hands that have done this work for decades - it becomes something more than sightseeing. It’s a moment of human exchange, and a reminder that craft is never separate from the life that surrounds it.

From the densely embroidered mirrors of the Rabari women in Gujarat, to the indigo-drenched Ajrakh prints drying in the breeze, every region tells its story in cloth. And with each encounter, I’ve been drawn into the intricacies of community, how knowledge is passed down, how creative decisions are made collectively, and how artisans navigate the tension between preserving tradition and meeting the demands of a modern marketplace.

For me, textiles are not decorative arts or souvenir-worthy items. They are living, breathing expressions of identity. They reflect the complexities of caste, gender, economy, and environment. And they offer a lens, soft but precise, into the deeper workings of Indian society.

More than anything, it’s the people I meet through textiles who stay with me. Their generosity, their humour, their quiet pride. Through them, I’ve found a different way of travelling - one that’s slower, more intentional, and far more connected. And that’s why textiles mean so much to me. Not because of what they are, but because of who they lead me to.