A hand turning back the woven border of a pale blue and copper silk, showing the pattern on both sides

Nearly five thousand years of history

Sari-like drapes date back to the Indus Valley, around 2800 BCE. First cotton, dyed with indigo and turmeric. Then silk. Then gold thread.

Folds of rust silk with a woven gold zari paisley border

Every thread says something

Red for a bride. Luck, love, a beginning.

Paisley for abundance. The lotus for purity. The peacock for grace.

Nobody taught us. We grew up knowing.

A woman in a red silk saree with a gold woven border, arms folded

What our grandmothers carried

From 1860, indentured Indians were brought to South Africa. My family was among them.

They carried little. The saree came with them.

In the diaspora it became what you wore when it mattered. Weddings. Prayers. Goodbyes. Passed from mother to daughter.

I loved my gran's Kanjivaram silk sarees. I even wore Kanjivaram silk on my wedding day.

A folded pink Kanjivaram silk saree with a woven gold border, resting on a wicker basket

The silk, without the silkworm

For years, I never asked how those sarees were made. Honestly, I was hiding under a rock.

Starting Shikra changed that. I began asking where fabrics come from and how they're made. Questions I'd never thought to ask.

Traditional silk means boiling the cocoon with the silkworm still inside. We wanted the drape without that.

Our sarees are made from wood fibres. Cruelty-free, start to finish.

Magenta warp threads stretched across a wooden handloom in a weaving workshop

Made in India. Said with pride.

Made in Italy. Made in France. Made in the UK. The world says these proudly. So why does made in India still get a pause?

Luxury fashion uses Indian craft, fabrics and hands more than ever. The credit rarely follows.

That's why I started Shikra London. To put Indian craft front and centre, and always say where it comes from.

Every piece is now made in India.

Why we changed its shape

A jacket. A dress. A corset.

It won't look like your gran's saree. It still carries the meaning.

Like us, it crossed oceans and learned to belong in more than one place.

It changed shape. It never forgot where it came from.

A woman in a yellow saree walking past carved terracotta arches