What seemed like simple curiosity was, in truth, the beginning of a lifelong relationship with Indian handlooms—and an instinct to preserve what time had gently aged. Life soon moved into marriage, family, and responsibilities. Creativity did not disappear; it simply found a quieter space. In the stillness of her home, the soft hum of her sewing machine became her companion. She stitched simple clothes for her children, made cushions for her home, and continued to create—not for recognition, but because her hands felt at home in fabric.
Years later, while preparing her daughter’s wedding trousseau, she created a few garments with the same love and care. They caught the attention of family and friends. But it was her son, Gautam, who recognized what this truly meant to her. He saw the joy it brought her and gently encouraged her to take this further.