Legend and lore speak of an ancient traveller, who, while passing through a village, stopped at a peasant’s home to ask for water. Pleased with his hospitality, the traveller (believed to have been a prophet) taught him a form of art, so that the poor farmer would never go hungry again. This was the beginning of chikankari.

This pristine, ethereal-looking embroidery is one of India’s greatest textile treasures. Some say that empress Noor Jehan introduced it, inspired by Turkish needlework, while others believe that it originated in the harem of the Nawab of Avadh, where one of his mistresses had prepared an elaborate topi for him as a gift. The Greek geographer Megasthenes traced the craft’s roots to East Bengal, where the word chikan meant ‘fine’, defining the delicate intricacy of the art. Its light-as-air quality inspired the Romans to call it texili venti, meaning ‘woven winds’.

The subcontinent’s only ‘white-on-white’ needlework form initially used cotton thread on a translucent muslin base called tanzeb (tan – body and zeb – decoration). Its Muslim heritage reflected in the refined aesthetic, motifs and precision craftsmanship of highly skilled embroiderers. Royal patronage (Mughal emperors, Nawabs) elevated its status to one of the most coveted textile art forms. Inspired by marble jaalis and inlay work, the latticed effect on fabric created dreamy shadow plays through a variety of techniques and stitches like tepchi (running or darning), hool (buttonhole), zanjeer (chain), bakhiya (herringbone on fabric reverse), French knots and appliqués. Jasmine, rose, flowering trellis, lotus and paisley were the most popular motifs. Slowly, colour began to creep in – the hint of a hue, without tampering with the translucence of the material. Lucknow emerged as the pinnacle centre for the craft (it has maintained its hub status to this day), and the base for artisans, but chikankari received equal patronage in Nawab ruled Bengal. The purity, subtle luxury and lightness were appropriate for genteel society, especially due to the Indian weather.

The advent of British rule influenced the craft’s route to its modern avatar. Inspired by its delicate beauty, memsahibs were instrumental in blending Muslim and Western aesthetics to create broderie Anglaise. The embroidery found its way (eventually in slightly altered forms) to items other than clothing, such as handkerchiefs, upholstery and table linen. There was also an exchange of ideas between chikankari and the Ayrshire work of Scotland (synonymous with christening gowns), and one influenced the evolution of the other.

British rule weakened the Mughal domain, and gradually, royal patronage declined. The pure art form was somewhat diluted by external influences and the approach became more ‘mass’, to keep up with demands in Europe. The export market became the main focus by the 20th century and the quality of the craft was on the decline. With the introduction of artificial fabrics, the original cotton/silk muslin base was often substituted with cheaper synthetics. Motifs and techniques became rougher; the delicacy was somewhat lost.

Post independence, with the Indian government realising the importance of craft preservation, an attempt at rescuing chikankari from mediocrity was made. It was listed as part of the ‘cottage industries’. During Nawabian times, most of the embroideries were created by male artisans. In the 20th century, more women got involved under employment schemes. Lucknow continued to be the chief manufacturing centre. The craft was somewhat stabilised. Exports continued to thrive, but there was also an awareness regarding its art value.

As the Indian fashion industry established itself in the latter half of the century, pioneers like Ritu Kumar (among others) took up the cause of reviving the country’s declining embroideries and textiles. Though designer fashion gradually combined various pure forms to create complex genres, the focus on quality was maintained. In the same garment, therefore, one could have chikankari, kantha and even zardosi. A mishmash, perhaps, but aesthetically superior to their market counterparts.

Ever since, designers have romanced the delicate craft in numerous ways, applying it in apparel, accessories and furnishings. In many cases, the same stitches and motifs have been used on a heavier/opaque base fabric to create a different effect. Industry stalwarts like Tarun Tahiliani, Abu Jani Sandeep Khosla, Meera and Muzaffar Ali, Rohit Bal and Rajesh Pratap Singh have used pure and derived versions to create exquisite ethnicwear and prêt. Among the newer lot, Vineet Bahl, Nikasha, Siddartha Tytler and Arti Talwar are some of the names who are experimenting with applications and variations. The modern chikankari is still cherished for its ‘air-like’ quality, but at present, flow is an important factor in resort-chic (where chikan is most prominent); therefore, georgette and chiffon have replaced the crisp (but stiff) organza and organdy. Even the thread colour is no longer restricted to white. Apart from these designer versions, handicraft emporiums continue to sell various categories of traditional chikan items.

Internationally, many fashion houses have showcased their versions of the craft (often mixed with broderie and cutwork) on the runway and high street. But they are mostly restricted to summer lines and resort (Issa, Oscar de la Renta and more). Chemise dresses, shirt-tunics and slips rely on its romantic Bohemian appeal. Sometimes though, it is difficult to distinguish the authentic craft from its contrived versions. Then there are those like Afshan Durrani (New York) who create ‘haute textiles’ and cater to a very niche clientele, offering yardage and making a conscious effort to keep the finer nuances of the craft alive. Embroideries expert Rosemary Crill, as well as couture queen Ritu Kumar have authored books that elaborately study chikan and emphasise on the importance of retaining authenticity.

Chikankari is one of the lucky few crafts that have somehow managed to strike a balance between heritage and mass, and it still retains its identity (though dilution threatens), despite the present day pot-pourri design culture. But luck does not last forever, and we cannot blame external influences and ‘globalisation’ in future, if the authenticity is lost. It is our heritage, our art, our treasure. If we do not consciously and responsibly preserve and nurture it, who will?

Subscribe to Verve Magazine or buy the Verve issue on stands now!