Meet Our Banarasi Weavers

Rafique-ji learned to weave at his father's loom when he was eleven years old. By twenty he was reading naksha for kadhua brocades; by thirty-five he was leading a four-loom workshop in Madanpura, supervising twelve weavers and producing wedding-grade Katan silk Banarasis for some of Varanasi's most demanding ateliers. He is now sixty-two and still weaves the most complex commissions himself — typically full-kadhua Katan with meenakari pallu, the kind of saree that takes ten to twelve months on the loom.

His signature is the small 'MRA' stitch woven into the inner edge of every saree he completes. He has weaving certifications from the Banarasi Bunkar Samiti and was awarded a Sant Kabir Award for excellence in handloom weaving in 2019. His son Imran (28) is the fifth generation, currently apprenticing under him.

Saira-ji is one of the few women master weavers operating an independent workshop in Varanasi — a rarity in a tradition that has historically been male-dominated at the loom (though women have always managed the naksha reading and the meenakari thread preparation). She learned to weave from her grandmother and her mother, both of whom worked as naksha-pullers in her grandfather's workshop. After her marriage, she set up her own four-loom workshop and now specialises in lighter Katan silks and Tanchoi brocades — pieces under nine months on the loom — favoured by working-professional clients who want a Banarasi for daily formal wear rather than bridal use.

She trains two younger female weavers and has been featured in textile journals as part of the slow but real shift toward women's leadership in the Banarasi weaving tradition.

Hari Lal-ji's family has woven in Lallapura since the early 19th century — his great-great-grandfather was among the weavers who adapted the Tanchoi technique from Chinese imports during the Tata commissions of the 1850s. Today his workshop specialises in pure Tanchoi Banarasis — the flat, tonal brocade with extra-warp construction that reads as quietly opulent rather than overtly bridal. He works in a particular palette of muted jewel tones (dusty emerald, aubergine, midnight blue, soft saffron) and has built a following among Mumbai and Delhi clients who want a Banarasi for high-formality events without the visual weight of a kadhua Katan.

His son Mohit (26) is the sixth generation and runs the workshop's design and naksha operations.

Abdul Salam-ji specialises in Banarasi linen — the under-celebrated summer cousin of Katan silk. His workshop in Bajardiha is one of only a handful in Varanasi that maintains active linen handloom production year-round. He works with flax from Bengal sericulture clusters and produces solid-body linen Banarasis with traditional zari borders for warm-weather wear.

His specialty is the linen-silk blend (typically 70/30) that gives wearers the breathability of linen with a touch of silk lustre. The contemporary Banarasi linen revival owes much to weavers like Abdul Salam-ji, who kept the linen tradition alive through the lean decades when the market was overwhelmingly focused on silk.

Zakir-ji weaves in Mubarakpur, the GI-tagged cluster about 80 km north-east of Varanasi that produces some of the finest mashru silk Banarasis in Uttar Pradesh. His family has been weaving mashru since the late 18th century, when his ancestors fled court patronage disruptions in Awadh and settled in Mubarakpur with their looms. Today his workshop specialises in mashru with traditional Mughal-stripe patterns and contemporary jaal designs — a vocabulary that bridges the textile's 16th-century origins with contemporary formal wear.

His daughter Aliya is the seventh generation; she manages the workshop's design archive and is currently digitising a collection of mashru nakshas dating back to the 1840s.

Not all the craftsmanship of a Banarasi happens at the loom. The naksha — the graph-paper draft that tells the weaver where each brocade weft thread must rise and fall — is itself a separate art form, mastered by hereditary naksabandhs (naksha makers). Imdad-ji is one of the last surviving naksha masters working in the traditional binary-graph format that pre-dates the introduction of jacquard cards in the late 19th century.

For a bespoke kadhua Banarasi, the naksha can take 2-4 weeks to prepare and runs to thousands of cells. Imdad-ji has prepared naksha for several of the most complex commissions we have undertaken — including a year-long heirloom Katan for a Hyderabad bridal trousseau and a custom-designed pallu for an international royal collection.

The deep saturated colours that define a Banarasi — Banarasi laal, peacock blue, Mughal green, aubergine — come from the master dyers of Varanasi, who work with both natural dyes (madder, indigo, turmeric, pomegranate, lac) and modern acid dyes in copper vats. Rashida-ji runs one of the few all-women dyeing operations in Pilikothi, employing twelve women across three vats.

Her specialty is the precise Banarasi laal — the slightly orange-leaning crimson red worn by traditional brides, which requires layered dyeing with madder and natural mordants. Two of our wedding-weight Katan silk Banarasis use her dyes exclusively.