Banaras, the City of Light, illuminated the sensibilities of Chandra Jain for 25 years. Her deep engagement with the traditional weavers of Banaras handloom was sort of a salvation for the craft. Though Jain doesn’t see herself as a savior, her efforts to revive Banarasi handloom craft is reflected in her exhibition, River Weaves: Brocades of Banaras, at the Bangalore International Centre, where she attempts to weave heritage brocades into the fabric of changing times, celebrating the rich artistry of Banarasi handloom and ecological practices that are slowly withering away.
Curated and designed by Chiara Nath and Siddhartha Das of Siddhartha Das Studio, the exhibition, through its main protagonist, the saris, invites visitors to look beyond the finished piece and care about what went into its making. There are emblematic saris—the ones we associate with Banarasi brocade—as well as those nearly forgotten ones, distinguished by fading colour palettes, natural dyes, and rare weaving techniques. “Only a few master weavers remain, and the young generation aren’t following the tradition. Our goal is to show people what is being lost and why it matters,” the septuagenarian says.
Jain’s personal connection with Banarasi brocade was sparked by the sight of the river darkened by industrial dyes. She met weavers with health issues from chemical exposure. Her focus moved from preservation to regeneration; restoring not only a craft, but also the dignity and wellbeing of those who practice it. Jain is reviving natural dyeing techniques that had vanished from Varanasi for more than 125 years, reintroducing dyes made from turmeric, indigo, manjishtha (madder), henna, saffron, pomegranate rind, and parijata flowers. “Chemical dyes have polluted the Ganga and are harming the health of the dyers. Natural dyeing is better for the land, the river, and the artisans who handle them,” the Lucknow-born revivalist says.
For the curators, the starting point of the exhibition was to spend a great deal of time with Jain to better understand Banarasi handloom and its legacy. Das says, “Our approach was not merely to display objects, but to translate this legacy into an experiential aesthetic journey, guiding the visitors through the exhibition like the river Ganga flowing through Kashi.”
A piece that holds particular emotional weight for Jain is a naturally dyed brocade sari woven by a master weaver, who had initially been reluctant to abandon chemical dyes. After months of discussion and experimentation, he created a piece using madder and indigo, producing a fabric that was not just beautiful but deeply symbolic of what Jain believes the exhibition represents: a common ground where tradition and hope meet.
Jain recalls her first close encounter with the weave over two decades ago, when she noticed the shimmer of a konia motif—a small decorative element—woven into the corner of a sari. A weaver told her, “A sari without a konia is like a bride without a bindi.” That image stayed with her, capturing the intimacy between craft and identity that she continues to preserve.
She believes the revival must be market-driven. “Unless more people start buying and wearing these textiles again, this tradition will fade,” she says. “We need stronger awareness among buyers so the weavers can see a livelihood in continuing what generations before them have done.” Jain sees the revival of natural dyeing in Banaras as her proudest achievement so far. “It’s a baby step,” she remarks, “but a firm and confident one.”