Nakshi Kantha: The (almost) lost art of Bengal

Discover the remarkable heritage of nakshi kantha, an endangered craft that has been kept alive thanks to the tireless dedication of its artisans.

Updated On: August 11, 2024
8 min, Read

Fabrics frequently serve as a historical tapestry of a region. They encapsulate the clothing choices, home decor, and personalised belongings—be it the intricate patterns adorning curtains, linens, handkerchiefs or cushion covers. These aspects distinctly mirror a culture's essence. Nakshi kantha, an ancient embroidery art form, traverses generations in West Bengal and Bangladesh, offering a tangible expression of culture. This representation also finds its presence in other Indian states like Assam, Odisha, and Tripura.

Nakshi Kantha in Bengali culture, literature, and households

Nakshi kantha stands as a shared legacy across both sides of the border, embodying excellent craftsmanship and instilling cultural pride. This traditional art form has left its mark in literature too, notably appearing in poet Jasimuddin's ""Nakshi Kanthar Math"" and Krishnadas Kaviraj's ""Sri Chaitanya Charitamrita"". This historical presence indicates that the art form is more than 500 years old. There are frequent mentions of nakshi kantha in the writings of Rabindranath Tagore, the folk songs of rural Bengal, and even contemporary stories set against urban backdrops. There are older mentions too. Think of the oldest of texts—the Rig Veda and Upanishads. Speaking of Bengali households, I grew up in one, and nakshi kantha was a part of my childhood. I remember seeing both my grandmothers embroidering rustic but beautiful patterns on items of everyday use or home decor. There were embroidered tablecloths, wall tapestries, handkerchiefs, and more. However, at its core, it is a frugal practice that women of Bengal followed to recycle and upcycle, long before social media influencers made it cool.

The roots of Nakshikantha

The origin of nakshi kantha is rustic. Although the word itself has no discernible etymological root, it is a combination of ‘naksha’ meaning pattern, and ‘kantha’ meaning a ragged piece of cloth. Rural women who were adept at needlework spent their free time doing patchwork embroidery on pieces of clothes of everyday use to beautify them. At the time, it had still not become a commercialised, mass-produced form of textile. Historically, nakshi kantha was largely practised by women. It became one of the few ways the women of certain social strata, who were not given the choice to be literate, could express themselves. Household fabrics like tablecloths, handkerchiefs, blankets, or infants’ onesies were inevitably blessed with the feminine touch of intricate nakshi kantha. Sometimes, when the occasion called for it, sarees, dhotis, and kurtas were also embroidered with nakshi kantha designs. A distinct memory of my childhood involves throwing tantrums about wearing plain white tape frocks at home. To pacify my juvenile demands, my mother would spend the afternoon embroidering a butterfly or a flower or a cute, mischievous cat on my dress. But not all nakshi kantha work is done so easily. Back then, it took months to complete a handmade, single piece of item. Slowly and surely, the art form made its way into the textile industry. But it did not mean that it stopped being a fundamentally domestic practice.

From hand-drawn folklore to machine embroidery

Modern-day nakshi kantha is done by tracing generic designs from blocks that are easy to run, stitch and mass-produce with machine embroidery. It is convenient, profitable, and caters to the commercial demand of the product. Originally, the ‘naksha’ used to be hand-drawn on cloth. This meant the figures and shapes would look quite rustic, but each kantha was unique and told a story either borrowed from the maker’s own life or their surroundings or deep-rooted themes from lore and legends. Sometimes, the pattern would be of a laid-back village afternoon—a hut under a tree, palms lining the shores of a river, ducks waddling in a pond, or even the entire lifetime lived by the artist from birth to old age. Other times, religious motifs would be seen. Symbols from Hinduism (West Bengal) like the lotus, Om symbol, tree of life, or the Vedic swastika were commonplace. Those from Islam (Bangladesh), like the crescent moon and stars, would make an appearance as well.

All is not lost

If you visit the local stores in West Bengal or Bangladesh, nakshi kantha is not a lost art. Embroidery work can be purchased almost anywhere at pretty reasonable rates as well. What is truly almost lost is the personal touch that made the art form special. The unique handmade pieces made by Bengali women—like my mother and grandmother—possess greater value for me. However, every cloud has a silver lining. There are non-profit NGOs that work with rural artisans to revive almost lost art forms like nakshi kantha. There are some private boutiques as well that do the same and bring one-of-a-kind creations to where it has a market. All is not lost yet; the threads of heritage are being rewoven.