Kalamkari: The Untold Story of a Dying Art Form

A fabric that speaks, quite literally

Have you ever paused to wonder what stories your clothes might tell if they could speak?

Let’s take you on a journey, not to a fashion house in Milan or Paris, but to temple towns in Andhra Pradesh, where tradition breathes life into fabric through a sacred and fading art form called Kalamkari.

Ancient roots in temple towns

Dating back over 3000 years, Kalamkari isn’t just an art, it’s a legacy, a quiet but powerful echo of Andhra Pradesh’s cultural soul. Its roots run deep in towns like Srikalahasti (556 km from Hyderabad), Machilipatnam (391 km away), and Anantapur (358 km from Hyderabad). Originally known as Wraatapani from the Telugu words wraata (writing) and pani (work), this was more than decorative painting; it was a spiritual offering, a discipline, a devotion.

Artists as storytellers and disciples

It is said that as early as the 13th century B.C., ministers and travellers brought along artists and storytellers to temple towns like Srikalahasti. These artisans used natural dyes made from plants, vegetables, and minerals to breathe colour into epic tales from the Ramayana, Mahabharata, and Bhagavad Gita. Their canvas? Fabric. Their tool? A pen made from a sharpened bamboo stick wrapped in cotton thread, handmade, just like everything else in this sacred process.

Kalamkari's early works weren’t meant for commercial success, they were acts of devotion. The motifs were intricate, spiritual, and disciplined. To these artists, art wasn’t a career, it was a calling. And while poets wrote verses, Kalamkari painters wrote visual hymns.

From Andhra to Europe: An early global export

By the 14th century, Kalamkari fabrics were being exported to European countries. Dominated by deep reds, blues, and earthy whites, these prints carried the fragrance of native soil and the touch of reverence. Every piece was a portal into the charisma and inner qualities of the divine.

Discover more: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C63Nswmfbrs

A labour of devotion, not just art

But the process? It’s anything but simple.

It begins with soaking finely woven cotton cloth in a mix of milk and powdered karakkaya (ink nut). Why milk? The fat in it binds the colours better to the cloth. Then, the cloth is dried and prepared for illustration using a charcoal-like pigment made from dried tamarind twigs. For delicate outlines, a pencil-sized bamboo stick wrapped with thread acts as a natural fine-liner. Next comes kasimi, a unique brown liquid made from iron scrap, jaggery, and water. When applied, it reacts with the cloth and turns black. Each shade the result of chemistry and centuries of observation.

After painting, the cloth is washed in flowing water, boiled, and fermented under the sun for 10–15 days. This final cure gives Kalamkari its signature glow and ensures that the print lasts sometimes up to a hundred years. No chemicals. No shortcuts. Just patience, purity, and practice.

Style vs spirit: The missing link

Today, colourful Kalamkari prints are hugely popular, especially among women who love the intricate designs on sarees, dupattas, and dresses. But while the aesthetic appeal thrives, the original spiritual and cultural intent is fading, often lost in mass production and imitation.

The truth is, Kalamkari is dying, not in look, but in spirit.

The woman who brought it back

Many artisans continue to struggle for recognition and fair wages. Their livelihood remains uncertain, their legacy under threat. During the British Raj, this art form, like many others, nearly disappeared. But thanks to Ms. Kamaladevi Chattopadhyaya, a visionary social reformer (and wife of Harindranath Chattopadhyaya, brother of Sarojini Naidu), efforts were made to revive it post-independence. With support from Jawaharlal Nehru, she launched the All India Handicrafts Board in 1952 to protect India’s dying arts. Unfortunately, it was dissolved in 2020.

What can we do today?

So, where does that leave us today?

In an age driven by AI (Artificial Intelligence) and fast fashion, perhaps what we need most is a return to roots. Imagine if more schools introduced hobby classes in traditional arts. What if parents saw the value in teaching their children not just coding, but also culture? This isn’t nostalgia, it’s preservation. It’s pride. Interestingly, Kalamkari has also taken to the skies, quite literally. Air India Express (AIX), known for showcasing India’s rich cultural heritage, features Kalamkari art on the tails of its aircraft, a Boeing 737-8MAX aircraft, registered VT-BXH, turning each flight into a flying tribute to tradition. It’s astonishing to see such age-old art forms gaining visibility through modern mediums even at 35,000 feet. 

Are you an avgeek who loves spotting aircraft with a desi twist? Don’t miss the stunning tail art on Air India Express aircraft(s) where tradition meets turbine, HERE: A Boeing 737-8MAX of Air-India Express with Kalamkari tail 

A Final Thought

I personally like Kalamkari work a lot, and Kalamkari is not just a print. It’s our story, hand-drawn in natural ink, passed down with reverence. Let’s not allow it to fade into a forgotten footnote. So, if you’re travelling through India or visiting Andhra Pradesh, take a moment to connect with a Kalamkari artisan, buy a piece of their hard work, share their story, and become part of keeping this living tradition alive. Every thread carries their legacy.

After all, it's our art, our samskriti. And if we don't protect it, who will?

Image source: Wikimedia Commons