The Story of our Tribal Inspired Sarees - Banbithi Stories

We didn’t start with fabric.

We started with a feeling.
Of wanting to create something that felt ours.
Rooted. Real. Raw. Something that could hold memory, philosophy, rebellion—without having to shout.

A saree, in its quiet unfolding, felt just right.

It’s strange how an open saree resembles an open canvas. Empty, but full of possibility. We thought—why not make something that carries the soul of India, not just in its drape but in its design? A new kind of saree, but one that was made the old way: by hand, by heart, and by heritage.

And so Kapur was born.
Not in a factory.
But through hours of conversations, sketchbooks stained with tea, stories passed down by weavers, and four long months of back and forth with hands that still know what patience looks like.

The Fabric is a Story Too
We didn’t want something synthetic or ordinary.
We found Tushar-Kosha—a fabric made from Tushar silk and Kosha silk, handwoven, whisper-soft, but strong. It carries the texture of time. The moment you touch it, it doesn’t feel like cloth. It feels like trust.

And Then Came the Tattoos
We went deeper into the indigenous rabbit hole.
Did you know tribal tattooing in India and South Asia once meant identity, ritual, protection—sometimes even resistance?
We didn’t.

Until we met these rare, almost-forgotten motifs.
They were hiding in villages, arms, necks, rituals.
Symbols that meant rain, fertility, rebellion, strength.
We felt goosebumps.
Why were they never on fabric?

So we did it. We stitched the forgotten into the fold. Every motif you see on this saree was hand-drawn, studied, and born again. Not for fashion—but for remembrance.

We Weren’t Alone in This Journey
Tagore’s Ghare Baire sat on our desk.
Ray’s Aguntok played in the background some days.
Their works gave us the language when we didn’t know how to explain this urge to create something that looked inward… and far beyond.

It Wasn’t Easy
There were days we thought this would never work.
That it was too complex, too strange, too rooted in things people no longer talk about.
But then we saw it.
The first complete Kapur tribal motif saree, draped on a body, moving like memory.
And we knew.

This wasn’t just about sarees anymore.
It was about voice. About preserving something soft yet powerful. Something proudly Indian—but unspoken in mainstream.

If You Wear It, You Carry It
You carry women from our tribal belts.
You carry tattoo artists from centuries ago.
You carry the breath of our weavers.
You carry rebellion, resilience, and Rabindranath.

This saree isn’t for everyone.
It’s for those who feel heritage as pulse, not nostalgia.