Fursat: Crafting Community, Rest, and Care Through Textiles

I spent over a decade working with various textiles crafts across India, with the most time spent in the lands that use natural dyes on textiles like Ajrakhpur, Bagh, Bagru, Sri Kalahasti. Among the artisans, there's a common saying: “Let it be for today,” “Let it rest,” or “Let it sleep.” This phrase embodies a process of patient waiting between steps, allowing dyes to set, and embracing time as an essential element of creation. This philosophy has deeply influenced my artistic and community practice, culminating in Fursat.

Fursat has become a way of life for me. It has shaped my approach to fashion design and production, and has evolved into a pedagogy of textile workshops offered to those around me so that they too can find balance and healing through the wisdom of textile practices.

Leisure is often perceived as a break from daily life, a weekend reprieve or a vacation by the ocean. When I have asked workshop participants and friends through oral history interviews what leisure looks like to them, they describe slow mornings, nature walks, or time spent near water. Yet when questioned if this feeling extends into their everyday routines, most admit it is fleeting, quickly overshadowed by the demands of modern life.

Growing up, my experience of leisure was seasonal, tied to summer vacations at my nani’s house. In those weeks I also witnessed my single mother, who otherwise grappled between work, caring for a child, and the demands of daily life, finally at rest. My time was filled with play, whether it was mornings playing cricket with neighbourhood boys, afternoons on the computer learning new technology with my nana, or evenings helping my nani cut raw mangoes for pickles. I accompanied my mother on fabric shopping trips, and one summer my nani tried, unsuccessfully, to teach me the harmonium. These months of play, rest, and joy ended with tearful goodbyes, reinforcing the idea of leisure as a temporary escape rather than a sustained practice.

Beyond these designated moments of rest, communal support was integral to our daily lives. Neighbouring aunties cared for me when my mother was busy, and when she travelled, my friends’ mothers, uncles, aunts, and grandparents ensured I was fed and safe. In India, work-life balance has historically been maintained through informal, intergenerational support rather than institutional policies, which, though progressive on paper, often lack real implementation (Boston College Center for Work & Family, 2011; The Tribune, 2020).

My professional journey into textiles began as a design student in India. At the age of 19, I undertook my graduating project in Maheshwar, a weaving town, transitioning from an urban upbringing to a community centred around craft. Over 16 weeks, I observed a rhythm of life that prioritized collective values over relentless production.

Figure 1

Co-Creation. Note. By Nikita Shah, 2023, Sri Kalahasti.

For a decade after this project, I led the design for a textile-focused fashion brand that engaged in over thirteen craft-based techniques, including weaving, embroidery, printing, and dyeing across India. My role oscillated between the fast-paced industry of fashion shows, campaigns, editorials, styling, and the immersive, slow periods of textile development with artisans. The latter experience reshaped my understanding of work—not as a grind, but as a way of life.

Straddling the two worlds of rural textile traditions and urban fashion's breakneck speed, I found myself seeking an escape. This pursuit led me to the United States to study at the Fashion Institute of Technology. Carrying a suitcase of Indian textiles and a vision for integrating them into Western fashion, I was looking for a rhythm or framework to bridge the two worlds.

I was experiencing a profound loss of home. In response, I turned to inherited practices such as crochet and embroidery—skills passed down by my widowed dadi. With her I had learned how the repetitive act of stitching onto fabric demanded focus, mirroring therapeutic grounding techniques for managing anxiety.

I expanded my practice to include Kalamkari as a medium for storytelling and self-expression. The process of working with natural dyes forced me to slow down and brought me back to the land I came from. When words failed, the pigment flowed. These traditions provided a space to process childhood trauma and intergenerational healing. I came to understand how traditional craft practices could offer a counterpoint to the burnout I carried from the fashion industry.

The Fashion Minority Report catalogues this potential for fashion industries to engender burnout:

“Exhaustion, dwindling motivation, and lackluster performance—burnout is unfortunately a more than common feeling for many of us toiling away in the fashion industry. Notorious for its demanding and breakneck pace, the industry can be seen by some as a breeding ground for burnout. The culprits are plentiful, with a relentless pressure to churn out fresh and innovative designs, collections, and content, combined with unyielding deadlines and grueling hours that require sacrificing personal well-being and time… against a highly competitive environment that fosters isolation and insecurity” (Fashion Minority Report, n.d.)

In establishing my brand, Untitle, I intentionally embedded a commitment to humane and mindful production. It wasn’t a marketing strategy but a core principle extending to all those involved in the creative process. The brand upcycles memorial textiles for the South Asian diaspora, transforming cherished garments into wearable pieces that honour personal and cultural histories.

One instance involved a lawyer who, having observed my ease with wearing saris, sought to integrate elements of her South Asian heritage into her everyday wardrobe, particularly in the workplace. She brought in her mother’s heavily beaded wedding kurta, a garment she cherished but found impractical for regular wear. To honour both its sentimental and cultural significance, the fabric was repurposed into a formal black blazer suitable for courtroom settings. The lining featured bright green silk from the kurta, while a small patch of its intricate beading was placed discreetly inside the pocket. The significance of this transformation lay not in the visibility of the embellishment but in the personal connection it maintained, allowing her to carry a piece of familial history into her everyday life (Untitle by Nikita, 2021).

Figure 2

Home lies Inside. Note. By Nikita Shah, 2021.

Individuals approached Untitle with diverse intentions. Some sought statement pieces that visibly reflected their heritage, while others preferred garments designed for private or domestic settings. Over the years, Untitle specialized in integrating saris into jackets, coats, and evening dresses, enabling wearers to embody their South Asian identity within American Western cultural contexts.

The brand’s structural philosophy was deeply influenced by the rhythm of artisans’ lives, where labour, rest, family, community, and nature exist in harmonious cycles. These principles were embedded within Untitle's approach to production timelines, marketing strategies, and collaborative agreements. The emphasis on slowness and self-awareness became defining values at the core of the brand. A key aspect of this structure involved the incorporation of deadstock textiles sourced from artisans in India, which were then constructed using a made-to-measure approach in New York City's garment district. In this context, deadstock refers to textiles that are either “samples” or “rejects,” materials which are in excellent condition but discarded by the industry for failing to meet standardized specifications. This pattern of rejection was particularly evident among Western brands, which, despite an interest in handcrafted textiles, frequently dismissed batches that lacked uniformity.

These textiles serve as tangible evidence of the artisan’s presence, embodying the human touch in their perceived “imperfections.” Rather than flaws, these irregularities mark authenticity and creation itself. For Untitle, incorporating deadstock was both a critical and urgent endeavor, reinforcing its commitment to sustainability and the preservation of artisanal traditions. Through this work, I noticed diasporic friends and clients, many of whom had lost direct connections to traditional textile practices, expressing a desire to learn. These moments of inquiry and reconnection laid the foundation for Fursat as a pedagogical practice.

Since 2022, Fursat has evolved into a pedagogy for education, creation, community, and healing through textiles. What began as informal gatherings with friends grew into a workshop at New York Textile Month that attracted participants from diverse backgrounds. Over the course of a year, a core group of five individuals returned monthly to my studio in Brooklyn, creating a visual diary through various craft techniques. As their engagement deepened, the structure to syllabi came organically.

Now, my Brooklyn studio hosts semester-based workshops at two levels. The introductory course explores a breadth of techniques, including Kalamkari, natural dyeing, and Gujarati embroidery, while the advanced level supports long-term projects that integrate personal histories into craft. These workshops provide not just technical knowledge but a space for play and failure, much like my own summer vacation attempts with the harmonium. This environment encourages introspection and shared storytelling, which participants imbibe in their artworks, figuratively or energetically.

Figure 3

Fruits and Fursat. Note. By Nikita Shah, 2023 at Kalam Shastra, Silpi Sala studio, Tirupathi.

I first understood the essence of Fursat during lunch breaks with artisans in India. Accustomed to industrial and institutional work settings, I initially found their post-lunch ritual of resting under a tree and sharing fruit unproductive. Over time, I came to recognize these pauses as essential. They nurtured community, passed down oral histories, and sustained creativity. Hospitality was integral; I was never allowed to leave a painter’s home without tea and conversation. These moments of connection were as important as the work itself.

At Fursat in Brooklyn, I consciously incorporate these practices of rest in the pedagogy. We begin each session with tea and snacks, fostering an environment of shared experience before engaging in textile-making. These gatherings serve as spaces of self-expression and healing, where themes of home, migration, gender, and loss emerge organically. Unlike rigid models of grief, Fursat embraces a fluid, subjective approach to healing.

Embroidery has been well established as a therapeutic and mindful practice (Turnbull, 2023). At Fursat, I draw structure from the techniques of natural dyeing. After each application of colour, the fabric must "sleep" overnight before being washed and dried, ready for the next step. A textile with multiple colours can take weeks to complete. Natural dyeing can only be done in certain weather conditions, and the monsoon is particularly unsuitable for the process. This slowness, this patience, is the heart of Fursat’s pedagogy.

Fursat embodies Paulo Freire’s vision of education as a liberating force, empowering individuals to reclaim their narratives, trust their artistry, and challenge dominant frameworks (Lima-Jardilino & Soto-Arango, 2021).

figure 4

Fursat. Note. By RuAfza b. Sidhant Talwar, 2024, Brooklyn.

Over the years, I have conducted many one-off workshops in schools, colleges, libraries, corporate offices, and public spaces attracting people of various backgrounds. However, those who consistently return to Fursat, with a commitment to being in the container, are often those who have been historically excluded socially or politically because of their gender, skin colour, language, or sexuality. Sometimes, they come in search of a sense of home, having lost some of their rootedness through migration. Whether the exclusion was by choice or force, Fursat aims to be a space of learning and sharing—a space that can hold languages, voices, and silences.

figure 5

Kathak, Kalamkari and when art finds you. Note. By Vandana Pawa, 2024, Brooklyn.

Though all participants work with the same technique, their themes are unique and personal to them. Often exploring topics like home, migration, gender, and loss, these sessions offer a space for self-expression and healing, where even though their stories are often of pain, they see the beauty that can come from it.

For me, Fursat is a bridge between past and present, tradition and innovation, slowness and urgency. It is an alternative knowledge system rooted in the wisdom of creating spaces of rest, connection, creation, and community that move beyond Euro-Western frameworks. Every aspect—craft, community, pedagogy, and healing—feeds into the other, forming a holistic practice that resists the pressures of capitalist productivity and instead nurtures sustainable, intentional creation.

figure 6

Aj-rakh. Note. By Nikita Shah, 2017.

Aj-Rakh

Oh! Have you experienced how an Ajrakh comes into existence?

Did you know;

After dipping that block in indigo and stamped on the textile,

they “keep it today”?

Did you ever notice,

That fine mul gently laid

On the earth

Is held barely at its corners?

Did you look closely,

How a gentle wind blows in that arid hot land

Bringing relief for a moment

But blurring some indigo lines into the beige?

Did you miss,

How the sun oxidizes that indigo

So, it can be its deepest hue

Its best version?

The hands that craft, once told me;

Have some patience,

Let the sun and earth and sky come together.

Aj-rakh.

Have some kindness,

Let them interact with each other.

Aj-rakh.

Have some faith,

Let the night sky do its magic.

Aj-rakh.

When you Aj-rakh the piece of fabric that covers your body,

Why won’t you do the same to your being?

Aj-rakh.

[Poem by Nikita Shah, 2020]

Further viewing: https://youtu.be/Ai3csOOEECU?si=7LkEsjzLMmH1Zvmu

Note from the Author: Fursat is a 19-minute film on how these workshops are held in my studio. Directed by RuAfza (b. Sidhant Talwar), the film follows the preparation, the gathering, the creation, and the community. The format of the film is an extension of the philosophy of Fursat, reflecting on how we consume video media in the era of social media. It intentionally challenges the fast-paced, short-format culture of “reels” and instant gratification by offering an alternative that prioritizes slowness, real-time engagement, and space for personal imagination. The film’s slow pace, long duration, and occasional lack of context are deliberate choices meant to counter contemporary consumption habits and encourage introspection. We encourage viewers to experience the video independently of the article, as it was created to evoke discomfort and even boredom—key elements that form the crux of its narrative and purpose.

Ajrakh – A traditional block-printing technique originating from the Kutch region of India and the Sindh region of Pakistan, characterized by intricate geometric and floral patterns using natural dyes.

Ajrakhpur – A village in Kutch, Gujarat, known as a hub for Ajrakh artisans who have preserved and innovated this centuries-old textile craft.

Bagh – A style of hand-block printing from Madhya Pradesh, India, distinguished by red and black patterns on a white or beige base, using natural dyes.

Bagru – A block-printing tradition from Rajasthan, India, featuring earthy tones and floral or geometric motifs created with natural dyes on fabric.

Sri Kalahasti – A town in Andhra Pradesh, India, renowned for its Kalamkari art, a freehand painting technique on textiles using natural dyes.

Fursat – A Hindi-Urdu word meaning "leisure" or "free time," often used in poetic or cultural contexts.

Nani – A Hindi word for maternal grandmother (mother’s mother).

Nana – A Hindi term for maternal grandfather (mother's father).

Harmonium - A musical instrument with a keyboard and hand-pumped bellows, commonly used in Indian classical, devotional, and folk music.

Maheshwar – A town in Madhya Pradesh, India, famous for Maheshwari handloom sarees, known for their fine cotton-silk weave and intricate zari borders.

Dadi – A Hindi word for paternal grandmother (father’s mother).

Kalamkari - The word "Kalamkari" comes from "kalam" (pen) and "kari" (work), referring to the use of a pen-like tool for freehand drawing. It is a 3000-year-old traditional textile art form practiced in Sri Kalahasti.

Sari - A traditional Indian garment worn by women, consisting of a long, unstitched piece of fabric, typically ranging from 5 to 9 yards, draped elegantly over the body in various regional styles.

Kurta – A traditional South Asian tunic, worn by both men and women, available in various styles and fabrics, often paired with different styles of bottoms

Gujarati (culture) – Pertaining to the traditions, cuisine, and heritage of the Gujarati-speaking community.

Aj-rakh – Translates to "Keep it today" (Aj meaning "today," Rakh meaning "keep it").

Boston College Center for Work & Family. (2011). Work-life in India. https://www.bc.edu/content/dam/files/centers/cwf/research/publications3/executivebriefingseries-2/ExecutiveBriefing_Work-LifeinIndia.pdf

Fashion Minority Report. (n.d.). How to Combat Burnout in the Fashion Industry. Fashion Minority Report. https://fashionminorityreport.com/articles/how-to-combatburnout-in-the-fashion-industry/

Freire, P. (2000). Pedagogy of the Oppressed (M.B. Ramos, Trans.) [Original work published 1970]. Continuum.

Lima-Jardilino, J.R., and Soto-Arango, D.E. (2021). Paulo Freire and Critical Pedagogy: His Legacy for a New Pedagogy of the South. Education Policy Analysis Archives, 29(99), 1-19. https://doi.org/10.14507/epaa.29.6357

Pawa, V. (2024, June 10). Kathak, Kalamkari, and When Art Finds. At the Seam. https://attheseam.substack.com/p/kathak-kalamkari-and-when-art-finds

Shah, N. [Untitle by Nikita]. (2025, February 7). Home Lies Inside, Fall 2022 [Video]. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IlPGUKPIP78

Textile Month. (n.d.). New York Textile Month [Retrieved April 1, 2025]. https://www.textilemonth.nyc/

The Tribune. (2020, December 13). The Leisure Matrix of the Middle Class. The Tribune. https://www.tribuneindia.com/news/archive/comment/the-leisure-matrix-ofthe-middle-class-481817/

Turnbull, L. (2023, October 10). World Mental Health Day: Embroidery as Therapy. Crewel Work. https://www.crewelwork.com/en-us/blogs/news/world-mentalhealth-day-embroidery-as-therapy

Author Bio

Article Citation

Shah, Nikita. “Fursat: Crafting Community, Rest, and Care through Textiles.” Unravelling Fashion Narratives, special issue of Fashion Studies, vol. 5, no. 1, 2025, 1-17. 10.38055/UFN050104.