The Better India
A few kilometres outside Bhubaneswar, the road to Pipli leads into a village where work is always in sight. Houses double up as workshops, and shopfronts spill over with stitched fabrics — canopies, wall hangings, and home décor — hanging low over the street. Here, there is little separation between home and craft, because in almost every house live artisans trying to sustain and rework a 12th-century tradition. The village and the craft are namesakes; both are called Pipli. And the two are intrinsically linked. Once, this craft belonged almost entirely to ritual. Linked to the Jagannath Temple, it was shaped by temple needs and stories that still circulate in the village — of artisans, devotion, and objects meant for the divine. What began in ritual spaces followed a fixed visual language: reds, yellows, greens, and blacks stitched into elephants, peacocks, flowers, and the sun, designed to be seen from afar. Today, those same patterns move through more urban settings, carrying that instinct for colour and visibility into homes and everyday life. From a specialised craft to a local economy Pipli is a 12th-century craft that has steadily found its way into contemporary spaces. But how is it sustaining a local economy? The craft originally took shape through layers of fabric, cut and placed over one another, then stitched into patterns. Geometric forms, mirrors, and traditional motifs were added. Bold reds, yellows, whites, greens, and blacks formed the primary palette. The logic was simple: the craft had to be recognisable from a distance. These colours still appear today in lampshades, wall hangings, garments, and furnishings — objects designed to catch the eye even indoors. In many ways, that visual instinct remains central to Pipli. What has shifted, however, are the materials and the palette. The technique, known as appliqué, involves layering pieces of coloured fabric onto a base. Where ritual once limited colours to red, yellow, green, black, and white, artisans now work with a wider range — pinks, purples, and softer tones. The technique, known as appliqué, involves layering pieces of coloured fabric onto a base. Photograph: (Gaatha) Cotton is often replaced with silk, velvet, or satin, especially for products aimed at urban buyers. Mirrors, sequins, and beads are added in response to changing tastes. Seen this way, the transition feels like a natural extension of what already existed. A new market for Pipli What has changed most in Pipli is not how the craft is made, but where it goes. There was a time when the work stayed close to ritual — large canopies, ceremonial umbrellas, and textiles meant for processions. Today, the same hands stitch for different spaces. Pipli appliqué appears on lampshades in living rooms, as wall hangings, cushion covers, bedspreads, and handbags. This shift follows the market. Urban buyers look for something rooted yet usable, and orders now come from beyond the state. Colours are softened or reworked into palettes that resemble modern prints, while still retaining their boldness. At its core, appliqué has always relied on contrast — fabric against fabric, colour against colour, shape against space. That instinct remains unchanged. The motifs — parrots, elephants, lotus flowers, the sun, and other traditional figures — also continue largely unchanged, as artisans seek to carry forward a visual language shaped over generations. A modern turn for a living craft The chandua , originally a stitched cloth used for ceremonial umbrellas, canopies, and banners, now appears as ceiling décor and statement lampshades. The jhalar , traditionally a frilled border for processional canopies, is reworked into wall hangings and doorway accents. In some cases, these motifs now appear on kurtas, jackets, overcoats, camisoles, and are even layered over modern silhouettes. Colours are softened or reworked into palettes that resemble modern prints, while still retaining their boldness. Photograph: (Boito/itokri) What has also shifted is how Pipli reaches its buyers. There was a time when the craft depended on passing travellers, temple visitors, or state-run emporiums. Today, it travels through screens. Artisans and collectives list their work on e-commerce platforms, while government-backed outlets and independent websites bring Pipli appliqué to customers who may never set foot in Odisha . Artisans work with cotton, silk, and sometimes velvet bases, layering them with patches of bold colours—reds, yellows, greens, blacks, accented with mirrors, sequins, and embroidery. Photograph: (Wikimedia Commons) A lampshade stitched in a small home in Pipli can now be ordered from a city apartment in Mumbai. This shift has opened up a different kind of market. It allows artisans to respond more directly to demand — to see what sells, and to adjust designs, sizes, and colours accordingly. Importantly, this shift has not required altering the craft itself. It has come from reinterpreting its forms for new contexts. Any craft survives when it is stitched into modern usage. Tradition is not preserved in isolation; it is reworked, reinterpreted, and sent out into the world. Pipli is a strong example of this. Sources ‘Applique craft - Pipli’ : by Gaatha, Published 2020-2025 ‘CHANDUA-(The indigenous art of Pipli)’ : by Solomon Pradhan, Published on May 2020 ‘Pipli craftsmen adapt to modern needs for better prospects’ : by Rakhi Ghosh, Published on 4 January 2019 ‘The applique village of Pipli live in Odisha’ : by Tanushree Podder, Published on 3 March 2011
Go to News Site