The various hues of Karnataka’s rich textile heritage

Long before I began working with Patteda Anchu, colour had already lived many lives in this land. Natural dyes have shaped civilisations across the world and in India their story begins well before written memory. Archaeological remains from the Harappan sites reveal cotton fragments dyed with madder, a plant, suggesting that as early as 3000 BCE, people knew how to draw colour from nature and fix it onto cloth. Pottery from the same sites also shows traces of mineral pigments, indicating sustained experimentation with natural materials.

During the ancient times, plants such as indigo, madder, turmeric, safflower and lodhra were recognised for their dyeing properties. Over centuries, this knowledge expanded. By the classical and medieval periods, Indian dyers had developed a rich palette of blues, reds, yellows and blacks using vegetables, minerals and metals. Colour was not merely decorative; it was knowledge passed through generations.

In Karnataka, the murals of Shravanabelagola, the ceilings of Belur and Halebidu and some other surviving temple sculptures still carry traces of natural pigments. Inscriptions refer to weavers’ guilds and dyers, reminding us that textile production was once central to the region’s economy and culture. Texts like the Manasollasa dating to the 12th century, describe garments worn by royalty, dyed using manjistha, lac, myrobalan and safflower. 

What moves me most is how dyeing entered spiritual thought. Vachana poets like Jedara Dasimayya, himself a weaver, wrote of cloth absorbing colour just as the soul absorbs the divine. Dyeing was not only labour; it was understood as transformation.

Among the many dyers of the past, the nilagaras or indigo dyers, stand out. Historical accounts of their work read almost like rituals. Indigo vats (dyeing solutions) were prepared using indigo blocks, seeds of Cassia tora, lime, lye (a strong alkali) and water. The dyer watched for signs such as the smell of the vat and the change in colour to know when it was ready. Yarn was dipped, aired and dipped again, each immersion deepening the blue. The palest shade, mavi, and the darkest indigo came from the same vat, guided only by experience.

Forgotten centres of dyeing

Ilkal and Guledagudda were once thriving centres of this practice. The Ilkal sari, with its indigo or black body and red seragu, was part of everyday and ceremonial use. Kasuti embroidery added another layer of meaning and was traditionally done by pulling threads from the sari itself. Thousands of looms and hundreds of dyers sustained entire communities. Indigo was not an aesthetic choice alone; it was a livelihood.

And then, slowly, it unravelled. Colonial policies, famine and the introduction of synthetic indigo and chemical dyes altered established practices. Cheaper and faster colours replaced natural dyes. Artificial silk replaced cotton and silk.

By the 1980s, handloom weaving and natural dyeing had declined so sharply that many dyers, weavers and washers left their villages in search of work. Knowledge that once sustained through daily practice began to fade.

When I started working on Patteda Anchu, I encountered this absence firsthand. As I searched for dyers in the region, I realised that many had migrated to towns for work. Indigo dyeing had nearly disappeared and what remained were just stories, a few elderly practitioners and fragments of memory.

We began cautiously. Sourcing raw materials was slow and relearning the process of natural dyeing demanded patience. We returned to indigo first, then gradually reintroduced pomegranate rind, turmeric and other natural colours. Working with these dyes reminded me that natural colour resists control. It changes with water, weather, fibre and time. Each batch carries its own character.

Through this process, Patteda Anchu became more than a textile. It became a way of reconnecting with material, place and inherited practices that still linger in the land. Indigo came to feel less like a colour and more like a link between Harappan fragments, nilagara vats, Ilkal saris and present-day work.

North Karnataka has long been home to indigo, cochineal and other natural dyes. Working with them today feels like resuming a conversation never truly lost, one that continues through Patteda Anchu with care and attention to material.

Naturally dyed yarns.