How The Kunj in Delhi is redefining craft for craft’s sake

Handicraft has taken up a new space in the capital, and it is called The Kunj (a grove in Sanskrit), after its locus in Vasant Kunj. Its name, mixing English and Sanskrit seems deliberate, embodying the reimagination of the traditional world of crafts it seeks to represent in a post-truth, post-Covid, post-Internet world. The narrative of space is everything at this point in time: who can occupy space and how much of it, how to guard inner space and how to settle claims of it. The Kunj, then is all about space — the freeness of it, one that effectively combines art, artist, audience, community, craft and commerce without othering any stakeholder. 

The Kunj is a sprawling sandstone edifice built by the Union Ministry of Textiles that opened its doors to the world in late August. As I walk in on a Saturday, starched in sunshine in a rain-ravaged capital, I see Kala Manch, a nook in which Ashutosh Varma is demonstrating his paper-cutting craft, putting his stainless-steel scissor to work on pearl-white paper. In a minute, a small bird soars out of it. He tells me, in chaste English, that he is a sixth-generation artist in the Sanjhi paper-cutting craft. Some families pass down skill and quietude, instead of trauma it seems.

The Kunj is the latest offering in a long history of State patronage of traditional craft. Before immersive was even a thing, there was Central Cottage Emporium in New Delhi. Opened soon after Independence, one could touch and feel a bone-inlay elephant from Jodhpur or marvel at the minutiae in a miniature painting. The State has, in its own capacity, supported handloom and handicrafts, with emporia and karigar melas and nurtured it with subsidies and skill enhancers like Weavers Service Centres. And, in 2025, when support for handicraft is indistinguishable from a certain performance-orientation for social media, the government has unveiled The Kunj, which bears the tagline: ‘Handmade in India, Crafted for the World’.

State of the art

Here, the indigo-suffused block-printing brand from Udaipur talks to the Ikat sari designer from Odisha. The rug-selling brand from Kashmir meets the prized Eri silk garment boutique from Meghalaya. This is the space for conversations across halls, tables, and glass partitions, across generations, craft types and continents. Here, designer brands rub shoulders with non-profits. Anuradha Kumra, architect and chief advisor (retail operations), talks of how brands like Iro Iro, Shrujan, Khamir, Kiniho and MeMeraki, among others, were picked for the inaugural space from recommendations given by stakeholders such as the Fashion Design Council of India, National Institute of Fashion Technology (NIFT), Indian Institute of Crafts & Design, et al. “These are brands that do not have a brick-and-mortar space, who work with traditional craft and have pushed the boundaries of design,” she tells me over a phone call. These retailers are to continue here for three months to begin with.

As I make my way to the first floor, past the weaver hunched at his loom, answering queries from teenagers while juggling his warp and weft, past a clutch of children atop a Gond-painted table at the canteen space and a giant Origami installation, I see a tired mother catching her breath on the wooden bench in between the Chettinad-style pillars. Her eyes are on the bone-coloured floor tiles, in between which Arabesque scrolls come to life in mosaic. The design elements in The Kunj are detailed and unmissable. 

A wall called Parampara (tradition) is dedicated to the Padma Shri awardees in the handloom and handicraft sectors on the first floor. Framed in colourful phulkari borders, the black and white photographs celebrate such artisans as Tsering Namgyal Shingos (2022, wood carving), Godavari Dutta (2019, Madhubani painting), Rasheed Ahmed Quadri (2023, Bidri), D. Chalapathi Rao (2020, TholuBommalata), among others. 

Then there is Karigar Sangam, a hall where objets d’art are exhibited alongside descriptive cards that bear the name of the artisan and his phone number, making it easy for customers/brands to reach the artisans. It houses pieces by award-winning craftsmen that can be bought at prices the artisans have decided for their products. All proceeds directly go to the karigar, with no cut in between. I video-called Kondra Gangadhar, whose WhatsApp display picture proudly shows him receiving the 2018 Shilp Guru award for wooden block-making from the then vice-president of India.

When I tell him about the breathtaking Boteh wooden-block carved for Kalamkari displayed at The Kunj (and is up for sale), he smiles shyly first, and then proudly. In 10 minutes of chatting in broken Telugu and Hindi, I have bought three small Boteh blocks from him. The government does not gatekeep. Amrit Raj, Development Commissioner of handicrafts, whose office leads the making and management of The Kunj, says, these objets d’art “is a collection of award entries received by the department that we wanted to showcase to sell, so that they adorn the homes of patrons of craft”.

A promise to return

In 2022, as the then director of NIFT (National Institute of Fashion Technology) in Bengaluru, I once emailed a request to a handcraft retail space across the road, to allow the visiting craftsmen on campus inside their store. When no reply was received, a faculty member went across, only to be politely refused and be told about the risks of breakages and how that will obstruct ‘serious customers’.

The Kunj, in contrast, does not seem to be aggressively pursuing sales and profit. Kala aasvadan or art appreciation seems to be the guiding philosophy. It asks you to pause and appreciate the magic in the mundane. Take, for instance, the wall on lamps from across the country called Illuminated India, that will make you stop in your tracks as soon as you enter, past the giant Bankura horses in terracotta.

Perhaps, the biggest reward of spaces like these — with no entry fee and no compulsion to purchase — is the packs of students that arrive in droves. They are led into the world of Indian crafts, handheld by the artisans, inculcating a sense of pride and marvel at the timeless handcrafting traditions. As my teenage daughter cradles the delicate paper-stencil of Sanjhi craft in her hand, she says she will use it as a bookmark, “it is like lace on paper”, she adds. On her mobile-phone screen, she zooms into the picture of the papier-mâché vase from Kashmir and says, “I will come with my friends again.” And that is the promise and potential of The Kunj.

The writer is a career civil servant and a creator on Instagram, where she advocates for Indian crafts.