Growing up, I swaddled myself in my grandmother’s pashmina shawls on cold Delhi winter evenings. I had yet to discover the largely unexplored vocabulary of indigenous wool or desi oon.
India has one of the world’s largest and culturally diverse pastoralist populations. For centuries, shepherds and their flocks have ambled over difficult terrains, from the highest peaks of the Himalayas to the sunbaked lands of Kutch. In the arid stretches of the Deccan, indigenous breeds such as the Black Deccani sheep, with coarse ebony wool, have been herded by the Kurumas, Kurubas, and Dhangars of Telangana, Karnataka, and Maharashtra. Each region in India has its own distinctive wool and fibre craft culture.
“India is home to between 10 and 20 million pastoralists, 75 million sheep, 145 million goats, 4,00,000 camels, and 60,000 yaks, producing approximately 75 million kilos of wool annually,” says Riya Shetty, a wool anchor at the Centre For Pastoralism (CfP), an organisation working to nudge Indian pastoralism — its systems, complexities, contributions, and challenges — into the limelight. But today “pastoralism faces challenges from state policies and societal perceptions that favour sedentarisation [giving up a nomadic lifestyle to settle down in a region], leading to restricted land access, and reduced recognition of its ecological benefits”, she adds.
A pastoralist with his herd in Himachal Pradesh
| Photo Credit:
Richa Keshri | Centre for Pastoralism
Quality and supply chain issues are a roadblock; traditional shearing tools, a lack of standardisation, and fragmented processes exacerbate the situation. “As a result, a vast bulk of India’s desi wool is discarded,” explains Shetty. What remains finds its way to the country’s carpet-making industry, with a fraction being used to clothe people.
Kuruba women sorting wool in Karnataka
| Photo Credit:
Jinoodhaya S.S. | Centre for Pastoralism
To reverse this decline, in 2020, CfP launched the Desi Oon Hub, a loosely tied-together collaborative organisation to carry out research, innovation and experimentation. It includes over 20 small enterprises such as Miyar Mufflers, Khamir, Earthen Tunes, and Avani Earthcraft that work with the community of shepherds, knitters, felters, spinners, and weavers. The recent Desi Oon exhibition in Delhi was one of its initiatives to rebuild the struggling ecosystem and amplify the fleece-to-fashion conversation. “Many visitors were pleasantly surprised to know that we have such an extensive diversity of wool and sheep breeds in the country that go far and beyond pashmina,” says Shetty, with the long-term goals focusing on the growth of indigenous wool craft.
Know your sheep
India has 45 recognised native sheep breeds, though research points to the possibility of several more. While wool from Himachal’s Gaddi sheep, the Black Deccani of Karnataka, Maharashtra and Telangana, and the Magra and Chokla of Rajasthan are still part of the fabric of daily life, the Bonpala of Sikkim, the Tibetan sheep of Arunachal Pradesh, and Panchali from Gujarat are disappearing. According to the CfP’s report ‘Desi Oon – Hamara Apna’, there are several reasons for this: the declining demand and falling prices of indigenous sheep wool in India, the rise in crossbred sheep wool prices, the influx of cleaner, finer imported wool, the availability of cheaper acrylic fibre products, and a shift towards meaty sheep breeds due to rising meat prices.
A pastoralist herding sheep in the Deccan
| Photo Credit:
Jinoodhaya S.S. | Centre for Pastoralism
Stories of resilience
Kutch-based NGO Khamir, a long-term collaborator, has been deeply involved in the revival of native Patanwadi sheep, treasured for its wool and sturdiness. Its numbers have dwindled to less than 5,000 today, impacting the wool ecosystem of pastoralists and artisans.
Paresh Mangaliya, deputy director (trade) at Khamir, has been working with pastoralists across the region for nearly a decade, collaborating with around 160 women artisans across 14 villages, to revive traditional processes such as hand-spinning. “Increasing industrialisation and development is shrinking the land availability for herding and, in turn, impacting the interlinked production systems,” says Mangaliya, of the mounting challenge.
A design from Khamir
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement
With their efforts, the local value chain is seeing a revival, buoyed by an increasing demand for conscious, hand-spun, hand-woven, naturally dyed, handmade winter wear. “Customers are willing to pay the price for a unique product,” he says. Signature pieces include Patanwadi sheep wool jackets and firans. The garments and fabrics have a strong customer base across metros and are even exported to the U.S. and the U.K.
Up north, in the upper reaches of Almora, Uttarakhand, Peoli Design has woven innovation into its work with Harsil wool, nettle, and hemp. Using natural dyes such as madder, indigo, and pomegranate, the wool, which is softer than its Kutch counterpart, has been fashioned into footwear and cushion covers. They have also introduced design interventions to enhance its softness and drapability, including creating blends by knitting wool into woven fabric.
Founders Abhinav Dhoundiyal and Vasanthi Veluri
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement
“This blend of hand-knitting and weaving, while being aesthetically unique, reduces the production time — hand-knitting being far more laborious than weaving — hand-knitting being far more laborious and time-consuming than weaving,” says Vasanthi Veluri, co-founder, Peoli Design. Since the pandemic, Peoli has seen a 20% compound annual growth rate, retailing worldwide. They scooped up the UNESCO World Crafts Council Award of Excellence, and their enviable client roster includes filmmakers Mira Nair and Kiran Rao, designer Ritu Kumar, and even the royal family of Baroda.
An outfit from Peoli Design
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement
Kullvi Whims in Himachal safeguards the region’s traditions. Co-founders Nisha Subramaniam and Brighu Acharya work closely with the semi-pastoral Gaddi community for desi oon, which the duo describes as “robust, warm and brimming with character”. The wool is cleaned, hand-spun, dyed, woven, and knitted by over 350 women artisans across 12 villages. “The biggest challenges are undervaluation of indigenous wool, lack of market access, and the lure of acrylic yarn, which has displaced traditional practices.” Their best-selling products include the GI-tagged Lahauli socks and Kullu shawls, hand-knitted vests, and woven blankets. “Globally, there’s growing interest in handmade, ethical products. Locally, awareness is still catching up. The younger generations are increasingly valuing sustainability and storytelling in their purchases. They see our products as meaningful alternatives to fast fashion. Platforms like the Desi Oon exhibitions and collaborations help bridge this gap.”
A few of the artisans that Peoli Design works with
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement
The fleece chronicles
Monisha Ahmed, textile anthropologist and co-founder of the Ladakh Arts and Media Organisation, recalls how the fortunes of the pashmina goat, prized for its soft wool, changed almost overnight. Originally, western Tibet was the primary source of pashmina to Kashmir and its shawl-making industry, through Ladakh. After the Chinese occupation of Tibet, the trade gradually fizzled out, and the industry had to find a new source for raw material.
Monisha Ahmed
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement
Back then, Ladakh’s goats were undervalued and considered inferior to the local sheep. “A kilo of pashmina was languishing around ₹7 per kilo in the 1950s, shooting up to ₹300 in the 70s,” says Ahmed, as the industry turned to Ladakh to source it. The locals, incentivised by the government and encouraged by Indian pashmina traders, began breeding goats in the Changthang plateau. Recently, Ladakh’s pashmina wool received the Geographical Indication tag, and the government has proposed several initiatives, such as establishing pashmina breeding farms in Leh and Kargil, to further benefit pastoralists and boost the region’s economic development.
This, however, comes with its own problems. Goat herding, in the long run, could lead to desertification. Also, the goat is not as resilient to cold as sheep. But a deeper shift is taking place in the landscape: the erasure of cultural heritage in a land that’s bound to the sheep. “We shouldn’t glamourise pashmina at the cost of sheep wool,” says Ahmed, cautioning a balanced approach to keep centuries of pastoralism and craftsmanship alive in Ladakh, a land traditionally dominated by sheep and yaks.
A luxury design house looking beyond pashmina is Jigmat Couture, founded by Jigmat Norbu and Jigmat Wangmo. Each year, they drop a single collection — crafted from yak, lamb, merino and cashmere — steeped in Ladakhi culture. They source wool directly from the pastoralists between May and June, when shearing and combing of wool take place in Ladakh.
Jigmat Norbu and Jigmat Wangmo
| Photo Credit:
Special arrangement
“Textile weaving and hand spinning were practised in every Ladakhi household, but over time the craft has started fading. Our mission is to revive and promote it. Working with artisans, we are building an entire ecosystem under one roof, namely ‘farm to fashion’, eliminating the middleman,” says co-founder Jigmat Norbu. Though optimistic about the future of desi oon, there’s a caveat: “The wool industry is still unorganised and has limited production. Sourcing quality material is difficult.”
The writer is a sustainability consultant and founder of Beejliving, a lifestyle platform dedicated to slow living.
Published – January 03, 2025 06:21 pm IST
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