Every journey is a page in our autobiography, etched with memories, revelations, and lessons that shape us. Often, it’s through travel, through stepping out of the familiar, that we truly discover ourselves and the world around us.

In my early twenties (2009), I was finishing my final project at the NID, Ahmedabad, preparing to enter the world of textile design. That journey led me to Barmer, a traditional village near the India-Pakistan border, known for the ancient craft of Ajrakh block printing. Despite the harsh desert climate, people preserved age-old traditions through their art, music, and festivals, making Barmer a living canvas of Rajasthan’s heritage.

Raised in a conservative family where women rarely stepped out alone, this was my first solo trip, my first real test of independence. It felt like crossing an invisible threshold. I carried within – both excitement and a quiet fear of the unknown.

Barmer welcomed me with more than just its rich colors and prints. I met three women each at a different stage in life, each navigating their own limitations with incredible resilience. Through their stories, I not only learned about the depth of tradition, but also discovered a stronger, more grounded version of myself.

This journey wasn’t just about textiles. It was about identity, courage, and the quiet power of choosing to move forward, no matter how heavy the weight of tradition.

A Young Chef in Barmer: A Dinner I’ll Never Forget

One quiet evening in Barmer, I was invited to dinner by a local artisan. His family, his wife, their ten-year-old daughter, and two younger sons, aged five and three, greeted me with smiles.

It was the young daughter who caught my attention the most. In her colourful frilly frock and traditional pyjama, I saw her preparing food for the entire family. As our conversation unfolded, so did her story.

She didn’t go to school. Her days were filled with responsibilities that were far beyond her years. Fetching water from the village well, taming the animals, and preparing meals for the entire family.

When dinner was served, as we were about to begin, the little girl leaned over the dish she had made and took a quick sniff.

“Sabji mein namak kam hai” (there is less salt in the curry), she remarked casually.

She was right. I was stunned. This child, barely ten, had cooked enough times to know her recipes by its smell. It was impressive and heartbreaking all at once.

My experience in the kitchen was quite the opposite. I was rarely allowed to cook. My mother pushed us to pursue a life beyond it, her way of ensuring we didn’t repeat her story. Seeing a young girl in Barmer carry household responsibilities was a wake-up call, revealing how vastly different and distinct each woman’s life can be.

I felt a sharp pang of guilt as I watched her. At an age when most children are just beginning to understand the world, she had already become its backbone.

The Woman in Black: Breaking Traditions in Barmer

At a local block printer’s unit, I met a woman whose life story could be described as an embodiment of defiance and resilience. Her husband used to work in this printing unit. Widowed at an early age, rather than succumb to the limitations imposed on her, she became the first and, for many years, the only woman in the village to practice Ajrakh block printing.

In Barmer, like many traditional villages, it was widely believed that women should not participate in the art of block printing. The long-standing belief was that if women were involved, the colors would not hold well on the fabric. When I asked her what made her push boundaries, she merely said that there was no other choice. She brushed off the word courage and added casually that anyone in her place would have done the same. The basic necessity of looking after her kids and ailing parents was more important than “what will people say”.

Her entry into this male-dominated space wasn’t without its challenges. Society had laid down its expectations for women, and the art of block printing was considered sacred, a male-only domain. But she didn’t let this stop her. She learned the craft from the men in her family, and though she was allowed to print only in black dye called “kat”, her contribution was invaluable.

What struck me was the contrast between our worlds. In Barmer, women often had to work out of sheer necessity. In my background, women were often discouraged from working, not because they couldn’t, but because it was seen as unnecessary. In both cases, patriarchy played a role but with different justifications. There, it was about survival. In mine, it was about control.

Today, younger women in the village look up to her as a pioneer, someone who broke the glass ceiling of cultural norms.

Lessons in Quiet Courage: What Barmer Taught Me

At 21, I arrived in Barmer with the zeal of an eager student and the responsibility of documenting something far greater than a mere academic project. I was tasked with researching Ajrakh block printing a centuries-old craft that had been passed down through generations in this region.

I had come from the comfort of my education, armed with opportunities that the other women I met on this journey had never had. They were born into a world where education, travel, and choice were luxuries. They navigated life with strength and resilience that came from necessity, not privilege. As I walked through the village, engaging with artisans, listening to their stories, and learning the meticulous process of Ajrakh block printing, I couldn’t help but reflect on the stark contrast between my life and theirs.

I realised how fortunate I was to learn and explore opportunities many women from my background cannot even dream of. Bound by marriage and patriarchy, they’re often denied the chance to study, step out, or chase the lives they quietly long for.

While I learned the delicate art of Ajrakh block printing, the true lesson came from the stories I encountered. These women – whether young, old, or somewhere in between, showed me that there is more than one way to preserve a culture. They did it with their hands, their voices, their quiet resistance, and their unwavering commitment to keep traditions alive.

I left Barmer with more than just knowledge of textiles; I left with the stories of women whose resilience would continue to inspire me for years to come.

About: Rose Marie Savio

A colour enthusiast and lifelong textile student, she thrives on exploring craft and textile exhibitions across the city. Through her Mumbai-based studio, Fishtree Films & Design co-founded with her partner in 2017, she documents stories of artisans, culture, and craft from across India. Travel fuels her creativity, often leading her to hidden, soulful food spots. When not working or exploring, you’ll find her unwinding with Netflix and a quiet weekend.

Rose Marie can be reached @rosemarie.td@gmail.com