Chamba, one of the most beautiful valleys of Himachal Pradesh, carries within its sparkling streams an art heritage of Chamba Rumal, delicate Rumal (handkerchiefs) embroidered with fine miniature scenes, often drawn from Indian mythology. Originating in the 17th century, this art uses silk and tinsel threads on khadi or muslin handkerchiefs. The embroidery looks identical on both sides of the fabric; hence the name of the technique: Do-Rukha Tanka, or double satin stitch. These handkerchiefs were used as covers for offerings and gifts, as wedding gifts, and were draped around idols.
In this particular art piece, excerpts from the Ramayana can be seen stitched on a cotton cloth with silk threads in a synoptic form. Starting from the top right, Lord Ram, Lord Lakshman and Goddess Sita are taking blessings from Mata Kaushalya before commencing their 14-year exile in the jungle, as can be seen in the scene next to it. We then see the events that followed Goddess Sita's abdication by Ravana and the events that followed after, like Lord Rama and Lord Lakshman crossing the river along with Hanuman, moving towards Ravana's fort and finally emerging victorious.
The most fascinating thing about this is that an entire epic is somehow summed up in a piece of hankerchief. And almost every important scene is covered, without making the overall rumal look too crowded or messy. The scene which I felt to be the most remarkable is undoubtedly the narrative of Ravana's abduction of Sita, where Rama is aiming at the Golden Deer, while Ravana is dressed like an ascetic. And since this is the turning point of the story, and the fact that we can see both the events simultaneously happening on a single surface, makes it all the more praiseworthy. And the fact that since it's a double-sided stitch, there aren't those messy knots that one finds in regular embroideries or stitches, which makes it all the more significant since it's done very intricately with extreme patience to deliver the final output. This is artistry and stitchwork at its peak.
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By: Aishi Mitra
The description is clear, detailed, and thoughtfully explains both the history and the narrative of the piece. However, more could have been written. The writing style makes the story easy to follow while also highlighting the technique, which adds depth and appreciation to the artwork. The painting itself feels vibrant and full of life. The delicate embroidery and carefully arranged scenes turn the cloth into a flowing narrative. Each figure, though small, carries expression and movement, and the overall composition reflects patience, balance, and quiet beauty. Altogether, it stands as a graceful blend of storytelling and craftsmanship, preserving tradition while inviting viewers to pause, observe, and connect deeply.
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By: Tanisha Sharma
I find this piece genuinely fascinating, perhaps more so than the paintings I have written about before. Here is why.
First, I admire its ambition. Telling the entire Ramayana on a single piece of cloth less than a metre wide is an extraordinary challenge. The artist solved it by arranging the scenes like a comic strip, asking the viewer to read the story in a specific sequence. That takes skill and intelligence.
Second, I love the materiality of it. Most of the art I have discussed exists as pigment on a flat surface. This is thread. It has texture. It has weight. I imagine touching it and feeling the silk and metal under my fingers. There is something intimate about that. A painting hangs on a wall and stares at you. A rumal was once folded, carried, placed over a gift, held in someone's hands. That physical history matters to me.
Third, I am moved by who made it. The women of the Chamba court embroidered these pieces. They did not sign their names. Art history rarely remembers them. But their hands created something that survived for three centuries and now sits in one of the greatest museums in the world. That feels quietly heroic.
This is a humble object that achieves something remarkable. It tells a great story through thread and colour. It was made by women whose names we will never know. It has survived centuries. It is not the most beautiful artwork I have encountered, but it might be one of the most honest. It does not pretend to be anything other than what it is: a ceremonial cloth, stitched with devotion, meant to be used and touched and folded away. There is dignity in that.
