The Eternal Stitch: Weaving a Future Heirloom

I have always believed that our ancestors don’t just leave behind stories; they leave behind a visual language. For me, that language is spoken through the intentional drape of a hand-loomed suit, the weight of a silhouette that refuses to be ignored, and the vibrant, rhythmic chaos of a Punjabi textile market. My love for fashion has never been about following a trend; it is an act of reclamation—a way of honoring the hands that worked the loom while asserting my own place in the world.

Growing up, I didn’t just want to wear clothes; I wanted to build them. I fell in love with the way we take up space. I saw how a well-structured suit or a perfectly draped dupatta could act as armor, transforming not just how a woman looked, but how she moved through a room. There is a specific kind of magic in taking a raw bolt of fabric and deciding how it will move, where the structure will hold, and how the silhouette will claim the space around it.

This obsession with the “perfect build” is what led me to create Surkhaab Couture. It began from a deeply personal need: the desire to wear something that was uniquely, unapologetically me. I started by designing for myself because I couldn’t find pieces that captured the intersection of my Sikh identity and my modern sensibility.

Surkhaab: Representing the rare, the precious, and the uniquely beautiful. It refers to a bird of legendary grace, but in the context of my work, it is a philosophy: the belief that a woman’s wardrobe should not be a collection of common things, but a curation of the extraordinary.

Surkhaab was born out of that creative sovereignty—the realization that when you cannot find a space that fits you, you must build one. In every piece I design, I am choosing the deliberate weight of a deep terracotta or the sharp lines of a traditional cut to serve a modern purpose.

But as I grew as a designer, I realized that the magic doesn’t stop at the sewing machine. The garment is the foundation, but the way it is lived in, paired, and carried is what breathes life into the fabric. This realization gave birth to Gulmohar, my next venture.

Gulmohar: Named after the “flame-of-the-forest” tree, it represents a bold, brilliant flowering. Just as the tree transforms the landscape with its fiery blossoms, styling is the moment a design truly “blooms” on a person. It is the final expression of a vision, ensuring that every element of a look aligns with the strength of the wearer.

I understood that fashion is a full-spectrum language; it’s about the narrative we weave from head to toe. Gulmohar is the bridge between the garment and the woman. It’s the proof that design is more than just a sketch on paper—it is the art of storytelling through a complete aesthetic.

We live in a culture of “wear once and discard,” a cycle that feels like an insult to the longevity of our heritage. My goal with both Surkhaab and Gulmohar isn’t just to create a beautiful outfit for a single season; it is to create pieces and looks that refuse to die. I want to create garments so rooted in a timeless aesthetic and built with such structural integrity that they become part of a family’s “permanent collection.”

Designing my own clothes allows me to reclaim my identity as a Sikh woman on my own terms. In a world that often tries to flatten our culture into “costumes,” the act of creation is an act of sovereignty. Every time I choose a sustainable fabric or revive a traditional structure, I am saying that my heritage is not a static museum piece—it is a living, breathing, and evolving legacy.

I am not just stitching fabric together; I am stitching myself back into my own history while simultaneously building a bridge to the future. I am imagining a young woman in the year 2080 pulling a Surkhaab piece out of an old trunk. I want her to feel the quality of the thread and the strength of the design, knowing that someone, decades ago, cared enough about her to make something that would last. Through Gulmohar and Surkhaab, I am leaving behind an inheritance of beauty that is lived in, danced in, and passed down—one eternal stitch at a time.