“My mother’s mother, my grandmother, was an exceptional woman and one of my greatest influences. She was exuberant, excessive and an absolute maximalist. She was never without her potli, a draw string pouch lined with a delicious pomegranate pink velvet. We spent the sweltering summer holidays together, and I remember her dipping into her handbag to buy us all kind of treats—ice-lollies, turmeric laced popcorn and matinee movies at the cinema.”


“My father’s mother was an austere and spiritual woman, stern in her white muslin saris and khadi potli—she spent the days and hours telling me all about the stories that made us. I remember her telling me the story of the Indian potli from our epics—one of the oldest bags in the world, the sack bag. From grand palaces to streets and bazaars, it is as ubiquitous as it can be precious. For me, the potli is undoubtedly India’s eternal bag de jour.”


“Both my grandmothers had a profound influence on me. They were the antithesis of each other but were both strong in their resolve and sense of self. Contradictory but exceptional women. One taught me the power of minimalism and the other showed me the dynamism of maximalism.”