Saree Showroom Hand-Sculpted with Natural Materials

No.084 — Read old posts on Tinyfarmlab.com
Reading Time 5 minutes

Can you really build with mud in the heart of a city like Varanasi?

When Ashish, our client, reached out to us on Instagram to design his retail store for Varanasi’s iconic silk sarees, we found ourselves asking the same question.

He had seen our mud house in architecture digest and wanted to replicate the same textures, material palette, organic forms and the vibe.

We assumed it was just one of those countless casual enquiries that land in our inbox.

Usually, our clients have their doubts—
Will it last?
Will the walls dust over time?
Will the walls need to be plastered every year?

So they visit our mud house,
touch it,
smell the earth,
feel the cool curves,
and then, slowly,
the idea starts making sense.

But this was different.
Ashish and Tripti hadn’t seen our work in person.

He hadn't touched those walls or
walked barefoot across an earthen floor.
And yet, he wanted us to design his dream project.

We’ll be honest, we were skeptical.
Why would someone trust us with something so important,
without experiencing it firsthand?

For this project,
we collaborated with our friend Aishwarya Lakhani
from Brown Dot Collective,
who shares the same values,
and the love for natural materials.

We pitched the project together
and won the trust of Ashish and Tripti.

Of course, trust doesn’t mean compromise.
Even the most aligned clients come with their own dreams,
constraints, and demands—
and that’s the beauty of it.

In our case,
Ashish onboarded us mid-way through the project,
he saw more value in building with mud.

But this also meant we had to jump in halfway
and make sense of the chaos.

He wanted it done in 4 months,
before Diwali,
a tight deadline for any build,
let alone one with natural materials.

The budget was modest.
And the monsoon had just begun.

High humidity.
Slow drying times.
The kind of weather that challenges
every layer of clay, lime, and pigment.

But, hey!
We love a challenge.
Especially one that aligns with our philosophy.

Next thing we knew, we were in Varanasi,
also known as Kashi,
riding on a scooter following our clients,
weaving through the maze of narrow gullies,
honking cows, and the temple chants.


We weren’t just navigating the city.
We were soaking it in its chaos, its rhythm, its reverence.
We were here to design a store,
but also to listen. To observe. To learn.

We wandered through local karkhanas,
sat cross-legged with artisans,
touched textiles,
and gathered stories hidden in the weaving looms.

Through soot-covered lime walls, crumbling old haveli corners, we found endangered crafts that we knew we had to honour before they vanished.

This wasn’t just a design project.
It was a pilgrimage through memory, matter, and meaning.

We could have romanticized the project all we wanted, but one question still loomed large in our client’s mind:

Would we be able to find the right skilled workers to actually build his dream store with mud?

We, on the other hand, were quite confident.
Because building with mud isn’t rocket science.
It just needs an open mind,
willing hands,
and a little patience.

We weren’t looking for the most experienced artisan.
We were looking for a yes-man,
someone game to try,
someone curious.

And on our very first visit, we met Ajay.

A civil contractor who’d previously worked on our client's brick-and-cement projects.
Yes-man, indeed.

He was instantly excited to be part of something different.
He would introduce us around the site as “Mumbai wali madam” and “Delhi wale sir” with a big grin on his face.

Ajay lived on the outskirts of Kashi and even sourced clay-rich soil for us from his own farmland.

When we first asked him and his teammate,
Babu, to make cob with their feet,
they hesitated.

It was unfamiliar. Messy. Unusual.
But slowly,
as their toes squished into the clay,
something shifted.

They began to enjoy it.
To get into the rhythm.
To laugh.

We taught them how to build wattle and daub and did a plaster sample.

They picked it up so well, we dare say—
they were doing it better than we ever could.


This was just one of the many site visits we made over the next five months.

Aishwarya and I would spend up to 12 hours a day on-site—
training Ajay, Dheeraj, and the rest of the crew through every single stage of the build.

From setting up the bamboo framework for the wattle and daub,
to mixing cob with the right ratio of clay, sand, and straw,
to sculpting soft, sweeping curves by hand,
to applying base plasters and patiently burnishing the finishing coats until they were smooth like silk.

We weren’t just building walls.
We were building trust.
Teaching with our hands.
Learning through theirs.

We spent hours perfecting every curve.
Standing back,
squinting,
adjusting by a few inches,
again and again.

We obsessed over the exact tones of the murals,
the way light would fall on the lime-finished surfaces,
the feeling one would get just walking into the space.

In between the construction,
we would sneak out in the narrow streets again,
to collaborate with master craftsmen like Rameshwar Singh,
who practices the delicate art of wooden toy-making,
and Rajesh Musa,
known for his intricate metal repousse work.

We made multiple visits to their workshops,
tiny, buzzing spaces filled with the scent of wood shavings
and the soft rhythm of hammer on metal.

Some of the coordination even had to happen remotely, which made the process more challenging, but also more magical when it came together.

Each piece,
be it carved,
hammered, or polished,
became a quiet tribute to the hidden crafts of Kashi.

Kalga Banaras isn’t just a store,
it is an exploration of how architecture can shape every experience.

It stands as a testament to how design can honor the past while shaping a conscious and beautiful future, driven by care for the local community, the planet, and the craftsmen who poured their love into every detail.

This project pushed our boundaries in ways we hadn’t imagined.
It taught us patience, trust, and the beauty of letting go of control.

We learned from each other,
from the process,
and from the many hands that shaped this space.

The construction workers,
who took our techniques and added their own ingenuity,
elevating the build in ways we couldn't have planned for.

It reminded us that building with natural materials isn’t just about sustainability—
It’s about collaboration.
About care.
About community.

And while the store now stands ready,
walls burnished,
lights glowing,
sarees draped with grace,
the stories behind its making deserve a space of their own.

We’ll be unwrapping more of those stories,
details from the construction,
and the lessons we learned,
in our upcoming newsletter posts.

Stay tuned.

Love,
Raghav and Ansh

P.S. - Connect with us on LinkedIn. Show some love and help us share the project.


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