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Rose Pink Shikargah Banarsi Silk Saree
A rose pink Banarsi georgette saree worked edge to edge in a flowing shikargah jaal, where a continuous floral vine is scattered with small birds a...
View full detailsThe hunt that entered the silk — and never left. Mughal-era hunting scenes — animals, birds and forest — woven as a story the drape keeps telling. Read in the Journal: Shikargah — The Hunt That Entered the Silk → S...
8 pieces · each one of oneShikargah is Persian for the hunting ground: the reserved forest where a king's hunt unfolded. In the courts of Persia and Mughal India the hunt was never only sport. It was statecraft performed outdoors. The hunting carpets of Safavid Persia and the Mughal miniatures both recorded it.
When that world reached the looms of Banaras, it entered the kimkhwabs, the heavy gold-figured brocades woven for courts. There the shikargah was counted among the most prized and most demanding of designs.
Shikargah is a pattern, not a weave. It names what is drawn. How the pattern entered the cloth is a separate, honest question, with a separate, honest price.
Read it the way it was composed.
Count the species first. A fine Shikargah is a census: deer, elephant, horse, tiger, peacock, parrot, and human figures threaded among them.
Choose one chase and follow it. Hunter and hunted are placed in relation, so the scene has direction, a current of movement running through the foliage.
Look for meena: the coloured silk inside the animals' bodies. It is what makes a deer step forward out of the gold.
Then turn it over, and let the reverse tell you how all this life was made.
Some pieces here carry the full hunt across a Jangla field. Others carry its birds alone, parrots set as butis.
A flower forgives the loom. A slightly squared rose is still a rose. An animal forgives nothing. The arc of a leaping deer's back, the taper of a horse's leg at full stride: these are curves persuaded out of a grid of straight intersections, thread by thread.
Before any weaving, the naqsha must be drawn and translated so the loom remembers creatures, not just a lattice. Each figure is placed so the scene reads as pursuit, not a procession of stamps.
Woven kadhua, every animal is worked separately and completely in its own place before the weaver moves on. Each product page states that piece's own time on the loom.
Shikargah grows from the same foliage as the Jangla. A Jangla is the garden. A Shikargah is the garden, inhabited. The Jangla grows. The Shikargah moves.
Kimkhab names a class of cloth, the heaviest Banaras brocade, defined by how much of its ground is zari. Shikargah names a design. The two met in history, when the hunt was woven into the old kimkhwabs. Today a Shikargah can be woven on many grounds.
Our Shikargah pieces are on katan silk, and most are woven kadhua. Ask of any piece whether the figures are kadhua or cutwork, and which zari they carry. On a pattern with inhabitants, those answers matter more than usual.
A Shikargah is the saree of the woman who collects. It is chosen for presence rather than protocol, and worn to an occasion rather than at its centre. A Jangla presides over an evening. A Shikargah arrives with a story already running across it. Keep jewellery quiet; the animals are the ornament.
Dry clean only. Wrap it in soft muslin and keep it in a dry place. Keep perfume off the zari. Open it out every few months.
We work with tested zari and name it plainly.
A Shikargah is a Banarasi saree patterned with the royal hunt: deer and tigers, elephants with riders, horsemen and peacocks moving through dense foliage. The word is Persian for the hunting ground. In Banaras it was counted among the finest designs of the old kimkhwab brocades, and it remains the only classical pattern with inhabitants.
Both refer to the same pattern. Shikargah is the Persian word, shikar for hunt and gah for place, so it means the hunting ground. Shikargarh is a common spelling online, borrowing garh, a fort, by sound. Under either name, look for animals and riders placed in pursuit through foliage, not simply birds scattered across the silk.
A fine Shikargah reads like a census. Expect deer, elephants, horses, tigers, peacocks and parrots, with hunters and riders threaded among them. The figures are placed in relation, so one chase can be followed through the vines. Look for meena, coloured silk inside the animals' bodies, which helps each figure step forward out of the gold.
A pattern. Shikargah names what is drawn, not how it was woven. The same hunt can be woven kadhua, with each animal worked separately and secured in place, or as cutwork, with floats clipped from the back. Most of our Shikargah pieces are woven kadhua. Turning the saree over shows you which method was used.
Because animals do not forgive the loom. A flower tolerates the grid of warp and weft; the curve of a leaping deer or a horse's leg must be built thread by thread. Before weaving begins, the naqsha has to teach the loom each creature's anatomy and place every figure so the scene reads as pursuit.