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Some wandering rays of an aimless light, Carelessly slipped into my loom the previous night… Their whimsical sparks got woven away, Within the mortal strands too busy at play… My warp was so adulterated with this vagabond burst of light That it regularly assumed a halo that blinded sight… When the t..

 “The story goes as back as the times in history when my father would walk me to the river side, where lengths of colorful patterns waved up and down, with the gushing flow of Sabarmati. Things changed however, open banks were replaced by concrete blocks, flowing river by inert marshes, pr..

 “The story goes as back as the times in history when my father would walk me to the river side, where lengths of colorful patterns waved up and down, with the gushing flow of Sabarmati. Things changed however, open banks were replaced by concrete blocks, flowing river by inert marshes, pr..

 “The story goes as back as the times in history when my father would walk me to the river side, where lengths of colorful patterns waved up and down, with the gushing flow of Sabarmati. Things changed however, open banks were replaced by concrete blocks, flowing river by inert marshes, pr..

As claimed by a local legend, a ‘Raffoogar’(darner) named Alibaba lived in the valley of Kashmir. He was proficient in his job of stitching and mending torn clothes and spent his days doing countless stitches and bringing dead clothes to life. One day a fowl stepped on a white cloth lying around, dr..