Hijab and Head Coverings in India: Textile Heritage and Women’s Choices

A scarf can be described by its cloth, its decoration, its local name and the reason someone wears it. Those descriptions answer different questions. In India, treating them as interchangeable can hide much of what makes dress interesting: a tie-dyed odhni from Kutch, embroidered whitework from Lucknow and a woman’s familiar way of covering with a sari each have a particular context.

Exploring this heritage means paying attention to both objects and people. Surviving textiles reveal workmanship; photographs record specific occasions; women’s accounts explain choices that cannot be read from appearance alone. Together, they offer a more useful foundation for personal style than a list of supposedly universal “Indian hijab styles”.

This guide follows a selection of those sources, from historical head coverings to contemporary design. It also explains how to use what you learn: recognise a technique, ask better questions about a garment and make room for your own faith, family connections and preferences.

Separate the garment, the technique and the act of covering

When you encounter a beautiful textile, pause before giving it a religious label. A museum may identify a piece as an odhni or head covering without documenting its individual wearer’s beliefs. A maker may describe a technique used for several kinds of garment. A woman may use a familiar regional garment as part of how she observes hijab.

Keeping these layers separate allows a more accurate description. You might know how a cloth was decorated but not where it was worn. You might know who wore a family scarf while knowing little about its production. Both are worthwhile pieces of information, and neither needs an invented story to complete it.

Question	What it helps you establish	A useful next step
What is this piece called by its maker or wearer?	The garment’s own name and its place within an outfit.	Keep that name alongside any broader English description.
How was the pattern made?	Whether the interest lies in dyeing, weaving, embroidery or another process.	Ask about the actual work, rather than identifying it from a motif alone.
What is known about its use?	A particular person, occasion or documented community context.	Distinguish a recorded use from an assumption based on appearance.
How do I want to wear it?	Your present-day coverage, styling and practical preferences.	Consider those requirements independently of the object’s history.

Look closely at regional textiles and their making

Kutch: bandhani is a process as well as a patterned surface

Khamir’s craft documentation explains bandhani through the tying of small areas of cloth before dyeing. The tied points resist the dye, producing marks that can be arranged into more complex patterns. The Kachchh district government’s handicraft overview presents the same account of winding thread around cloth, dyeing it and then removing the thread to reveal circular marks. The order of those actions helps explain how the pattern is created.

This explains why identifying a dotted appearance is only a beginning. A printed pattern may resemble a tied one, while two genuinely tied textiles can differ in material, scale and arrangement. Ask which process the maker used if that process is part of what you value.

Khamir also distinguishes named ceremonial forms, including the chandrokhani associated with Muslim brides and the gharcholu associated with Gujarati Hindu and Jain brides. Those specific descriptions are more useful than assigning one meaning to every dotted scarf. A shared technique can serve different communities and occasions.

A Muslim Khatri veil-cloth in a museum collection

Sanskriti Museums records an early twentieth-century silk odhni from Kutch, dated 1901–1930. Its interpretation connects the non-figurative bandhani design with Muslim Khatri makers in Abdasa. The record also explains practical decisions within the work: folding cloth for tying, and limiting a gold-thread band to the area visible when worn. See the museum’s odhni record and interpretation.

The account brings making and wearing into the same discussion. Decoration was positioned with the eventual arrangement of the cloth in mind. That is a more revealing observation than simply calling the textile luxurious.

For a contemporary scarf, notice where the pattern changes near its ends and edges. Is the most elaborate area somewhere you would normally display, or somewhere your preferred arrangement would fold away? You can choose either result, but looking at the whole piece gives you a clearer idea of what you are enjoying.

Another bandhani odhni carries a different religious reference

The National Gallery of Victoria holds a late nineteenth-century Gujarati odhni made from two joined lengths of silk satin, with gold thread. Its bandhani pattern includes a circle of figures associated with Krishna’s rasalila, alongside other figurative and floral elements. The museum relates the style to Saurashtra. Its catalogue description of the odhni makes those references explicit.

Placed beside the Sanskriti example, this object shows why “bandhani” cannot stand in for a single religious identity. The technique, the imagery and the recorded context each contribute something different.

If you are collecting references for clothing, learn what a prominent motif represents before treating it as an interchangeable decorative shape. You may decide to appreciate an object as art while choosing another reference for something you intend to wear. Understanding the difference gives you more informed choices without asking one textile to represent all of Gujarat.

Lucknow: a surviving chikan head veil

A head veil in the Cleveland Museum of Art provides a precise example of Lucknow workmanship. Dated to the late nineteenth century, it is catalogued as cotton with chikan embroidery and drawnwork needle lace. The recorded dimensions are approximately 232 by 42 centimetres: a long, narrow form, rather than a square cloth. The museum’s head-veil record describes pale embroidery, larger motifs at the ends and smaller elements across the centre.

The dimensions are worth noticing because a flat collection photograph can obscure proportion. Two textiles might both be called head coverings while offering quite different amounts and distributions of cloth.

For a modern wardrobe, use this object to understand a particular form of workmanship. It is not a pattern guaranteeing today’s preferred coverage, and the catalogue does not establish how every woman in Lucknow dressed. The surviving piece is valuable because it is specific: a place, a period, materials and a construction that can be studied.

The work behind chikankari can involve several specialists

Sakshi Gambhir’s documentation for IDC, IIT Bombay, describes chikankari as a sequence involving preparation, printing the design, embroidery and finishing. Her account of stitching distinguishes techniques such as bakhiya, worked from the reverse, and jali, where the ground threads are carefully separated. It also explains that specialists may carry out different parts of one piece. See the D’source account of chikankari embroidery.

This helps you ask a more thoughtful question about a contemporary garment: which parts were done by whom? A complex surface need not be the work of one person, and a transferred design does not remove the skill required to embroider it.

If you are speaking to a maker, ask them to identify a few stitches in their own work. An explanation linked to the actual garment will teach you more than memorising a long list of technique names and trying to authenticate every piece from a small photograph.

Banaras: place the finished cloth beside the loom

The official account of the Crafts Museum at Deendayal Hastkala Sankul in Varanasi describes displays of Banarasi saris, dupattas and stitched garments alongside weaving techniques, materials and tools. The centre was dedicated to the public in 2017 as part of an initiative supporting the area’s handloom and handicraft sector. The Varanasi district’s museum description explains that combination.

It suggests a useful way to approach a textile associated with Banaras: learn about the cloth’s production alongside the finished garment. The same broad place-name may appear in descriptions of different objects, and the word alone does not tell you everything about their fibres or construction.

When a scarf or dupatta interests you, ask for its specific material and weaving description. Keep the maker’s answer with the piece. This gives your appreciation a firmer foundation than assuming that a regional name automatically means pure silk, precious-metal decoration or a particular method of manufacture.

History becomes clearer through named objects and occasions

Courtly textiles form one part of a much wider history

The V&A’s survey of Indian textiles describes court patronage, regional production and long-distance trade. It includes a late eighteenth- or early nineteenth-century peshwaz, a woman’s court dress attributed to the Mughal empire or Deccan, made from muslin with applied decorative materials. It also explains how makers adapted textiles for different customers and destinations. See the museum’s Indian textiles survey.

That evidence supports discussion of skilled making and courtly display. It does not turn a court dress into a documented ancestor of every modern hijab. Nor should luxurious surviving objects be mistaken for a complete picture of ordinary clothing.

When you encounter a broad claim that a present-day scarf style “comes from the Mughals”, ask what connects the two: a surviving garment, a named technique, a documented motif or a modern designer’s interpretation. Each connection can be interesting, but they are different kinds of historical relationship.

Bhopal in an 1862 photographic record

The British Library catalogues a November 1862 photograph by James Waterhouse of Bibi Doolan, Shah Jahan Begum and Sikandar Begum in Bhopal. The record describes the seated women in richly decorated saris and identifies the image with marriage costume. The British Library’s photographic record retains both names and occasion.

This is a useful interruption to any tidy sequence in which one garment simply replaces another across an entire country. Here is a specific record of particular women dressed for a represented occasion. It invites closer questions about courtly appearance, photography and clothing terminology.

Family photographs deserve the same care. Record who has identified the people and what they remember about the event. If a garment name is uncertain, leave that uncertainty visible. A careful caption can preserve a great deal without pretending that one photograph establishes what every woman wore at home, in public or throughout her life.

Sultan Jahan’s dress at a state reception

The Royal Collection Trust’s account of gifts presented during the Prince of Wales’s 1921 visit to Bhopal also records the reception given by Sultan Jahan Begum. Citing a contemporary tour account, it describes her wearing a light-blue brocade robe with purple embroidery and a burqa. The detail appears in the Trust’s discussion of the Bhopal gifts.

This is evidence about one ruler at a formal diplomatic occasion, seen through an outside account. It establishes neither a uniform public dress for all Bhopali women nor a single relationship between covering and authority.

It does, however, help move beyond the assumption that historical covering must always mean plain black cloth. Colour, embroidery, ceremonial role and the observer’s vocabulary are all part of this particular description. When using historical evidence for inspiration, retain those details and the limits of what the account can tell you.

Kerala: listen to the names and choices women use themselves

Several approaches within one recorded local setting

The Open University’s Veiling in Calicut offers women’s accounts from Kozhikode, Kerala. In its transcript, Razeena Ayesha describes changes in her clothing over time, including different outer garments and salwar kameez. Dr Asma Rahim explains her decision to cover after studying religious texts and describes combining a sari with a headscarf in working life. Abida Rasheed discusses older family clothing and a friend’s 1982 wedding photograph. Read the university’s film transcript and case study.

The accounts are valuable together because they contain variation within the same local conversation. Family influence, personal religious study, employment and clothing preferences appear in different combinations.

They should remain those women’s recorded experiences. A film is not a census of Kerala, and an individual’s sense of comfort or security is not a promise that a garment will produce the same experience for someone else. Listening carefully preserves the differences instead of turning them into another national formula.

Atheela Abdullah’s familiar thattam

In a 2015 interview with Shobha Warrier, doctor and Indian Administrative Service officer Atheela Abdullah described the head covering she had known since childhood in northern Malabar as a thattam. She recalled her mother and grandmother wearing it, and explained that she could also cover her head with a sari. See Abdullah’s own account.

For her, questions about why an independent professional dressed that way arrived after a practice she regarded as familiar. She connected the discussion to continuity in her own life, rather than describing a newly adopted fashion identity.

The point is not that her account explains everyone in Malabar. It shows why the wearer’s vocabulary matters. A broad word used by an interviewer or audience may not be the word someone first learnt at home. Keeping both descriptions visible can reveal a personal history that would disappear in a generic caption about hijab.

Contemporary design is also part of the heritage conversation

Nighat Ahmad and Shanaz Rukshana: different routes into design

In Priti Salian’s 2020 reporting, Kanpur designer Nighat Ahmad described questions she faced about combining hijab with fashion after launching her label in 2014. The report discussed her use of hand embroidery on garments including long dresses, trouser suits and abayas. In the same piece, Chennai entrepreneur Shanaz Rukshana explained how studying her faith contributed to her interest in modest dressing. Their accounts appear in Salian’s original interviews.

These examples give contemporary design a practical starting point: women describing the clothes they wanted and the assumptions they encountered. They do not require a claim that every Indian customer shares the same tastes.

A useful question for any collection is what problem its designer was trying to solve. Was it an occasion, a lack of a preferred garment, an interest in a technique or a wish to combine familiar clothes differently? The answer can make a design more intelligible than calling it simply traditional or modern.

Muneeba Nadeem: designing for working women

Jahnabee Borah’s 2020 interview with Muneeba Nadeem recalls the designer’s February 2019 presentation through the INIFD Launchpad at Lakmé Fashion Week. Nadeem described a collection focused on hijabs for working women and a wish to give modest clothing a place in discussions of professional presence. Read Borah’s report and interview.

The design brief matters more than a sweeping claim about a national trend. Work clothing brings questions about how someone wants to present herself in a particular role, and a designer can respond to those questions through a collection.

For your own wardrobe, begin with the professional situation you actually have. You might want a repeated outfit that simplifies a busy morning, or a more formal combination for a presentation. Describe that purpose before choosing an aesthetic reference. A runway can suggest possibilities while your own circumstances determine which of them are useful.

Ayesha Nawab: older family clothes in a contemporary wardrobe

In a 2022 interview with Lhendup G Bhutia, Chennai fashion blogger Ayesha Nawab described beginning to wear hijab while living in Australia. The report discussed her combinations of contemporary pieces with vintage saris and salwar kameez made by her grandmother for her mother. Her account appears in Bhutia’s original reporting.

This is a different relationship with tradition from reproducing a complete historical outfit. An inherited garment can sit within a wardrobe that also contains new shapes, accessories and personal experiments. Its family connection remains meaningful even when its arrangement changes.

Before adapting your own family clothing, ask which parts matter to the people connected with it. Someone may be happy for a piece to be worn differently while wanting its original components kept together. Another may prefer that it remains intact. A conversation about the actual garment gives you more room for a thoughtful decision than a general rule about preserving everything unchanged.

The makers belong in the story

What a bandhani exhibition records about women’s work

Khamir’s bandhani exhibition includes testimony from Sakina Alimohamed Isha in Bhuj, who recalls tying work alongside female relatives. The exhibition discusses the important role of women in tying, while recognising that divisions of work can vary. It explicitly describes its interviews as a small selection, rather than a complete account of every artisan. Explore Khamir’s artisan research.

This gives a name and a remembered working setting to a technique that can otherwise be discussed only through its finished pattern. It also makes visible a contribution that may sit behind the name of a workshop or seller.

When learning about a piece you own, ask whether the person who tied, dyed or finished it can be credited. Sometimes that information is available; sometimes the work passed through several hands and the record is incomplete. Keep what can be established without inventing a single maker for a collaborative process.

Organising around chikankari

The SWITCH-Asia report on the completed Going Green project includes SEWA Lucknow chief executive Runa Banerjee’s account of support for artisans. She describes a wish to develop markets for makers in Lucknow and nearby craft centres, alongside opportunities to develop specialisms with bank support. The report also identifies the washing of finished chikankari among the processes addressed by the project. These details place finance, skills and production methods alongside appreciation of the finished embroidery.

This is a project report containing a participant’s account. It should not be converted into an independent guarantee about every textile described as handmade or every business selling chikankari. A reported initiative can introduce useful questions without answering them for a different workshop or a later purchase.

For someone commissioning work, appreciation can be practical: explain the brief clearly, agree what is included and ask how a change affects the schedule or price. For someone simply learning, look for accounts that discuss workers’ decisions as well as their skill. A beautiful surface is one part of a craft’s story; the conditions that allow people to keep practising it are another.

Bring heritage into your own dressing with a clear purpose

Start with the connection you want to make. You might want to wear a relative’s gift more often, learn about a regional technique or choose a newly made piece by a particular craftsperson. These are different intentions. Naming yours helps you avoid collecting references that look attractive together but have no clear relationship to the outfit you need.

For a family celebration, discuss the event with the people involved. Ask whether a particular garment, colour or inherited piece has significance for them. Do not assume that Eid, a wedding or another gathering has one prescribed Indian hijab style. Your family’s preferences and your own coverage choices deserve to be explained directly.

Try making a short garment note before seeking advice. Record what you know about the piece, what you value visually and how you want to use it. For example: “This was a gift; I like the large design at each end; I want to wear it for an afternoon family visit.” That is enough to begin a useful discussion without making uncertain claims about its age or origin.

If the interest is purely visual, that is also a valid starting point. You can enjoy a rhythm of dots, the quiet appearance of pale embroidery or a strongly defined border. Be accurate when sharing the result: describe an influence as an influence, and reserve a precise technique or provenance claim for something you can support.

Keep practical garment selection connected to this cultural interest. Our guide to regional labels and garment construction explains how to assess an outer garment’s actual cut. A name can lead you towards a tradition you want to understand; the individual piece still needs to suit the way you intend to wear it.

Indian head-covering heritage becomes richer as the descriptions become more precise. A named textile, a recorded occasion and a woman’s own explanation each reveal something different. Enjoy those connections, keep their context attached and allow your own wardrobe to develop through informed, personal choices.

Focus on a regional garment tradition

For a closer material study, continue with Kashmiri abayas and embroidery. It follows particular embroidery and garment traditions, offering a focused companion to the broader range of head coverings and personal choices considered here.