She learned bakhiya at eleven, sitting beside her grandmother at the adda, and has worked it every day since. Thirty-four years at the frame.

She can tell which of her apprentices worked a piece by the tension of the knots alone. Six women now work under her, and she insists each of them signs the pieces they finish.

Mukaish work — beaten metal wire twisted into the cloth so the surface glints without a single sequin. It is the rarest skill in Lucknow; fewer than forty people still practise it at this level.

His father taught him, and he is teaching his daughter, which he says is the only part of the story that matters.

Third-generation block printer. He carves his own teak blocks and mixes his own dye, working only in madder root, indigo, turmeric and iron black — no synthetics, which halves his colour range and doubles his patience.

Kantha — the running stitch that layers worn saris into new cloth. What began as a way of wasting nothing became one of Bengal's great embroidery traditions, and she works it the old way, in figures rather than abstract fill.