From 'Blue Gold' To Artisan Revival: How Indigo Is Making A Stunning Comeback In India And Thailand

Once known as “blue gold,” the cultivation of indigo dye fuelled one of the most exploitative chapters of colonial history in India. In the 19th-century, farmers from Bengal to Bihar were forced by the East India Company into a backbreaking cultivation of the prized dye to feed European textile mills. Under the Tinkathia System, farmers were compelled to cultivate indigo on a fixed portion of their land, even though it was far less profitable than food crops—plunging many into debilitating debt and eventually outrage around the systemic exploitation sparked the Indigo Rebellion of 1859.

By contrast, in Thailand’s rural regions the craft of making the dye evolved as a living cultural tradition rather than a colonial relic. The Northeastern provinces still cultivate khram (Indigo tinctoria) using ancient fermentation techniques—harvesting leaves with the morning dew, fermenting them in vats, and maintaining the dye through oxygenating routines and natural additives like banana or tamarind pulp. In Sakon Nakhon, indigo textiles were nearly extinct but began reviving in the 1990s as a community heritage craft. Today, they symbolize regional identity and provide niche income—reintroduced through indigenous weaving and storytelling traditions, especially to guests at luxury hotels. The renowned ‘mo hom’ fabric of Phrae region also reflects centuries-old indigo dyeing brought from Laos, producing deep navy-dyed shirts still popular in local Thai fashion, and often seen being worn by elephant mahouts and farmers of the Golden Triangle region.

Today, textile artists like Bappaditya Biswas have revived indigo cultivation in the Nadia district in West Bengal, nearly 165 years after the revolution through his venture Bailou. His artistic interventions and collaborations with farmers bring indigo back as both a craft and a symbol of resistance. In specific regions in Bengal, villages have restored old indigo processing houses as heritage, which now serve as cultural centers and mini-museums, offering guided workshops, storytelling sessions, and demonstrations—effectively preserving traditional indigo knowledge through tourism and education. Similarly in Bihar’s Motihari district, local families, organized as co-operatives, use restored colonial-era vats, combining ancestral techniques with sustainable methods like solar-powered fermentation monitoring. But this revival is also being carried in other places today, by artists who did not have a share of the sad past.

In the arid lands of Kutch, indigo blue was never part of the weavers’ palette. The deep, mysterious hue was reserved for other communities like the Muslim khatris who practiced ajrakh printing, the bandhani tie-dyers, and the batik artisans of Sindh. For the weavers however, the loom spoke in only three natural colours - red from lacquer, black from acacia seeds, and the untouched purity of undyed white. The Rabaris, nomadic pastoralists, would shear wool from their sheep and goats, spin it into yarn, and hand it over to the weavers. In return, they would receive woven cloth.

“It wasn’t that we didn’t know about indigo,” says Ashok Siju, whose family has been weaving for generations. “It’s just that no one in our community ever asked for blue. The Rabaris, for example, wore only red and black. So, for centuries, there was no reason to make blue”, he explained. At the Bhujodi craft village, Ashok now runs the Indigo Temple, where 10 vats churn the blue gold through summer and monsoon, and go to sleep for the winter months.

The story of indigo in Ashok’s family began with his grandfather. Curious about the colour and its possibilities, he decided to experiment. Early attempts were frustrating — the colour dulled quickly, losing its brilliance. But instead of giving up, Ashok devoted himself to understanding the plant, the dye, and the process. For the past eight or nine years, he has been working not only with indigo but with other natural dyes as well, realising that longevity comes only when the entire process — from cultivation to vat preparation — is carefully maintained.

Their technique follows a time-honoured method. Indigo leaves are processed into a dye vat with water, lime, and something sweet — jaggery, honey, or dates — to balance the pH and encourage fermentation. “It’s like keeping the vat alive,” Siju explained. “If you don’t feed it, it won’t work.”

The challenges of sustaining this tradition are not unique to India. In northern Thailand, in the regions of Lampang and Mae Phram, artisans have been cultivating indigo for generations. There too, commercial demand is limited. Yet, the makers persist for the sake of preserving their heritage. In India, brands like Tarai Blue and The Humane work with women-led and artisanal communities to create small-batch, naturally dyed indigo textiles. Designers Sabyasachi Mukherjee and Ritu Kumar often integrate traditional indigo dyeing into heritage-rich collections, while Oshadi Studio runs a regenerative “seed-to-sew” supply chain, supplying indigo fabrics to global labels. These creators are reviving India’s indigo legacy with sustainable, contemporary appeal. From Bengal’s fields to Kutch’s looms, ‘Neel’ has finally found a place in the hands of modern artists and fashion designers as a return to something that was always possible, just never asked for.