The Story Behind House of Bindiya

Not My Dream. Hers.

This story didn’t start in 2025. It started in the late ’90s, inside a small but thriving boutique where fabric, fittings, and fashion lived alongside the smell of fresh chai and the sound of old Hindi songs on the radio.

It was my mother’s world.
And it was everything.

Her Name Was Everywhere, Except on the Door.

She didn’t need to put her name on the signboard. The city knew her by her work — the cuts, the colors, the way every outfit hugged the body without trying too hard. She ran it all — design, clients, production — powered by instinct, grit, and a sketchbook full of ideas.

But like many women of her generation, she walked away from it all.
Not because she failed. But because she chose me.

New city. New life. No labels. No fittings. No sketches.
Just motherhood — in its full, all-consuming, quiet glory.

Fast Forward. 25 Years Later.

I didn’t inherit her business. But I did inherit her taste. Her eye for detail. Her stubbornness with fabric. Her sense of what makes a woman feel like herself in what she wears.

So when it came time to name this brand, it felt too easy.
Not after me. Not after trends. But after her.

House of Bindiya.
Not her real name. But close enough to make her smile.
A name that could’ve been hers.
A label that now, finally, is.

Why This Matters.

This isn’t about rewriting the past. It’s about finishing the story.
Not with grandeur, but with intention.

Every piece from House of Bindiya carries a bit of her legacy — stitched not in nostalgia, but in quiet strength. In every pleat, pocket, panel — there’s an echo of what she could’ve done, and what I now get to do, because of her.

This brand isn’t a business move. It’s a full-circle moment.
A small return for everything she once left behind.

Thank you, Maa. This one has your name written all over it.