The Hands behind Mor Pankh

Long before there was a Mor Pankh, there was a little girl who loved to make things.

Growing up, she was always creating something. Art, craft, little handmade pieces that filled every corner of her home. She dreamed of becoming a fashion designer one day. But like it goes for so many girls in Indian households, that dream had to wait. There wasn't the means to send her to design school, and soon enough, life had other plans. Marriage came first, and then, two daughters to raise.

Funnily enough, the seed of Mor Pankh was planted even before we knew it, and I was actually part of it. When I was in the third grade, I announced that I wanted to be a fashion designer too. My parents got me a stitching machine and enrolled me in classes to learn. Life and academics got in the way for me, and I couldn't keep up. My mom did though. She finished those very classes herself, and quietly picked up a skill that would sit waiting for years, on that same machine, for its moment.

- the forever grateful daughter

That moment came a little later. The family has always been devoted to Krishna, connected to Iskcon, and at home they have Gour Netai deities. When it came time to dress them, they realised outfits for these particular deities simply weren't available anywhere in the market. She, with her machine and her years of quiet skill, decided she'd simply make it herself.

What started as one outfit, made with love for their own home temple, didn't stay private for long. People who saw it couldn't stop asking, "this is so beautiful, could you make one for us too?" One request led to another, and slowly, without really planning to, a lifelong dream turned into Mor Pankh.

When it came to naming the brand, they tried out a lot of ideas. But she was hell bent on one: Mor Pankh, the peacock feather. It's the one she felt truly connected to, and it makes sense why. The peacock feather has always been tied to Krishna, who wears one in his crown, and since the family's devotion to him runs deep, the name just felt like home.

Mor Pankh is proof that "I want to" doesn't have an expiry date.