Askari’s extensive collection—nearly 1,000 pieces and the largest of its kind—became the foundation for Pakistan’s first dedicated textile museum.
While questioning the mother of a sick boy about his medical history, the woman grew visibly frustrated. She led Askari outside, spread her vibrant shawl across her lap, and pointed to its intricate embroidery. “Most of the answers to your pointless questions are here,” she said, explaining that the fabric’s patterns represented her community, marital status, and number of children.
Aware that her son was gravely ill and unlikely to survive, the woman added, “When he is gone, I will return home and remove one of these black flowers from my shawl.”
This encounter was Askari’s first glimpse into the elaborate textiles of Sindh, a southeastern province of Pakistan, and the rich personal and cultural narratives woven into them. It sparked a deep curiosity that evolved into a lifelong passion for collecting unique fabrics crafted by Sindh’s diverse communities and decoding the stories they contained.
Five decades later, Askari’s extensive collection—nearly 1,000 pieces and the largest of its kind—became the foundation for Pakistan’s first dedicated textile museum. She and her husband, Hasan, a former British Museum trustee, inaugurated the museum in Karachi in December.
“The goal is for people to engage with and perhaps even be amazed by the artistic possibilities within our traditions,” Askari explained.
Sindh’s textile heritage, she noted, is among the oldest in the world, with roots tracing back to the ancient Indus Valley Civilization. Positioned at the crossroads of east-west trade for centuries, Sindhi textiles reflect a blend of influences from Pakistan, India, Iran, China, and Central Asia.
Many of the fabrics in her collection are handwoven on traditional looms, dyed with natural colors extracted from roots, leaves, and flowers—practices still preserved in some rural and nomadic communities despite the pressures of modernization.
Askari first gained recognition for her work in 1997 when she curated Colours of the Indus at the Victoria & Albert Museum in London. The exhibition, drawn from a long-overlooked collection donated by a Pakistani benefactor, brought global attention to the country’s rich textile traditions. Since then, she has authored multiple books on the subject.
For years, her personal collection remained packed away in storage, and she considered donating it to the V&A. However, she reconsidered.
“If we gave it to a museum like the V&A, it would likely sit in a vault for years and only be displayed once in a decade,” she said. “Instead, we thought, why not open a museum in Sindh itself, where it can deepen people’s appreciation of their own heritage? This is our way of giving back to the communities that contributed to this collection.”
Named Haveli, the museum features five galleries displaying rare embroidery from across Pakistan. The collection includes ceremonial textiles traditionally exchanged between brides and grooms, intricately designed dowry purses, and vibrant ornaments for camels.
The couple’s inaugural exhibition, A Coat of Many Colours, delivers a significant message—it highlights the vital role that Sindh’s minority Hindu communities have played in shaping its textile traditions.
Before the 1947 Partition that divided India and Pakistan, Sindh had a substantial Hindu population, accounting for 30% of its residents. However, decades of religious intolerance and persecution have significantly reduced this number.
Hasan emphasized that the museum is more than a showcase of craftsmanship—it is a statement of unity.
“In a time when sectarian tensions are prevalent across South Asia, and religion is increasingly used as a tool for division, we wanted to send a message of inclusivity,” he said. “We deeply believe in acknowledging the contributions of minority groups to Sindh’s textile heritage, ensuring their legacy is not forgotten.”
Beyond celebrating artistic traditions, the museum aims to foster a sense of shared identity. “When it comes to craftsmanship,” Hasan noted, “religious and sectarian differences fade away—these textiles have always been, and remain, part of a collective heritage.”
