Collectibles Are Becoming India’s Shared Cultural Treasure; Now for Everyone!

The crystal chandeliers of Mysore Palace, the jade figurines in Calcutta's zamindar mansions, the silver treasures locked away in royal vaults—for centuries, collecting in India was the exclusive privilege of maharajas and landed gentry. 

Today, a young professional in Gurgaon browses limited-edition ceramics at the newly opened ‘handicraft mall’ at Delhi, The Kunj, whilst a couple from Pune debates purchasing a metal-welded wall art piece for their living room from the Delhi Contemporary Art Week 2025 at Bikaner House. The democratisation of collectibles has transformed not just who collects, but what collecting means in contemporary India.

The Royal Legacy and Its Trickle-Down

India's collecting tradition began in royal courts where emperors amassed treasures as symbols of power and cultural sophistication. The Mughal emperors' love for Persian carpets, Tipu Sultan's mechanical toys, and the Maharaja of Jaipur's astronomical instruments established collecting as both cultural preservation and status display. These weren't mere possessions—they were statements of refined taste and political authority.

The British colonial period introduced European collecting sensibilities to India's landed classes. Zamindars began acquiring art deco furniture, colonial-era photographs, and European porcelain alongside traditional Indian artefacts. Their haveli walls displayed a curious mix of Company School paintings and English landscapes, creating a hybrid collecting aesthetic that reflected India's cultural complexity. The great collections soon to be on display in Shobhabazar Rajbari in Kolkata during Pujo around the Thakur Dalan (where the idol is worshipped) is a testimony to this.

An antique wood furniture and item collector from Kolkata, Arik Chatterjee, on the phone, tells me about this. “Post-independence, the dissolution of princely states scattered these collections. Many pieces found their way into museums, auction houses, and eventually, the homes of India's emerging elite. Home to many such houses and heritages, you will find the shabbiest and most humble of Kolkata antique shops will have the most unique and intricately carved wooden furniture from a different century, even if you are lucky.”

The economic liberalisation of the 1990s created new wealth, and with it, a hunger for cultural capital. High-end galleries in Delhi and Mumbai began catering to industrialists and professionals eager to display their success through art acquisition.

The Great Democratisation: What is Driving the Trend?

"Collecting is no longer only about grandeur or legacy; it's about curiosity, connection, and everyday engagement," observes Ridhi Bhala from Blueprint12 at Delhi Contemporary Art Week as she shows us the many small collectibles and art pieces that the gallery has put up for show and sale. This shift represents more than changing economics—it signals a fundamental redefinition of cultural participation.

Today's "mini-collectibles" movement has emerged from multiple forces. Rising disposable incomes among India's aspirational middle class coincide with brands recognising the appeal of limited editions. Design studios now create "collectible" versions of everyday objects—hand-thrown ceramics instead of factory-made plates, artist-designed scarves rather than mass-produced textiles, limited-edition furniture pieces that blur the line between function and art.

The most interesting of them are antique shops that house both pieces that cost lakhs and that cost in hundreds. The owner of one such shop in Hauz Khas talks to us about this. Beaming with a mix of frustration over being questioned and also the keen eye of interest to answer, Sunil Chada from Country Collection answers, “Some seasoned individuals come here to buy major antiques that costs in tens of lakhs, some youngsters with the keen interest of owning old antique things due to trends come to shops around Hauz Khas Village and get rings, boxes and pens and posters. Neither can I condemn people for making collectibles a trend, nor can I praise them for this.”

Gautam Gupta, whose mother Asha Gautam has transitioned from couture to collectible embroidered art, explains: "We believe art should not be owned by just a section of people—it should be accessible to all. Unlike couture garments, which are tailored to specific bodies and occasions, art belongs to none and speaks to all."

Digital platforms have accelerated this democratisation. Instagram showcases allow artisans from Rajasthan to reach collectors in Bengaluru, whilst online marketplaces offer payment plans for higher-priced pieces. The traditional gatekeepers—established galleries, art critics, wealthy patrons—no longer control access to collecting culture.

Ashdeen Lilaowala, famous for his revival of Parsi Gara Embroidery, reiterates this: “I think textile and fashion collectibles have definitely become a new trend. And some people are travelling across the world to find these pieces. Today, with the internet and social media, it has become much more accessible to source amazing and historic pieces in both fashion and textiles.”

The New Collecting Landscape

Contemporary Indian collecting defies traditional hierarchies. A Mumbai advertising executive we met at the Kunj, told us how she owns a Raza lithograph alongside handwoven Bhuj textiles and limited-edition studio pottery, all of which cost her either a fortune from galleries or a bit of cash in hand from antique shops, but how she loves the experience each time. The eclecticism reflects both broader access and changing attitudes towards cultural authority.

"For us at Blueprint12, what is 'worth collecting' isn't only about rarity or nostalgia, it's about resonance," notes Bhala. "We are guided by how an artwork opens dialogue, how its craft and story intersect with the present, and how it can live meaningfully in someone's everyday context."

Similarly, Lara Chanda from handloom brand Mirasi tells us, “Luxury and collectibility for me stand for what makes you feel at home. Handloom fabrics are that, thus generations through they are kept and passed on, and they become a family’s own personal collectible.”

This resonance-based collecting has created space for contemporary craft to gain collectible status. Aparajita Parida, an artisan working in Odisha's traditional silver filigree, reflects, "When someone chooses to buy and collect our work through generations, they're not just buying silver—they're preserving centuries of technique that might otherwise disappear. Each piece carries forward our ancestors' knowledge."

The luxury retail sector has embraced this trend. High-end home stores now feature "collectible corners" with limited-edition pieces, whilst fashion brands launch art collaborations and numbered editions. The result is a collecting ecosystem where traditional crafts, contemporary art, and design objects coexist. Young collectors might begin with Rs. 3,000 block-printed textiles and gradually acquire more expensive pieces, building collections that reflect personal journeys rather than established canons. 

Collectibles as a Cultural Memory regardless of the class

Beyond democratisation lies a deeper transformation: collectibles are becoming vessels for cultural memory rather than mere luxury objects. This shift reframes collecting from acquisition to preservation, from status to storytelling - which also includes those who have made them.

Consider Asha Gautam's "Threaded Narratives"—embroidered wall art that transforms traditional techniques into contemporary collectibles. Each piece requires hundreds of hours of artisan labour, preserving the French knots embroidery technique that few craftspeople still master. These aren't decorative objects but cultural repositories, maintaining skills and stories that might otherwise vanish. 

A collector, who hails from Sindh and is now settled in Central Delhi, we met at the new DAG exhibition around Ascetics, articulates this sentiment: "My grandmother's wedding jewellery inspired me to collect contemporary pieces that honour traditional techniques. Each acquisition connects me to our cultural lineage whilst supporting living artists."

This memory-keeping function extends beyond individual narratives to collective preservation. When lifestyle brands create limited editions inspired by regional crafts, they potentially safeguard techniques whilst making them economically viable. A silver drinking glass recast as a modern collectible doesn't just preserve metalworking skills—it maintains the cultural significance of the original form.

However, this preservation comes with responsibilities. The commercialisation of traditional crafts raises questions about authenticity, fair compensation for artisans, and cultural appropriation. The most thoughtful contemporary collectors are trying to recognise these complexities, seeking pieces that honour traditions whilst supporting the communities that created them.

"Curated exhibitions, when thoughtfully designed, can shift the perception of collecting from an exclusive pursuit to an everyday act of engagement," Bhala observes. "We expand the idea of who a collector is: not only connoisseurs, but anyone willing to hold space for an artwork, a story, or an idea in their lives."

Looking at the history and the culture surrounding the act of collecting, it becomes evident that when collecting moves from the palace to the living room, it transforms from elite privilege to shared cultural practice. In this transformation, objects become bridges between past and present, tradition and innovation, individual desire and collective memory.

The zamindars' curios have given way to accessible art, but the essential human impulse to surround ourselves with meaningful objects endures, now, more than ever, as it is available to anyone willing to look beyond mere consumption towards cultural participation - defying all hierarchies and class.