How a 16-YO’s Search for a Quilt Like His Grandma’s Led to 500+ kg of Fabric Being Reused

“I still remember the quilt my grandmother made for my sister and me. It was stitched from her old sarees, soft with age, and somehow carried her warmth even after she passed away,” says 16-year-old Atharva Rajesh Shinde from Bhandup, Mumbai.

At the time, he did not know it, but that quilt was more than just a cover for cold nights. It was a patchwork of care and purpose, sewn from discarded pieces and held together by intention.

That quilt, or godhari as it is traditionally called, lasted over a decade. For Atharva and his sister, Dr Manasi Rajesh Shinde (25), now an MBBS graduate, it was more than a blanket. It was a woven reminder of care, tradition, and connection.

But when the old godhari finally wore out, Atharva recalls, “We just couldn’t find anybody nearby who still practised the art of quilting!” 

It was a small moment, but one that stayed with them — a missing craft, a fading tradition, and a family memory they did not want to lose. That gap would soon spark an idea that joined memory with purpose.

A legacy that shaped the idea

Qwilt’s roots go deeper than a worn-out quilt. Atharva grew up seeing his grandmother’s compassion for working-class women. “She believed in empowering women through skill and small home-based work. That spirit lives on in Qwilt,” says his mother, Vinita Rajesh Shinde.

That legacy was reinforced at home. Vinita says Atharva’s father always encouraged open dialogue, a habit that shaped his ability to listen, question, and lead. “This has helped Atharva become the confident, empathetic leader he is today.”

His sister, Dr Manasi, though immersed in her demanding medical studies, remains a core sounding board. “I can’t brainstorm with anyone else the way I can with her,” Atharva says. “Even the smallest idea from her sparks something bigger in me.”

With those values stitched into their upbringing, the siblings began to see the absence of quilting not just as a loss of a family tradition, but as an opportunity to revive it for others.

In April 2024, Atharva, still a school student and passionate about STEM, teamed up with Manasi to start ‘Qwilt’ — a grassroots initiative that collects discarded clothes, trains underprivileged women in quilting, and donates the finished quilts to orphanages and vulnerable communities.

Breathing life into a fading craft

In their previous neighbourhood of Dahisar, quilting was a familiar ghar udyog — a home-based livelihood for many women. But after moving, they found the craft had almost disappeared from the community around them.

Atharva says, “It wasn’t just about replacing the quilt. It was about reviving a dying tradition, reducing clothing waste, and creating something meaningful. We wanted to create a circular model. People donate old sarees, bedsheets, and fabric. We teach women to make quilts, and then we gift those quilts to those who need them most.”

Qwilt’s first donation drive, held in Sakharpada, a tribal village outside Mumbai, became a moment to remember. “There was torrential rain and flooded roads, but people still turned up,” Atharva recalls. “Seeing the children receive those quilts felt like our grandmother’s warmth was being passed on.”

Their second donation was at the Palawi Project in Pandharpur, where they gifted 35 quilts. Each drive since has been about more than the quilts — it has drawn together donors, volunteers, artisans, and recipients in one shared effort.

From households to handicraft: women weaving their worth

At the heart of Qwilt is the empowerment of women, particularly those who may not have the freedom to leave home for work or learning. With support from a local women’s collective, Atharva and his family organised quilting workshops for over 40 women.

“One of our biggest goals from the start was to challenge the belief that women must leave their homes to earn or learn,” says Atharva. Many of the women now involved say quilting has become part of their daily rhythm. Some finish their housework and return to their needles late at night, finding satisfaction in each stitch.

“These women juggle housework, festivals, guests — but they still come back to quilt. Here, it’s not only about the income; it’s about dignity, flexibility, and pride in creating something valuable,” says Vinita.

Each woman is paid per quilt, based on the complexity of the design, with cash payments made directly. “It’s important for them to have financial independence, no matter how small the earnings,” Vinita adds.

Currently, 10 women are actively engaged in quilting as part of Qwilt. They are compensated on a per-quilt basis. Qwilt primarily produces two types of quilts:

• Quilts for sale – The revenue generated from these supports the initiative’s operations and ensures fair wages for the women involved.

• Quilts for donation – These are distributed to individuals and communities in need. The profits from sales are reinvested to cover the cost of stitching and logistics for the donated quilts, creating a self-sustaining social impact model.

Though Qwilt is currently based in Mumbai, it receives and fulfils orders from customers across India and is actively working towards expanding to other cities.

From missteps to milestones

The journey has seen its share of challenges. Collection drives, for instance, often lead to unexpected donations. Atharva says, “We ask for sarees and bedsheets in donations, but we’ve received everything from jeans to party wear clothing and even undergarments.”

What began as a logistical hurdle soon became part of the learning curve — and alongside these challenges came unexpected rewards. In some of the villages where they work, religious or cultural barriers once kept women apart. “We didn’t set out to change that,” Atharva says. “But now, women from different faiths sit together, quilt, and share stories.”

To build on this sense of connection, the team works to strengthen trust and skills. They have made feedback and professionalism part of their process. “Critique is not criticism — it’s how we grow,” he often tells the women. That mindset shift is slowly taking root.

These changes have brought momentum. The initial response was overwhelming. Their first collection drive gathered 107 kilograms of clothes. Today, that number has grown to over 500 kilograms, repurposed into more than 120 handmade quilts.

To keep this going, Qwilt now runs regular fabric collection drives every month. These are either conducted by collecting scrap fabric directly from tailors the team works with or by organising drives in residential societies. In cases where individuals want to donate clothes, they send them to Qwilt through courier services. When there’s strong interest from a community or society and logistics allow, the team conducts a drive on-site, often made possible through networking and word-of-mouth support.

A self-driven life of balance

Managing school alongside a growing initiative like Qwilt might seem impossible, but Atharva has found a way to blend both worlds. “I work when I’m most focused, whether for studies or for Qwilt. I don’t compartmentalise anymore; it’s all part of the same life,” he shares.

A self-studying student with no tuition classes, he recently scored near-perfect results in multiple Advanced Placement exams. Weekends often become family workdays, spent brainstorming ideas, planning site visits, or meeting the women artisans. “We don’t separate Qwilt from our daily lives anymore,” he says. “It has become who we are.”

Stitching a future for the craft

Looking ahead, Qwilt is exploring partnerships with organisations such as a leading hospital trust, which has requested custom-made quilts and infant play mats for their maternity wards. Atharva explains, “They loved the concept and offered to help us find donors to fund it. We’re not trying to commercialise, but we’re open to sustainable models that help us scale.”

So far, all operations have been funded through donations from relatives, friends, teachers, and well-wishers — some even contributing the money they had set aside for birthdays. “People trust that their money is going into the right hands,” Vinita says. That trust has created a ripple effect.

Neighbours now call to donate clothes. Former residents courier items from other cities. Guests come over not with sweets, but with bundles of fabric.

For many, a quilt is just a stitched piece of cloth. For Qwilt, it is a bridge between past and present, waste and worth, individuals and their communities. As Atharva puts it, “We’re not just preserving an art, we’re stitching lives together.”

For him, every quilt is a reminder that something small, started at home, can end up helping far more people than he ever imagined.

All images courtesy Atharva Rajesh Shinde