Warli: The Stick-Figure Stories of the North Sahyadris
White rice paste on red earth: the Warli tribe's spare, geometric murals turn farming, weddings and worship into a visual language anyone can read.
Home › West India › Leather & Footwear
Handmade in Jodhpur for two centuries, the embroidered mojari is a desert shoe shaped by saddlers, stitched by whole families, and GI-tagged in 2026.
The mojari is the traditional handcrafted leather shoe of Jodhpur, in the Marwar region of Rajasthan, and its story is usually told as being nearly two hundred years old, reaching back to the early nineteenth century. It was the footwear of a desert kingdom: slip-on, open at the back, tough enough for rocky ground and hot sand, and easy to kick off at the threshold of a home or a temple. Royal patronage helped it flourish, and it travelled with traders, soldiers and wedding parties far beyond Jodhpur. In neighbouring Punjab the same family of footwear is called the jutti, and in Multan it is known as the khussa, yet the Jodhpuri mojari kept its own character and its own community of makers.
That community is the Jinagar, also spelled Jingar, whose name is said to come from jeen, the saddle. Before they made shoes, the Jinagar made saddles and myaan, the leather sheaths for swords, for the armies and courts of Marwar. In Jodhpur city the craft settled in Jingar Mohalla, Sivanchi Gate and Girdikot Bazaar, and in villages such as Patodi in Barmer district, about 112 kilometres from Jodhpur, where more than a hundred families still practise it. The division of labour has barely changed: men cut, punch and stitch the leather, while women do the embroidery, drawing their designs from memory before a single stitch is laid.
A Jodhpuri mojari is made entirely from leather, traditionally from camel, goat, cow and buffalo. The upper is a soft leather, often goat or camel, while the sole is built up from thick buffalo leather. The leather is vegetable-tanned, traditionally using the bark of the babul tree, which leaves it firm, breathable and free of the harsh smell of chrome tanning. Today much of the leather comes from tanneries in Uttar Pradesh, and the embroidery thread, chosen for the softness and lustre of silk with the strength of nylon, is procured from Surat in Gujarat. The remaining materials are humble: cotton thread, home-made glue, a stiff lining called bakram, and thin goat leather to back the embroidered upper. Nothing in a traditional mojari is synthetic, and that purity is one of the first things a buyer can check.

Making a pair of mojaris takes days, and it is done in two halves: the densely embroidered upper and the sole are made separately and joined only near the end. First the leather is washed, dried and sorted by size, quality and texture, and a trained hand draws the shapes on it before cutting. The upper is reinforced on its reverse with bakram or thin goat leather, giving the embroiderer a firm base for the fine chain stitch. This embroidery, called kashidakari, is worked with an awl made from a sharpened syringe needle, and the women who do it create each design from imagination, checking constantly that the second shoe mirrors the first, because a mojari pair has no left or right foot.
Meanwhile the sole is built from layers of leather glued together and stitched with several strands of cotton thread. The leather is dipped in water to soften it, piping is stitched to the inside edge of the upper, and at every stage the leather is hammered to make the stitching and pasting firm. Once the embroidery is complete, the upper and sole are stitched together with waxed cotton threads, and the shoe is put on a three-piece wooden last to give it its final shape. The shoes are made in sizes from about 5 to 12, and the finished pair takes the shape of its wearer's foot with use, which is why old mojaris are often described as the most comfortable shoes their owners possess.
The most famous feature of the mojari is its upturned, curled toe, which is said to mimic the twirled moustaches of Rajput men. The embroidery covering the upper is dense, bright and largely floral, with paisley forms, geometric borders, birds and peacocks worked in silk, cotton or metallic thread, sometimes with beads, mirrors or appliqued pieces of coloured leather. Red dominates the traditional palette, matching the red textiles of Rajasthan, but green, gold and deep pink appear alongside it. Jaipur mojaris are made so daintily that they can be rolled into a little ball, while Jodhpur work is known for bolder shades and stronger contrasts. Because the designs are drawn from memory rather than traced from a template, no two pairs are ever precisely alike, and the tiny irregularities of the hand are part of the proof that a pair is genuine.

For most of its life the mojari had no legal protection, and any factory could sell a machine-made shoe under the Jodhpur name. That changed in July 2026, when the Centre granted a Geographical Indication tag to the nearly two-hundred-year-old Jodhpuri Mojari craft, following an application submitted in 2021. The GI certificate was awarded to the Jodhpur Handicraft Exporters Association and Gram Vikas Seva Sansthan, giving the craft official recognition, a protected identity and a stronger claim in global branding. The tag is valid for ten years and can then be renewed, under the Geographical Indications of Goods (Registration and Protection) Act, 1999. Reports at the time put the craft at around 400 manufacturers and more than 35,000 artisans, in over 5,000 households in Jodhpur, with a domestic market estimated at over one hundred crore rupees and exports of nearly ten crore rupees.
An authentic Jodhpuri mojari announces itself in several ways. It is made of real leather throughout, with a vegetable-tanned smell and a firm, slightly uneven hand, not the smooth uniformity of synthetic material. The embroidery is dense and worked by hand, with the small variations that come from a design drawn from memory, and the pair has no left or right foot. The sole is layered leather, stitched with cotton thread rather than glued to a rubber base, and the shoe is shaped on a wooden last, so it holds its curled toe without stiffness. A GI-tagged pair should carry the GI mark or come from a registered maker. Buy from the craft's own centres where possible: Jingar Mohalla, Sivanchi Gate and Girdikot Bazaar, and the Sardar Market around the Ghanta Ghar clock tower. Be wary of pairs that are perfectly identical, feather-light, rubber-soled or suspiciously cheap, and of embroidery that is printed rather than stitched.

The mojari's position today is a mix of revival and risk. On one side, the GI tag of 2026, wedding and fashion demand, and an export market have given the craft visibility it never had. On the other, the pressures documented by researchers are real: machine-made shoes are far cheaper, raw leather is expensive and sometimes hard to obtain, the making is slow, and younger members of artisan families are not always keen to take up a trade that pays modestly for demanding work. What the mojari has in its favour is that it is still, unmistakably, itself: a shoe that could only have come from this desert, this community and this history, worn at weddings and festivals and bought by visitors as the city's most portable piece of heritage.

White rice paste on red earth: the Warli tribe's spare, geometric murals turn farming, weddings and worship into a visual language anyone can read.
Turned on a lathe, painted in tin and sealed in lac, Sankheda's maroon-and-gold furniture has carried a Gujarat village's name around the world since the nineteenth century.
In Patan, a handful of Salvi families still tie-dye silk thread by thread, months before a single shuttle is thrown, to weave a sari with no reverse side.