What happens to a colour once the world decides what it means? In this conversation with Ramaanshi, the voice behind Bougainvillea & Barni, we talk about wanting everything in pink as a child, packing it away as a teenager, and what it took to pick it back up without needing a reason.
Your content through bougainvillea.and.barni has such a strong sense of colour, patterns, and storytelling. How would you describe your creative language and the kind of worlds you like to create? And do you think the things we choose to buy or surround ourselves with should also carry that same sense of story and intention?
Bougainvillea & Barni was never just an Instagram account for me. I know that sounds a little cliché, but it’s true.
The world you see on my page has always existed around me. Around you too. Most of us are just too busy to notice it.
I’ve realised that when life gets quieter, you become more intentional about what you pay attention to. I think that’s what shapes my work. It feels personal but familiar because it comes from ordinary moments that many of us have experienced.
That way of looking at the world naturally finds its way into everything I choose. The clothes I wear, the bags I carry, the music I listen to, the food I enjoy and the people I spend time with.
The world is already loud enough. I just try not to let that noise dilute who I am.
A big part of your work is looking beyond aesthetics - whether it’s craft, clothing, jewellery, or everyday objects - and understanding the people, histories, and processes behind them. How did this way of seeing the world develop for you? Where did this curiosity come from?
If I had to point to two things that shaped the way I see the world, it would be these.
The first is cinema. I grew up in a joint family, but I spent a lot of time on my own. Movies and music were my escape. I was always daydreaming, imagining little scenes in my head and getting completely lost in them. Somewhere along the way, I started noticing things like lighting, colours and composition without even realising it. I was fascinated by how visuals could make you feel something.
The second is definitely my mother. She has an incredible eye for detail. She would never settle for something straight off the rack. She’d spend hours in markets looking for the perfect lace, patch or button to make something her own. She introduced me to places like Dilli Haat, museums in Delhi, Jaipur’s bazaars, endless stacks of bangles and some of the best jewellery hunts. Looking back, I think I’m just a more 21st-century version of her.
Anything with hand embroidery finds its way to me. This diary would’ve been impossible to leave behind.
Floral, pink and just the right amount of dramatic. That’s exactly my kind of jewellery.
You’ve spoken about choosing objects and experiences that feel intentional rather than simply following trends. In a world that moves so quickly, why do you think it’s important to slow down and build a relationship with what we consume?
I genuinely believe that the things we choose to surround ourselves with slowly become a part of who we are. The places we go, the clothes we wear, the food we enjoy and the little rituals we hold on to all shape our sense of self.
That’s why I don’t think it’s a great idea to let trends decide how we experience life. Wear the outfit that feels like you, even if nobody can link it for you. Eat the breakfast you’ve always loved, even if it isn’t the most aesthetic thing on the internet. Trends are meant to come and go. That’s their job and yours is to hold on to the parts of yourself that make you, you.
Breakfast always feels a little more special when there’s pink on the table. The cotton linen makes these even better.
Already imagining a bowl of ras malai with these.
What are some things you think we’ve forgotten to appreciate because we’re constantly looking for the next new thing?
I think we’re always waiting for the next new thing. A piece of clothing, a home decor find, a trip or even a new experience. In that excitement, we often forget to appreciate what we already have.
I’m guilty of it too sometimes.
I’ve realised that a lot of our choices aren’t as intentional as we think they are. We buy, collect and chase things hoping they’ll fill a gap, but because of that, many of them don’t stay with us for long. We remember the excitement of getting them more than the things themselves.
Lately, I’ve been finding so much joy in using what I already own, revisiting old favourites and giving things a second life. There’s something deeply satisfying about slowing down enough to truly savour what you have.
When you decided on curating pink products from Kala Curry’s collection, were you drawn more towards aesthetics, storytelling, memory, nostalgia? Or something else entirely? Basically, why pink?
I think a lot of women go through a phase where they stop liking pink. I definitely did. As a child, I wanted everything to be pink. My water bottle, my umbrella, my bangles, my hair ties. If it were up to ten-year-old me, she’d probably paint the whole world pink.
Then somewhere in my teenage years, I started distancing myself from it. Pink had become shorthand for being “too girly”, too delicate, too superficial. It was the colour of the stereotypical “girls’ aisle”, of toys people didn’t take seriously and interests that were often dismissed. Without even realising it, I had started rejecting not just a colour but everything people had attached to it.
Lately though, I’ve found myself reaching for pink again.
At first, I thought it was just because I found it visually beautiful. And it is. But the more I sat with it, the more I realised it feels familiar. It reminds me of a version of myself that chose things simply because she loved them, not because they said something about her.
Now, I don’t see pink as a symbol of femininity or strength or rebellion. It’s just a colour. What it means depends entirely on the person wearing it.
I’ve never met a silk scrunchie I didn’t love and this shade makes it even better.
It’s pink, it’s for journaling and I really don’t need another reason.
If you could describe your relationship with pink at three different ages - as a child, as a teenager, and now - what would each one look like?
I’ve had a complicated relationship with the colour pink.
Between the ages of four and ten, everything I owned had to be pink. My room, even the ceiling, was painted pink. I wanted pink bottles, pink bangles, pink everything.
Then my teenage years arrived, and so did ideas about what girls should and shouldn’t like. I convinced myself that rejecting pink meant I was rejecting those stereotypes too. Suddenly, black felt cooler. Pink was off-limits.
Looking back, I realise I had mixed up the colour with the meaning society had assigned to it. Pink wasn’t the problem. The stereotypes were. Over the years, as I read more and understood these ideas better, I realised that colours don’t come with values attached to them. We give them those meanings.
Now, in my mid-twenties, I’ve found my way back to pink. Not because it’s trendy or because I’m trying to make a statement. Simply because I’ve always loved it.
If anything, this whole journey has taught me that you don’t have to reject something you genuinely enjoy just because the world has decided what it should represent. And yes, if I could redesign my room today, it’d probably be pink again. Just without the Hello Kitty stickers this time.
If you grew up in the mid-2000s, you’ll remember the owl obsession. A little part of me never really moved on.
Anything that reminds me of Jaipur instantly feels a little nostalgic. This one takes me right back to the city’s pink skies.
What do you think changes when we start embracing pink again as adults?
Nothing much, really. A colour is just a colour, and that’s all it should ever be. I love pink in the simplest, most uncomplicated way. Not because it says anything about who I am, and certainly not because of the stereotypes people have attached to it over the years. It’s just a colour that brings me joy. Everything else is something we’ve chosen to project onto it.
Was there a particular product from the collection that instantly captured the feeling behind this curation for you?
It’s not really deep or profound but the ‘billo rani’ bag charm is my favourite, it’s pink, a cat and a queen while we’re at it. So me, hehe
They’re pink, they’re cats and honestly that’s reason enough for me.
They’re pink, they’re cats and honestly that’s reason enough for me.
Several of these pieces are rooted in traditional craft practices but interpreted in playful, contemporary ways. What excites you about seeing Indian crafts evolve into everyday living?
Most of us think that these crafts are archaic, or not meant to be used everyday, they just stay as an ornament in our lives. I love that most of these pieces are carrying a craft’s legacy but also functional, that way we can carry it with us everywhere. Isn’t that what craft and art is supposed to be?
Growing up in Jaipur meant Makar Sankranti was a season of its own. I still can’t fly a kite but I’d always choose the prettiest pink one.
Maybe a pink cow is exactly the motivation I need to start saving.
What is the one feeling or thought you hope someone carries with them after exploring this collection?
They love the colour pink and themselves a little more. Also if they could unlearn stereotypes that come with genders.