Wild Silks as Sustainable Fabrics

Investigating the Sustainable Fabrics of the Future:

RIMMBA’s Journey Into Wild Silk, Khadi & Kala Cotton

By Karunia
designer, dye-maker, and forever student of the natural world.

Sourcing sustainable wilk-silks and other fabrics in india during my travels this year, was filled with many crazy memories.

India - Haidakhan Babaji Ashram for Navaratri 2025

Why This Research Matters

Wild silks as sustainable fabrics against a fashion landscape flooded with synthetic fibers, shortcuts, and greenwashed buzzwords, I’ve spent the last few months quietly investigating something different: fabrics that honour the land, the farmer, the worm, the spinner, and the soil.

RIMMBA was built on the belief that luxury can — and must — coexist with sustainability.

So this marks the beginning of our next chapter: thoughtfully expanding fabrics beyond mulberry silk into wild silks and heritage cottons with deep cultural histories and low-impact farming methods.

Over the years, during my travels, I’ve developed a ritual that has become part of my creative lineage: visiting small villages and rural weaving communities, choosing a wild silk or another sustainable fabric that speaks to me, and bringing home 50 to 100 meters at a time. From these, I create tiny, limited collections for our boutique — or keep them exclusively for custom orders.

It’s my way of connecting with different cultures, supporting the guardians of traditional craft, and preserving textiles that could easily disappear in a world moving too fast. I work with each fabric until the very last meter is gone — nothing wasted, everything honoured.

This is my field diary: the fabrics I touched, the people behind them, and the small, soulful collections born from my travels — stories carried back to Bali in cloth, kept alive through the garments we create.

Below, I’ve broken down the three wild silks I sourced in India — each with its own landscape, silkworm, cultural lineage, and textural identity. These notes are part research, part personal encounter, and part gratitude for the hands and ecosystems that made these fabrics possible.

In every weave and fibre, we honour the Earth’s original materials — not their imitations.

While this article focuses on India’s wild silk as sustainable fabric traditions — Eri, Tussar, and Muga — we’ve included an image of the domesticated mulberry silk moth (Bombyx mori) for comparison. Unlike the richly patterned wild moths, the mulberry moth is small, white, and softly tufted — a fully domesticated species that has lived alongside humans for thousands of years. It is the source of the mulberry silk we use in most of our RIMMBA collection, chosen for its exceptional softness, fluid drape, and luminous surface that takes natural dyes beautifully. Wild silks, by contrast, are produced only in very limited quantities and are extremely difficult to source consistently, which is why we reserve them for special pieces or made-to-order designs. Mulberry silk makes up nearly 90% of the global silk market, allowing us to create the fine, high-quality garments our customers love while still honouring the natural dye heritage at the heart of our craft.

At a traditional handloom in Guwahati, Assam, a young weaver works with silk and cotton threads stretched in precise tension across the loom. Beside her hangs a strip of punched cards — a system of small holes that looks almost like Braille. These cards are the “memory” of the loom, an early form of coding used to control which warp threads lift and which stay down, allowing complex motifs to be woven entirely by hand. Handloom weaving remains one of Northeast India’s most important living textile traditions, where the rhythm of the shuttle, the guidance of these pattern cards, and the weaver’s own skill come together to create Assam’s iconic skils.

WILD SILK NO. 1

100% TUSSAR SILK

When I travelled to India earlier this year for Navaratri, I had the chance to connect with a small supplier who works exclusively with sustainable, heritage fabrics. I ended up picking up our entire order in Delhi — which somehow led me to a sketchy bus stop in a secluded village outside the city (I was terrified 😂) — but I’m so grateful I did. It felt important to bring these fabrics home myself, to understand their story and honour their origins.

Wild silks carry a different energy.

They’re textured, imperfect, earthy — and deeply tied to nature and culture.
These fabrics aren’t produced in industrial farms. They come from forest-based communities in Northeast and Central India, where silkworms feed on native plants and follow their natural life cycles.

And so I wanted to begin with the silk that feels like the foundation of this wild silk article — Tussar.

— untouched, unblended, and deeply connected to the forests and Indigenous communities of India.

The Tussar silk moth, part of the *Antheraea mylitta* species complex, is a wild Saturniid moth recognised by its warm brown wings marked with large circular eye-spots and a softly furred body. Unlike domesticated species such as Eri or mulberry, Tussar moths emerge from cocoons spun in forest environments, following natural seasonal cycles. Their life cycle gives rise to the distinctive golden-beige Tussar silk — a textured, gently lustrous fibre traditionally collected and spun by communities living along India’s forested belts. Photo Credit by Want To Be A Nomad

The Tussar silkworm (*Antheraea mylitta*) is easily recognised by its green body marked with distinctive purple tubercles and bright yellow-orange spiracles. Slightly bristlier than other wild silks, it feeds on a range of forest trees and produces the naturally golden, gently textured fibre known as Tussar silk. Photo Credit by gailhampshire — from Cradley, Malvern, U.K.

What Defines Tussar Silk

Wild Silkworm Origins

Ancestral Weaving Traditions

Tussar silk (also called Tasar) is produced by wild silkworms, primarily the Antheraea mylitta and Antheraea proylei species, which live freely in the forests of Jharkhand, Odisha, Chhattisgarh, and parts of West Bengal. These worms feed on the leaves of native Arjun, Asan, and Sal trees, and the landscape itself — the climate, the trees, the soil — directly shapes the character of the silk.

The result is a fabric with a natural golden sheen, a textured, slightly coarse feel, and an earthy drape that mirrors the forest it comes from. There is no other silk like it. Tussar carries a rawness, a grounded warmth, and a slubby unevenness that tells you instantly it is born from the wild, not a farm.

Tussar weaving is traditionally done by Adivasi (Indigenous) communities, especially Santhal women, whose knowledge of rearing, spinning, and weaving has been passed down for generations. These are communities who live alongside the forest — the same landscape that feeds the worms and dyes the silk with its sun-soaked gold. Supporting Tussar helps sustain these cultural lineages and keeps non-industrial textile knowledge alive.

Historically, Tussar has been prized for sarees, dupattas, and ceremonial garments — pieces worn for rituals, celebrations, and rites of passage. Its warm, organic tones and its connection to the land give it a sacred quality.

For RIMMBA, what pulls me toward this silk is its honesty. There’s no performance in it — no forced shine, no attempt to impress. It just is. When I hold it, I feel the forest that raised it and the women who touched it before me. There’s something ancient in the texture, almost like the fabric remembers things we’ve forgotten. It’s alive in this quiet, grounding way.

And honestly… it doesn’t need anything from me. Not color, not embellishment, not even “design.” The raw gold already carries its own story. My job is simply to listen — and let the garment become what the silk wants to be.

Tussar silk is made from the open-ended cocoons of wild Antheraea moths, which means the filament cannot be reeled into long, continuous threads like mulberry or Muga silk. Instead, the fibre is **spun**, much like cotton or wool, creating a yarn with a naturally textured, slightly uneven character. This hand-spun quality gives Tussar its signature earthy feel and gentle, muted golden sheen. On the loom, Tussar behaves as a **stable, slightly firm yarn** that weaves beautifully into fabrics with depth, body, and a subtle natural lustre — perfect for saris, shawls, heritage textiles, and artisan weaves across india.

A masterpiece from our AWIG–AWIG Collection, this dress showcases one of the most intricate techniques in botanical dyeing — a seamless blue–green gradient created by layering deep indigo over yellow from ketapang leaves. Cut on the bias for its liquid drape, each piece is sewn twice to honour the silk’s natural shifting and transformation during dyeing. A refined balance of precision and intuition, it represents the height of RIMMBA’s craft.

A beautiful staple in our collection, the Akasha Cotton Pants in Indigo are crafted from 100% organic, natural fibre — a reflection of our commitment to gentle, earth-aligned clothing. Dyed with real indigo, they honour one of Indonesia’s oldest heritage crafts while carrying the soft, high-frequency feel of plant-based textiles.

WILD SILK NO. 2

ERI–TUSSAR BLEND

Having already explored Tussar in Wild Silk No. 1 as a sustainable fabric, this section begins with the second fiber in the blend: Eri Silk.

This particular textile combines Eri and Tussar — two forms of ahimsa silk whose production relies on natural life cycles rather than industrial intervention. Though both are cruelty-free, their origins, ecosystems, and cultural lineages are very different.
Here, I break down what defines Eri, how it compares to Tussar, and what new characteristics emerge when the two are woven together.

Eri Silk:

The Non-Violent Silk. Cruelty Free Silk. Peace Silk

Eri silk, also known as Ahimsa Silk, comes from the Samia ricini silkworm, which feeds on castor leaves and thrives in the dense, humid landscapes of Assam and Meghalaya. The region’s moisture-rich air plays a quiet but essential role — it allows the worms to grow slowly and the cocoon to form with a softness that is completely different from the firm, glossy cocoons of mulberry silk.

What makes Eri extraordinary — and radically different from most silks — is its non-violent harvesting process. The moth completes its full metamorphosis, emerges from the cocoon by itself, and only then is the fiber collected. This breaks every norm of conventional silk production, where the worm is boiled inside the cocoon to preserve filament length. With Eri, the life of the organism is respected, even prioritized, which gives the fabric an entirely different energy.

Ironically, despite its ethics and its deep cultural roots, Eri has historically been considered “the poor people’s silk” in Assam. Its matte appearance lacked the glamorous sheen associated with royal garments and weddings. It was the everyday textile worn by rural families, monks, elders — chosen for comfort, breathability, and warmth rather than prestige. But in that “ordinary” identity lies its true beauty: Eri silk is practical, honest, and profoundly tied to the rhythm of daily life.

Most of the yarn is spun in village homes, often by women, using simple wooden tools. The spinning is slow, the thread slightly uneven — a texture that cannot be replicated by industrial machines. These irregularities are signatures of craft and community, not imperfections.

Eri’s fiber structure is porous and sponge-like, making it incredibly receptive to natural dyes — but at RIMMBA, I have no desire to dye this silk at all. The raw, undyed color is one of its most sacred qualities. It carries the soft earthiness of the castor leaves, the humidity of Assam, and the quiet dignity of the households that tend to the worms. Dyeing it would erase what makes it distinct.

Eri silk represents a low-impact, community-led textile system that supports Indigenous and rural women, protects biodiversity, and maintains a non-violent relationship with nature. It is grounding, stable, and deeply alive — a fabric that holds not just texture, but lineage.

A local artisan in Mankro, Assam holds eri silkworms (Samia ricini) — the thick, pale caterpillars traditionally raised across Northeast India. Unlike the smooth mulberry silkworm, eri larvae have a sturdier body with tiny soft tubercles, a hallmark of this species. Eri culture has been carried for generations within Assam’s tribal communities, where women play a central role in tending the worms and preparing their cocoons. From these humble caterpillars comes Eri silk, often called “peace silk,” a fibre renowned for its strength, warmth, and deep cultural significance in the region’s textile heritage.

Eri 70% and Tussar 30% - A thick, structured blend of 70% Eri and 30% Tussar silk. The fabric carries natural variations in golden micro-tones — a hallmark of wild and peace silks, created by differences in each cocoon’s pigment and the trees the moths feed on. These subtle shifts give the cloth its organic texture and unmistakable character. ORIGINAL PHOTO BY RIMMBA

Blending Eri & Tussar

A New Textural Luxury

The fabric I sourced is a carefully woven blend of Eri and Tussar — merging two wild silks that share ethical origins but have distinct characters. The Eri contributes softness, breathability, and structural strength, while the Tussar brings luminosity, visible slubs, and a deeper earthy tone.
Together, they create a textile with a gentle golden sheen, raw organic texture, and enough body to hold shape in trousers, overshirts, and tailored silhouettes. This blend feels both ancient and modern — a quiet luxury rooted in slow, forest-based craft.

Why Preserving Eri & Tussar Silks Matters

What makes this fabric significant, and why I feel so strongly about preserving it, is that Eri and Tussar are deeply tied to the livelihoods of Indigenous and rural women. These silks don’t come from factories — they come from forest-based communities where the worms feed on native trees and plants that grow without chemicals or irrigation. When you support these silks, you’re also supporting the protection of biodiverse landscapes and resisting the spread of monoculture farming that has damaged so much of the textile world. In many of the villages I visited, the entire process — from tending the host trees to spinning the yarn — is done by women whose knowledge is inherited, not taught in a classroom. Their work keeps both the craft and the forest alive, and that alone makes these fabrics worth fighting for.

Back view of red eco-dyed mulberry silk kaftan with gathered waist tie and slit hem, handcrafted botanical-dyed maxi dress for sustainable luxury resort and formal wear — Bella Silk Kaftan — part of our eco-print silk series.
A versatile, naturally dyed kaftan that can be styled five different ways. Each piece is hand-printed with botanicals, making every garment one-of-a-kind.

The black-and-white image shows a person lifting the lid of a large pot that is releasing steam, suggesting something is being boiled or cooked. The person appears to be outdoors, surrounded by lush plants and natural light filtering through the trees. — Kadek tending to a simmering *secang* dye bath — coaxing the heartwood’s deep red into color for today’s natural dye experiments. ORIGINAL PHOTO BY RIMMBA

Washing our RIMMBA fabric after dyeing — a thorough rinse is essential to remove any excess dye.

See the FULL COLLECTION HERE.

WILD SILK NO. 3

MUGA–TUSSAR BLEND

This third silk is another blend — this time combining the luminous rarity of Muga with the earthy texture of Tussar (see Wild Silk No. 1 for the full Tussar breakdown).

Muga Silk — The Silk of Assam’s Royalty

Muga silk is one of India’s rarest and most culturally significant silks, produced only in Assam, and nowhere else in the world. Known for its natural golden, sunlit sheen, Muga was historically reserved for royalty, priests, and ceremonial garments. Unlike Eri — which was considered the “people’s silk” — Muga was the textile of prestige, lineage, and cultural status.

Two distinct types of Assam’s silkworm cocoons are shown here: the soft, open-ended cocoons of Eri silk (Samia ricini) on the left, and the golden, tighter Muga cocoons (Antheraea assamensis) on the right. Eri silk is known as “Ahimsa silk” because the moth naturally emerges, leaving behind a fluffy, staple fibre ideal for spinning. Muga, native only to Assam, produces the region’s legendary golden silk and is reeled while the cocoon is still intact to preserve its long, continuous filament. Together, these cocoons represent the living heritage of India’s northeastern sericulture traditions — each species creating a different silk with its own character, history, and cultural significance.

An 80% Muga and 20% Tussar silk blend, showing the natural golden luminosity that Muga is prized for. The high Muga content gives the fabric its signature warm glow, fine texture, and remarkable strength, while the Tussar adds a subtle matte depth and gentle irregularity. Light, crisp, and quietly lustrous, this blend carries the wild-silk character of both species — combining Muga’s legendary radiance with Tussar’s earthy nuance.

Origins of Muga Silk

Muga comes from the Antheraea assamensis silkworm, a species that is incredibly sensitive to environment and can only survive in Assam’s unique humid, subtropical climate. These worms feed on the leaves of som and sualu trees, both native to the Brahmaputra Valley.
Because the silkworm cannot be raised anywhere else, Muga silk carries with it the heritage, ecology, and geographical identity of Assam.

The cocoon itself has a natural golden color — not dyed, not treated — which is why Muga garments grow more lustrous with age. This is something almost no other fiber on the planet can do. The more a piece is worn, the deeper its honeyed glow becomes.

Muga production is traditionally managed by Assamese women, who handle the delicate stages of rearing, cocoon inspection, spinning, and weaving. The knowledge is lineage-based, passed through families rather than taught formally. Every stage is done by hand, in small household environments — a fragile textile ecosystem that is now at risk due to climate change, loss of host trees, and the spread of synthetic fabrics.

Despite its rarity, Muga is still threatened. It takes enormous care to rear, and the worms are extremely vulnerable to variations in temperature and air quality. Many rearers say that Muga cannot survive pollution — it needs clean air, abundant leaves, and predictable seasons. In that sense, Muga is more than a textile; it is a living indicator of ecological health.

At RIMMBA, what moves me most about Muga is its raw, unforced color — a gold that exists exactly as nature designed it. It is one of the few silks I would never dye, never alter. Like Eri, the soul of Muga lies in its natural state, in the way it reflects the land it comes from. To change its color would be to erase its origin story.

Muga silk represents cultural pride, ecological specificity, and the resilience of women who have kept this tradition alive despite countless pressures. It is rare, luminous, and deeply tied to place — a true testament to what slow, land-based textile craft can be.

In Assam, Muga silkworms (Antheraea assamensis) are traditionally reared outdoors, fed on the leaves of Som and Sualu trees. This image shows a silk cultivator preparing the bright green, spiky-bodied caterpillars before placing them onto the host trees to feed. Muga is one of India’s rarest silks — native only to Assam — and is prized for its natural golden sheen and incredible durability. The process of tending these worms is entirely hands-on and rooted in generations of indigenous knowledge, forming one of the most important living textile traditions of Northeast india.

The Muga silk moth (*Antheraea assamensis*) has deep, reddish-brown wings marked with bold curved patterns and subtle eye-spots — and its wing shape is said to resemble the hood of a snake, a natural form of mimicry for protection in the wild.

From the Forest to My Hands

Last notes from my field diary

Some fabrics arrive to me as materials.
These wild silks didn’t.

Wild silks arrived to me with history, carrying forests, women’s labour, and traditions that survived because someone chose to keep them alive.

This isn’t just fabric. It’s a responsibility. Every cocoon and woven meter holds the work of women who still create in ways the world has almost forgotten. It carries the landscape that raised it — the trees, the humidity, those quiet rural mornings.

Bringing these silks back to Bali felt less like a purchase and more like being trusted with something cultural, fragile, and important. I feel accountable to not waste them, not over-design them, and not turn them into something they’re not.

Pieces made from these wild silks will be understated but majestic — textural, honest, rooted in the land they come from. You only ever need one to know you’re holding a piece of culture and forest in your hands.

Real luxury has weight.
And I want to carry that properly.

I can’t wait to see the homes these wild silks will enter, and the stories they’ll continue to hold.
Take good care of them.

With love,
Karunia