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Long before tattoos became a modern-day aesthetic or rebellious choice, they were markers of identity and community.Bhagya Raj & Eric Jason D'souza
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8 min read
Human beings are storytellers. For thousands of years, we have told stories to make sense of the world and our place within it. But our storytelling isn’t confined to words or books. We tell stories through architecture, clothing, and increasingly, through our own bodies.
The first tattoo I ever noticed belonged to my grandmother. On the gnarled fingers of her right hand, between wrinkles, were tiny black dots. “This was done when I was thirteen,” she explained, “before I got married. It was tradition.” Her voice carried no sentimentality. These dots were markers of time, identity, and belonging. Years later, when I walked into a Mumbai tattoo studio to get my own — a shayari in Urdu she loved — I thought of her. The artist prepped my back, the machine buzzed to life, and I wondered: What does it mean to carry something permanent on your body? Is it defiance or devotion? A statement or a secret?
Long before tattoos became a modern-day aesthetic or rebellious choice, they were markers of identity and community. The Apatani people of Arunachal Pradesh tattooed intricate geometric patterns on their faces to distinguish the tribe from other communities.In Gujarat, Rabari women tattooed sacred symbols on their arms and torsos, blending spiritual protection with personal adornment. For these communities, tattoos were not individualistic but collective — a reflection of shared values, rituals, and cosmologies.
As societies urbanized and globalized, these meanings shifted. The colonial gaze dismissed tattoos as primitive. What was once revered became stigmatized, and tattooing began to retreat to the fringes. Yet, it never disappeared. Tattoos endured, moving from tribal hinterlands to urban alleyways, eventually finding a place in high-end studios that catered to a new generation.
This evolution reflects a deeper truth about human culture: we adapt ancient practices to meet new needs. But the core function remains unchanged. Whether etched on an Apatani woman’s face or a college student’s forearm, tattoos tell stories — stories about who we are, who we were, and who we hope to become.
The Tattoo As A Threshold
To understand the depth of this transformation, we must see tattoos as thresholds. Tattoos don’t just symbolize change — they embody it. They become visible markers of an inward shift. Although our identity may transform over time, tattoos preserve the stories of who we once were, they anchor our past selves to the present. Lokesh Verma, founder, Devilz Tattooz, Delhi, believes tattoos are the biggest form of self-expression a person can wear on their sleeve. “They mark a transition — mental, physical, or emotional. When done with thought and honesty, tattoos are transformative experiences that stay with you forever.” Miriam, an artist from Jaipur reviving traditional woodblock tattooing, says: “They symbolize a significant change in identity. They are a way to externalize our inner narrative.”
This symbolic weight is not lost on tattoo artists, who often act as unofficial therapists, holding space for their clients’ stories. “You realize quickly that no one comes in for a tattoo without a reason,” says Lokesh. “Sometimes it’s a breakup. Sometimes it’s a new beginning. I’ve had clients who get tattoos to mark milestones, or to grieve a loved one. You’re not just inking their skin — you’re engraving their story.” Mo Naga, an indigenous artist from Manipur, describes tattoos as markers of time: “Tattoos are powerful because they encapsulate a moment, good or bad. They don’t always have to be joyous — they can also carry the weight of struggle. That’s their beauty.”
The Artist As An Interpreter
The intimacy between artist and client is unparalleled. It’s a collaboration rooted in trust, vulnerability, and intuition. When a client enters the studio with a half-formed idea, the artist’s role goes beyond sketching a design. They mediate between the unspeakable and the visual. Bhagya Raj, founder of Aakash Tattoos, Guwahati, says, “From an artist’s point of view, we always leave a part of our soul in our artworks. A sketch, a painting or a tattoo, we leave a part of ourselves behind in them.”
Bruce Dunn, founder, Murukoo Studio, Bangalore, sees this process as a kind of translation. “People often don’t know how to articulate what they want, but they know how they want to feel. It’s my job to interpret that feeling and make it real.” This, however, is not without its challenges. Some clients wrestle with indecision, others with the weight of their own expectations.
Sameer Patange, founder, Kraayonz Studio, recalls how, over the years, tattooing has evolved into an act of storytelling. Consultations shifted the focus to personal narratives rather than generic designs. “The client is the hero of their story,” he says. By sharing their life-changing experiences, they leave their imprint on the artist as much as the artist leaves theirs on the skin.
The process demands patience on both sides. For the client, there’s the vulnerability of exposing oneself — physically and emotionally. For the artist, there’s the pressure of transforming that vulnerability into something tangible. Yet, when it works, it’s transformative for both. “There’s an energy exchange,” Bruce explains. “You pour yourself into their story, and they leave with a piece of you — your art — etched onto them forever. In return, you carry their story with you. It’s exhausting, but it’s also the most rewarding part of what I do.”
Pain Is Catharsis
Pain is the unavoidable plus one to every tattoo. It is, after all, a process that involves needles piercing the skin thousands of times. Yet, for many, the pain is less a deterrent and more a rite of passage. Miriam explains: “Pain is the most powerful part of the whole process, connecting you physically and emotionally to your tattoo. It demands respect and awareness.”
Niloy Das, founder, Lizard’s Skin Tattoos, Kolkata, likens this to an ancient ritual. “Pain has always been part of transformation. Think of initiation ceremonies or fasting or even childbirth. Tattoos are no different. The pain makes the experience real. It forces you to be present, to commit.”
Not everyone experiences this pain as transcendent. For some, it’s merely a hurdle, one that artists like Sameer must navigate carefully. “Not everyone has a high pain threshold,” he says. “Sometimes I have to adjust the design or break sessions into smaller parts. It’s a balancing act — staying true to the vision while respecting the client’s limits.”
Tattoos & The Indian Psyche
In India, tattoos exist in a curious space — they're both celebrated and stigmatized. They are simultaneously markers of tradition and rebellion. Indigenous communities have long used tattoos as rites of passage or markers of identity. Yet, in urban India, tattoos often carry an air of defiance.
But cultural attitudes are shifting, particularly among younger generations. Social media has played a significant role in this evolution, making tattoos more visible and accessible. Platforms like Instagram have not only normalized tattoos but also introduced global trends like fine-line designs, watercolor styles, and hyperrealism to Indian audiences.
Niloy graphs this evolution through the decades. “Back then, if someone had a tattoo, they were the star of the party — everyone would be amazed. Now it’s the opposite: if you don’t have a tattoo, people are surprised. Tattoos have become mainstream and personal, where everyone has their own story to tell.”
Beyond the influence of social media, the changing cultural perception of tattoos can be attributed to multiple factors, including the sway of popular culture. “Post-2005, tattoos have been on an upward trajectory,” Bhagya notes. “The Indian masses primarily look towards Bollywood to shape their ideas of what’s acceptable or desirable. As more film stars began sporting tattoos, the art form transitioned from being seen as taboo to something aspirational and glamorous.”
Eric Jason D’Souza, founder, Ironbuzz Tattoos, Mumbai, highlights the community aspect. “My studio is an open space where clients can hang out, converse, and build connections — a testament to how tattoos are a medium of human connection.”
Decolonising & Reclaiming Identity Through Ink
Tattoos in India carry a dual legacy — one of deep cultural significance and another of colonial erasure. Colonial attitudes relegated tattooing to the status of 'primitive' or 'uncivilized' art, stigmatizing a tradition that had thrived for centuries. Today, artists like Mo are at the forefront of a movement to decolonize tattoos, reviving their indigenous roots while challenging the homogenising influence of Western aesthetics.
“Tattoos were never just about aesthetics,” Mo explains. “They were deeply tied to the land, the tribe, and the natural world. But with colonialism, this connection was systematically broken. Tattoos became associated with backwardness or rebellion — something to be erased or looked down upon. Decolonizing tattoos means bringing back their original significance, their philosophy, and their rootedness in the natural world.”
Navigating the risks of appropriation and commodification are crucial in the journey of decolonisation. How do you honour a tradition without turning it into a product? How do you preserve its meaning while making it accessible to people outside the community? For Mo, the answer lies in education and respect. “I spent years studying the traditions of Naga tattooing before I began practicing. I visited elders, read historical accounts, and immersed myself in the culture. When you work with clients, you have to ensure they respect what the tattoo represents — not just aesthetically but culturally.”
Eric emphasises this growing shift. As he puts it, “People are willingly returning to their roots, exploring their native traditions, and reclaiming heritage through art on their skin.”
The Paradox Of Permanence
At its heart, the appeal of tattoos lies in their paradox. They are both deeply personal and publicly visible, fleeting and forever. They mark moments of joy and pain, permanence and transformation. For me, the shayari on my back is more than ink — it is history made tangible. It reminds me of where my roots lie, but also of where I’m going. In a world obsessed with impermanence — of trends, relationships, even identities — tattoos offer a rare form of constancy. They are not just art. They are anchors, etched onto the body and the soul, forever tethering us to our most authentic selves.
As Sameer aptly puts it, “Tattoos make people walk out differently than they walked in. They give them confidence, connection, and a piece of themselves they can carry forever.”
And in a world where so much is transient, perhaps that’s the ultimate power of ink.
If you enjoyed reading this, here's more from Homegrown:
Ink Of The Ancients: 5 Artists Reviving India’s Tattoo Traditions
Red Earth House: Inside A Konkan Sanctuary For Tattoo Artistry and Community Building
'Ink On Screen' Is A Photo Project That Spotlights Face Tattoos As Tools Of Liberation
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