Meet The Founders

Born in December 1977, Tanya Berry grew up in a tight-knit nuclear household. She studied at Loreto Convent, Delhi, where sport was central to her identity. She served as Sports Captain in Classes 11 and 12 and represented her school in basketball at inter-school tournaments. Tanya went on to complete a B.A. (Hons) in History from Lady Shri Ram College for Women (1996–1999). Alongside academics, she represented her college in lawn tennis and handball, competing in inter-college tournaments. What defined her was a quiet confidence in taking things on herself.

Purpose was never abstract in her home. It was expected. Even during college, she was encouraged to build something alongside her degree, something skill-based, something constructive. In her third year, while attending lectures by day, she enrolled in a diploma in interior design in the evenings. She learned AutoCAD, technical drawing, and spatial planning technical disciplines. Soon after, she pursued textile courses at the YWCA in Delhi, deepening her knowledge of fabric and construction.

Clothing had always been personal. She often designed, sourced fabrics, and tailored pieces for occasions. She was drawn not only to how something looked, but to how it was built.

In 1999, at twenty two years old, with her first job, she entered the export industry in Delhi. The work was rigorous. She designed collections, coordinated with buyers, handled timelines, negotiated margins. Within a year and a half, she was managing the Delhi office of a Kolkata based export house. On factory floors and in meeting rooms, she learned scale, quality control and delivery pressure. More importantly, she realised she wanted to build something of her own.

In 2005, she launched her label, Tanya Berry. It began quietly, through an exhibition. No large team. No outside investment. Just conviction. The response was strong. A major company placed repeat orders of nearly 100 pieces at a time and continued for almost three years. Production scaled gradually. One karigar. Then another. One machine. Then two. Eventually, her own factory began taking shape.

Life, however, did not move in isolation from work.

Between 2006 and 2009, she had two children in quick succession. Around the same time, her father’s health began to decline - marking a fifteen year journey of illness that would shape much of her adulthood. Ambition remained steady, but time divided itself between production schedules and doctor appointments, exhibitions and home, growth plans and caregiving. She does not describe this period as a sacrifice. She describes it as a choice.

Around 2008–09, while executing a large export order of 300–400 pieces, she encountered ‘shibori’ and tie and dye techniques. The unpredictability of colour and its transformation through folding and knotting became her canvas. For the next fifteen years, this language defined her label. It was distinctive, rooted, and quietly confident. By 2012–13, her factory employed around fifteen people. Embroidery units, finishing teams, coordinated processes. The business was steady and respected.

As retail evolved, she adapted. With the rise of online platforms in around 2016–17, she partnered with platforms like The Loom and later with Jaypore (Aditya Birla Group). The shift allowed her work to find structured visibility while she remained deeply involved in product development, where her strength always lay.

Through all these years, caregiving ran parallel.

Even when she was at work, part of her mind remained elsewhere. Her parents supported her deeply, helping with her children so she could travel for exhibitions or manage production. Their presence steadied her even as health uncertainties lingered.

In 2021, during the instability of the pandemic, when manufacturing halted and supply chains fractured, she lost her father. Grief became bigger than anything. But grief does not stop payroll. Orders still needed fulfilment. Employees depended on stability. She continued.

In 2024, her mother passed away suddenly. The silence of being without parents changed things for Tanya. The emotional landscape shifted permanently. The foundation that once felt constant was no longer there. Grief was not loud. It was heavy. It lived quietly inside daily routines.

In that pause, reflection deepened. After two decades of building, caregiving, balancing, and enduring, a question surfaced: what should the next chapter hold?

It was during this time that her bond with her sister, Lara, transformed into something even more intentional. Barely a year and a half apart in age, they had grown up close. Tanya had been the athletic, outgoing elder sibling. Lara, younger and softer, instinctively protected. Over time, those roles evolved into partnership.

During the years when Tanya managed their parents’ care in Delhi and Lara lived in Mumbai, decisions were shared, calls were constant, and emergencies meant immediate flights home. But now, with both parents gone, they became each other’s primary anchors.

By 2022, conversations shifted from “someday” to “why not now?”

The company was first registered as Nargis Arts and Crafts LLP, named after the flower their father loved- a quiet tribute. Soon after, the brand name Mirasi emerged. The word signifies inheritance, legacy, something passed through generations. It resonated deeply. The idea was simple but powerful: if consumers are not buying ten sarees, perhaps they will buy ten garments crafted from handloom sarees and fabric. Apparel could sustain daily demand for traditional craft. Instead of purchasing one piece, Mirasi could purchase ten from artisans. The multiplier effect mattered. Effectively, Mirasi was registered in January 2025.

In August, an opportunity came through the Ministry of Textiles, offering early visibility with a store at The Kunj, New Delhi. Soon after, Mirasi showcased at Lakmé Fashion Week: a moment that felt surreal for a brand so young. By September 2025, they opened their flagship store in Meherchand Market, New Delhi. Two stores in the first year. Timing, experience, and readiness converged.

Today, Mirasi directly employs over twenty people and works with multiple artisan clusters across weaving, embroidery, and dyeing units. For Tanya, this is not romanticised. It is responsibility - to ensure fair wages and prices, to explain why kantha or handloom cannot be compared to machine replication and to protect the dignity of labour that is often undervalued.

Mirasi represents continuity. Twenty years of building Tanya Berry were not a prelude. They were preparation. Personally, Mirasi stands for recognition rooted in integrity. Not visibility for its own sake, but for quality and intention. It must stand beyond trend cycles, as a strong Indian brand recognised globally; grounded in craft. And at its core is a woman - Tanya Berry, Co-founder Mirasi - who has always walked the talk, consistently acted, religiously showed up and built with conviction.

Lara Chandra was born in 1979 into a home where ideas were lived. Her father, Vijay Shankar, was a writer and poet. Words, reflection and philosophy shaped the atmosphere around her. Her mother, Brinda Shankar, carried culture and tradition with quiet intelligence and grace. The household was thoughtful. Conversations were layered. Integrity was assumed.

Growing up in such an environment shaped Lara’s understanding of what mattered. Achievement had meaning only if it aligned with values. Status without purpose felt hollow. She learned early that one could choose a life anchored in conviction, even if it did not promise visibility. That grounding stayed with her, steady and uncomplicated.

Initially drawn toward medicine, she gradually found herself more deeply engaged with children’s issues. She studied at Lady Irwin College in Delhi, completing a M.Sc. in Child Development, specializing in Special Education. Even during those years, she sensed that classroom teaching alone would not hold her for long. She was drawn toward systems, policy, and structures. She wanted to work where frameworks could shift and long-term change could take shape.

Concerns around child labour and homelessness affected her deeply. While still in college, she began volunteering with organisations such as Childline, Salam Balak Trust, Prayas and the Kriti Team. In her early twenties, she travelled through slum clusters in Delhi, sitting with children whose childhoods had been cut short too soon. Poverty was confronting but it did not push her away. Her Master’s thesis emerged from that sharpened focus. She wrote about the lives of street and working children, allowing their voices to lead. She then analysed those lived realities for policy insight. In 2006, at twenty-six, the manuscript was published by Penguin India. Recognition followed. She accepted it quietly. Visibility was never the aim. The work itself carried meaning.

At twenty-five, she married someone she had known since school. Their relationship had grown gradually, rooted in familiarity and shared history. Marriage, for her, was the center of her peace. Across cities and transitions, she chose steadiness. She built her home with intention. The kitchen became a space of love, memory and continuity. Hosting was an expression of care. She paid attention to small details that made life comfortable for her husband and children. There was something old world in that commitment. She believed that creating a calm environment required effort. It did not happen by accident. She found completeness in that rhythm.

Shortly after marriage, she moved briefly to Chennai. Even during that period of transition, she sought meaningful work. When the 2004 tsunami struck Tamil Nadu, she worked with ActionAid, coordinating teams and reports, ensuring that relief efforts moved with structure. From Chennai, she moved to Mumbai. The city widened her world. Mumbai felt liberal, energetic, open. It allowed anonymity and ambition to coexist. She formed friendships that expanded her understanding of people and possibility. Seventeen years passed there, full and formative.

Yet the distance from Delhi was always felt. Being away from her parents carried a quiet ache. Even when resources were limited, she and her husband made it a priority to return home for birthdays, anniversaries, festivals. Those visits were non-negotiable. Time with parents mattered deeply. Looking back, she carries comfort in knowing that they showed up consistently.

Professionally, the Mumbai years were expansive. At Childline, she helped establish a Policy and Advocacy Unit, developing systems of documentation and internal communication that strengthened institutional memory. She later returned to CRY in Mumbai, building volunteer networks across eight zones and managing over a hundred volunteers. One of those volunteers eventually founded an NGO in 2013, where Lara continues to serve on the Advisory Board.

Between 2009 and 2014, for 3 years she consulted with UNICEF Maharashtra on integrated community development, adolescent engagement and gender frameworks. She travelled across districts, engaging with grassroots realities while contributing to institutional planning. Her ability to move between field insight and policy discussion defined her work. She later joined Habitat for Humanity India in 2015, where over seven years she helped shape strategic planning and policy frameworks and contributed to national and international conversations on housing and WASH.

Beneath the professional milestones, one drive remained constant. She needed purpose. The sense that her work created tangible improvement in someone’s life gave her meaning. To feel that one’s existence generated change, however modest, made life feel honest.

Motherhood deepened that understanding. Raising her sons required presence, patience and flexibility. It expanded her capacity for care and resilience. Life grew fuller, layered with school routines, family rituals and work commitments.

In 2021, she returned to Delhi. The move coincided with a difficult period. In April 2021, her father passed away after years of illness. His absence left a silence. She often found herself reflecting on completion; whether conversations had been enough, whether relationships ever truly feel fully lived.

Her philosophical grounding steadied her. She had grown up around inquiry into life and mortality. Her father believed deeply in the inevitability of death. That understanding shaped her response. Intellect did not erase grief, yet it allowed acceptance.

Returning to Delhi allowed her to spend time with her mother. In July 2022, she stepped away from full-time institutional roles, choosing to remain present for family. She also began engaging more intentionally with artisan communities, including through the Delhi Crafts Council. The shift felt quieter, less externally defined.

When her mother passed away suddenly in June 2024, the sense of finality was profound. With both parents gone, grief slowly gave way to a new path. For over two decades, she had strengthened institutions, built frameworks and shaped systems. A new question surfaced gently: what would it mean to build something of her own?

Conversations with her sister Tanya deepened during this time. Growing up barely a year apart, they had been encouraged to resolve their own disagreements. Independence was instilled early. They are different in temperament, yet anchored in shared values. Their professional journeys had unfolded in parallel. Tanya had spent over two decades mastering textile production and manufacturing systems. Lara had spent the same time working within development, studying livelihood gaps and systemic inequality. She understood how inconsistent livelihood affects dignity, education and generational stability. Craft, in her view, sits at the intersection of heritage and economic justice.

In 2024, their experiences converged, Mirasi emerged from alignment. The name reflects inheritance and continuity. It carries two decades of development work, devotion to family, philosophical grounding, resilience and sisterhood. She steps into this chapter without spectacle. The values remain the same. The commitment remains steady.