I began with a question that lingered longer than expected:
Is OBLUM a purist shoemaker?
It took seven years to answer that.
Welcome to our second editorial—an insight into the early years.
Traditional shoemaking isn’t easy. From the start, our core principle was clear: we would only make welted footwear. No shortcuts. No cemented constructions. The idea of making things the right way—even if it took longer—was non-negotiable. I was deeply inspired by traditional British heritage houses that designed, made, and sold products exactly as they envisioned them.
OBLUM began in an unused workshop inside an industrial shed.
Hyderabad, 2017. Lasts from the initial days of experimentation.
A one-man operation. Armed with photocopied library books, a handful of tools—barely enough to assemble a cemented shoe—and a pocketful of dreams. Ironically, YouTube taught me how to make cardholders before I ever made a shoe. I kept at it. Worked with local materials. Nothing fancy. Just the bare minimum.
A few hides. Some thread. And integrity.
The first product that gave us an identity was the Golconda Cardholder—named after the impregnable fort on the Deccan plateau. Much of what we do is shaped by places that matter to me, places that hold memory. Saddle-stitched using my knees as makeshift saddles, some of those early pieces—sold to friends and family—still exist today.
A year into running the workshop, I decided to grow. I travelled to Agra—the heart of traditional shoemaking in India—to bring back a small team of four craftsmen. I’ll spare the drama, but it took us nearly two years to find a team that didn’t disappear every fortnight. The dream wasn’t enough. We barely had a sewing machine worth staying for. Everything had to be built from scratch.
Making footwear in college is very different from building a craft-focused brand in the real world.
The Indian shoemaking industry is heavily gatekept. Small quantities of leather are hard to come by—quality even more so. Scale is everything here. The domestic market was long saturated with mediocrity (though things are changing), and the export industry wouldn’t even let you past reception. But I was hungry. Hungry to make inroads. And for as long as we’ve existed, I’ve shared this story—with vendors, suppliers, customers, electricians, plumbers. Anyone who would listen.
But what is a product without a space to belong to?
I’ve always believed OBLUM needed a physical presence. I’m old school—I like to see, feel, and converse. We needed a space to anchor our existence, a place to showcase our work.
Which brings us to Part Three.
The Space.
