There is a word that kept coming up when Arunima was building this brand. Common. Common jewellery. Common craft. Common choices. It was everywhere — mass-produced, machine-finished, forgotten the moment it was worn. And she knew, with certainty, that what she wanted to make was none of that.

"I didn't want to make jewellery. I wanted to make something that felt like it had been waiting to exist."

So when it came time to name the brand, the answer came not from a dictionary or a design brief — it came from that feeling. Unkommon. The 'K' is deliberate. It is the brand's first quiet act of rebellion: a refusal to follow convention even in its own name. Everything about The Unkommon Brand begins with that letter and ends with the same promise — nothing here will be ordinary.

Arunima grew up in Chinsurah — one of Bengal's most quietly storied towns. Sitting on the west bank of the Hooghly, Chinsurah has watched centuries pass: Portuguese merchants, Dutch traders, the East India Company. Through all of it, one thing never left — the hands of Bengal's craftspeople, still making, still creating, generation after generation.

She did not study design. She did not train in a studio. She is, entirely and proudly, self-taught — a woman who picked up clay and thread and colour because she could not imagine not doing it. What began as a personal obsession slowly became something that others wanted to be part of. Neighbours. Local artisans. Women who had been carrying the same ancestral skill for decades without a market to give it to.

"We didn't set out to build a jewellery brand. We set out to make sure certain art forms didn't disappear."

India is full of dying crafts. Not because people stopped caring — but because the people who carry them have no platform, no pricing power, and no visibility. Arunima saw this not as a sad fact but as a solvable problem. The answer was jewellery — wearable, giftable, deeply personal. A format that could carry craft into the world and onto the bodies of women who would then carry those stories further still.

Today, The Unkommon Brand works alongside 7 skilled artisans, many of whom had never sold their work commercially before this. Clay artists. Stitch workers. Women who weave jute into something the world stops to look at. Every single one of them was trained by Arunima herself. Every single piece still passes through her hands before it passes through yours.

There are no factories here. There are no conveyor belts, no batch renders, no automated finishes. Every Unkommon piece begins with a material in a pair of human hands — natural clay pressed and shaped, thread pulled through fabric with intention, jute twisted and layered into form. The materials are honest: clay, fabric colours, pitchboard, thread, jute. Simple things. Real things. Things that age and breathe and have texture.

The brand has grown the way it was always meant to — organically. Through trade fairs across India, where strangers stopped and stared and asked, "who made this?" Through online workshops where Arunima taught her craft to hundreds more. Through a customer base that spans the country and has begun to reach beyond it — people who buy once and return, because they've never worn anything like it.

The philosophy has always been a single, stubborn balance: make something genuinely beautiful, and make sure everyone can have it. Not jewellery for a shelf. Not jewellery for a museum. Jewellery for a woman getting dressed in the morning, who wants to feel like she's wearing something that someone made only for this moment.