Madhubani paintings have a 2,500-year-old cultural memory tracing back to the wedding of Ram and Sita and have travelled a long way from the mud walls of Mithila to museum galleries in Japan and e-commerce pages across the world. From Jitwarpur and Ranti to Rasidpur villages in Madhubani district and countless other villages of Bihar, the women of Mithila have carried this tradition with a rare blend of devotion and brilliance. Their contribution is so significant that generations of Madhubani artists have been recognised with the Padma Shri which is an exceptional distinction for any single art form in India. In fact, over the last 50 years, more than seven Madhubani artists (mostly women) have received this honour, which reflects the depth of talent and continuity of excellence within this tradition.
In 2007, Madhubani painting received the Geographical Indication (GI) tag. On paper, this should have anchored the art form in authenticity, ensuring that only artists rooted in the cultural and geographical heritage of the region could legally claim to produce it. Yet, almost two decades later, the GI raises an uncomfortable set of questions. Till date, only 51 authorised users are listed in the GI registry site, while in just one village (Jitwarpur), hundreds of households have at least one person practising Madhubani art. It is a clear indication that post-GI registration has not been successful. The GI applicant was not an artists’ association, but the Director of Industries, Government of Bihar. Does it seem logical that an art carried for centuries by women should be represented institutionally rather than communally? And what exactly is being protected — motifs, colours, tools, the artist’s lineage, or simply the district boundary?
The contradictions deepen when one looks at how rapidly the market has evolved compared to the static GI description. Today, Madhubani paintings appear not only as framed artworks but also on sarees, tiles, mugs, diaries, laptop sleeves, and home decor. There is a thriving market for these applied forms of the art, and many of them fetch more money than traditional paintings do. This has changed the economics of the craft: diversified products earn quick revenue, while original paper paintings now compete with mass-produced items. For many artisan families, this shift has been a lifeline, especially in villages where painting is often the only stable source of income. But it also complicates the question of authenticity. When a Madhubani motif is printed on a commercial product, is the essence of the art preserved or diluted?
Across the region, the scale of participation itself challenges the narrow GI framework. In Jitwarpur, Ranti, Rasidpur, and other villages, multiple members of a household (often three generations of women) paint daily. The number of people involved far exceeds any official list. The rise of market opportunities has given many artisans independence and confidence, yet it has also introduced new hierarchies. Middlemen continue to dominate the flow of information and customers. Artists often refrain themselves from the evolving market demands and their prompt readiness. Many remain unregistered, unrecognised, and underpaid which dilutes the long-term protection and safeguards for the pride of Mithila.
The digital world adds another layer of complexity. Although online platforms now host thousands of Madhubani products, most women artisans struggle to use digital tools effectively. Many lack smartphones, internet literacy, or guidance on how to promote their work online. Younger artists are trying to bridge this gap, but access remains unequal. Ironically, while the artisans face digital hurdles, technology has advanced to a point where algorithms can classify Madhubani styles with near-perfect accuracy. Further, many digital media pages owned by Indian nationals living abroad claim original Madhubani paintings. However, true artists still live in villages. Many of these overseas digital platforms ultimately depend on local village artists for their work. Yet, the high prices they charge rarely trickle down to the true creators.
Meanwhile, the GI process has not evolved at all. It remains frozen in a snapshot of 2007, even though the art has changed significantly. Younger artists are blending styles; the strict caste distinctions between Bharni, Kachni, and Godna are not as rigid as they once were. New themes, contemporary issues, and non-traditional colour schemes have entered the canvas. The GI does not record or recognise any of this. It treats Madhubani as a fixed tradition rather than a living, breathing practice of cultural significance.
This leads us to some important questions. What does authenticity mean in a world where the market rewards mass-produced motifs more than original paintings? Who gets to decide what counts as “true” Madhubani: the artist, the market, or a government office? When only a handful of people hold GI authorisation but thousands actually paint, whom is the tag really protecting? Are we safeguarding a cultural tradition or merely trademarking it? And if technology can now identify styles almost flawlessly, how will this reshape the future of artistic recognition?
If the GI is to have any relevance, it must evolve. The first step is to acknowledge that Madhubani painting is a living tradition. A digital registry of real artists validated by local bodies, cooperatives, and community leaders would reflect the true scale of the practice. Standards of authenticity should be redefined in a way that protects core motifs and traditional processes while allowing for innovation. Since women dominate the art, any reform must include better digital access, focused training, and platforms that allow them to reach customers directly. Price benchmarks and guaranteed minimum rates could help prevent exploitation. Cultural tourism such as artist homestays, live painting tours, and heritage trails can strengthen both income and authenticity. Considering the encouraging Compound Annual Growth Rate of 6.7 per cent (2024-2032) for the handicrafts sector, Madhubani paintings have a lot to offer. Also, technology, rather than replacing artists, can be used to archive motifs, support verification, and protect against counterfeits.
Madhubani paintings today stand at a delicate crossroads. They are celebrated, commercialised, globalised, and yet still deeply rooted in the soil of Mithila. The GI was meant to protect them, but a conventional, exclusive system cannot safeguard a dynamic, community-driven art form. The women who paint the walls of Mithila do not seek rigid definitions; they seek fairness, visibility, and dignity. They want the freedom to innovate without being cut off from their heritage.
An art form that has survived market shifts, and social change does not need preservation in a glass case. It needs recognition of its living soul. A GI tag within the existing boundaries alone cannot do that. Only a sensitive, evolving system guided by the community, rather than imposed upon it, truly can.
Mohit Sharma is Assistant Professor at Dr Rajendra Prasad Central Agricultural University, Pusa, Bihar
Views expressed are the author’s own and don’t necessarily reflect those of Down To Earth