It all began with a conversation—the kind that lingers long after the words have settled.
On Shan’s podcast, Seema spoke of the Kama Sutra—not as a relic, but as choreography. “Lovemaking was a dance,” she said, “and the jewelry, the rhythm.” Within those pages, a woman’s pleasure was not just honored; it was paramount. Seema described a jingling girdle worn when the woman was on top, hips moving in a slow, intentional grind quieting the bells, heightening her pleasure like a secret kept between her body and the jewelry.
She conjured a time when pleasure was not indulgence but remembrance. “In ancient India,” she continued, “they believed that the way a society understood lovemaking revealed its refinement. When the earth suffered, they said it was because she had forgotten her pleasure, and she had to be reminded—of the sap coursing through her veins, the blossoms unfurling on her branches. Once she felt her pleasure again, the world could breathe.”
Women and nature, indivisible. Pleasure, the unseen force keeping the universe in balance. For a moment, past and present blurred—mythology echoing a truth that still pressed its weight into the world. Shan exhaled. “Talking about intimacy should be as freeing as experiencing it,” she mused. “We, as women, are always chasing something—fitness, fertility, validation. But maybe empowerment isn’t in the chase. Maybe it’s in the stillness. In knowing, without hesitation, that you are enough exactly as you are.”
The conversation ended, but something remained. A feeling, a knowing. We should make a jewelry collection.
At the same time, in a parallel world—because there are always parallel worlds—Surmeyi had just introduced its first collection, a line of jewelry inspired by the childhood joy of sharing mangoes with loved ones. Not just nostalgia, but belonging. The quiet, steady pursuit of feeling at home. The questions overlapped.
What does it mean to belong—to yourself, to your body, to your space?
What does it mean to wear something, not as ornamentation, but as declaration?
What does it mean to say, I am here?
And that is how Kama was born. Not as an idea, but as a moment. A moment where journeys braided together—Seema’s mythology, Shan’s insights, Surmeyi’s pursuit.
Jewelry is often made to be seen. Kama is meant to be felt. Every piece serves a purpose—anklets and girdles mark rhythm, earrings signal pace, and necklaces guide touch—each one shaping how a woman moves, how she feels, how she carries herself. Jewelry becomes an act of self-belonging. To see herself, adorn herself, claim herself. To be worn in stillness, in movement, in knowing. To be worn against bare skin or layered with the everyday, Käma is a quiet reminder—pleasure is not given, not chased, but held. Get early access on March 6th.
