Bold, Fearless, Valliyan: Nitya Arora On Passion, Persistence, And The Evolution Of India’s Most Distinctive Jewellery Label

There are some people who talk about their work with practised ease. And then there’s Nitya Arora, founder and designer of Valliyan, who doesn’t just talk about her jewellery; she radiates it. Sitting across from her, on a day when she is low on energy due to jet lag as she had returned from London just a couple of days ago, Arora is anything but fatigued. She's electric. She lights up with every piece she picks, every story she tells. There’s an unmistakable glow that emerges when she speaks about her designs—one that makes you understand, in a heartbeat, how Valliyan has endured and evolved over the last seventeen years.

Childhood Of Colour

“I was always in every drawing competition. I never left home without my crayons, my colour pencils, my sketch pens,” Arora recalls with a laugh. For her, art wasn't an extracurricular; it was survival. “That was my Barbie doll. I needed to create. I've always been a mixed-media artist. I'd melt crayons with a candle to make textures; I’d use acrylics and oil pastels together. It was always about colours and mixing things.”

Growing up in South Bombay, surrounded by Art Deco buildings and Gothic facades, she was deeply influenced by architecture. “I always wanted to be an architect. I still dream about designing a boutique hotel or a holiday home someday.” But destiny had its own plans. A missed mathematics credit in high school meant architecture school in India wasn’t an option, and instead, she pivoted towards fashion and eventually enrolled in Parsons in New York.

From Sketches To Storefronts

Valliyan started almost accidentally. Fresh out of college, restless and bored, at the age of 21, she found herself wanting to wear jewellery that didn’t exist in the market. So, she made it herself. “I had these ideas in my head. I sketched them out and wandered down Colaba Causeway until I found these brass keychain makers. I showed them my designs. They said, ‘We can’t make this.’ And I said, ‘Yes, you can. I’ll help you.’”

She returned the next day with digital drawings she made on Microsoft Paint. “I mapped everything—the thickness, size, and where to punch holes for stones. And a few days later, I had my first pieces.”

With about 25 pieces, she walked into Bombay Electric—a store that defined fashion subculture in the city back then. “I created a logo, printed cards, and took it to Priya Kishore. She loved it and started retailing it the next day. Within two weeks, they’d sold out.”

She called the brand Valliyan, inspired by the first pair of hoops her grandmother gave her. “In Punjabi, we say balliyan, and I’m a very proud Punjabi. Even today, outside my store, you’ll see Valliyan written in both English and Gurmukhi.”

The Early Challenges

From the beginning, Valliyan wasn’t just jewellery. It was personal. It was art. “I didn’t have any formal training in jewellery design. So, I approached it like art objects. It wasn’t about tradition or trends, it was about creating something no one had seen before.”

This meant early challenges, especially with the way Indian consumers perceived value. “Back then, people didn’t know how to style my pieces. They’d ask—is it gold? Is it pure? And I’d say, yes, pure copper!” she jokes. “I had to educate clients one at a time, explaining the materials, the styling, the intent.”

But the resistance never rattled her. “I never created Valliyan to become a multimillion-dollar business. I created it because I needed to create. And to keep creating, I needed to sell. That was the only logic.”

A Hustler by Heart

What stood out most during our conversation, aside from her evident creative fire, was Arora’s unshakable independence. She handled every aspect of the business solo from the start, including while studying at Parsons. “I’d make a hundred pieces before leaving for New York and send them to stores like Ensemble. My mom would help with pickups and deliveries. We didn’t even have smartphones. Everything was coordinated through email or BBM.”

When I ask her how she kept up, she shrugs: “I’ve always been a hustler. I was a bit of a brat, rebellious, and very driven. My parents were very protective—I’m an only child. But I just wanted to do my own thing. Work gave me freedom.”

She pauses for a second and smiles, “Honestly, all I really wanted was enough money to not ask anyone for permission.”

Design as a Spiritual Practice

When she walks me through her latest designs, it’s like entering a different world—cane-woven cuffs, medallions inspired by Gothic arches, acid colours fused with architectural frames. “This one’s inspired by the Bombay skyline in monsoon—greys, geometry, a little gloss,” she says, showing the piece she wore during the interview and that she’s clearly fond of.

What struck me was how little she held back, even after years of building a brand. She showed me every detail, every material, every little reference. “There’s still a certain excitement and relief when I’m designing,” she says, almost shyly. “I never feel pressure to create by season. When inspiration hits, I create. It has to feel like magic.”

Even creative blocks don’t scare her. “Honestly, I’ve always had the opposite problem. Too many ideas. I struggle more with editing than imagining.”

Staying Small by Design

Valliyan has never chased mass appeal, and that’s by design. “I don’t want a big team. I’m not a people person,” she admits with a laugh. “I don’t want to be in meetings all day. I want to be in my studio. My aesthetic is niche. People either get it or they don’t. But once they do, they’re loyal.”

Even when venturing into apparel under her second label, Malai, she stayed true to her core instincts. “I wanted clothes to feel like malai on the skin: soft cottons, anti-fit shapes, cool prints. I was just making clothes I wanted to wear. That’s always how it begins.”

But between jewellery and clothing, there’s no contest. “Jewellery, any day. One size fits all, and I don’t have to deal with people complaining that something’s an inch too tight or too loose,” she jokes.

A Market Still Catching Up

For someone so ahead of her time, it’s surprising that she’s not more widely acknowledged within the larger narrative of Indian design. “People still think Italian or French brands deserve more money than Indian ones. That mindset is hard to shake.”

And within India, she says, jewellery still fights for space—literally. “Stores dedicate 900 square feet to clothing, and jewellery gets a cupboard. But accessories add character. They complete a look. It’s frustrating that it’s not taken as seriously.”

Despite the hurdles, she remains undeterred. “Jewellery is finally having a moment globally. I hope Indian designers will get their turn too. But I’ll keep creating either way.”

What’s Next?

So what’s next for someone who’s seemingly done it all? “I’m working on a fine jewellery project. Something more about curation for now, but maybe designing too. Who knows? I’m having fun with it.”

Before I can ask another question, she’s already halfway through pulling out more designs to show me. “Wait, you have to see this one—it’s a paisley stud with polki, super minimal but so rich.”

It’s in that moment—her excitement so palpable, so unfiltered, that I understand why Valliyan still feels fresh after nearly two decades. Because Nitya Arora still creates like it’s her first day. Because for her, the work isn’t about seasons, or scale, or spotlight.

“Even if no one bought it, I’d still make it for myself. That’s the truth.”