Our Story

Chuckles began on the margins — in railway stations, half-read books, monsoon-soaked notebooks. Not built but found, like an old coin or a forgotten line of verse. A collection of objects that speak when the world grows too loud. Born from the tension between precision and poetry, Chuckles draws from engineering colleges and temple bells, flea markets and philosophy lectures, roadside tea stalls and Russian novels. Each piece carries the trace of something half-remembered but deeply felt. Not a brand but a footnote to the main text — the one scribbled quietly, but truer. Shirts that provoke, prints that linger. No explanations offered. None needed. For those who notice odd shadows, laugh at the wrong time, underline with urgency, and pause too long at museum exhibits. Chuckles is not interested in fitting in — only in holding up a mirror, slightly cracked, where the reflection makes more sense than the world ever did.