In a sunlit workshop in Lhasa’s old town, 56-year-old Tsering sits cross-legged on a woolen mat, his calloused hands turning a piece of yak bone over sandpaper. The air smells of pine resin and polished stone—this is where our bracelets are born, not from machines, but from hands that have worked with plateau materials for decades.
The yak bones come from yaks that lived full lives on the Tibetan plateau, collected by local herders only after the animals passed naturally. Tsering soaks each bone in spring water for 49 days to soften the marrow, then carves them into beads with a knife inherited from his father. “Bone remembers the mountain,” he says, running a finger over a newly shaped bead. “It won’t crack if you treat it like a friend.”
Nearby, his wife Dolma sorts turquoise stones from Nagari mines, picking those with “clouds in the blue”—her grandmother’s term for the stones that hold the color of Yamdrok Lake. A few get tiny silver wraps, not for shine, but to keep the stone’s energy, as the old ones taught.
Stringing is the slowest part. Tsering uses safflower-dyed elastic cord, the kind Tibetan women use for hair. He measures 17cm with twine—“the distance between a heartbeat and a smile”—then threads each bead: bone, turquoise, faux amber, one by one, until the colors flow like a mountain landscape. He never uses a template. “If two bracelets look the same, the mountain gods will laugh,” he grins, swapping a turquoise bead for a smaller one. “Handmade means yours will never be exactly like another. See this scratch on the bone? That’s where I slipped yesterday. Now it’s yours—a secret between us.”
We don’t just sell Jewelry. We send you a piece of the plateau, strung with stories. When you wear this bracelet, the yak bone carries Himalayan wind, the turquoise holds sacred lake blue, and every uneven bead whispers: “You’re wearing something made by hand, with care.” Because Accessories should do more than look good—they connect you to a place, a craft, and the hands that made them.
Tibetan Nepal Yak Bone Turquoise Bracelet
In a sunlit workshop in Lhasa’s old town, 56-year-old Tsering sits cross-legged on a woolen mat, his calloused hands turning a piece of yak bone over sandpaper. The air smells of pine resin and polished stone—this is where our bracelets are born, not from machines, but from hands that have worked with plateau materials for decades.
The yak bones come from yaks that lived full lives on the Tibetan plateau, collected by local herders only after the animals passed naturally. Tsering soaks each bone in spring water for 49 days to soften the marrow, then carves them into beads with a knife inherited from his father. “Bone remembers the mountain,” he says, running a finger over a newly shaped bead. “It won’t crack if you treat it like a friend.”
Nearby, his wife Dolma sorts turquoise stones from Nagari mines, picking those with “clouds in the blue”—her grandmother’s term for the stones that hold the color of Yamdrok Lake. A few get tiny silver wraps, not for shine, but to keep the stone’s energy, as the old ones taught.
Stringing is the slowest part. Tsering uses safflower-dyed elastic cord, the kind Tibetan women use for hair. He measures 17cm with twine—“the distance between a heartbeat and a smile”—then threads each bead: bone, turquoise, faux amber, one by one, until the colors flow like a mountain landscape. He never uses a template. “If two bracelets look the same, the mountain gods will laugh,” he grins, swapping a turquoise bead for a smaller one. “Handmade means yours will never be exactly like another. See this scratch on the bone? That’s where I slipped yesterday. Now it’s yours—a secret between us.”
We don’t just sell Jewelry. We send you a piece of the plateau, strung with stories. When you wear this bracelet, the yak bone carries Himalayan wind, the turquoise holds sacred lake blue, and every uneven bead whispers: “You’re wearing something made by hand, with care.” Because Accessories should do more than look good—they connect you to a place, a craft, and the hands that made them.