CRAFT
Search for a silver lining
HARIHARAN BALAKRISHNAN
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The art of weaving and warping silver by hand is slowly dying for want of support.
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Every piece is made by hand; no machinery is used. The implements are traditional and the chemicals rudimentary.
PHOTO: H. BALAKRISHNAN
Exquisite work: Orissa's prowess at sea.
"HERE, we don't have any distinctions of caste, gender, religion or language. We have amid us Hindus and Muslims, Oriyas and Bengalis, upper caste and backward classes, men and women. Tarakosi is open to all." That was 73-year-old Jeeban Dey of Cuttack.
My friend Raju Das took me to him when I wanted to buy some unique gifts for friends of my nieces in Botswana. Thirty years ago, as an officer in State Bank of India Raju had spotted this master-craftsman and financed his work.
We walked along the narrow streets of Mohammadia Bazar in the monsoon slush, and asking our way, we finally reached the Dey house in a side-street with nothing but his name for our guide.
When told of our mission, he took out exquisite pieces from his treasure-box. It was sheer poetry. An intricate artefact was chosen, and we asked the master-craftsman to make 25 brooches of that design.
I gave him the advance and Jeeban Dey said that he would need at least a week to make the brooches. I agreed. Just before we bid adieu, his youngest son pleaded with us to find him a job — any job.
Unique art
Talking to people familiar with this unique art, I learnt that different kinds of work go into the making of the final product. Every piece is made by hand; no machinery is used. The implements are traditional and the chemicals rudimentary. Rua work, which shines like glass, has practically disappeared. Bishnu Sahu of Bidyadharpur was acknowledged as the master of rua.
A couple of days later, I went to Bidyadharpur, a village 10 miles from Cuttack. There I met Baidhar Maharana, the uncrowned king of the doma chain, a delicate rope of silver filigree made of fine threads woven into a light, but magnificent, chain. Though he was not yet 65, Sahu had decided to retire from his life work and passion some years earlier and concentrate on farming. Folding his hands, he said, "Never again, sir. The merchants of Cuttack for whom I was a virtual bonded labourer for years have fleeced us. I was a fool in my youth."
Ramachandra Sahoo has a shop in Mohammadia Bazar, where he sells filigree. According to him, filigree business alone is not enough to sustain a family. So, besides authentic work, he also sells machine-made silver products.
A few craftsmen are still engaged by Marwari and Gujarati businessmen of Cuttack on piece-rate basis or monthly salary. Many have gone as workers to the Paradip port, or to the coal sector. That way they earn much more.
Time of windfall
The saving grace is the annual Dussera festivities. Over the past few years, the various bazaars of the city are competing to outdo each other in erecting grand pandals. The filigree medhas (background to the idol) have become a matter of prestige. Local leaders 'impose' various contributions on citizens. Interestingly, they don't collect money but talk in terms of grams/kg of silver! Craftsmen are scarce. So they get a windfall on the demand-supply principle at this time of the year.
From July-August onwards, they are reluctant to take up any other orders for bulk supply. Puja is one time when they hope to get a just reward for their artistry. But puja comes but once a year.
Dilip Parekh owns the only exclusive silver filigree shop in Orissa's capital, Bhubaneswar. "My grandfather was the first to have erected a silver filigree medha in Cuttack. The beauty and grandeur of what he used to do is still talked about," says Dilip. He rues the fact that this art is dying.
As a businessman, he says he cannot afford to block capital on works of art — waiting for customers to come to his shop and discover the treasure that lies in store for the connoisseur.
These items are made not only in silver, but also in gold. Even today, there are a few craftsmen who create such work. But what of the future?
Grim future
My mind goes back to the day when we were waiting for Jeeban Dey's creations. It was the eleventh hour, and there was no news from Cuttack.
Just as the car was leaving, Jeeban Dey's eldest son turned up. "Here is what you asked for, sir," he said and handed over a plastic pouch. Every single brooch was perfect. I hurriedly shoved the packet into the car and paid the money due to a gifted artisan.
The man who got down from the pillion was waiting in the wings. His brother's mission accomplished, he stepped forward and asked, "Sir, could you get me a job?"
That was Jeeban Dey's youngest son. Is there a silver lining in this filigree cloud?
E-mail: fabalas02@yahoo.com
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