A Diya-maker’s Diwali
There's a certain smell in the air that signals that autumn is around the bend. The days are bright, with but a slight chill in the breeze. The smell of night flowering jasmine engulfs the air as city gears up for upcoming festivities. With hardly a couple of weeks to go for Diwali, feeble hands of 400 odd families, work tirelessly in faceless congested lanes of India’s largest potters’ colony, Kumhar Gram, nestled deep inside Uttam Nagar in South-West Delhi.
Standing testimony to a rich past of the ancient profession of artistic expression, this colony of traditional potters becomes a flurry of activities, just ahead the Festival of Lights. Accessed through a serpentine route, one is exposed to, (in no particular order) dirt, construction dust, cowpats, narrow alleys strewn with garbage and a constant stream of cars, motorbikes and e-rickshaws whizzing past. But on entering the colony, the din subsides. Horns become distant, the street plan is straightforward, mini trucks and rickshaws quietly going in and out carrying goods.
No one can afford to waste time. There is work to be finished, deadline to be met. One main street runs across the length of the village and mini alleys run perpendicular to it, cutting through at regular intervals. The main street is dotted with shops selling earthenware on either side and the shopfronts conceal potters’ homes.
A glance through the displayed goods might reveal a lone potter at his wheel, or a woman preparing clay. But to see the hive of activity in the open, one must turn into one of these narrow lanes. More potter homes line the alley on either side and mounds of raw clay lie on the streets. Every mound belongs to a particular family. The houses are mostly double-storeyed and almost all have a kiln, either inside or jutting out of a higher floor. The potters’ wares spill out on the streets, where they are left in the open to dry, even through the night.
Women sit beside the mounds pounding the raw clay with wooden sticks to remove lumps and give it a more powdery texture. This is the first stage of the process and is traditionally performed by the women in the family. After mixing it with water, and achieving the elusive right consistency, the clay is run through the ingenious contraption called pugmill. Its name, derived from the Hindi word pug, meaning foot, points to the earlier practice of using one’s feet to do the same job. It is fed the moist clay from one end, and it comes out from the other end as “smooth as silk". It transforms the clay by lending it evenness and a smooth texture, making it easier to work with on the wheel. At this point, a more scrupulous potter would knead the clay to remove further impurities, like tiny stones, but for many it is ready to meet its maker: the potter.
For a family of modest means, however, the work is relentless. They can only make a living if every member of the family plays a role. Earlier women only used to prepare the clay and embellish dried pieces, but increasingly they can be found at the wheel. The difference between a skilful potter and a mediocre one is all in the pressure of the fingertips. There are potters here who make 4,000 diyas a day and sell it at dirt-cheap prices. The traders then sell it at a huge margin. The fate of the potters’ village may be uncertain, but its streets give no hint of untoward upheaval. Diwali is their biggest sale season every year and the pace of work is frenetic.
Throughout the year, they make water vessels, decorative bowls, showpieces and even pots for nurseries. For Diwali, however, Lakshmi and Ganesh figurines, along with diyas in myriad shapes, sizes and colours are in high demand.
While the entire country is chanting Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s mantra of ‘Make in India’, these potters are facing tough competition from ‘Made in China’ decorative lights and fancy lamps that have flooded the Diwali market. Clay diyas, in fact, are almost on the verge of becoming a thing of past as new varieties of lights have forayed into the market.
However, there are people who still feel nostalgic when it comes to clay diyas. “Lighting diyas is an integral part of our festival and for me, it still is indispensable. I clearly remember how I used to, as a child, run after my father to help him set up the diyas in a horizontal chronological manner on the terrace border wall. That was followed by pouring of oil into the diyas and then placing them in different parts of the house. My mother used to put colourful patterns on the floor and it was one-of-its-kind experience placing the diyas on top of the intricate designs, made meticulously by her. The other fond memory I have is about how my mother used to stop me from lighting the diyas as she was scared I would burn my hands whereas my father, being the adventurous one, used to convince her to allow her daughter cherish new experiences!
This year, traditional potters are anticipating a bright Diwali as compared to the last couple of years as the collective clamour to move away from Chinese lamps and lights towards clay diyas is gaining momentum.
Let's make this Diwali a brighter one for these 'Diya-makers' and decorate our homes with the traditional clay diyas, just like we used to in good 'ol days !!!
