Our Heritage: Potters of Bygone Days
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Our Heritage: Potters of Bygone Days

We - the Kashmiris are very quick in abandoning our cherished values and traditions in the name of so-called modernization and development

Post by on Sunday, March 13, 2022

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 STANDPOINT

 

A queue of four to five bare-footed women, wearing loose cotton pherans, carrying loads of big and broad wicker baskets on their heads, laden with terracotta made pails, pots, cauldrons, bowls and lids, is a memory as fresh as daisy, on the canvas of my reminiscences. The appealing gaits of these industrious women were remarkably alluring and enticing to eyes. These women would often tread briskly with a natural dalliance on the pavements of roads. A euphonious but soft jingle produced from the anklets of these women would send tranquil vibes through the atmosphere and surroundings. Covering longer distances on foot that too during sizzling summer days, would hardly deter the resolve of these hardworking women to reach their chosen destinations. These women used to set out for their voyages very early in the morning to escape from the scorching heat of midday. Unlike today's street vendors who create a lot of noise and fuss using loudspeakers, these earthen vessel hawkers would make use of soft street cries. I vividly remember some of the vendors had created custom melodic phrases to lure the customers.

Purchasing the clay-made utensils from these women was almost obligatory for our mothers and grandmothers. Women folk from every household of our mohalla would love to buy these unglazed utensils and vessels. All in sundry would buy these lovely utensils for their affordable prices. Male intervention was never sought by any women to purchase a pot, because cash had no role in it. It was almost a kind of barter system. Paddy and kidney bean seeds ( Rajma ) were mostly offered in exchange to these pots. Since these potter women had to cover longer distances on foot, that too in unpleasantly hot weather.

So, first of all, they were served with cold water kept in big clay pails and homemade buttermilk. Then, lunch was served to these potter women like special guests. After the lunch, a typical kind of bargaining between these guest ladies and our mothers would take place. Hospitality of our mothers at its own place, but they would leave no stone unturned to make a suitable bargain. I vividly remember my maternal grandmother's way of bargaining with these potter women. Once, during my childhood days, my maternal grandmother while purchasing some clay-made utensils, said to one of the potter women, " Naten Doun, Lejan Doun Te Yiman Anten Tchorun Dimai Daanez Zae Trakh ( Will give you ten kilos of paddy for two pails, two pots and these four lids).

Many of the terracotta utensils had intricate floral designs and patterns carved on their outer surfaces. Some had the images of animals and mythological characters engraved on them. The immaculate and impeccable motifs on these utensils bear testimony to the great talent and skills of our potter artisans. They are equally talented today as well, even better than earlier. But, there is no one to appreciate and commercialize their skilled fingers.

Well, the clay-made utensils were loved by one and all. Most of our houses had small separate rooms for these delicate utensils. The room in local jargon was called ' Baane Kuth ' (Utensil room). All the terracotta made vessels were kept in this room, except those which were used in kitchens viz cauldrons and other pots for cooking. Big earthen pails were used to store drinking water. There used to be a special wooden stand in every kitchen to hold the big pails containing drinking water. The stand was known as ' Garwanj '. Coming back to the '' Baane Kuth '' , all the agricultural harvest except paddy, was stored in big-mouthed pails called " Mutth ''. Pulses, rice, sun-dried vegetables, salt, sugar and spices were stored in the room in separate vessels. Special clay-made lids called " Anett " were used to cover the pails, mutths and other utensils. I remember three to four pails full of collard pickle was kept in the room with the onset of winter.

The clay-made pots were fragile to breakage, but were quite beneficial for human physical health. Drinking water kept in the clay-made pails was comparatively cooler during hot summer days. Four to six pails were kept on the Garwanj in every Kashmir kitchen to store pure drinking water. But, now, neither those wooden stands called Garwanj nor those pails exist in our homes. I wonder, if our teenagers and tween-agers know anything about these things of our recent past. Now, aluminium pails are used in kitchens to store the drinking water. These metallic pails add lethal chemicals to the water stored in them, making it terribly dangerous for human consumption. Even we cook our favourite cuisines and dishes in such metallic cauldrons, which make it viciously threatening for our survival. The sight of clay pails and pots in our homes is gone.

We - the Kashmiris are very quick in abandoning our cherished values and traditions in the name of so-called modernization and development. Big earthen pails containing drinking water for public convenience, kept outside mosques, shrines, temples and gurudwaras, is a common sight in many advanced cities and states of India. The lovely earthen-ware is witness to the glory of our bright past and magnificent civilization. But, we are hellbent to erase every sign of our cultural splendor and grandeur. We take pride in using aluminium and other metallic things, in place of our own clayware. We attribute it to our fake prestige and dignity. We will perish but won't compromise with our false standards, which are based upon pomp and pride.

The art has succumbed to official callousness and insensitivity towards it. Even commoners are equally responsible for the plight of this art and these artisans. We all must strive collaboratively to rejuvenate this dying art. Planters and pots for kangdis are not enough to keep this important element of our heritage alive. People at the helm must announce special loans and packages for these artists to add a new lease of life to the wilting art. I fear the day when our progeny will know about this art and these artisans through books and museums only. The onus is on all of us to preserve this great tradition through one or the other way.

 

(Author is a Teacher and Rising Kashmir Columnist. He can be reached at mushtaqhurra143@gmail.com)

 

Box: The art has succumbed to official callousness and insensitivity towards it. Even commoners are equally responsible for the plight of this art and these artisans. We all must strive collaboratively to rejuvenate this dying art