Preserving the Traditional Art of Making Clay Idols

Mandrem, to a lot of tourists and unfortunately to the younger generation of Goans, is synonymous with sun, sand, beaches and shacks. Located in the Pernem taluka, between the two popular tourist places of Morjim and Arambol, Mandrem is an idyllic coastal village, when ‘Googled’, will only throw up names of shacks and restaurants that the tourists flock to Goa for. But on a Sunday morning, I have a different purpose to visit this beautiful village…to meet a man whose family has been making idols of Lord Ganesha for the last 60 years.

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Every year, in the month of May, Praveen Murari Mhamal and his family switch gears to a different routine. During the months leading to Ganesh Chaturthi, Sanjay, along with his family and with the help of a few local workers, chalks out his plan for the season. The routine demands 15 hours of labour every day which includes procuring the right amount and quality of clay, deciding the theme and style of each individual idol, making individual body parts using moulds, carving out the required shapes and surface texture, giving the idols ample time to dry before finally  applying the first coat of paint.

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Faith and devotion has many forms (Pic Courtesy: Rudresh Mhamal)

Started by Praveen’s father, Murari Ganesh Mhamal in early 1950s, ‘Susheela Arts’ has been catering to the demand of idols during the season since then. Every year idol-makers across the state start their work by the beginning of June with the advent of the first rains. The work comes with a time limit as the festival is celebrated in the months of August/September depending on the Hindu calendar. The states of Goa and Maharashtra celebrate Ganesh Chaturthi festival with pomp and in Goa alone, around 500 artisans across the state make and sell the idols. Praveen laments that procuring clay has become difficult now. Sometimes idols are also made with lagddo (clay) mixed with papier mache and a binding glue. In the earlier times clay used to be taken from agricultural land and farmers in the villages would request the artisans to take clay from their land. It was a sustainable practice, encouraging rotation and tilling of the earth, making it richer and more fertile. Today, it has become difficult to get clay because of growing commercial activities in the area or building of residential complexes and whatever is left is polluted with construction debris. Clay from Mandrem is by far the best in Goa and is in great demand as it has the right consistency and texture to make idols. Black clay, which is available easily in other parts (Warkhand v illage in Pedne Taluka) is too fine to use and leaves fine lines and cracks when it starts drying. But the red clay which is used in Mandrem has natural mixture of fine gravel, which is perfect to work as it dries faster and thus can be painted sooner too. Earlier, natural colours were used which were prepared at home using colours with resin used from local trees especially cashew. Now-a-days, distemper is used to paint the idols as natural colours are difficult to procure.

In the recent times, in spite of the ban on the use of Plaster of Paris (PoP), many idol makers are still using the same. PoP idols are lighter than the clay variety as they are cheaper and easier to make. Says Praveen, “PoP idols can be made with one single mould. They dry faster and hence can be painted also faster. But the clay idols are made using different moulds for different parts. Each of these have to be made separately and then put together as one single idol, which is time consuming.” Despite the laborious work, there are still artisans like Praveen who believe in promoting and preserving this skill.

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Every year, Praveen makes around 250 idols and takes almost 2 ½ to 3 months to complete the work. Each idol is given exclusive attention and detailing is done with absolute care. After each part is carefully given shape with the mould, the artist uses two brushes – hard and soft – to give the surface texture and smoothness. Traditionally the bristles of the hard brush were made using the thick hairs from the neck of a wild boar and the wooden handle from soft wood of a pine tree. Praveen uses the same methods that he learnt from his father and makes the brushes with his own hands. Though a time-consuming affair, Praveen’s passion and dedication towards his work prompts him to continue with the conventional methods. There are very few artisans who use traditional methods to make idols in Goa because of lack of any financial benefit and long hours of labour.

It is a custom in Goa to procure idols from the same artisan who the family has been buying from for many generations. Hence whatever the price or dakshina (offering or gift) that the family has been giving the artisan for generations, has not increased over the years. Many continue to offer the same paltry amount and artisans don’t get any financial gain. Many times, a ‘dakshina’ of betel leaves, betel nuts and coconut is offered to the artisan in exchange for the idol, as is the family tradition. Hence some idol makers are either moving to other towns during the season so they can sell the idols for a higher price, or are closing their business.

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Praveen at work (Pic courtesy: My friend Rudresh Mhamal

“For me each idol is unique and special. I don’t neglect or overlook any detail. I try to create a perfect idol of Lord Ganesha to depict the Lord himself sitting in front of me because, for the family who buys from us, it is the idol they are going to worship,” says Praveen with a smile.

The subsidy that is announced by the Goa government, is not sufficient at all and doesn’t cover the expenses. Also the subsidy comes very late every year and the artisans don’t get any advantage from it. This state of affairs is encouraging import of idols from other states which are commercially done using environmentally hazardous materials. But unfortunately, neither the government nor the general public worry about water pollution when the idols are immersed. It is a sad sight a few days later, idols washed ashore totally intact and in a state of neglect.

Along with Ganesha idols, Praveen also makes idols for temple festivals.  Praveen and his brother Sanjay Mhamal make thematic backdrops for stage performances during festivals like Mahashivratri, Diwali and Durga Puja and other occasions on order. He takes us for a tour around his workshop and shows us the painted backdrops that he has made for a school event in Mandrem recently. “Such work has come down drastically and we don’t earn much with this occupation anymore. So we cater to other stage requirements like complete sound system, stage decoration, furniture etc for events.” Praveen Mhamal supplies costumes for the historical and religious plays staged in schools, temples and other events.

Praveen is happy that he is able to preserve his family occupation as well as the traditional art that he has inherited from his father. His children who are still too young to decide their career, help him with kneading the clay or painting the idols during the busier months.

Traditional occupations the world over are slowly getting obliterated, some because of the changing lifestyle but many because of lack of resources and sufficient support and aid from society and government. While lifestyle changes are normal and natural to a certain extent, those which encourage sustainable growth development should be preserved for the posterity.

The Modern Story of Salt

Santo gets ready for yet another hot day under the scorching April sun. His day starts at 6:00 am and undaunted by the long hours in front of him, he surveys the pans and walks the length and breadth of the chequered salt beds. His lean, dark body exposes his years of labour under the sun. His work gathers momentum as the day advances and the heat intensifies. But he knows that these are the conditions that are appropriate for the work ahead and he barely complains. With naked feet and a ‘foyem’ (the long wooden stick used to draw out the salt from the pan) in his hand, he moves from bed to bed raking up the crystals that are ready for harvesting. He makes small heaps on the intersections of the bed for the salt to dry. Once done with this, he moves to the next bed and continues the same.

Harsh realities

For Santo and his family, Goa is a second home as he comes from Belgaum, Karnataka every year in the month of October and sets up his makeshift home to live here for a few months. Right from the preparation of the beds and rebuilding of the bunds in the month of November, to harvesting the salt during February-May, the family toils on the land, exposed to the ravages of nature. The lands which are submerged in water during monsoon every year, come alive from November-May and creates an opportunity for people like Santo to make a little money before they go back to their villages to work as field hands for the rest of the year.

Santo making his regular checks of the bunds (April, 2019)

It has become highly difficult to find a skilled labourer in Goa as the younger generation is reluctant to learn the trade for want of more lucrative options. Added to that is the intensive labour involved and the declining demand for the unrefined salt that is an intimidating factor for the youth. Hence, out of 36 villages which produced salt in Goa earlier, only a handful of them are still functional to keep the occupation alive with the produce barely catering to the domestic market.

Ribandar Saltpans (May 2020)

Michael, another mittkār from Batim, Goa, laments that his sons are least interested in the work he has learnt from his father at the age of 11. His sons don’t share their father’s passion as this would mean 10-12 hours of work every day under the sun. At 65, Michael works through the day not just to use his ancestral lands and continue this traditional occupation, but because this is the only work he has learnt. “I dropped out school after my 7th std and learnt the work from my father. Since then I have been working in these fields”, he said, with surprisingly good English for an ‘uneducated’ man. Michael is one of the few Goans who is still trying to hold on to his lands. During the monsoon days, he cultivates his land and grows traditional rice varieties that are grown is saline lands like Kohrgut, Assgo, Khochro etc.

Micheal from Batim, Goa (May 2019)

Khazan lands

Traditionally salt was made by the evaporation of sea water or by extracting salt from the salt mines. Local biodiversity and suitable geographical and climactic conditions are pre-requisites for the building of salt pans. Solar extraction needs saline water supply that is regulated using sluice gates built in two different places. The Ribandar salt pan, for example, gets its supply of water from the Mandovi River depending on the need and the movement of the tide. The khazan on the other side of the Ponte Conde de Linhares (the causeway connecting Panjim to Ribandar) gets filled up which then is allowed, when necessary, through the second sluice gate, to enter the beds provided for evaporation and crystallizing of salt. The salt thus extracted has essential minerals that disappear in industrially refined salt. Khazans are waterlogged reclaimed lands that are used for agriculture, fishing and salt-making.

Sluice gate allows water to seep in from Mandovi river during high tide

A visit to these places would expose the stark truths of the disappearing khazans from the Goan landscape, environmental pollution, shrinking of the mangrove cover all across Goa due to developmental activities and finally the general tendency of people who are moving away from healthier and indigenous food and culture for a more dangerous modern industrially and commercially made produce. Many of these lands are also being used by many for agriculture and pisciculture, which, many believe, is commercially more viable. Goa has many such khazans which are habitats for crabs, shrimp, mud skippers and also migratory birds. Hence destruction or abandoning of saltpans also affects the biodiversity of these hotspots or vice versa.

Pickling and more

Salt is not just used to enhance taste of food; its use as a preservative has been discovered thousands of years back. Many families in Goa still use the unrefined sea salt for curing their meats and making pickles. Preservation and drying of fish is another very important activity for which traditional salt is essential. Today, salt is being fortified with iodine and sometimes iron as deficiency of any one of these leads to serious illnesses. Additives are also used to make it free-flowing according to the dietary standards and Food and Drug Administration (FDA) regulations in each country. The Goan sea salt has a slight brownish tinge which comes because of the essential minerals and not because of any impurities. It has a distinct taste that gives food a burst of flavour. There are many families I know who use only the local sea salt for their daily food preparation.

Joaquim, Santo’s employer, leases out the land to the family every year and is happy with the produce that he gets. He does brisk business selling the salt to the local traders, as time is limited with the fast approaching monsoons that hit Goa by the end of May or beginning of June every year. The entire quantity of salt produced is not just for human consumption. The batch that is harvested initially is dirty and is hence used as a fertiliser for the coconut plantations that thrive in saline conditions. The salt produced subsequently is used for human consumption, explains Joaquim. He has good domestic market for both the varieties.

Joaquim, optimistic about the future (April, 2019)

Goa being coastal area has reaped the benefits of salt-making and this occupation has been in practice for the last 1500 years. Saltpans, which are built in khazans, have helped the Goan mittkar (mīt is salt in Konkani) yield good amounts of salt enough for export in the earlier times. Like any other traditional occupation, salt making also is facing the modern challenges from the lack of skilled labour, mindless commercialization, lure of ‘better’ opportunities and ‘lucrative’ jobs, lack of government support, and of course declining demand for the product. Though some of the traditional skills and occupations die a natural death like pottery, some are only getting extinct for lack of suitable support from society and government agencies.

Economic Recession 2020

A visit to the pans is a ritual for me every year either to pick up a few bags of salt for my domestic use, or just to walk around watching the mittkārs work on the salt fields. This year, as the lockdown eased a little, I visited the salt pans in Ribandar, hoping that situation is not as bad as elsewhere. To my pleasant surprise, along with Santo, there were a few more people working on the salt fields, oblivious to the pandemic scare that has gripped the world. I was elated to know that salt business this year has not been drastically affected. I could not meet Joaquim but a chat with a worker (he was reluctant to reveal his name) who has returned from the field for a brief rest, told us that business is as usual and that the pandemic has not really affected the flow of their regular customers. Luckily, this is a time-bound occupation, and a commodity that is entwined with Goan traditional calendar. Hence the season closed on a positive note for the mittkārs of Goa.

Summer 2020 in Goa has changed many things in many ways. As the world woke up to the possibilities of an unpredictable future, in several ways, Goa too woke up to shocking realities – of recession, unemployment and a bleak future. It is heart-warming to see that many who moved away from traditional occupations, are coming back to till their lands to become self-sufficient. It is a sign of prosperity but time will tell whether this change is impulsive or permanent. I thought of Michael, whose sons were earlier reluctant to become mittkars or farmers and hoped that they have decided, after all, to assist their father in his work and preserve their precious lands.

Ribandar Saltpan (May, 2020)

The history of salt recounts the history of human civilization. Its importance is not only as a seasoning ingredient but also as an important additive in several medicines. History states that wars have been waged, slaves have been exchanged, routes were laid, ceremonies were held and cities were named around the importance of salt to the humanity.

For Santo and Joaquim and their ilk, yesterday is already gone and tomorrow is yet to come but today is already here…and that is what matters the most.

The Sharpener of Knives

He is a frequent visitor to the residential areas of cities and towns of India, seen with his small machine hooked on his shoulder, walking the length and breadth of the Indian roads. He parks himself in a convenient place for people to notice him and starts his machine running his knife along the razor sharp edges of the circular blade. The piercing metallic sound is a call to people in the neighbourhood that the ‘sharpener of knives’ is here.

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I was surprised to see him this morning in our secluded and quiet colony nestled on the top of a hill. He was there just outside the gate, waiting for a householder to see him and request his services. When I asked him how he managed to walk all the way up the hill with his heavy machine, he said with a very grave, unsmiling face, “Paise keliye karna padta hai” (I have to do it to earn money), in broken Hindi. His reticent disposition did not put me off and I bombarded him with my curious questions about his life and work. A few more minutes and I learned that he hailed from Andhra Pradesh and was here in Goa for a few months every year. When he came to know that I spoke Telugu too, his face broke into a smile, and he looked suddenly relaxed as I continued to chat with him.

A middle-class Indian is usually very thrifty and hesitates to discard anything without considering its value. Knives, scissors, other domestic tools are all reused as long as they can be utilized in some way. Kitchen knives and scissors that become blunt after many years of use are stored away for the day when a knife sharpener man visits their locality. It is a common sight in India, people bringing out a bunch of blunt, rusted knives of different sizes and shapes, and getting them sharpened again. There is a joy in being able to reuse an instrument or a tool without unnecessarily spending a couple of hundreds on it.

Rangayya comes to Goa every year in the months of February-March just before ‘Gudi Padwa’, new year celebrated by Goan Hindus. He stays on till August-September and leaves back to his village Mārkapuram, Andhra Pradesh after ‘Ganesh Chaturthi’ (the Hindu festival worshipping Lord Ganesha, the elephant God). He comes here leaving his family behind in his village and goes around Panjim, Merces, Ribandar and sometimes as far as Calangute, Baga, Siolim etc in North Goa for work. He travels by the local buses, sometimes requesting the bus driver to keep his machine on top of the bus if the bus is too crowded. Rangayya claims that he makes enough money sharpening knives all day. He charges anywhere between 30-50 rupees depending on the size of the knives and their condition.

He seems be happy living the life of a nomad for a few months every year. Back in his village, he finds work on the fields as a field hand or does miscellaneous jobs around the village.

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My neighbour came out just then with a bunch of blunt knives and an adoli (a traditional Goan vegetable cutter and coconut scraper). A few minutes of haggling, they settled for an amount that they both were contented with and he started his work. With the piercing metallic sound deterring us from making any more conversation, I looked on quietly, watching him sharpen each knife with dexterity.

Keepers of a Healthy Nation

Suman woke up at 5:00 am with a start, worried that she has overslept. When she noticed that her husband’s cot was empty, she let out a sigh of relief. Ganesh, her husband, wakes up every morning at 4:00 to go to the fields to water the plants and manure the fields from time to time. This done, he waits for Suman to come over with the cane baskets and kaanji (rice gruel) and after a little bit of rest and breakfast, together they start gathering fresh brinjals, tāmbdi bhāji(red amaranth), radishes, ladies fingers  before sunrise. They are ready by 7:30 am with their baskets of seasonal vegetables and fruits, for the day to start.

Suman and many other women like her, line the Taleigao road every morning and evening, with their fresh produce neatly spread out in front of them. For these women, attracting customers is not very difficult.  People flock around them-to buy these farm-fresh veggies regularly. It is a common sight on the Taleigao– Dona Paula highway, commuters, and people going for their regular walks, bikes and cars stopping to haggle to buy these locally grown vegetables and fruits from these women.

Another cultivator, Savita Manik comes every morning by 7:30 with her neighbour Lakshmi Bandodkar to sell the fresh vegetables. Before she even opens her baskets and unwraps the sitting mats, there are passers-by stopping to buy her goods.  With continuous stream of customers, she finds a little time to talk to me about her life. Hailing from Khandepar, Ponda, Savita came to Taleigao after her marriage 20 years back. Since then, she has made Taleigao her home. She shared with me a few recipes to cook the snake gourds stuffed with shrimp and was amused and surprised that I am a vegetarian and don’t eat fish at all. She then gave me a couple of more recipes to prepare sabji (vegetable preparation) using the leaves of mooli (white radish) and tāmbdi bhāji(red amaranth) which are Goan delicacies. There is very little land left for farming in this part of Goa. With construction of apartments high on the list,  lucrative money offered by the builders to these local farmers, and increasing stress on cost of living in Goa, much of the land over the last one decade has fallen prey to new luxury apartments in the area. Asked whether they are happy with just their land cultivation, Suman, a regular vegetable grower in Taleigao goes silent. Families like hers  are often torn between a better lifestyle and love for their land and while some succumb to the former, many still are trying to hold on to their lands with the hope that they can some day pass it on to their children.

Driving back home, bags filled with my precious goods, I find myself saying a quick prayer under my breath that Goa, which is experiencing rapid change everywhere should at least not give up on its land and her way of living. Where else will one find a cosmopolitan culture, urban population, dotted with a pleasant rural setting? While development is an important aspect of any place and its people,commercialization especially in a small state like Goa is only going to affect its traditions, culture and customs and permanently change the face of the state.