The yellow metal's lustre does not rub off on goldsmiths

A cross hundreds of dingy, fume-filled workshops in Kolkata’s ‘sona-patti’, or gold belt, a generation of craftsmen is struggling, even as the value of the precious metal they shape into intricate ornaments has soared.

In the last year, gold prices have moved up by more than 20 per cent, currently hovering near the Rs 20,000-mark for 10 grams on the Multi-Commodity Exchange, as investors, including central banks, have looked to the commodity as a hedge against inflation.

But for the men who craft the yellow metal, these record prices haven’t brought with them better tidings. Instead, the rapidly rising value has led to a decline in the volume of work, as consumers settle for fewer and smaller ornaments.

 

Inside one of the small rooms that line both sides of Nabin Chandra Boral Lane, at the centre of the city’s gold district, 25-year-old Parimal Pal quietly works away on a pair of gold bangles, just as his father and grandfather before him must have. The soft-spoken artisan, though, is fairly certain that he will be the last generation of the Pal family to ply this trade. “On an average, I make Rs 4,000-5,000 every month, but that isn't going to be enough once I get married and have a family. If I get another job, I’ll move out of here,” he confessed.

While changing to another profession may be easier said than done, the desire to quit a generational trade illustrates the difficulties of being a goldsmith. Apart from the tedious work conditions and long hours, the lurching demand hasn't allowed these craftsmen to hike their standard rates.

“The volume, in terms of weight, has reduced between 20-25 per cent over the last year, because of which (craftsmen) are definitely suffering. But there is still demand for handmade jewellery. Once the (gold) price stabilises, consumers will be back,” said All-India Gems & Jewellery Trade Federation Vice-Chairman Bachraj Bamalwa.

For veterans of the neighbourhood like 64-year-old Birendranath Manna, things are unlikely to improve anytime soon, but the craft will survive. His two sons, also goldsmiths, have relocated to Delhi. “There is more work there,” the father explained.

That apart, the problem here is structural. A section of craftsmen work independently, almost like freelancers, with most orders routed through middlemen or smaller jewellers. The other group functions under semi-formal contracts with jewellers and take home a fixed salary. The set-up doesn't allow for collective bargaining.

Gem & Jewellery Export Promotion Council Regional Chairman Pankaj Parekh subscribes to the view that the transition in the jewellery business has had an impact. “There was a time when a father brought his three sons and two nephews into the craft. That has stopped,” said Parekh.

Young and skilled craftsmen like 24-year-old Badshah Sheikh can hardly expect their monthly salary to see a significant jump in the next few years, even if demand recovers sharply. Sheikh, who has been in the trade for the last decade, returned to Kolkata after learning his craft in Ahmedabad. “I came back to be with my family,” he explained. The path out of Nabin Chandra Boral Lane leads to BB Ganguly Street, a dilapidated boulevard lined with gaudily illuminated jewellery shops, mostly selling gold. Every evening, hundreds of craftsmen — including Sheikh, Pal and Manna — must tread that ostentatious path on their way home, watching their precious produce on display, despite the shine coming off their own lives.

BADSHAH SHEIKH

After years of learning the craft in Ahmedabad, the 24-year-old Badshah Sheikh returned to Kolkata with updated skills. Having passed up the chisels and hammers for a large machine, ensconced in its own room, he draws a steady salary of Rs 5,600. But, the farmer’s son is now stuck in the same quagmire as others around him. Just that he has to travel less to reach home.

BIRENDRANATH MANNA

Clad in a white vest and a plaid lungi, Birendranath Manna pulls on his beedi with deliberation. After all, the 64-year-old Manna has seen the rise and fall from a time when craftsmen worked with powered gold to “chocolates” (gold bars). His experience guided in sending his two sons to Delhi. Yet, Manna refuses to accept the craft will die.

PARIMAL PAL

Parimal Pal was brought to the narrow lanes of sona-patti by his father, a goldsmith, as a 12-year-old. More than a decade now, the third-generation craftsman is disillusioned. He shares a small room with three others, but rarely do all have their hands full with work. Pal, however, is lucky. His craft, unlike his colleagues, cannot be replicated by machines yet.