The Entrapment of Gods

Rashmi Rajgopal of Saffronart tries figuring out what kept the Gods anchored to earth all along.

Mumbai: It’s that day of the week again when you need to pay a visit to your benefactors, Lord Balaji et al.  But today is different: you have a special wish in mind. Your attire is as attention-grabbing as an S.O.S. alert fired from a sinking ship, but that’s the whole point of all the jewellery. You reach your local temple and notice all the dazzling jewellery anchoring the Gods to Earth. Then, out of nowhere, insecurity collides with full force into you. You stare at your feet, suddenly reminded of your mortality and puny insignificance. You gaze dismally at the idols you came to pray to. Their divine magnificence would any day outdo your attire.  Then you forget why you came to the temple in the first place…

“Wish you looked as good as us, eh? No amount of penance will grant you that,” smirks Lord Balaji with Sridevi (l) and Bhudevi (r). Image Credit: http://blogs.houseofgems.com/index.php/2012/11/the-legendary-temple-jewelry-of-india/

“Wish you looked as good as us, eh? No amount of penance will grant you that,” smirks Lord Balaji with Sridevi (l) and Bhudevi (r). Image Credit: http://blogs.houseofgems.com/index.php/2012/11/the-legendary-temple-jewelry-of-india/

Sadly for you (and luckily for the Gods), temple jewellery is made solely to adorn our anthropomorphic idols. Specifications are based on the Gods in question, their roles, the manifestation of their powers in ornamental form etc. When the fad began centuries ago, donors generously flooded temples with customised jewellery for Gods. Temple jewellery varied according to the donor’s social, economic and religious standing (Nigam, M.L., Indian Jewellery, 63). Oh, and secularism scored big time.  Hyder Ali, Tipu Sultan, the Nizam of Hyderabad (Ibid, 65) and other Muslim rulers of the south also lavished these temples with jewellery.

You’re scratching your head, wondering what all this signifies. Deity jewellery symbolises all the heavenly resplendence our earthly minds cannot possibly fathom. It’s painfully obvious that we can never match up to the Gods, hence the distinction. This is all rad, you say, but bear in mind this feat was no assembly-line production. Which is where dedicated goldsmiths and craftsmen feature. Adhering to a rigid set of requirements calls for a back-up of centuries-old family tradition, skill, patience and monetary investment. If you set out looking for skilled artisans, you’re most likely to find them toiling away in Nagercoil and Malaypore in Tamil Nadu, South India. Ah, but I see you lunge for Doc Brown’s DeLorean. Going back in time, you’d want to check out the special workshops of Mysore King Krishnaraja Wodeyar III.

Why are you specifically referring to South India, you ask me. Not because I’m a South Indian, I tell you, slightly offended. Well-preserved specimens are more probable to be found down south compared to the north, which has been subject to invasion over the years. Speaking of the north, there are extant specimens in the Srinathji temple in Nathdwara, Rajasthan (Krishnan, U. R., & Ramamrutham, B., Indian Jewellery – Dance of the Peacock: Jewellery Traditions of India, 196). Which brings me to part two…

Just when you thought Lord Balaji had the last laugh,  the Enamel and Pearl Srinathji Necklace (Lot 23) shows up. Image Credit: http://www.saffronart.com/customauctions/PreWork.aspx?l=9157

Just when you thought Lord Balaji had the last laugh,
the Enamel and Pearl Srinathji Necklace (Lot 23) shows up. Image Credit: http://www.saffronart.com/customauctions/PreWork.aspx?l=9157

The necklace you see here depicts Srinathji, an avatar of Krishna. This is also temple jewellery, and here it becomes crucial to distinguish between the ornamental and the religious. This isn’t for your aesthetic pleasure, oh no. Temple dancers, priests and royalty began wearing temple jewellery metaphorising the overwhelming power I spoke of earlier. Then devotees jumped on the bandwagon. And you’re thinking it would be a good idea to take a cue from all this. What’s the cue? Saffronart.

“You know you want me,” says the Gowrishankaram (lot 82). Image Credit: http://www.saffronart.com/customauctions/PreWork.aspx?l=9216

“You know you want me,” says the Gowrishankaram (lot 82). Image Credit: http://www.saffronart.com/customauctions/PreWork.aspx?l=9216

Here’s the perfect example of having entrapped Lord Shiva in gold: the Gowrishankaram pendant (Lot 82). You’re relieved to see him in his calmer self, seated with Parvati on his bull, Nandi. You begin thinking you may want to bid for this piece. That’s not all. The lower compartment is an urn to store vibhuti¸ or sacred ash, to mimic Shiva’s ritual of smearing himself with it (Untracht, O., Traditional Jewelery of India, 39). Yes yes, temple jewellery is metaphor-obsessed. Just go for it.

These pieces feature in the Autumn Auction of Fine Jewels and Silver on October 23-24,2013.

To view the online catalogue, please click here.

The Mawji-emption of Silverware

Rashmi Rajgopal of Saffronart looks at how Oomersi Mawji’s creations set a benchmark for silverware, and turns the spotlight on some of the pieces featuring in the upcoming Saffronart Autumn Auction of Fine Jewels and Silver.

Mumbai: Many legends are like parasites in a horror film: they thrive on a potent dose of exaggerated retellings and an insatiable audience willing to consume these tales and pass them on. They’re the conniving ones that will ferret you out of your underground lair of elusion. You’re cornered, and they’ve got that slick, deceptive smile plastered all over their faces. You want to obliterate them with your bazooka. Your sense of discretion is your ammo and you load your weapon. But they’ve got allies, allies in their teeming millions that have their own bazookas loaded with a concoction of rumour-mongering and desperation. You’re suddenly falling to pieces. Their lies have outnumbered your sanity. Then the minority swaggers in, armed with proof, ripping through the falsity that nearly got you. You turn around in slow-mo to face your saviour(s), your eyes wide with incredulity…

“You’re Welcome,” says the Baluster Silver Mug, spawn of Oomersi Mawji (Lot 102) Image Credit: http://www.saffronart.com/customauctions/PreWork.aspx?l=9236

“You’re Welcome,” says the Baluster Silver Mug, spawn of Oomersi Mawji (Lot 102)
Image Credit: http://www.saffronart.com/customauctions/PreWork.aspx?l=9236

And now you want to know all about your new best silverware friends who saved you from the jaws of deception. You want to know everything: where they are from, what puts them in the minority of “true” legends and gives them that strange light glowing at the back of them as if they’re apostles. Telling exaggerations apart from truth requires proof, and you want to do your bit to ensure their survival. They’re Oomersi Mawji’s creations, after all.

You start by asking for a little background on Mawji’s hometown of Cutch and what gave an edge to silverware originating from that region. Cutch was famed for its thriving cultural and political scene until the 19th century. Cursed first with a great earthquake and then with famine, many of its citizens were forced to migrate to the greener pastures of Karachi and Mumbai, both of which became centres for silver trade. You can imagine the massive culture drain that followed. Redemption lay entirely in the hands of the Mahraos of the region, and redeem it they did. Mahrao Bahadur set the ball rolling with his committed encouragement of the arts, especially silverware, in the region.

Sure, the Mahraos deserved credit for bringing Cutch silver to the world’s attention, but aggressive marketing alone doesn’t sustain anything for too long. Here’s where our hero, Mr. Mawji, steps in. Oomersi Mawji fought his way up the rungs of reputation, first by switching family professions and then by stumping already established silversmith families with his stunning detailing of works and an acute display of craftsmanship. This feat was possible thanks to the very high standards of purity of silver (95-98%) used by Cutch artisans, whose sources were Mecca, Zanzibar, Bombay and the “Swahili Rand”, or from customers (Wynyard R.T. Wilkinson, Indian Silver 1858-1947, 1999: The Chameleon Press Ltd., 68). Sources of inspiration included a blend of Islamic and Hindu designs found on a stone-carving of a 15th century mosque in Ahmedabad (Ibid, 66) and 17th century Portuguese pottery from Coimba. Several foreign expositions later, his works became immensely popular during the British Raj and he was deemed “best silversmith of nineteenth-century India” (Ibid, 69). His luck didn’t just end there: he was also appointed as court silversmith to the Maharaja of Cutch. Things bode well. The rest is history. Silverware was soon produced by Oomersi Mawji & Co. All this was short-lived; they closed up shop in the 1930s. Which makes their works all the more valuable and Mr. Mawji a true legend.

“Here’s your proof,” says the Raised Silver Centrepiece, Oomersi Mawji & Co., Bhuj (Lot 101) Image Credit: http://www.saffronart.com/customauctions/PreWork.aspx?l=9235

“Here’s your proof,” says the Raised Silver Centrepiece, Oomersi Mawji & Co., Bhuj (Lot 101)
Image Credit: http://www.saffronart.com/customauctions/PreWork.aspx?l=9235

Okay, he may have gotten lucky, you say, still in need of much convincing. So your eyes dart over the Oomersi Mawji pieces before you. You pick up the Rare Trophy Cup (Lot 104) and inspect it. At the centre of the acanthus repoussé motifs, you see a lion pouncing on a helpless deer. The expression of terror and doomed resignation on the deer, the single-minded ferocity of the lion, those leave you nodding your head in approval. Then you slide your finger over the pattern between the spaces. Fish scales, or armour rings. You’d have thought they would step back and admire their work for the lucid scrolling, the smooth contours and accuracy of expressions, but no—Mawji & Co. went right ahead and filled all that space with irreplicable intricacy. Of course, such detailing needs a mark, and you find that at the base of the trophy: O.M. Bhuj.

"We kid you not,” says the Rare Trophy Cup of Oomersi Mawji & Co., Bhuj (Lot 104) Image Credit: http://www.saffronart.com/common/zoomit.html?url=http://mediacloud.saffronart.com/auctions/2013/jwloct/jewelry_13oct_03798_hires.jpg

“We kid you not,” says the Rare Trophy Cup of Oomersi Mawji & Co., Bhuj (Lot 104)
Image Credit: http://www.saffronart.com/common/zoomit.html?url=http://mediacloud.saffronart.com/auctions/2013/jwloct/jewelry_13oct_03798_hires.jpg

You now feel slightly guilty for having expressed doubt at your saviours. But they’re okay with it, after eliciting a promise from you to view them at the Saffronart Online Auction taking place on the 23rd and 24th of this month. You also find their cousins Silver Tankard, Lot 105 and (yet another) Baluster Silver Mug, Lot 103 to be commanding the same degree of admiration.
For the complete family of silverware, view the online catalogue. Better yet, drop by and see them for yourself.

In the Limelight: Basra Pearls

Rashmi Rajgopal of Saffronart looks at the rise to fame of Basra pearls, their decline and resurrection in relation to some of the magnificent pieces featuring in Saffronart’s forthcoming auction of Fine Jewels and Silver

Mumbai: You’d think I’d start this post with a clichéd “pearls have forever captivated humans”, or some such proclamation heavily lavishing these little beads of calcium carbonate with poetic adulation. I’ll be blunt: they’re an accident of nature, they’re made of carbon just like us and every other organic substance on this planet, and the pearl-forming process doesn’t sound very pleasant. Rolling a foreign particle around in your mantle for years must surely be exhausting. I’ll have to admit though, that’s where we must all accept subservience of our abilities to oysters’ nacre (and insurmountable patience). We all love them for that.

    English can never forgive Chemistry for being so economical with its pearl description.

English can never forgive Chemistry for being so economical with its pearl description.

So much so that the pearl-fisheries down south of India were depleted centuries ago, forcing traders on a merry hunt all the way to Persian waters. Let me rewind a little, back to when the finest pearls came from the Mannar fisheries off the southern coast of India. Jean-Baptiste Tavernier, a French gem-merchant and traveller from the 17th century, noted that the Portuguese at Goa held the honours of having the largest operation in pearl-trading at the time (Oppi Untracht, Traditional Jewelry of India. 334-335). Jewellery consultant and historian Dr. Usha R. Bala Krishnan elaborates on the pearl industry and “Pearl Age in Europe”:

“Between 1524 and 1658… the Portuguese reaped an untold fortune from the pearl fisheries of India and exploited them to such an extent that it was only a matter of time before they were depleted and finally abandoned.” (Saffronart Inaugural Auction of Fine Jewels, 7-8 Oct 2008. 108-109)

Needless to say, Mannar was elbowed out of competition and Basra was pushed into the limelight. It is luck to an extent; these yellow-tinged pearls were considered inferior to Mannar pearls back in the day. You ask if they came from Basra. No, they came from the Persian Gulf and were transported to Basra, a city in south-east Iraq, for trade.

Why are they special? Basra Pearls are bigger in size, more lustrous and regularly shaped than the others. They’re also highly valued for longevity. Yet it isn’t merely luck that propelled them to fame. Besides possessing all the desirable qualities of natural pearls, their aesthetic appeal is undeniable. I’ll turn to the Mughals for support: they’re famed for adorning themselves with unending strings of Basras.  Like the Nizam of Hyderabad’s tantalising Saath Larh Marvareed, the only existing necklace of its kind. Downside is, Basras are out of production now. What happened?

They didn’t just roll them in their mantle, they infused the pearls with colour. Image Credit: basrapearls.com

They didn’t just roll them in their mantle, they infused the pearls with colour. Image Credit: basrapearls.com

A sudden surge in oil demand in the 20th century is to blame. The Persian Gulf area was exploited for petroleum and other resources, which could be attributed to the decline of the oysters there. The city of Basra itself shifted priorities: it came to be at the fulcrum of exporting and refining petroleum.  You know what this means, folks: the pearls must be possessed. Which is why you must join us at our ‘Autumn Auction of Fine Jewels and Silver’, taking place online this month on the 23rd and 24th.

To have a peek into our Basra finds, check out this scintillating piece from our collection: a four-strand natural pearl necklace.

Lot 46, A Majestic four-line natural pearl necklace. Image Credit: http://www.saffronart.com/customauctions/PreWork.aspx?l=9180)

Lot 46, A Majestic four-line natural pearl necklace. Image Credit: http://www.saffronart.com/customauctions/PreWork.aspx?l=9180)

Among our other pieces being auctioned this autumn, this rarity serves as a reminder of the splendour of the Basras.  Other natural-pearl highlights of the auction include a majestic five-strand necklace (Lot 65), a seven-strand (Lot 38) and a sixteen-strand necklaces (Lot 13).

For the complete list of works, view our online catalogue and claim some of these beauties for yourself.

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