Kurumbur in gold-loving Tamil Nadu was once a thriving centre for goldsmiths.
Today their number is down to two.
A Ganesh Nadar finds out why.
My father used to tell me that for my elder sister's marriage in 1970 he bought 100 sovereigns of gold for Rs 20,000. The same amount of gold would cost Rs 50 lakh today.
You cannot study to become a goldsmith in school, college or at an ITI. It is a family profession that is handed down from father to son for generations. The goldsmiths of Tamil Nadu worked for the landed gentry and the lucky ones for the kings of yore.
Now rising prices and the profusion of jewellery showrooms dominated by chains owned by corporates have pushed goldsmiths to the brink of extinction.
A small fire, a small pot to melt the gold, a plate to pour the molten gold to cool. Intricate cutting tools and a hook to hold the boiling pot is all that they need to produce jewels laden with precious stones.
I recall in the late 1990s customers arguing about how much glue the goldsmith had used to stick those precious stones which was adding to the weight of gold. A fact that comes to light only when you sell the jewels or melt it down to make new ornaments.
Once upon a time there were more than a dozen goldsmiths in Kurumbur, a small town which caters to more than 10 villages in rural Tamil Nadu. It falls in the Thoothukudi district and is on the main road connecting the gateway to the south, Tirunelveli, to the temple town of Thiruchendur, home to the god Murugan.
Kurumbur has a railways station at which eight passenger trains and one express train halt on their way to or fro from Chennai. It has a computerised booking centre where you will see crowds at 10 am and 11 am to book an elusive Tatkal ticket and a not so elusive premium tatkal ticket which on a good day can rival an air ticket in price.
Kurumbur railway station has historical significance as during the freedom struggle the patriots had set it on fire before escaping to Sri Lanka. Both India and Lanka were under British rule and so one didn't need a passport or visa to go there.
From more than a dozen goldsmiths the number of goldsmiths in Kurumbur has now dwindled to two. One of them cannot even pay rent for a shop and so he plies his trade from the first floor of a commercial building on the main road.
Armugam has studied up to the 4th standard which his father thought was enough for his trade. His father Veerabahu and his grandfather were also goldsmiths.
Armugam has been practising his trade for 51 years. Many years ago he used to work at his uncle's provision stores in Kurla, north east Mumbai, but he did not like it there so came back to join his family trade.
Twenty years ago he recalls his trade was flourishing and there was much demand especially during the marriage season.
"We are also called for the engagement ceremony where we melt the gold to make the thaali (mangalsutra)," he remembers. "People took us to Chennai and Mumbai for the engagement ceremony, as it was not possible without a goldsmith. It is part of the tradition of Tamil Nadu."
"Thank god the jewellery showrooms cannot take that away from us," Arugam adds.
Machine-made jewellery and rising gold prices have driven the goldsmith of business. Armugam's son is also a goldsmith. He has studied up to the 10th standard; the boy with dreams of being employed overseas also attended spoken English classes for a few months. But his father insisted on him joining the family trade.
Luckily for the son he got a job with the Indian Overseas Bank as an appraiser for gold loans. So he has a steady income that eludes his father even now.
"Our business works on trust, people entrust us with huge amounts of money and also gold without any paperwork," he says.
Subramaniam, another goldsmith from Kurumbur, now plies an autorickshaw.
"My grandfather was a well known and respected goldsmith in this area. My father Sudalai was also a goldsmith but his uncle bought a car and he wanted to learn to drive. Once he learnt he bought a car and started driving a cab as he found it more lucrative than his family profession," says Subramaniam.
Subramaniam started off life as a goldsmith. He did not have to pay rent as he occupied half the space in a pawnshop. He would appraise the gold against which the shop owner Yoham Nadar would give a loan. Yoham Nadar soon tired of this business and moved to Chennai to start a cloth shop.
Business for Subramaniam was dwindling once the cooperative banks started operations. The nationalised banks had fixed working hours and a fixed number of customers who could avail of a gold loan in a day but the cooperative banks worked round the clock as long as you had the gold and it was of good quality.
Subramaniam could not afford the rent so he vacated the shop and set up a workshop at home. The number of orders dwindled further as he was not visible in the market and very few knew his home.
Nevertheless he always had work, particularly during the marriage season as he was the only goldsmith in town who could fashion a thaali with only three sovereigns of gold.
Subramaniam got married and had two sons, and the rising expenses forced him to drive a cab like his father. Faced with cheaper fares from autorickshaws he sold off the car and bought an autorickshaw.
His elder son died young in an electrical accident while working as an electrician. The company paid Subramaniam compensation of Rs 6 lakh with which he bought a house. The company also gave his younger son a job as he had an MBA degree. His next generation was not to be a goldsmith.
