In the pink city of Jaipur, I stumbled upon a slice of Turkey, or so I thought. A shop on the drab Amer Road stood out, with a dazzling display of blue pottery. Turko-Persian in origin, blue pottery is widely acknowledged as a traditional craft in Jaipur and also has a GI (Geographical Indications) tag. Almost a dying art a few decades ago, some families and enterprising individuals have revived it on a small scale and kept the art alive.
On my drive back from the majestic Amer Fort, the Jaipur Blue Pottery Art Centre caught my attention. Its tall arched entrance, rimmed with colourful tiles and oval plates, predominantly in blue and white, looked appealing.
Inside, the spacious showroom was chock-a-block with blue pottery spread across two floors. From diminutive beads and trinkets to large vases, plates, mugs, pen-stands and coasters to trays, door knobs, everything spilled over from the shelves. Assorted multi-hued tiles in floral and geometric patterns were stacked on the floor.
I particularly liked a row of racks lined with vases, teapots and jars in turquoises and sky blues. As I admired them, a short bespectacled man approached me. He was Anil Doraya, artisan, painter and shop-owner. His manufacturing unit in Sanganer village on Jaipur’s outskirts has eight family members working hard to keep the ancestral art of blue pottery relevant. ‘Blue pottery’ is named so after the blue dye, derived from cobalt oxide, used to colour the artefacts. Doraya claims the lighter shade of blue, firozi (sky blue), so intrinsic to Jaipur blue pottery, was discovered by his great-great grandfather. The colour palette is restricted to blue, green, the unconventional yellow, red and brown.
Kavita Kanan Chandra Doraya showed us the raw ingredients — quartz, glass, rock salt, gum for binding, saji (sodium bicarbonate) and Multani mitti (Fuller’s earth). No clay is used. The mixture is 80 per cent quartz, and all the raw material is crushed and powdered in a mortar-and-pestle or grinder. It is then kneaded like dough. The pottery is handcrafted and fired at very low temperatures in wooden kilns, with a 50 per cent risk of breakage. The gum binds the ingredients, while salt and Multani mitti make the pottery porous and light.
The pieces are then painted. Deft strokes from Doraya’s sleek brush create vines and flowers. Most Jaipur blue pottery designs are nature-inspired but geometric patterns, mythological figures and Mughal influences also find a place.
The finer the painting, the costlier the piece. A three-inch vase could cost anything from Rs. 80 to Rs. 600. When customers haggle, Doraya finds it hard to explain the nuances of a dying art, its exclusivity, and the labour involved. He says that cheap imitations, passed off as blue pottery by unscrupulous traders, are killing the unique art.
“I am very anxious to save the art but the new generation does not want to learn it,” he says. It requires immense patience and passion to dedicate 8-10 years of your life to mastering the art. Doraya began learning at the age of 11, and is a recipient of the government’s National Merit Certificate. His son and daughter have, thankfully, now taken up the profession.
Several theories abound about the origins of Jaipur blue pottery. Doraya shares an interesting story from the 19th century involving his great, great grandfather Bhuramal. Once, while flying kites, Bhuramal cut the kite flown by Sawai Ram Singh II, who ruled Jaipur then. When summoned and questioned, the potter Bhuramal revealed a mixture of quartz, rock salt, glass and gum had been used to strengthen his kite string. Impressed, the king sent him to Istanbul and Kerman in Iran to learn more about the art form.
“It’s in my blood and my hand moves effortlessly,” says Doraya, who belongs to the Kumawat community, known in Rajasthan for its expertise in painting, sculpting and temple carvings.
It’s during the 1950s that the art almost disappeared. Doraya’s father Sitaram Doraya Kumawat shifted to ivory art and joined the Army to make ends meet. Re-introduced by painter Kripal Singh Shekhawat with the support of patrons like Kamladevi Chattopadhyay and Rajmata Gayatri Devi, it was at the latter’s training centre that Doraya’s family went on to train others.
Kavita Kanan Chandra is a freelance journalist who finds untold stories from around the country.
