It is six in the morning, but on one corner of Kummari Veedhi (potter’s colony) in Visakhapatnam, the hum of the potter’s wheel continues unabated. A pair of fragile hands moves deftly, scooping out small diyas one after the other.
For one hour, 89-year-old Srikakulam Pardesi continues to work on the wheel without a pause. After this, he proceeds to keep the kiln ready for the diyas . Pardesi does not remember when he came to Kummari Veedhi. He, however, remembers spending hours with his father learning to shape the perfect diyas from the wheel. Pardesi took to his family profession at an early age and has been making diyas for nearly 80 years now. “I can close my eyes and scoop out a perfectly shaped diya ,” he says proudly.
The traditional potter making diyas on the potter's wheel ahead of Diwali
Not too long ago, Pardesi had some serious competition from the over 40 families dotting the lanes of the colony. But, not any more. Today, he is one of the three traditional potters who still cling to their profession, notwithstanding the dwindling market for earthen diyas and lack of patronage. Pardesi is undeterred. This year with the help of his son, he made 2,000 flower pots and 5,000 diyas . “This is far less than what we did last year,” he rues as he bends down to spread them out around the kiln. The air is heavy with the smoke from the furnace. “First it was the Chinese lamps that killed our market and this year, it is this virus from China,” he says. His long, wrinkled fingers and crooked nails reveal traces of red mud. “I am too old to work continuously as I did in my younger days. There was a time when we had no time to stop the potter’s wheel during the weeks ahead of Deepavali,” he says.
On the otherside of the house, the women of the household are lost in deep conversation while their hands mechanically paint the already dried diyas in flashy shades of red, yellow and green.
That Pardesi may be the last of his clan to be turning the potter’s wheel, does not make him give up. “This is the only thing I know best and I will continue to do, till my last breath,” he says. Too old to walk but spirited enough to sit through the day and turn the potter’s wheel, he struggles to keep the fading profession alive. Ironically today, a few others of Kummari Veedhi who have set up stalls, source diyas from elsewhere.
Srikakulam Pardesi, one of the few surviving traditional potters, arranging diyas and pots to bake them in the potter’s kiln ahead of Deepavali at Kummari Veedhi (Potters street) in Visakhapatnam
Incidentally, it is the potters themselves who discourage the next generation from entering the profession. “The making of the diyas is a laborious exercise. If they can be in another profession, why should they break their backs and get their hands dirty,” asks Pardesi, whose son is a non-teaching staff in a private college.
While a big question mark hangs on how long the identity of Kummari Veedhi will remain, Pardesi’s flicker of passion continues to burn. It is Deepavali after all.
