All about Pietra Dur

the one and only

The Taj Mahal’s resplendence has its admirers the world over. Every year, hordes of people descend upon the city of Agra to sample its finest offering, diving into tales three centuries old and living the beauty of the complex architectural achievements of the past. Tour guides in Agra frequently draw out the story of remembrance and loss in the seventeenth century Mughal dynasty that underlies this famous mausoleum. 

But it is in the by-lanes away from the Taj that one finds a close-knit set of workshops specifically for creating artworks modelled around the composite pietra dura style that makes the Taj such an artistic wonder. By defninition, this form of art requires working with hard stone and carving from scratch and by the sixteenth century in south Asia, ‘stone’ had come to mean marble, granite and precious stones. Originally Italian in form, the style of careful and sustainable inlay work work has passed through several transformations and every artistic hub of pietra dura work has its own singularities. In Agra the specific unique elements derive from a composite influence of Persian and Turkish architectural styles mixed with masonry from the upper Ganges delta which has worked for centuries now, spawning a whole market and production cycle for such marble work. White marble mines, abundant around Agra and otherwise sourced from neighbouring Rajasthan [see Makrana, Rajasthan] provide the raw material for the industry. 

Pietra Dura work done in italy

From Rome and Florence in the sixteenth century, the art form was mostly restricted to royal culture and luxurious commodities which were mostly gifted amongst nobility and hardly ever placed in public display. With the Taj, one sees a fabulous display of the art and craft of the pietra dura tradition, courtesy Shah Jahan and his 22,000 strong workforce led by famous Persian and Turkish architects. It is argued frequently, both in tourist books as well as by word of mouth in Agra, though historical work is scat in this regard, that most of the marble workers in Agra today are descendants of the original settling artisans who worked on the Taj.

Be that as it may, it is significant to know that in Agra per se, the methods of inlay work and styles of stone cutting have in fact not changed much. Parchinkari’s [the local word for pietra dura art] main processes consists of four crucial people – the Chaklawaala, the Ustad Fanahkaar, the Ghisaiyya and the Bharaiyya. The Chaklawaala is responsible for procuring marble and cutting it into usable slabs using his tools. It is with the Ustad or master that the process of inlay begins. The Ustad makes the designs, works with stencils and passes them on to the Ghisaiyya who is then tasked with the polishing of the stone, the carving out of inlay designs and other such things. The process ends with the Bharaiyya who performs the inlay as directed by the Ustad and lays the adhesion into proper place. The adhesive is a general mixture of wax, oil and lead oxide.

semi-precious stones against the grindwheel for the perfect shape

These techniques have lasted in the region for a very long time now and continue to rely, for most part, on the work of hands and not mechanised processes. The designs are so intricate that they may even take days to finish miniature animal statuettes. It is only in the recent past that these workers have got their due and seen gradual increases in market prices for their products. Since the craft itself requires a vast amount of experience, the apprenticeship period and the subsequent acclimatisation with the professional work routine often takes more than a decade. Simply working with an iron chisel under a Fanahkaar can take up to twelve years to master and even then, there are significant standards of creativity and excellence that different workshops compete over.

Precious and semi-precious stones and gems are crucial to the craft. The list includes lapis lazuli, malachite, cornelian, jasper, agnate, coral, turquoise and many others which are either acquired domestically or sometimes imported. The emery wheel or the chakla, as used by the chaklawaala, is what shapes and polishes the stones in order to bring out the required aesthetic qualities in them such as dispersion of light, radiance values and other such things.

the finished product

The work of the Bharaiyya can often be the most decisive component as the symmetry and polish of the final product mostly depends on his expert eyes and hands. He relies both on his skill independently as well as the original stencil or stain sheet created by the Ustad Fanahkaar which help in providing distinctive touches to the final product and make both the designer and the craftsman equally essential in the making of the finest Parchinkaari work.

While in recent times, exports of the marble products of Agra such as plates, boxes, decorative trays, paperweights and coasters have indeed seen some rise, the general life and everydayness of these workers and their workshops remains less considered. It is a most unique experience to spend a day simply discovering the inner practices of these workshops, giving special attention to those which do not have a lot of machines or mechanised production in order to see the way it is “really” done.

When all thats gold, glitters

It is amazing how a city can surprise you when you do not expect much from it. On an otherwise regular journey that comprised of Agra, Varanasi and Dharamsala, we expected to be awed every time we went somewhere. The Taj was expected to be the Taj. Varanasi was expected to be excellent for photo-ops and Dharamsala was expected to be what it was. However, on this journey of comparative religion, we had quite a surprise waiting for us.

The evening Arti in Varanasi. Image Courtesy: Ann Raets

I have never been a great fan of religion. I was never quite keen or quite against it. To each his own. And to me, religion was more of a subject than something that I could actually follow. Moreover, in a country with 6 major religions and a million minor traditions, you would have to forgive my skepticism towards elaborate rituals that are more a show of wealth than a show of faith. Faith itself is hidden somewhere deep inside.

In this aspect, Varanasi itself is quite interesting. Although quite cliched, I have found Varanasi to be quite a fascinating collage every time I have visited the old city. Moreover, taking the boat down the ganges, I see Hinduism for what it really is – a way of life. The fact that it is meant to be this way makes me both proud and ashamed – proud of the fact that such a concept exists, and ashamed of the fact that those in power had twisted it to its current avatar just to suit their profits. Apart from this, it is amazing to see how life revolves and bows down to a river. Maybe Varanasi is one of the few cities to pay homage to something that is so essential. Most great cities are built around a river or a major water source. But most cities have quite forgotten where their water comes from or used to come from. Varanasi is one of the few cities that acknowledges and prays to this fact – and does nothing about it.

From Varanasi we had moved on to Agra and then Amritsar. We had not really expected much from Amritsar. Apart from the symbol or Sikhism, it is not supposed to have much. It does have a symbol of the freedom struggle. But the freedom struggle was in the last century. We have almost forgotten and taken our freedom for granted. Like most places of worship, I had already forecasted what I would see.

Or so I thought. For the Golden Temple is a different world on its own. Gone is the feeling that there are wars going on in some parts of the world. Gone is the memory of the petty squables that we had considered insulting. Gone is the rage that we felt during traffic hours. Gone is the greed we felt when we asked for the salary hike. This was something else altogether – and if I may say so, the closest definition to the divine.

The Golden Temple, Amritsar

The first thing that strikes you is the absence of elaborate shows of faith. Apart from the basic courtesies, everyone prays in the way he or she would like. Some take a dip in the holy water. Some stand in queue to see the holy book. Others just note down the teaching of the day. All that you see are men laughing, women helping the children, people praying in silence and occasionally, the priests reciting verses from the book. The elements of faith to be followed are of one's personal concern and do not need to be shown to others. The people did not jostle for one more minute at the shrines. They did not get any special treatment on account of their wealth. They did not believe in such things. Instead, they went about doing whatever the eye-in-the-sky meant them to do. In a large dining room serving 50000 people a day, you could see people from all walks of life serving and eating. Physically old and mentally young, newlyweds and old couples, the rich and the poor, everyone did his bit to serve food to the other person. Everyone sat on the ground and next to each other. Anyone peeled the vegetables. Anyone cooked the dal or boiled the rice. Anyone made the tea. It was as if “class” had suddenly lost all meaning or reason for existence.

While we were leaving for Dharamsala, my friend told me that it is an amazing feeling to sit there with your eyes closed for 10 minutes and listen to everything around you. He said that he had felt quite at peace after that. Unfortunately, I missed out on that. But it was already quite baffling. The fact that there could be such a utopian practice did not baffle me as much as the fact that such a utopian practice was so simple. Gold itself, seemed to be so crystal clear and simple.