Let me start with a little story.
The other day, I was sitting in the back room of one of the workshops in Jaipur, with Parth from my team who was quality checking a bunch of pieces that the karigars had just brought in. Suddenly, a lady walked in, looked at the pieces and went, “Oh, Anu Merton”. Parth smiled and replied, “yes”.
Then she asked if she could buy the items, to which he replied, yes, of course, but only off the website as we couldn’t sell my designs elsewhere or otherwise. And here comes the part that immediately sank my heart... She says, “Uff, they take too much time.”
I knew she was absolutely, totally, 100% right. Guilty as charged. I do take ages to get the pieces to my customers and no one stresses more about this than me. I’ve spent many sleepless nights in bed wondering if a certain order went out on time or is still on the karigar’s table.
Now, of course, I know that the main reason for this is that I’m still pig-headed about my sustainability principle and never making a piece of jewellery before it’s actually loved, wanted, and has someone dreaming about it, awaiting its arrival at the other end.
I simply don’t think I’ll be able to breathe soul into it if it doesn’t have someone’s name written on it. There is love and longing that goes into creating this amazing circle of joy (but not without a few sleepless nights. Phew).
What I can say with conviction is that it all becomes worth it when I get a DM that reads: It took ages but it’s so worth the wait. My same sunken heart sings a little song, and I forward the message straight to my amazing team without whom I wouldn’t last a day.
Anyway, coming back to the grievance of the aforementioned lady at the workshop, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to find a solution. Will putting in place the systems that Ben has and continually keeps coming up with (he is the process genius), and investing in technology, help solve this issue? Am I chasing an illusion here? Because I sure as hell don’t want to be losing any more sleep on it than I already do.
If you know anything about my jewellery, you know everything is made by hand. I don’t run a factory and don’t function like one.
Every little piece I make goes through 4-5 hands and processes. From the metal being cut, hammered, soldered into motifs and designs, to the stonecutter who carves the stones, to the person who foils the stones, to the one who sets it and finishes it, then to the plating/soldering, antique finishing, and finally, the patwa karigars who do their threading, binding, and pearl work.
Each person puts a bit of his skill, energy — a bit of himself, and how he’s feeling into the piece. I’m pretty sure if the karigar has had a row at home, he doesn’t really care about the curve or my gulab or the shape of the dil necklace — at least not in that moment.
All my karigars creating handmade jewellery are highly skilled artisans who work at their own pace and have their own unique etiquette that I respect. From the kind of music they like listening to, to not wanting to chat when they’re doing certain things, to the ones who always seem to meditate while working, and mostly want pin-drop silence. There is this energy where the jewellery gets made — it’s the collective energy of construction, beauty, joy and the artisans pouring their souls into their pieces. Do I even want to change their pace? Will it still be the same if I tried to intervene?
Allow me to explain more clearly: In the whole of Jaipur (and probably most of India), there are only two karigars who can carve quartz the way I like it, with the precision I expect. They’re both lovely, highly-skilled sculptors. If one falls sick or cuts his fingers (which actually happened when we were creating a set of the saat chand earrings), we are left with just one person, or sometimes, no one, to make the product. If they fall sick or go home or take a long break, everything comes to a stand still.
If you’ve ever dealt with tailors in India, you know what I mean. They might not be working with precious stones but they can teach you a thing or two about delayed deliveries. Some will even go to the extent of not taking your calls or responding to messages. Patna is guilty of this notoriety too — there are 3 to 4 different karigars needed to make the Bijlee jhumkas and if one decides to take a long holiday or ghost me, I’m screwed on timelines.
So when I hear of delays at the karigars’ end on one hand, and customer emails about promised dates on the other, I’m at a loss for words. I just want to bury my head in the sand and disappear, but I can’t.
Every person working in this Industry knows how hard it is to meet time targets. Add to that, if the product is made, and then doesn’t clear quality check, the whole thing needs to be remade; just like a painting, bit by bit, all over again.
The baaj pendant I put out for the Travelling Dukaan (TD) a few months ago can only be made by one karigar. I tried 3 other karigars when one’s father had had a brain hemorrhage, but they just didn’t cut it (pun intended, I think). No one was able to make it like him; like a painter who can have impersonators, but they’ll never be the real thing.
For now, I’m just thankful that I have the most amazing bunch of people who support me; my team who incessantly follows up on every single small thing; and a customer base that understands the beauty of handmade, understands delays, and is even gracious enough to write and thank me when it finally reaches them.
Trust me when I say I go to bed grateful, and wake up grateful for this admittedly undeserved amount of understanding, appreciation and support. Just thinking and talking about your lovely messages and notes gets me emotional.
Thank you for holding me this close and understanding what I’m trying to do here. We are all in this together ? (and if all goes tits up, I’ll probably turn to cooking and feed you all…at least I know I can deliver laal maas on time ? )
