Sanjhi: 'Rang Sey Roshni' From Colour To Light Author(s) : Rughira Ghose Source: Modern Asian Studies, Vol. 38, No. 4 (Oct., 2004), Pp. 1003-1020 Published By: Stable URL: Accessed: 28/06/2014 17:37

Sanjhi: 'Rang Sey Roshni' from Colour to Light
Author(s): Rughira Ghose

Source: Modern Asian Studies, Vol. 38, No. 4 (Oct., 2004), pp. 1003-1020
Published by: Cambridge University Press
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ModernAsianStudies38, 4 (2004) pp. 1003-1020. ? 2004 Cambridge University Press
DOI: 10.1017/S0026749X04001349 Printed in the United Kingdom
Sanjhi: 'RangSey Roshni'From Colour

to Light
RUCHIRA GHOSE
Geneva
Foreword'
Sanjhi Described
Along the riverJamuna in North India are two, virtually contiguous,

towns-Mathura and Vrindavan-which are important centres of
Hindu pilgrimage. The region around and containing these two towns,
known traditionally as Vraja or Vrajabhoomi, is the legendary place
of the god Krishna.
Sanjhi, the ancient art of paper stencilling that is found in Mathura
and Vrindavan, is intimately linked to Vrajabhoomibecause its subject
matter has always been the stories and motifs of the Krishna legend.
Traditionally, the use of the paper cuts, or 'sanjhis' as they are called,
was also linked to Krishna worship.
The art ofsanjhi involves the composition and drawing of the picture,
its expert cutting with small, fine, custom-made scissors, and then the
use of the stencil to create the images. Typically, coloured powders
or flower petals are used with the stencil to create the final image.
1The article is based on interviews and research done in the late 199os. My
greatest debt is to the sanjhi master, Vijay Kumar, who is not just the main source
of my knowledge about sanjhi but the inspiration for this article. Over the years that
I have had occasion to work with him I have learnt a great deal from him about the
craft and about 'Krishna'. I would like to thank Purnima Rai who first introduced me
to sanjhi and to Vijay Kumar. I thankJohn Stratton Hawley for referring me to the
important work of Asimakrishna Dasa. I would also like to thank Ajit Ghose, Kavita
Singh,Jasleen Dhamija, Ardeshir Dalal, Raka Chakravarty,Nomaan Majid, Simeran
Gell, Chris Pinney, and B. N. Goswamy who read and commented on earlier drafts.
I am especially indebted to B. N. Goswamy as it was at his several excellent and
stimulating workshops at the Calico Museum in the 1990osthat I was first introduced
to art historical issues and questions in Indian art. The errors in fact and interpretation
that remain are my own.
oo0026-749X/04/$7.5o0+$0.10o
0loo03

1004 RUCHIRA GHOSE
Often, in the more elaborate sanjhis, there is a sequencing of patterns

that are layered one over another, rather like a printing process, so
the final image has intricate design and depth. The final image that
emerges from the use of the stencil however is not the product of the
craftsman who makes the stencil but of the client who buys it, whether
it is for use in a temple or in a private home.
Over time, the context and the meaning of sanjhi, for the craftsmen
as also for its clients, have changed radically. The paper discusses
these changes and analyses their implications for the survival and the
value of the art.
I. Traditional Context and Meaning
Figure i. Krishna.

SANJHI: FROM COLOUR TO LIGHT 1005
O sakhi2
Vrindavana seems to be covered in flowers
It is the day for playing sanjhi
So let us go and pick flowers
And make a sanjhi of five colours
That will submerge the heart in love3
Like so much of Indian art and craft, poetry, music, and dance, the art
of sanjhi is a celebration of the god Krishna. It is a kind of meditative
offering, a form of worship, replete with feeling. In the Vaisnavite4
tradition Krishna is regarded as an incarnation of Lord Vishnu and
in this tradition imagination is central to the religious life and 'bhav',
or emotion, is a necessary part of worship. For the devout, the very
making of a sanjhi is the expression of the love for Krishna which
imbues the image with life and meaning.5
Within the Vaisnavite tradition the offering of sanjhi is particularly
emphasized in the Pushtimarga tradition. The Pushtimarga or the
Path of Abundance (an offshoot of the Rudra Sampradaya),6 rejects
asceticism as the way to God and instead celebrates 'rasa' or aesthetic
delight and sensual beauty. The material world and the universe are
regarded as creations of Krishna, and so divine. Decoration is seen as
helping to create and sustain the sense of joyous abandon that leads
to total surrender to God's grace.
It is difficult to be precise about the etymology of 'sanjhi' partly
because the term covers a variety of practices but also because it is
possibly a derivation from several different words. But a basic meaning
which captures the essence of the various practices is 'decoration'.
Sanjhi practice may involve decoration with flowers, as in the poetic
tradition reflected in the verse above; it may be the creation of a design
using various found objects such as stones, shells, mirrors, by young
2
'Sakhi' is a term in hindi for a (female) friend or companion.
3 Verse adapted from quote in Asimakrishna Dasa. 1996, p. 28.
4 Following from 'Vaishnavism', the worship of Vishnu and his two main
incarnations, Rama and Krishna, often used in contrast or in comparison with
'Shaivite', following from Shaivism, the worship of Shiva. The chief tenet of
Vaishnavism is that of 'bhakti' or devotion to a personal god of grace.Unlike
Vaishnavites, the Shaivite cults do not believe in the notion of incarnations and
avatars of the deity, and Shaivite cults are generally more ascetic and stern than
those of the Vaishnavites. See Benjamin Walker, Hindu World.
5'The Vaisnavite tradition, then, is totally unembarrassed about the role
imagination plays in the religious life. If the worship of images sounds like playing
with dolls, let it; it is the spirit, the affection, the bhav, as they say, that counts.'John
Stratton Hawley, 1981, p. 17.
6 See Textiles of the Vallabha Sampradaya, Gallery notes, Calico Museum of Textiles.

100oo6 RUCHIRA GHOSE
unmarried girls praying to the goddess Sanjhi7 for the ideal husband,
in the folk tradition; it has been used to describe the worship of a great
number of pewter figures representing Krishna and the Gopis8 and it
also refers to the hand-cut paper art of sanjhi used to create elaborate
pictures with coloured powder which depict the stories of the Krishna
legend, in the temple tradition.
But sanjhi could also be derived from 'sanjh' or 'sandhya' meaning
evening, the twilight time between dusk and darkness, when the
temple sanjhis are revealed;9 it could be related to 'samaja' or
community as it is the cooperative effort of several priests that is
required to produce the elaborate temple sanjhi,'0 and then again
it could be derived from 'sancha' meaning a mould which creates a
precise impression, which too describes a main feature of the sanjhi
paper cut.1" But the important function that distinguishes sanjhi from
certain other traditions of decoration, such as 'alpana' or 'rangoli',
which are also auspicious designs made during festivities, is that these
others are not deified and worshipped as is the sanjhi image.'2
In the temple tradition, amongst other festivals, sanjhi was created
every evening for fourteen days during the 'pitr-paksha' or the dark
fortnight of the waning moon in the month of 'Aswin', in September
or October, the time of 'shraddha' when ancestors are remembered or
worshipped, not otherwise regarded a time for festivities.'3
7 Research into the possible links between the different sanjhi practices suggests
that the folk tradition of the worship of Sanjhi Devi may have been brought into
the Vaisnava fold quite naturally as the worship by the women of Vraja for the
ideal husband could quite easily be interpreted as Radha, the ultimate lover, seeking
the ideal partner, who is of course none other than Krishna. While the craft of
sanjhi is practised in Vrajabhoomi, the folk tradition of sanjhi is found in areas
as far away as Rajasthan and Haryana. The rise of the Bhakti movement, with its
emphasis on individual devotion to a personal god and its celebration of 'rasa' or
the aesthetic sensibility, seems to have transformed the folk ritual into a temple
art, where 'upasana' or service becomes its meaning. See Asimakrishna Das, 1996,
p. 38-9; see also Mahendra Bhanawat, 1977; Rajbala Phaugat, 1998.
8 As documented by F.S. Growse in his 1882 study of Mathura. See F.S. Growse
(1882) 1993, p. 182 and p. 269. It is difficult to precisely date the beginning of the
paper cut sanjhi but Growse's observations suggest that the paper cut is perhaps a
subsequent development. If so, then at the earliest the paper cut sanjhi dates back to
the late 19th century.
9 S.S.
Hitkari, 1987, p. 60o;Asimakrishna Dasa, 1996, p. 18.
10 Asimakrishna Dasa,
11S.S. 1996, p. 18.
Hitkari, 1987, p. 6o.
12 The Kalam tradition in Kerala is similar to the temple sanjhi in that the elaborate
image drawn with coloured powders is considered sacred and worshipped.
13 Why sanjhi takes place at this rather sombre time is a question that has perplexed
many and one view is that this is normally a time of repose in the agricultural year

Usually done on a 'Vedi', a specially constructed platform plastered

with mud and cow dung, large and extremely intricate pictures with
coloured powder are created using a whole series of stencils depicting
various episodes from the Krishna legend. The larger sanjhis can
sometimes take a hundred manhours to produce. Each of these
patterns is created just for a single day. It is revealed to the public in
the evening (hence 'sanjh' or 'sandhya') and the aesthetic experience
of the revelation is heightened by the singing of 'samaja kirtan' or
community devotional songs, in front of the sanjhi.14After the image
has been worshipped, it is effaced to make the new image for the
following day. For the devoted sanjhi maker this is simply 'Thakurjee
seva5', or dedicated service to Krishna.16
The art work is thus seen as offering, the significance of the offering
lying more in the process of creation of the image than in its final
form. Another feature of the sanjhi offering is its anonymity. In much
traditional Indian art, authorship is not a feature of a work, and
so too with sanjhi. From its origin as a paper cut, made with skill
and care, to its use as a stencil, with the complex patterns achieved
by the deft and painstaking application of a range of colours with
the fingers, the individuals are never mentioned or celebrated. The
work of producing the coloured image is in any case, most often, a
communal one (hence 'samaja') and the satisfaction or pleasure of
the individuals has more to do with 'upasana' or service done with
and so men and women have occasion to indulge in this rather time-consuming
activity. In terms of the temple tradition the explanation may turn on the distinction
between sacred and non-sacred time. Spiritual practices are typically to be performed
during sacred time and so it follows that during non-sacred time, especially during
pitr-paksha, no other life-cycle rituals can take place. The priests have little to do.
Furthermore, while it is regarded as inauspicious in this period to perform any action
with reward in mind, it is a very powerful time to indulge in those which are done
with no thought of gain. Hence the pitr-paksha is a very appropriate time for sanjhi,
which is after all a 'lila', or play with Krishna. Asimakrishna Dasa, p. 22-3.
14 Anne Marie
Gaston, 1997, p. 227-8.
15 'Thakurjee' is one of the many names that signify Krishna, a respectful form of
address, which means, literally, 'respected god'.
16' Questioned further, they explained that they are dedicated to the creation of
sanjhi designs not simply as an art form, but as a means of pleasing Sri Krishna.
Therefore they feel no pain at the destruction of the previous day's design each
morning, as it has performed its function, and their role is simply to create a new
one in order to please Krishna again-and to please him more, if possible. They
underscore that creating sanjhi is an effort, a great deal of effort, to be sure, but as it
is a means to remember him, they do not begrudge devoting a large amount of time
to it. Thus, it is truly an 'upasana', a service done with the purpose of pleasing Sri
Krishna and to fix the practitioner's mind on him.' Asimakrishna Dasa, p. 40.

ioo8 RUCHIRA GHOSE
the object of pleasing the god, than any feeling of individual merit or
recognition.
Within the temple tradition there are different forms of sanjhi which
are made for other occasions. The sanjhi of flowers (which is the
sanjhi of the poetry of Vrajabhasa, the language of Vrajabhoomi,
a particular dialect of Hindi) may be made on any occasion as a
'manoratha' or the desire of a devotee to please Krishna. Then there
is the sanjhi associated with the Srinathji temple in Nathdwara in
Rajasthan, the main shrine for the followers of the Pushtimarga
sect.17 At the same time that the sanjhis are made in the temples of
Mathura and Vrindavan, during the pitr-paksha, the various 'jhankis'
or episodes of the Krishna legend are also reproduced with sanjhis at
Nathdwara. The doorway of the Srinathji Haveli is decorated with
the leaves of the auspicious plantain tree and the sanjhis which
depict each of the places that are being visited by pilgrims in the
course of the annual pilgrimage through Vraja (that is happening
at this same time) are made daily. Thus there will be a sanjhi of
Krishna lifting Mount Govardhana, Krishna playing with the gopis
at Barsana etc., so that the devotee at Nathdwara, not so fortunate
as to make the actual pilgrimage through Vrajabhoomi, can have the
feeling of doing so by circambulating the sanjhi instead and thereby
attaining the merit of the pilgrimage. Sanjhi even in Nathdwara
is thus inextricably linked with Mathura and Vrindavan and
Vrajabhoomi.18
Finally, there is the sanjhi that is made in water. Here too stencils
and coloured powder are used but these require even greater skill
17 See Textiles ofthe Vallabha Sampradaya, Gallery notes, Calico Museum of Textiles.
Nathdwara and Vrindavan are the only two places where sanjhi of the temple
tradition is practised. During the reign of the Mughal emperor Aurangzeb in the
17th century the important Krishna idol of Srinathji was spirited away to Nathdwara
by the Sri Vallabacharya for safekeeping. Since then Nathdwara has become the other
important centre for Krishna worship and pilgrimage. To this day water is taken daily
from Vrindavan to Nathdwara for Srinathji and kept in a small vessel by him. This
signifies 'Jamunaji' and the cloth which covers the vessel is treated like her 'ghunghat'
or veil, which is thrown back when the water is poured, when Jamunaji meets
Srinathji.
18 Apart from being a geographical site of physical pilgrimage from around the
sixteenth century, Vrajabhoomi, is clearly also a 'place in the heart'.There is a
mythological land of Vraja that has long been part of the Indian imagination.Jayadeva
in the twelfth century wrote poetic descriptions of Vraja and the mental construct of
a Vraja paradise is an important part of the meditative practice of Vaisnavites. See
Haberman (1988).

and patience.19 Typically these water sanjhis are taken to the River
Jamuna after 'arati' or the evening ritual of lights and, along with lit
earthen lamps placed on banana leaves, they are floated in theJamuna.
Once again, the sanjhi, made with such application and devotion
or 'sadhana', is effaced.20 The evanescence of sanjhi thus is its very
essence.
II. The Sanjhi Craftsman
Figure 2. Vrindavan.
19 For a detailed description of the water sanjhi see S.S. Hitkari, 1987, p. 6o-1 and
also Delhi Crafts Council, 1998.
20 Asimakrishna
Dasa, 1996, p. 21, refers to the text, Srinatha-seva-rasodadhi, to
explain how the creation of each of these different types of sanjhis is associated with
a particular sentiment; thus 'manoratha' is prepared with the feeling of 'swaminiji'
who is Radha herself, especially dear to Krishna; the sanjhis of stencils and coloured
powder are prepared with the feeling of the gopis or 'nandakumarikana' or young
girls; and the sanjhis on water are created with the feeling ofJamunaji, or the River
Jamuna personified.
21 The destruction of the sanjhi is therefore part of the oeuvre; its negation
a necessary part of the experience. In this aspect it resembles theatre or live
performance rather than art forms like film or recorded music which can be stored
away and 'replayed'. The similarity goes further in the comparison with theatre as
the stencils are reusable, even though the final coloured image is effaced, and thus
resemble sets and props that are put away when the season is over, to be used again
at another time.

1010 RUCHIRA GHOSE
Theyoung craftsmanis broughtup and educatedin the actual workshop,and is the

discipleof hisfather. No technical education in the world can ever hope to
compensate the craftsmen for the loss of these conditions. In the workshop,
technique is learnt from the beginning, and in relation to real things and
real problems, and primarily by service, personal attendance on the master.
And it is not only technique that is learnt; in the workshop there is life itself,
that gives to the puPil both culture and metaphysics, more essential to art
than technique ....
Sanjhi is an art form that is very much of the spirit of Mathura and
Vrindavan, or Vrajabhoomi, and its Vaisnavite moorings, organically
linked to the place and its ethos. Walking along the streets of Mathura
and Vrindavan one can recognise the motifs and designs that appear
in the traditional sanjhi paper-cuts, whether it is the peacock or the
cows, the monkey or the Kadamb tree or the river flowing past the
temple. People greet each other with a 'Radhey Radhey' and it is not
hard to imagine that Krishna inhabits these parts and may suddenly
appear from around the corner! Indeed, in my conversations with
Vijay Kumar, who is the main subject of this case study, I have been
struck by the extent to which Krishna is integral to his world. The
relationship with Krishna seems a natural, almost human one; not
one of awe but of familiarity and intimacy, conveying deep love and
affection. His conversation, often in metaphor, is filled with references
to Krishna and Thakurjee; he is steeped in the mythology ofVraja and
the Krishna stories come across much more as lived experience than
an extensive knowledge of the legend.
Vijay Kumar and his two brothers, Ajay Kumar and Mohan Kumar,
belong to the family of Shri Narayan Das Verma, their grandfather,
who was a master craftsman in the art of sanjhi.23 Originally from
a tradition of gold craftsmen who designed gold jewellery, he had
turned to paper art. In his time the art was grounded, spatially and
conceptually, to Mathura and Vrindavan, to Radha and Krishna and
the episodes of their life in Vrajabhoomi. Demand was almost entirely
local, from the temples and also for domestic use. The only outside
demand was from visitors to Mathura who were mainly from Gujarat
and typically followers of the Pushtimarga sect for whom of course
sanjhi is an important form of worship.
22 Ananda K. Coomaraswamy, 1989 (1909) p. 54-5.

23 Four generations of the family have lived in Mathura, in the same house in which
Vijay Kumar resides today.

For thirty years Narayan Das Verma worked with his son Chainsukh
Das Verma who were both masters of the craft and in 1980,
Narayan Das Verma was given the Master Craftsman Award by the
Government of Uttar Pradesh.
While Narayan Das worked only with paper, his son, Chainsukh Das
Verma, Vijay Kumar's father, discovered the advantages of plastic as
a medium. At the time it seemed revolutionary for it was extremely
practical-light, pliable, washable, reusable and easy to cut-and it
meant a range of new products which had not been possible with paper
as the medium. There were stencils for mehendi24 designs, for wall
decoration, for bindis25... indeed the family enterprise came to be
known as Design Bindi Wale!26Though there was the diversification
of the product to new uses, the design vocabulary was essentially the
traditional one, and Vijay Kumar and his brothers grew up learning
this vocabulary and the techniques from their father.27
The Design Bindi Wale enterprise of Chainsukh Das Verma seemed
to be doing well when his sudden and untimely death jolted the
fortunes of the family. His very young sons who had been learning
the craft from their father were left to manage the business as best
they could and there was a time, Vijay Kumar recalls, when they could
not be sure of two square meals for the family and it looked as though
they would go under. Around this time demand for sanjhi was also in
decline. Traditional patronage was drying up, even the popularity of
sanjhi as a domestic hobby had faded. Only a handful of temples in
Vrindavan still perform sanjhi and in a much reduced form, and Vijay
Kumar and his family were the amongst the few left in Mathura who
continued to practise the craft as a profession.
24
'Mehendi' is the intricate decorative painting done with henna on the hands and
feet of women for auspicious occasions. Usually done freehand, a plastic stencil of
course makes the job easier.
25 'Bindi' is the decorative mark on the forehead worn by Indian women.
Traditionally a small red circle of vermilion powder made with the tip of the index
finger, variations of shape and design have evolved and stencils make it much easier
to make the fine patterns.
26 'Design Bindi Wale' means 'the one with design bindis'. Vijay Kumar and his
brothers operate out of this same little shop next to a temple in Kanskhar Bazaar,
Mathura.
27 The making of a sanjhi involves several steps: the conception of the design, the
drawing of the design on paper, pinning if more than one paper is being cut, and then
the cutting. The stencil produced can then be used to make a sanjhi with coloured
powders on a mud platform or a floating sanjhi on water. There is also a submerged
sanjhi which is made on the base of a vessel on which water is poured after the picture
is made. See Delhi Crafts Council, 1998.

1012 RUCHIRA GHOSE
Timely intervention at this point from some concerned individuals

and institutions, notably the Delhi Crafts Council, who were
acquainted with their craft and understood its potential, brought
attention to, and very soon demand for, their products and there
was a definite turnaround in the mid-198os. By the 1990os they had
established themselves again into a viable enterprise.28
But the nature of the product had changed. Sanjhi was now being
ordered in large quantities for the qualities of the paper-cut itself,
no longer for its use as a stencil. The craft was resurrected but,
in responding to the different influences and demands, it was also
radically transformed.
III. Design Issues
The major transformation in sanjhi that has come about in the 1990s
is that from being a work of art which was produced with flowers or
coloured powder, mainly in the temple for worship, the paper cut, that
was used as a stencil to create the image, has itself become the final
artwork, and has lost all ritual or religious significance. As the focus
has shifted from the picture maker to the paper cutter the essential
features of the traditional sanjhi-the emphasis on the process rather
than the final product and its transient, impermanent character-
have also melted away. Thus 'sancha', meaning a mould which creates
a precise impression, has now the right resonance, for the final product
is no longer the coloured image revealed in the temple in the evening
but the precisely cut paper motif itself, the most striking feature of
which lies in its play with light, the contrast of positive and negative.
With the original sanjhi it was the negative stencil which made the
positive picture of colour (Rang); with sancha it is the negative and
positive together which make the picture through the play of light
(Roshni). The shift from sanjhi to sancha has meant the move from
'Rang to Roshni' or Colour to Light.
The other dramatic effect of this transformation has been in the
images which have moved away from those associated with Krishna
28 In 1987, at
the Suraj Kund Mela in Delhi, their earnings in the two weeks of
the fair, were about Rs. 5000.-. In 1989, at the same fair, their earnings were around
Rs. 30,000. The family do not have any long term financial plans but work on the
basis of a daily target, in 1997, of Rs. 300oo.- each. They do not have any outstanding
loans.

Figure 3. Nand Gopal.
and Vrajabhoomi to more secular images, more distanced from the

lives and ethos of the craftsmen. So now, the intricacy of a Mughal
jaali (lattice work) rather than the mischievous Krishna as infant
Nandgopal stealing butter, or an elaborate Tree of Life rather than the
exuberance of Radha dancing with Krishna. There are images of Worli
art, Jaina art, Christmas card motifs of bells and mistletoe, birthday
invitation cards with balloons and ribbons:an endless variety of motifs,
most of which have little connection to the world of the craftsman.
Even when some of the motifs are from the earlier repertoire, their
use is so different, there is almost no relation between their past and
present forms. Typical end-use of such products is as decorative pieces
for the home: cards, notebooks, diaries, wall hangings, trays, etc.
Clearly this has meant a certain loss; the artistic sensibility, the
understanding, the coherence and so the 'meaning' content of the
subjects have been reduced. Insofar as the craftsman of sanjhi was a
Vrajabaasi, or a citizen of Vraja, and 'bhav', 'seva' 'upasana' were part
of his daily life and imbued it with meaning, then his work has become
distanced from these. The designs now being executed are more alien,
the aesthetics are new and strange.

1014 RUCHIRA GHOSE
Figure 4. Raas Lila.
Most significantly, the fact that the Krishna legend is no longer the
major source of images for the craftsman has meant the end of the
craftsman as the major designer of his craft. In this new world, it is
the client who, in a very real sense, is also the 'designer'. The subject
and the composition, the original inspiration and its transmutation on
paper-these are no longer the domain of the craftsman. Dependent
now very much on the concepts and designs that come from outside,
in the sense of other places but also 'other' people with very different
conceptual frameworks, the motifs embrace all religions, all legends,
all cultures.
This radical change in demand and the resultant distancing of the
craftsman from his 'world' suggests a new relationship between the
craftsman and his product, with a likely increase in the emphasis
of technique over content. More and more intricate and challenging
designs demanding more skill in execution have gradually replaced
those replete with references to Krishna and Vrajabhoomi. Sanjhi
becomes much more about 'doing' than about 'meaning', the gain in

one perhaps compensating in some sense for the loss in the other.
With the shift of focus from the picture making craftsman to the
paper cutting one, 'authorship', not a feature of the earlier sanjhi
tradition, has also become significant. The craftsman may now derive
some satisfaction from the fact that it is his workmanship that is being
recognised and appreciated.29
Figure 5. BadruJaali.
29 It could also be argued that when the paper cut is used as a stencil it is its
function rather than its form that is emphasised. A wrong cut can be taped over and
done again as long as it does not diminish the quality of the final product which is
the coloured picture. Presumably stencils will naturally tear with frequent use and
be repaired to be used again. With the paper cut as the final product however there
is automatically much closer scrutiny; an error cannot be 'covered up' and entails
that the work be started again. In this case, form and function are much more closely
inter-twined and so a higher degree of skill and perfection are required.

1016 RUCHIRA GHOSE
The 'opening up' of the craft to new and wider influences and
markets may help to ensure its growth because sensitivity and
responsiveness to changes in tastes is perhaps the optimum strategy
for survival. It introduces a positive dynamic: the possibility of constant
renewal through the creation and exploration of new potential. But
at the same time the craft is also made much more vulnerable. In
the earlier situation competition was between craftsmen and insofar
as each was an individual artist their products were necessarily
differentiated. But in the new situation the separation of design from
execution has changed the craftsman from an artist to much more
of a producer-someone who is given a design agenda and who takes
an order to produce a certain quantity of a product. The craftsman,
in other words, has become a technician. Even innovation is not part
of the craftsman's domain. It is something that comes, when it does,
with the design agenda and the craftsman is now entirely dependent
on the external stimulus that might generate it.
Figure 6. Christmas Motifs.
More importantly, competition is now not with other craftsmen

but other techniques. The major quandary that has to be confronted
then is - Can hand crafted paper cut work survive competition from
machine made equivalents?
The analysis of this basic issue raises some other questions:
1. What are the economics involved?

2. What are the attributes that confer value to a sanjhi paper cut-
might there be a preference for a hand crafted paper cut over a
machine made one?
On the question of economic viability, there has always been a
potential threat from mechanical dyes. There can be no doubt that
where very large quantities are involved, running into thousands or
more, a mechanical dye would be a more economical and efficient
method. But the dye itself is usually a large investment and only
worthwhile if there are significant economies of scale to exploit.
However, the typical demand for sanjhi paper cuts is of much smaller
volume and so the traditional hand crafted method offers huge
advantages. Very small runs of an infinite variety of designs are
possible and so supply can quickly and easily respond to fluctuations
and varieties of demand. There are very few fixed costs. The tools are
small and simple and and a very modest investment. Even the labour
is made up almost entirely of family members so there are no fixed
costs of retaining labour either when demand declines. Any increase in
demand for products shows up in overtime working within the family;
if demand is greater than this, orders have simply to be refused. So
long as the technology remains at this level there is definitely a lot
of flexibility and resilience-indeed these are some of the typical
features of the successful small business enterprise-but there is also
a maximum limit, a point beyond which the enterprise cannot grow.
The other and more recent threat to hand crafted paper cut work
is from computer laser technology. If the most elaborate designs can
be scanned into the computer and some software developed which
will translate this through laser technology into a stencilled format
then computer-made could be a real threat to hand-made. In this
case while there is a high initial investment (in the computer and
the software), once this has been made, the system offers the infinite
variety of designs that the hand crafted enterprise offers but also the
possibility of meeting the demand for large volumes at low cost. It
then combines the best attributes of both the hand crafted and the
mechanical technologies.
And this leads us to the second question: are there any reasons a
hand crafted product should be preferred over a machine made one
even if, on every other count, they are identical? It could be argued that
the most compelling feature of any craft is its 'handcraftedness'. What
cannot be reproduced in any other technology is the very attraction
of sanjhi or sancha-the ability of the human hand to create the

1018 RUCHIRA GHOSE
precision of the impression as finely as any machine or computer.

Even if the machine or computer made can compete in terms of price
and the range of possible designs, it will be necessarily mass produced,
automatically flawless. The risk element in production is negligible.
The hand crafted on the other hand will be an original, perfect only
when the skill is precise and highly developed. Each piece, as it is being
made, is vulnerable to error till the very end. An error means that the
piece is discarded and a new one begun again. It is this tension between
perfection and human error which, it would appear, is the fundamental
source of its value. What seems paradoxical is that the hand made is
more and more valuable the closer it approximates the machine made
flawlessness; yet its very hand craftedness, its vulnerability to error
all the while it is being made (especially in paper cut work where it is
impossible to go back, correct, go over, an error, as may be done for
example in painting) probably sets it apart and above any machine
made equivalent.
So there are perhaps some grounds to suggest that sanjhi may
survive, even with competition from new technologies. But what is
undeniable is that its nature and form have changed.
This is not to argue against change or to regard the past in some
kind of hallowed light. Change is inevitable and implies growth as
well as loss. Rather it is to understand the nature of change; how the
elements which make up an ethos (itself the crystallisation of earlier
tendencies and processes) are affected and dismantled by new forces.
As one examines the process of change with a long view one may
discern phases when the elements seem to be more closely integrated
and others when they are tending to break apart. Such phases may
be good or bad in terms of future growth and development but it
would seem to be legitimate to make a comparison-without implying
a value judgement-of one phase being more 'coherent' or 'cohesive'
than another.
What is clear in the case of sanjhi is that until the recent past its
theory and practice, concepts and ritual, formed more of an organic
whole. This is no longer true. What is happening to sanjhi is perhaps
in microcosm what is happening to many other traditional crafts.
Efforts to preserve a craft tradition may be sustaining some part of the
activity of a craft but it is important to recognise that the craft is also
responding to all kinds of other influences, dictated mainly by the logic
of the market, which, in different ways and different degrees, moulds
the way the craft develops and alters fundamentally the relationship
between maker and meaning.

Postscript
A personal note
Figure 7. Monkeys.
I first met Vijay Kumar, a young master craftsman of Sanjhi, in 1992,

in Delhi at the exhibition 'Kaagaz' (Paper), organised by Purnima Rai
and the Delhi Crafts Council. He was sitting cross-legged on the floor
outside the exhibition space and working on a sheet of white pliable
plastic with a pair of small scissors. I was immediately struck by the
skill and ease with which he tackled his material and in a little while
he had turned out a perfect stencil of a series of animated monkey
figures, each with a different stance and expression. To me it seemed
like a piece of magic. Already I had admired his work on show which
included several motifs of Krishna but also many others of animals and
trees and architectural designs like the geometrical jaalis or lattice
work. I spent a while talking to him about his work and he took the
time to show me with the monkey sanjhi how it was used as a stencil,
making the images on the floor, which he had previously rubbed lightly
with oil, by carefully sprinkling fine white powder through the gaps, so

1020 RUCHIRA GHOSE
getting a positive from the negative. This was my first introduction to

sanjhi, and I was in awe both of the extraordinary talent Vijay Kumar
displayed as also of his gentle and kind demeanour and his humility.
There was something about his craft, but also his 'culture', that was
very attractive and fascinating to me. As a result of this interest,
over several years I worked with Vijay Kumar on various projects that
involved the use of sanjhi, and the present paper is one of the outcomes
of this work.
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Sanjhi: 'Rang Sey Roshni' From Colour To Light Author(s) : Rughira Ghose Source: Modern Asian Studies, Vol. 38, No. 4 (Oct., 2004), Pp. 1003-1020 Published By: Stable URL: Accessed: 28/06/2014 17:37

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