Jenis J Rumao

Sanviti Iyer

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Priti David

Ritu Sharma

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“One small mistake and you will get a sattur instead of koyta!”
Rajesh Chaphekar would know the difference between a butcher’s knife and a
sickle. A master lohar (blacksmith),
he has crafted more than 10,000 iron tools at his workshop in Actan
village in Maharashtra. 

The 52-year-old learnt from his father, Dattatrey Chaphekar, and
belongs to a long line of panchal lohars who
have enjoyed the loyalty of their customers from among the farming community in
Maharashtra. “People would say, ‘Actan se
hi hatyar leke aao’ [Get the tools only from Actan],” says this seventh
generation blacksmith in Vasai taluka. He can make more
than 25 different farm tools.

Customers came from as far as Uran in Navi Mumbai – roughly 90
kilometres away, to place bulk orders for tassni,
a tool that was crucial in the making of boats. “Girhaiks [customers] would stay at our house for four days and
observe us making the tool from scratch,” he recalls. 

The narrow lanes in Actan village have been traditionally demarcated on caste-based<a href="https://ebin.pub/the-agaris-of-north-west-maharashtra-an-ethnographic-study.html"> </a> occupations: sonar (goldsmith), lohar (blacksmith),
sutar (carpenter), chambhar (cobbler) and kumbhar (potter). People in the village
say they have always been disciples of Vishwakarma, a popular deity of
craftspeople. Panchal lohars are listed
under Nomadic Tribes since 2008, before which
they were classified as OBC (Other Backward Classes). 

Rajesh says he had no
intention of continuing his family&#39;s blacksmithing tradition when he turned 19.
His job as a storekeeper in an electronics shop where he was working, fetched him Rs. 1,200 a month. It was a few years later that a fallout in the larger joint family
left his father without work, forcing him –the eldest son –to join the family
trade.

Now three decades later, he is a master blacksmith. His workday starts after 7 a.m. and he goes on for
the next 12 hours, and he stops every now and then for a quick tea break. In a day
he can craft up to three tools. His customers include the Adivasis of Benapatti
who live near Bhuigaon in Vasai, and others in Gorai village of Mumbai. 

Some of his bestsellers include the koyta (small sickle), morli (vegetable
and meat cutting tool), aaut (plough), taasni (adze), kaati (fish
cleaver), chimtey (tongs) and sattur (cleaver/butcher’s knife). 

Rajesh also makes customised tools as he says, “every village has their own
design and requirements. The toddy tappers require extra grip to hold their koytas [small sickle] firmly while
climbing trees.” Banana and coconut cultivators send across their tools to
sharpen and repair through the year. 

 “We keep receiving gifts in return,”
he says, showing fresh coconuts gifted by a local cultivator as a token of appreciation for sharpening his sickle. “When I repair a kaati [fish cleaver] the Koli brothers
sometimes bring us the day’s fresh catch,&quot; adds Rajesh. 

He also receives several orders all the way from Wagholi in Pune
because there are very few blacksmiths in
that area.  “Tyanche sattur astat, bakre
kapayla [Their order consists of butcher’s knives to cut goat meat].”

Keen to innovate,
Rajesh has crafted a special sickle designed to ease the cutting of the hard dry coconuts, “I keep experimenting. But I will not show it to you. It’s my patent!” he says smiling, and he doesn’t allow any photos.

Among the fastest selling items is a morli, a compact vegetable cutter that can be fixed onto kitchen
platforms. It is particularly useful for the elderly who find it challenging to
use the larger, traditional floor-based ones. 

During the monsoon months as farmers head out for daily wage work in the city, sales drop. “Sometimes I earn Rs. 100 a day and some days only Rs. 10. Sometimes I
may get Rs. 3,000 or 5,000 and the next day again nothing. I cannot predict,”
he says, describing his earnings. “Girhaik
aani maran kadhi yetil kaai saangta yeta ka? [Can you ever predict when the
customer or death will knock on your door?].&quot;

Every morning, including Sundays, Rajesh fires his bhatti (forge). 

The day PARI visits, as he waits for the forge to heat up, a local turns up with a potato. No
words are exchanged. Rajesh takes the potato and buries it in a
small section of the forge. “He loves coal-roasted potatoes and
will pick it up in an hour,&quot; he tells us.

Soon the day&#39;s first customer arrives and hands him four sickles to sharpen. He pauses briefly
to ask, “It’s
not urgent, is it?” The customer assures him that it’s not and tells him he
will pick it up in a few days. 

“What to do, I have to ask. There is no one with
me,&quot; says Rajesh. 

As the orders for the
day start coming in, he begins to assemble the raw materials he needs. This is
critical as once the forge is heated, he must have everything at hand. He
shifts six to eight kilos of coal into a vessel and starts segregating the stones
with his bare hands. “Small
stones slow down the burning process of the coal,” he says and they need to be removed before
igniting the fire in the forge.

The veteran blacksmith then quickly places a small strand of wood shavings
above the coal for the fire to start. A bhaata, earlier called
a dhamni (bellow pump) helps to maintain the flame inside the forge. It also helps in controlling the
wind direction while providing additional air to keep the forge hot. 

The raw metal is placed inside the forge for
five to seven minutes for it to heat up. Once hot and glowing, the metal is placed on the
airan (anvil), a huge iron block. Rajesh then holds the metal upside down for a couple of seconds and hits the ghan (hammer) in quick succession, “It
needs to be done before the metal cools down otherwise it can spoil its shape,”
he explains.

Rajesh uses a smaller hammer while his son, Om picks up the bigger
one. Together they repeat the rigorous process of hitting and heating the metal
for about an hour until they get the desired shape. Once the tool’s shape is
ready, the maandal (a circular steel circle) is put to use to bind the wooden base and the metal.

He uses an antique 80-year-old grindstone for sharpening the
edges of the tools. Rajesh gives a final touch to the hand-crafted tool
with the help of mogri, a filing
equipment that was given to him by his father. 

His workshop is
usually filled with smoke, a fact that doesn’t seem to bother him. “I like the
heat. Majja aata hai mereko [I enjoy
it].&quot; As it becomes difficult to sit in proximity of the forge he splashes water on his bare legs to get some relief.

After a video of him documented by a local Youtuber went viral, he
began receiving orders from Indians who live abroad. But he couldn’t ship the tools as they
are categorised as weapons. Now customers
from Australia personally visit his workshop in India to collect butchering knives. 

Rajesh has a loyal customer base but he is finding it tough to
complete orders as there just aren’t enough hands. “I cannot tell my customers
to come tomorrow,” he adds. 

Several members of his community have now moved closer to Thane and
Mumbai in pursuit of better job opportunities which paid more like jobs in the
railways and small businesses: &quot;What do we do now that the farmlands are no
more.” He recalls a time 30 years ago when there were as many
as 10-12 blacksmith workshops in his lane. “Now there are only two.&quot; Apart from Rajesh, his
cousin brother is the only blacksmith from his community. His wife Sonali is a teacher and is proud of her husband’s decision to continue blacksmithing. “Today everybody wants easy money. Who will sit in the bhatti and hit the ghan [hammer]?” she asks.

His 20-year-old son Om is studying engineering. “I
always ask him to join me on weekends. It&#39;s our work; the skill should not be
lost.” Rajesh also wants his son to
preserve all his tools after his death. “I still have my father and
grandfather’s tools. You could identify who made the tool by the way it was
hammered. Everyone’s style of hitting the hammer was different.”

Procuring non-coking coal for running the forge is becoming expensive: Coal India Limited (CIL) has hiked the prices of high-grade coal by eight per cent in 2023. “When I started [32 years ago] it was
around 3 rupees per kilo and today it is 58 per kilo,” he says.

Recovering the cost of the coal used each day is the biggest
challenge. He sells a sickle for Rs. 750. To make one sickle it takes him around six kilos of coal to shape the raw metal that weighs between two to three kilos
and costs Rs. 120-140 per piece. The wooden base of the tool costs Rs. 15 per piece if bought in bulk or otherwise can go up to Rs. 60 a piece. 

“Do the math and tell me how much I am left with?&quot; he says, making a point about the low margins.

Besides the rising costs of coal is the loss of community with other related livelihoods. He says at one time carpenters and blacksmiths would help each other in keeping costs down. “We would use khair
wood which was more expensive than the babul we get today. Carpenters would get it for us when they would go in to the jungle. In exchange we would
help them make the hub band and boxing [metal inserts] in the wheels of their
bullock carts. This way we helped each other.”

Working with fire and metal comes with its share of risk and injuries.
There is protective gear available in the market, but Rajesh says it would be suffocating in a hot forge. His wife Sonali is worried about burn injuries and adds, “he has cut
his hands several times while making the tools. Once he even cut his feet.”

But Rajesh is not stopping. “Sitting will not give me work. I have to sit at the bhatti.
Koyla jalana hai mereko [I have to
burn the coal].”Determined to continue his decades of blacksmithing he adds, “chalta hai ghar [I’m able to run my house].”

Vasai’s blacksmith solders on

وسئی میں لوہے جیسا ڈھلتا لوہار

పనిముట్ల తయారీలో ఆరితేరిన వసై కమ్మరి

வசாயின் கொல்லர் பணி தொடர்கிறது

ਲੋਹਾ ਕੁੱਟਣ ਤੱਕ ਹੀ ਮਹਿਦੂਦ ਨਾ ਰਿਹਾ ਵਸਾਈ ਦਾ ਇਹ ਲੁਹਾਰ

ବସଇର କୁଶଳୀ କମାର

വാസൈയിലെ ലോഹപ്പണിക്കാരൻ വിളക്കിച്ചേർക്കുന്നു

ವಸಾಯಿ: ಕುಲುಮೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಬೇಯುತ್ತಿರುವ ಕಮ್ಮಾರರ ಬದುಕು

वसई में लोहे जैसा ढलता लोहार

રેણ કરી કરીને પરંપરાગત ધંધાને આગળ ધપાવતા વસઈના લુહાર

सात पीढ़ी ले धधकत भठ्ठी आगू धार देवत लोहार

धार बा, प्रहार बा, नाम ओकर लोहार बा

সময়ের সঙ্গে লড়ে যাচ্ছেন ভাসাইয়ের কামার

বাচাইৰ চাফেকাৰৰ হাতত ন্যস্ত দশকজোৰা কমাৰশিল্পৰ ভৱিষ্যত

सात पिढ्या धगधगणारी लोहार आळीतली भट्टी

Actan

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Vasai’s blacksmith solders on

A seventh generation lohar (blacksmith), Rajesh Chaphekar crafts tools for farmers, banana and coconut cultivators, butchers, fishermen and for kitchens, including one to cut hard coconuts. Many of the tools he makes are his own designs

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