Imagine a mirror so popular that Prime Minister Narendra Modi carried one across the seas for Britain’s First Lady, Samantha Cameron, while another (one of the largest of its kind) stands tall at 45 centimeters in the British Museum. Now, imagine that almost 500 years since its documented inception, only 10 families of the original craftsmen remain in the profession creating these mirrors today. Such is the plight of Aranmula mirrors and their makers, though their tenacity could ensure its survival.
But what’s so great about these mirrors anyway? For one thing, it’s far from your ordinary silvered-glass mirror, in fact, it’s probably the only mirror whose value goes far beyond its basic utility of reflecting its beholder. Upholding the 500-year-old lost art of the Viswakarma caste in Aranmula, these mirrors are traditionally considered to bring good luck and hold immense historical and cultural value. Using bell-metal and clay from paddy fields, they incorporate the ancient wax method of casting, where the bell-metal mirror is given a coating of metallic powder and mixed with a special oil. The artisans then rub the metal with a cloth for as many days as it takes to create a perfect reflective surface. For many years, the art of making these mirrors was a family secret, and was considered one of eight auspicious items for a bride on her wedding day. Today, it’s the influx of migrant workers to Kerala that have rendered this artform nearly obsolete due to the use of machines and patents, which have hindered the original artisans from making more mirrors.
Most of the time, an Aranmula mirror is made-to-order and often costs anywhere between Rs. 800 to 2 lakhs depending on size. Each mirror takes anywhere between two days to four months to make. The original Aranmula artists say that in order to create a mirror, one must cleanse oneself and undergo a purification process of a vratham (oath), which is a crucial step ignored by counterfeit mirror-makers. According to legend, the mirror was an accident created by temple craftsmen in Tamil Nadu, who were making an idol of Sri Parthasarathy as per directions of the ruler there.
The first glimpse into the making of these mirrors happened in a protest, when 10 to 15 younger traditional craftsmen created mirrors in front of the Secretariat building in Thiruvananthapuram to draw attention to their cause. Until this process, the exact proportions and dimensions involved in mirror-making were shrouded in secrecy. The protest was done in response to Kerala’s daily wage labour increasing with migrant workers who were willing to work for less. This resulted in locals being denied opportunities to work. In addition, societies began producing large numbers of these mirrors using craftsmen from Andhra Pradesh, and took legal steps to patent the process, so that the traditional artisans weren’t allowed to make them anymore. In a report to The News Minute, craftsman Murugan said “We are the traditional makers of these mirrors over the last four to five generations. Since they (migrants) don’t use the traditional method to make it, we naturally had more customers than them. This obviously irked them.”
The art form has now garnered renewed interest in response to the protest, especially since fake products have made their way into the market. Aranmula’s mirror makers are still finding ways to keep the glory of their tradition alive. The art recently received a Geographical Indication (GI) patent tag, which only allows registered artisans of Aranmula to make the mirrors, curbing counterfeiting.