ANISHA FRANCIS
anisha@herald-goa.com
MOIRA: Rajesh Chandrakanth Chari, 58, hails from a long line of artisans who have been involved in wood carving, blacksmithing, and carpentry for four generations. His craft, learned at a tender age from his father and maternal grandfather, is the lifeblood of his family’s history.
“As a child, I would return from school and sit beside my grandfather, watching him painstakingly hand carve large cupboards and headboards of teakwood beds. When I was old enough to identify tools and lift small planks of wood, I became his apprentice – he taught my father and I all we knew about carpentry,” he says.
Rajesh’s early life was modest. His mother worked in the fields, often bartering her labour for grains to feed the family. Despite their humble means, Rajesh’s artistic lineage gave him a wealth of knowledge. His family, originally blacksmiths, had evolved into skilled carpenters over three generations. “We belong to the SC community and didn’t own any agricultural land. Our ancestors were blacksmiths. My grandpa and father also worked with metal but enjoyed woodwork more. My grandfather was a sought-after carpenter during the Portuguese times,” he says proudly. “He was a specialist in crafting church altars, confessionals, and benches. He would spend weeks carving a single ornate altar, and an entire church would take months to complete,” he recalls.
By the time he completed his SSC (secondary school certificate), Rajesh yearned for independence and briefly worked as a technician. However, he soon returned to carpentry for better pay, where his heart truly lay.
His father and grandpa worked with heavy, solid wood—jackfruit, bhendi, kinol, and teak— but these materials are becoming increasingly difficult to source. “People have sold their lands, trees, and hills,” Rajesh laments. Strict regulations make it difficult even to cut down a tree on one’s own property, forcing many to abandon traditional carpentry. “The red tape involved in obtaining permissions is too much, so people who own land with trees tend to sell it off rather than convert their wood into furniture. Everyone involved wants a cut of the pie, so they don’t believe it’s worth the trouble,” he says.
Rajesh’s craft has always catered to Goa’s distinctive cultural landscape. “Catholic families used to commission intricately carved rosewood furniture, especially for bridal sets. A Catholic bride would always get a bed, cupboard and dressing table to take to her marital home as a dowry. Hindu brides typically opted for simpler designs, but wealthy families would also commission furniture with ornate carvings,” he recalls. However, modern times have shifted the demand for these once-treasured items. “The price of a carved chair, which once sold for Rs 20, now fetches between Rs 6,000 and Rs 8,000. Sofas, once sold at Rs 300, can now cost as much as Rs 1 lakh, and traditional four-post beds go for Rs 1.5 lakh,” he rattles off.
Plastic furniture offers stiff competition today because of the price point, but, as Rajesh points out, “Plastic chairs are cheap and ugly, break easily, and destroy the environment.”
Rajesh remains one of the few artisans in Goa who still handcraft wooden furniture, yet he faces new challenges. The rise of machine-cut woodwork has flooded the market with mass-produced items, undercutting the prices of hand-carved pieces. “We can also use machines, but it doesn’t look good. The finishing isn’t right,” he says. His competitors, often migrants, use machines to produce furniture at a quarter of the price, misleading buyers by staining inferior woods like acacia to resemble teak.
Still, Rajesh’s reputation for craftsmanship endures. He is frequently called upon to restore traditional furniture, especially by Christian families seeking to maintain their heritage pieces, or replicate furniture from their family albums. “Show me any piece of furniture, and I can replicate it to the T,” he says with pride.
While the Chari community has been synonymous with furniture making for generations, the future of this craft is uncertain. “Many children from artisan families are reluctant to continue the painstaking work of their forefathers because of a drop in demand for heavy wood furniture. People are impatient; they want orders fast, fast. They opt for sleek designs made of MDF wood, which they can
order with a click of a mouse,” Rajesh observes. Yet, he remains steadfast in his commitment to quality and tradition, though he acknowledges that he may need to explore new ways to sustain his livelihood as demand for handcrafted woodwork declines.