Yeh kaam dhyaan maangta hai — when you’ve spent forty years reading the grain of deodar, you know a machine never will. My daughter’s classmates in Chandigarh send her photos of resin-cast Ganeshas from some factory in Moradabad, half the price of the one I carve, but they crumble in two winters. I tell her: the real cost isn’t in the shop, it’s in the hands that lose their work, and in the temple where the idol cracks before the lamp burns out. This “progress” they talk about — it always has a face, and that face is a man like me, quiet in his workshop, watching
#rural
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