Four years ago, the fortunes of the city’s brass industry plummeted when the price of brass and other raw materials touched the sky. Now, the economic meltdown of the last three months has pushed prices to new lows, opening a deeper wound in the life of Moradabad’s famous brass industry.
“Over the last two to three months, prices of metals like brass and aluminum have fallen drastically. We bought brass at Rs 250 per kg. Before we could make the goods and deliver them to exporters, the price came down to Rs 200 per kg in the next few weeks, and then dropped to Rs 160-170. Foreign clients immediately cancelled or postponed orders. We started bleeding because of heavy losses,” says asks Ashfaq Ali, a head artisan.
The buildings at Nawabpura and Jama Masjid road areas vie for space in the old city, but globalisation means the workshops here have found a permanent place in the London Metal Exchange (LME). As the global economy’s uncertainty led to a sharp fall in prices on the LME, customers sitting in the US or the UK decided the fate of the speculative deals by checking out current rates at the click of the mouse.
Globalisation means the chimneys of Haji Matloof’s factory at Nawabpura will remain cold. This small-time businessman’s factory produces silli, or the brass bar — the basic form of the main ingredient that is melted into different items. “I closed down the factory after I suffered a loss of around Rs 10 lakh in the last two months,” he says. Soon, others like Munnalal and Naresh Kumar gather around Matloof to tell their own but same stories of loss and closures.
Adam Smith’s theory said involvement of 19 people was the best way to make a nail. Making a brass lamp, say about a foot long, requires 10-14 people. Each artisan specialises in just one job. There’s a different man for every stage. Even the inward and outward groove-locks are made by different sets of artisans. “Four years ago the artisans earned Rs 250-400 daily. Even three-four months ago, the rates were at least Rs 100. Now they are between Rs 60 and Rs 70,” said S Ghanim, president of the Brass Artisans’ Society. A conservative estimate suggests that this unorganised industry employs around 200,000 artisans.
Md Azam’s ANS International shot to fame when his brother crafted the 1996 cricket world cup trophies there. As one enters the factory, the noise of hammering of metals can still be heard, but the unit has just 15 workers to make some utensils. “I have sacked 80 workers as I am utilising just 30 per cent capacity,” says Azam. “My factory still runs as I also make utility goods. But those who manufactured only showpiece items are ruined.”
Ghanim introduces Babu Salman, an artisan who has opened a cycle-repair shop. “There are others who are selling vegetables. Almost all the workers are landless poor and have nothing else to fall back on.” Amit Ghosh, the district magistrate of Morabadad (which has the only handicrafts special economic zone in India) said the size of the export industry was more than Rs 3,000 crore but the last one month saw a slew of order cancellations. “Some exporters came to me recently asking for another 600 acres of land to expand the SEZ. I turned down the demand. When the economy is down, what can you do with the land?” he said.
The story of brassware begins from scrap, debris and rubble. People buy these to find brass pieces or metal dust and then melt it to make bars. And then begins the fashioning of the handicraft. What Ashfaq Ali, Haji Matloof and Naresh Kumar didn’t know was that one day their business itself would lie in ruins around them.
