Cottage Industries works directly with artisans and so one can leave any manner of guilt about giving money to middle men at the doorstep. And I did.
The guard opens the door.
I step in and a fragrant whiff of sandalwood incense combined with a light rose scent trails into the nostrils. It's the smell, in my opinion of Indian luxury. Now as an aside, no one does luxury like India. Ironic given the state of some of her citizens but truly, between the silks and the diamonds and gold that women can be swathed in, not to mention the sweets and rich foods, warm lemony bowls to wash greasy fingers even in ordinary restaurants, kingly marble floors and rosewood and teak furniture...you get the picture.
Where was I? Yes the scent in this store. A glorious, comfortable, old world and positively luxurious scent. One that you can just sink into. Imagine a warm, long afternoon with cups of tea accompanied by sweet and spicy snacks. Its no ordinary tea but the kind one can sip lounging and sunken lazily in silk cushions, having pleasant chatter with pleasant company.
Anyhoo, that was the first few seconds worth of effect on the senses. What was to follow was the kind of effect on the visual that can only be described as breathtaking. Embroidered bed spreads with mirrors glimmering here and there, as if partly hidden and yet partly visible, applied just so in order to entice. Carved wooden boxes, sculpted onyx vases, bronze Ganeshas and Saraswatis of exquisite beauty. Dressers, coffee tables, cupboards with inlay and carved facades. Ooh la la. Furniture one doesn't dare really use, so delicate are they.
Following that I visit a store or more like an island in the middle of Pune called Sanskriti. Once more I am surrounded by antiques and antique reproductions from all over India. I buy a round brass tin for want of better words with a sort of charming little padlock. It was used to store anything from money to rotis in Rajasthan, the glamorous, ex army wife owner of the store, explains in polished English. I also buy a pan box made of wafer thin bronze, probably made for a Muslim woman, the proprietor says. Of course, only a Muslim woman would be beautiful enough to use this as her beetle leaf box. I feel a thrill go down my spine. I must bring my husband to check out the furniture, I say. She uses recycled Burma teak for the antique furniture reproductions. Beautiful and responsible. Did I just die and go to heaven? I am in love with this store. With three cottages housing its wares and the cottages separated by lush lawns and gardens where one can imagine peacocks roaming around, this place is one I am tempted to move into.
Before I leave, I close my eyes, think of the hands that created such beauty, hands of artisans of such great calibre. I am moved by the beauty, the sheer beauty of their labor.
I leave, excitedly making plans for decorating my new albeit rented home.
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