Going, going, gone

Editorial summons for a scribe is exciting, the offer to work for a re-christened product is alluring, but editorial deadlines are terrorising. And it was that very terror that roused me from a Sunday slumber as I made my way to the auction houses in Kolkata’s Russell Street. At the very beginning, it didn’t look like a perfect start to a coveted Sunday, as men, irrespective of their social standing, screamed, ululated and celebrated with mannerisms that would have made our World Cup winning team feel shy. Bordering Park Street, Russell Street, now renamed Anandilal Poddar Sarani, to obliterate the colonial past, is still home to a long-drawn British tradition of auctions.

The oldest of them is Russell Exchange, which opened in 1940, and then there is Modern Exchange (1952) and the relatively new Suman Exchange (1972).

Sarfaraz Javed sits on a high podium every Sunday trying to retain a fading 70-year-old tradition that was started by her father Abdul Majid. At first glance, she looked like a school teacher, trying to sober a bunch of elderly unruly students, who are at war with each other over treasures and trifles. But slowly the excitement faded, and as I started to look through their prism, I was overcome with curiosity, urge and materialistic desire. The alluring summons of the auctioneer to place a bid, the fervour with which bids were placed, the low prices at which covetable goods came under the hammer and the charged atmosphere at the auction hall — all these metamorphosed me from an observer to eager contestant in a matter of minutes.

Not everything up for auction last Sunday could be described as collectors’ items. Sabita Ghosh bought a gramophone record player for Rs390 (Dh26). Her friend Subir got a push-dial telephone for Rs55, while Tithi Roy was all smiles after acquiring a porcelain vase for just Rs600. However, Roy had no plans of decorating her drawing room with the vase, just as Ghosh’s sound system was not for her personal use. They’re part of the gang of around a hundred people who flock to Kolkata’s auction houses every Sunday to bid for everything from broken telephones to four-poster mahogany beds. They’re a diverse mix of scrap dealers, small-time mechanics, furniture dealers, curio hunters and antique collectors of diverse classes, ages and backgrounds.

S. Mallick, who belongs to one of the oldest and most distinguished families of the city, and is a regular at the auctions, recalls: “There was a time when these auction houses were treasure troves. Furniture from Felix Aubert, glass sets from Belgium, chandeliers and much more used to be auctioned. It was very thrilling to bid for such stuff and win the bid. Even watching the auctions used to be fun. Today, there’s a lot of junk mixed in with some fine stuff, that’s why you see so many low-end dealers at the auctions.”

Javed agrees. The class has certainly come down and these days we get to see a miniscule of the earlier crowd, he says. There used be people for whom showing up at the Sunday auction was not only prestigious but also equally addictive, quite like the races on Saturday.

Sociologist Sunit Sinha views this as part of a changing social order. “Earlier people used to take pride in their lineage and hence a lot of people used to buy these antique stuff to decorate their homes and showcase them to their guests as part of their ancestral property thereby inventing a legacy. But in today’s open society, where people communicate over social media, there is little and no use of the same. Hence the interest to buy such antiques is on the decline.”

Kolkata is the only city in India that holds such live auctions every week. Ironically, auction houses witnessed their boom when the city was on the decline, and is now facing a lull since things have started looking up for the city.

“Auction houses were doing very well when there was a rush among big businessmen, corporate houses, foreign airlines and diplomatic missions to leave the city during the volatile years in the late 1960s and early 1970s. We used to sell very good stuff, especially furniture,” said Arshad Salim, the youngest of the three owners of Russell Exchange. According to Salim, throughout the 19th century, auction houses were the perfect intermediaries for the British or well-heeled Parsis leaving the city. Locals would seize the opportunity to adorn their homes with antiques such as original Burma teak furniture, old English pottery, porcelain, cutlery, carpets, and so on. The auctioneers would receive a commission, as they still do, and it was a good deal for all involved.

Often, the auctions were even held in the homes of sellers to assure customers of the authenticity of the items. These days, they auction everything from Victorian statues to colonial furniture, curios, crockery, books to old laptops, and even clothes. The Russell Exchange even auctions old clothes every Thursday.

“Very recently I sold a wedding dress by Ritu Kumar for Rs85,” said Javed, who is the auctioneer for the first half of the proceedings from 11am on Sundays.

Across the road from the Russell Exchange is Suman’s Exchange, which appears to be more discerning in what it offers. “We don’t accept low-value junk. Most of what we sell is high-value stuff, especially curios, silverware, decorative items and furniture. We’re also the exclusive auctioneers for foreign missions,” says proprietor N.K. Bakshi, who is a collector himself.

According to Bakshi it is still possible to find treasures from old houses being pulled down, people moving out of Kolkata and its adjoining township, or landed families who have fallen on hard times. But both Salim and Bakshi admit to innovative measures to keep the business going.

“These days we cannot sell anything that is older than 75 years as the law prohibits us from doing so. We are forced to sell reproductive furniture which is certainly not antique, though they look and feel like that,” said Salim. “This law makes no sense. A genuine antique is a very rare item that has historical value. A clock owned by my grandfather can’t be called an antique requiring registration with the authorities,” Bakshi says.

Under this law, anyone possessing any item that is more than 75 years old has to get it registered with the state archaeology department and the department’s permission is mandatory for its sale. “It’s too much of a hassle for people,” said Bakshi.

Archisman Dinda is a journalist based in Kolkata.