Inside a dimly lit workshop on 26/1 Rafi Ahmed Kidwai Road, 94-year-old CH Chang leans over a pile of scattered fabric, thread and bright red scraps of cloth. The air smells faintly of glue and paint. The light is dim, straining his frailing eyes. Yet, Chang sits steadily at his workbench, his fingers moving with the calm confidence born of long practice. At an age when most have long retired, he positions a red hat on a Santa Claus doll or smoothens the green shredded plastic sheets that will become a Christmas tree.
Chang has been making these decorations for 65 years, a skill he learnt from his mother, along with his brothers
For more than six decades, Chang has been one of Kolkata’s most consistent makers of old-school Christmas decorations. This is his world and his identity, carved out of patience, skill and a dedication that has outlived the popularity of the craft itself. “My family came to Kolkata from China in 1930. I was born in Kolkata,” he said.
Chang and his three workers produce about 20 handmade Santa dolls every three days for markets like Gariahat and New Market
He works alongside three men who have been with him for years. Together, they turn out about 20 Santa dolls in three days. It is slow work, each stitch done by hand, each detail refined the way his mother once taught him. “I have been doing this for the past 65 years. We were four brothers and we learnt making Santa Claus from our mother,” he said. Not only Santa dolls and trees, but he also crafts little ornaments to hang on the tree.
There was a time when demand for his handmade Santas and trees filled the workshop with urgency. Markets like Gariahat and New Market waited eagerly for his stock. Families preferred these simple, sturdy dolls over glossier, store-bought versions.
But, times have changed. Imported decorations, lit-up Santas and factory-made Christmas trees now crowd shop shelves, reducing the space for crafts like his. “Our business is down by 50 per cent,” Chang said. But there is no bitterness in his voice, only resignation. While many craftsmen fear machines, Chang’s own unsteady hands make him long for a simple, affordable one that could help him keep working.
Demand has dipped by around 50 per cent due to the rise of modern, factory-made decorations, but schools and small shop owners still place orders
Yet he continues to work. Orders still come from schools and small shopkeepers who value the charm of handmade traditions. His pieces, priced between Rs 35 and Rs 1,000 depending on size, carry a nostalgia that cannot be replicated by machines. Watching him handle cloth and wire with wrinkled hands that refuse to rest, one realises this is not just a trade. It is his passion and dedication. It is the last glowing ember of an era slipping away.