Four days before Diwali, the stretch of L.J. Road outside Citylight Cinema in Mahim West stays bright long after the shops around it pull down their shutters. hexagon-shaped lanterns in pink, saffron and green hang in rows from bamboo poles, their paper tails moving in the evening breeze.
Families from Andheri, Bandra and Thane walk the lane slowly, holding two lanterns side by side before they pick one.
Long memory
Mumbaikars call this lane Kandil Galli. It runs past two old neighbourhood clusters, Kavle Wadi and Kadri Wadi, and its lantern trade goes back to the late 1940s, when a handful of artisans set up makeshift stalls of paper and bamboo lanterns. Around 16 Marathi artisan families still make and sell their lanterns here. A small paper star costs Rs 90, and a large fabric lantern goes for Rs 2,200.
For much of the last decade, cheap plastic and thermocol lanterns, many of them imported, filled markets across the city and pushed handmade pieces to the back of the stalls. This year, the sellers say, buyers ask two questions before they ask the price: who made it, and what is it made of.
Four generations, one season
The work starts in the wadis (residential clusters) as soon as Ganeshotsav ends. Front rooms turn into workshops, with scissors, glue, coloured paper and thin bamboo strips spread across the floor. Some families are in their fourth generation in the trade, and most members hold regular jobs, so the lanterns get cut, pasted and tied in the evenings and on weekends.
Deepak Kore, a fourth-generation maker and seller on the lane, says the rhythm has stayed the same for decades. “We start the day the Ganpati immersion is over. Everyone in the family has a job, so the lanterns get made at night and on Sundays. People come from every corner of Mumbai because they know they will find a good lantern here at a fair price.”
The newest design on the lane this season uses khan (a traditional Maharashtrian brocade) saree fabric, a first for Mahim’s makers. Lanterns printed with the word “Swami”, for the saint Swami Samarth, are selling fast too. Makers say paper and bamboo cost more every year, and their prices have crept up to match. “This is the first year we have used khan saree fabric,” Kore says. “Buyers pick it up the moment they see it, and the younger ones ask if it is handmade before they ask the price.”
Who made it?
Ankit Choudhary, 31, came to Mahim for the first time this year. “For years I bought whatever plastic lantern the shop downstairs had. It lasted one Diwali, and the colour faded in the sun by Padwa. This year my wife and I came here and picked a paper star from a family that has made them for decades. It cost a little more, but I know whose hands made it, and that feels right for Diwali.”
The change on the poles matches a national pattern. After last Diwali, the Confederation of All India Traders (CAIT) claimed that 87 per cent of buyers in its survey preferred Indian-made goods, and that demand for Chinese festive products fell sharply. The figures come from the trade body’s own survey, but sellers in Mahim describe the same trend at their counters.
Taking the craft further
Beyond the lane, a new set of founders has built year-round businesses on the same craft. In Byculla, Rang Gandh Creation, started in 2021 by Sir JJ School of Art graduates Akshay Gupta, Shruti Pore and Pallavi, makes lanterns from Paithani, Khun and Ikat textiles stretched over wooden frames. A layer of butter paper inside protects the fabric from the heat of the bulb and softens the light.
The team buys its fabric at Crawford Market and Bhuleshwar, prices its lanterns from Rs 650 to about Rs 2,000, and now ships to other states and to buyers overseas. “Every Diwali, we saw decor turn more plastic and more imported, so we went back to the fabrics our grandmothers wore,” says co-founder Akshay Gupta. “We keep our margin small so that a middle-class family can still afford a lantern that lasts.”
In Thane, Heramb Arts, founded by Kailas Desale, is in its 26th year of lanterns made from jute, bamboo, fabric, paper and wood. Hearing-impaired young people design and craft many of its pieces, and orders now arrive from the US, the UK, Singapore and Germany. “We change our designs every year after we watch what Thane families ask for,” says Desale. “This season, the traditional shapes are back in demand.”
Lantern for five Diwalis
Khushi Khaniya, 24, found hers online. “A small brand posted a reel of a khan fabric lantern, and I ordered it the same night. My friends and I care about what we bring home now. A plastic lantern ends up in the bin a week after Diwali. This one I will hang again next year, and the year after.”
Fabric lanterns cost more up front, and their makers sell them on that promise. Sellers say a well-made fabric lantern lasts four to five seasons, which changes the sum for a family that once bought a new plastic one every year.
For Deepa Kakkar, 45, this year's choice went back to her childhood. “When I was a girl, my father made our lantern at home with bamboo and butter paper, and we children cut the tails. Somewhere along the way, we started buying plastic because it was easier. This year I brought my daughter to Mahim so she could see families who still make them by hand. We chose a simple paper star, the kind I grew up with.”
By nine at night, the lane is at its busiest. One seller ties a lantern for a customer with a length of jute string, while another hands a young couple the last khan fabric piece on his pole. This weekend, those lanterns will go up on balconies across the city, from Girgaon to Powai, each one made by a family that has kept the craft alive for decades.
