Reviving Indian Handicrafts: A Renaissance in Home Décor
FROM KERALA’S BOAT RACES TO YOUR LIVING ROOM WALL
Every August, in the lush, rain-fed heartlands of Alappuzha and Kottayam, something extraordinary happens. Dozens of long, tapering wooden boats — Chundan Vallams, or snake boats — cut through Kerala’s backwaters, powered by synchronized oarsmen chanting ancient war songs. These are the Vallamkali (boat races), held during the festival of Onam, and they are as much about ritual and pride as they are about sport.
The boats stretch over 100 feet, carved from anjili (wild jackfruit) wood, and maintained by villages year-round. To build or row one is not a profession — it’s a privilege. To retire one is an event marked with ceremony.
At Sapphire Rose, we honour this legacy by working with artisans who upcycle aged or decommissioned snake boats — or their wood — into functional art: wall sculptures, console elements, and decorative replicas that bring a quiet movement into modern homes.
A LIVING TRADITION THAT DEFIES TIME
The earliest references to Vallamkali can be traced to the 14th-century temple records of Aranmula, where the annual race is held on the Pampa River to commemorate Lord Krishna. Each boat represents a village, and each is built to exact specifications — sometimes taking over a year to complete.
Chundan Vallams are shaped like serpents, with elevated sterns and sleek hulls. Some boats carry over 100 oarsmen, all rowing to the rhythmic call of the vanchipattu, or boat song. When they race, they don’t just move — they ripple, coil, and undulate as if the river itself has come alive.
These boats are more than vessels — they are symbols of harmony, heritage, and craft.
SALVAGING HISTORY, ONE PIECE AT A TIME
With changing water levels and the slow fade of communal life, many older snake boats are no longer used in competition. Some decay, others are left to rest in the quiet backwaters they once ruled.
A few, however, are rescued.
We source select sections of aged snake boats through a local network in Kuttanad and Champakulam. The wood, darkened by water and time, is carefully dried, stabilized, and passed to master woodworkers in Thrissur and Ernakulam who understand both its fragility and potential.
From these, we shape elongated panels, carved sculptures, and minimal replicas — each piece retaining the grain, curve, and character of its origin. They do not replicate the boats. They remember them.
HOW A BOAT BECOMES A STORY ON THE WALL
Placed horizontally above a console or headboard, these pieces carry motion even when still. Some homeowners position them in corridors or dining areas — spaces where gathering happens, where rhythm returns.
In coastal homes, they echo water. In city apartments, they break the grid. Wherever they go, they carry with them the aura of movement, community, and ceremony.
We consider them not just wall art, but ritual fragments — small acts of preservation made visual.
BEYOND NOSTALGIA
These works are not nostalgic. They are alive. They honour a living tradition that still thrives each monsoon, that still draws people to riversides and rooftops, that still holds the breath of its region.
By placing a sliver of that story in your home, you are not looking backward. You are allowing something ancient to remain in circulation.
The boats may no longer race. But their rhythm continues — carved, upcycled, and carried gently forward.
some of these boats are inspired by these original boats but made out of mahogany wood for longer life and rich look. There are also items in our collection which are upcycled from these original boats. We use sections or parts of these original upcycled boats and translate them into book shelves or corner pieces.
