A million little gods causin' rain storms, turnin' every good thing to rust
If you catch the bus from Asad Gate that takes you through Shavar, ride it for an hour and get off just after the bridge you'll be a short rickshaw ride from Dhamrai. 
The only real reason to go to Dhamrai is it's bronze workers and their use of the lost wax technique. The metal workers create their figures in wax completely and in perfect detail.They coat the wax with clay, then fire it melting the wax which pours out holes in the feet. Then they pour bronze into the space left by the wax, let it set and break the mold, freeing the figurine.
Many of the figures are of Hindu gods and goddesses. Each image and statue illustrate a story which in turn explains the character of that particular god, each of whom animates one of the thousand facets of the One, the Highest God.
I love hearing the stories of each figure, though some stories are horrible. Hinduism's narrative culture and the way it is tied to tangible figures facinates me. I try to place something in my tradition that might parallel them. Stained glass windows are as close as I get. Or manger scenes.
As I gaze at the shiny bronze figures and the stories and symbolism they contain, I sympathize with the Israelites who were living in a country and surrounded by a religion based on idols. I ponder why God is so adamant against graven images. Is it the getting caught up in an individual aspect? The limiting of aspects to 1,000? Putting God in a box? Turning God into a toy? Fascinated I may be, but I resist the urge to get the dancing Vishnu and got a traditional Bengali horse.
Once we were done seeing the workshops and each bought a HEAVY chunk of bronze, we found ourselves in Dhamrai. Bri, Colin and I enjoyed the quiet narrow lanes and busy market places, visited a Hindu temple, shopped for oranges and had lunch before taking the bus home, via the memorial to the Bangladesh's language martyrs.
The only real reason to go to Dhamrai is it's bronze workers and their use of the lost wax technique. The metal workers create their figures in wax completely and in perfect detail.They coat the wax with clay, then fire it melting the wax which pours out holes in the feet. Then they pour bronze into the space left by the wax, let it set and break the mold, freeing the figurine.
Many of the figures are of Hindu gods and goddesses. Each image and statue illustrate a story which in turn explains the character of that particular god, each of whom animates one of the thousand facets of the One, the Highest God.I love hearing the stories of each figure, though some stories are horrible. Hinduism's narrative culture and the way it is tied to tangible figures facinates me. I try to place something in my tradition that might parallel them. Stained glass windows are as close as I get. Or manger scenes.
As I gaze at the shiny bronze figures and the stories and symbolism they contain, I sympathize with the Israelites who were living in a country and surrounded by a religion based on idols. I ponder why God is so adamant against graven images. Is it the getting caught up in an individual aspect? The limiting of aspects to 1,000? Putting God in a box? Turning God into a toy? Fascinated I may be, but I resist the urge to get the dancing Vishnu and got a traditional Bengali horse.
Once we were done seeing the workshops and each bought a HEAVY chunk of bronze, we found ourselves in Dhamrai. Bri, Colin and I enjoyed the quiet narrow lanes and busy market places, visited a Hindu temple, shopped for oranges and had lunch before taking the bus home, via the memorial to the Bangladesh's language martyrs.
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