The Steel Godrej Almirah: Where Every Indian Middle-Class Memory Was Locked Away

You can tell a lot about a person, a family, a generation, by the way they choose to do up their homes. But more than the paintings, curtains, tables and crockery, it's the cupboard that carries both the safe, and the secrets. Take the Greatest Generation (GI) or even their successors, the Silent Generation, for instance. Hulking wooden frames with intricate carvings and ornamental accents, was a common sight, both in reality and on screen. Aesthetic may have been a subconscious concept at the time, but those wooden almirahs expressed much more than what was 'on-trend' back in the day. Across teak, rosewood and other popular bases, these wooden cupboards represented a sense of rootedness and heritage. Trading in these almirahs for a swankier

one was for all practical purposes a non-concept. But who knew the sleek Godrej & Boyce steel almirahs would arrive to redefine more than just safe-keeping.

The steel pivot

Godrej & Boyce was founded in 1897. In under 3 decades, this lock-making enterprise managed to craft and float into public conscience, what is easily one of the most enduring symbols of the Indian middle-class - the steel almirah. The pivot was merely introduced at the time - because advertising was nowhere near as covertly aggressive as it is today. It was the Nehruvian era of state-led industrialisation and self-reliance however, that really added wings to the steel almirah's iconic tenure. Sleeker than wood and lighter in varnish, for the rooted middle class, it was a must-have. For those clawing up to that hallowed status, it was aspirational. And more than anything, it was a marked shift away from old ways, potentially representative of a rapidly changing India.

Welding weddings, one lock at a time

Zooming out of the socio-political context of the steel almirah, there was a softer narrative kept safe in its welded edges - and potentially the layer that gave its legacy the strongest foundational brick. The give and take between these two variables was unmissable. Given that the steel almirah was such an obvious marker of progressiveness and the kind of security that only comes from independence, it soon became a quota item in bridal trousseaus and dowry lists. More often than not, it arrived with the bride, carried into her marital home and put down in its permanent corner - a corner that would then be hers. And unpacking into it was a ritual in itself, deeply personal to each newlywed, yet somehow united by the customary lining of the shelves with either linen or newspaper. Clothes were stacked with napthalene balls, jewellery boxes were carefully locked away in the safe. And the keys which swung between the outer lock and the end of her pallu, did more than just unlock the doors. They represented authority and belonging.The steel almirah was a literal marker of her place in the home, whilst further cementing her marital family's middle-class status. It was a win-win - as plainly as that term can be used in discussions about 'stree dhan' and dowry. These debates are endless, but creating a space for themselves and being assertively middle class were much-nestled dreams for the women of that era. And the steel almirah held it all together for them in their domestic prowess.

Next-gen update

The push industrialisation gave to the steel almirah is exactly what the modular wardrobe market received with liberalisation in the late 90s and 2000s. Young India, now made up of Millennials, was moving on to the next sleek thing. With much more to explore and hide in the safe-keeping space, the steel almirah quickly fell through the ranks losing its aspirational aura. It was now just a defining memory representing how things were, but not how they needed to be.But there's still more to say about the steely symbol of evolution. Last year, the Godrej Enterprises Archives presented the steel almirah as a design history object at CEPT University, Ahmedabad.

From a household staple to archival exclusivity, the steel almirah's allure probably lies in the fact that it feels deeply familiar, even to those who didn't necessarily grow up locking their lives in one.