Uncertainty stares at Russell Exchange

Kolkata auction house has a mix of old and latest articles

Sunday afternoons, lazy for the rest of Kolkata, is a busy time at Russell Exchange. The action keeps swinging between calls for higher bids and the auctioneer’s hammer falling with a thump to close the sale. From bric-a-brac to chandeliers, desktop computers and computer peripherals to antique furniture, one can bid for almost anything at Russell Exchange, the last family-owned auction house in Kolkata, and may be even in India.

Times, however, are changing and business might have slowed down a bit. The auction house, which has seen glory days since it first opened shop in 1940, continues to make money but things are not as they were. Most of the other auction houses in the area have shut shop, with Russell Exchange being the last two of the lot. Old-timers recollect that once upon a time, Sundays on Russell Street used to be an action-filled time.

Russell Exchange, which borrows its name from Russell Street, off busy Park Street in central Kolkata — it is in the middle of what used to be known as “White Town” when British residents lived in the area — is not only the oldest but also the one that has survived the vagaries of time. Run by brothers Arshad Salim and Anwar Salim, the auction house is a cornucopia of delight for a specific kind of hunters, those looking for a bargain, a never-before kind of deal, which brings forth a unique discovery.

And the discovery is often worth the stress and the nail-biting finish to a bid. As lot after lot passes from under the auctioneer’s hammer, one is likely to become the proud owner of some Victorian era furniture, sold off by an old-moneyed, elite Bengali family or even a motorbike that might have once been used to travel across India.

A walk into the large hall-like auction house is somewhat jarring, where modern computer printers and professional sound systems are crammed next to Chinese urns, brass figures and marble statues.

The auction house is likely to remind one of The Old Curiosity Shop by Charles Dickens. It piques

visitor’s curiosity and leaves him somewhat amazed with the time-defying range of objects on display. If on one shelf a gramophone rubs edges with a stark white, slightly older version of an Apple desktop computer, on another table a hair curler finds a place between a high-quality hi-fi audio system and marble book-ends. An expensive marble cheetah seems all set to pounce on a Chinese vase that probably dates back to the Ming period, jostling for space on an Edwardian desk, set next to a modern-day sofa set.

Goods that go under the hammer on any given Sunday range from antiques and furniture to crockery and cutlery, with Thursday being the day set for clothes. While period furniture, antiquated ceramic items and sophisticated artifacts made up much of the auction in old days, the auction currently witnesses a more eclectic spectrum of lots, ranging from used sleeping bags to crystal chandeliers, from Michael Jackson CDs with cracked cases to exquisitely crafted Burma teak beds.

Arshad said that earlier most articles used to come from mansions of aristocratic Bengali families, getting rid of antiquated furniture to make space for contemporary designs. Embassies, consulates and high commissions in the city also provide a steady source of material. These days, however, most stuff come by with people getting rid of family heirloom to make a bit of money off them.

Elaborating on how the system works, Arshad said that they act as the conduit between sellers and buyers, providing them a platform to interact with each other. “We don’t buy or own any of the stuff on display at our store. Sellers bring articles to us, we value them and then help in setting an initial bidding price. Whatever price goes up when it comes under the hammer, we pay to the seller, keeping a commission of 20 per cent for our services,” he explained.

The auctioneer pointed out that what affected the trade is the government levying a value added tax of 14.5 per cent on every goods that come under the hammer. “This is our only bone of contention. We fail to understand why a person is made to pay tax on the same object more than once.

We essentially sell used goods and buyers are made to pay up a tax for that. Imagine buying a new pair of shoes for which you are charged VAT. Then, if you want to sell it and auction it off, the next buyer is again charged a tax. Every time you buy those shoes you will have to pay tax. This seems unfair,” he complained.

Arshad agreed that auctioning was a more thriving business in the earlier days, when he first joined his father Abdul Majid’s business 35 years ago as a strapping boy of 18. “Quality of buyers and sellers has changed. Earlier, a lot of imported articles used to pass under our hammer. Now we don’t get as much imported things and much of what we sell are locally-made articles,” Arshad said.

He and his brother Anwar have carried forward the business their father started and have been running it steady even though others have fallen by the wayside. Although the brothers are not willing to comment on what led other auction houses to close down, a veteran from the street said that greed led to their doom. “Most auction houses shut down because they lost credibility.

They would sell articles at a given price but would pay less to the seller. Suppose you put up a table for auction and the auctioneer manages to get Rs 1,000 for it, he will claim that he only got Rs 800 and then charge commission on it. For an auction house, integrity is all that counts,” said the man behind many auctions.

The future of Russell Exchange, however, is also uncertain, admitted Arshad even though he handles it with stoicism. “All three of my daughters and my nephew and niece are well-settled. None of them is interested to join the trade. We’ll carry on as long as we can. We haven’t decided what to do later. There’s no succession plan,” he admitted.   

Since their father brought Russell Exchange from its British owner and enjoyed a wide network of clients from across the country, it has thrived and become a heritage institution. Arshad and Anwar would simply continue to wake up every Sunday and look forward to the thrill of the chase till the hammer comes down. “Going, going, gone…” is the motto they live by.