HYDERABAD: Deep in the quaint streets of Doodh Bowli, an unassuming workshop stands defiant against the modern world’s clamour for branding. No flashy signs announce its presence; all that remains is evidence of a declining art form — the meticulous creation of sand-cast metal tokens. Here, 30-year-old Mohammad Azeem carries the weight of cultural heritage within the cramped confines of his workshop.
These tokens were once ubiquitous in Hyderabad. From busy mills and barracks to train stations, banks and even local restaurants, everyday transactions were made easier. Each token, typically inscribed with the product it represents — tea, rice, idli —was a record of daily earnings.
The heritage of these tokens dates back to the Nizam period (1724-1948). Hyderabad’s mint then churned out copper, silver and gold coins, reflecting the grandeur of the Nizam’s rule. However, these tokens served a more local purpose and operated in smaller communities and areas.
The Azeem’s lineage is closely associated with this metalworking tradition. He said, “My father, great-grandfather and his ancestors were all involved in the art of token making.” He estimates that there are only 3-4 artisans left in Hyderabad, a stark contrast to the vibrant community it once had.
Azeem recalls a time when his family actively supported the city’s cultural tapestries. His ancestors not only made tokens but also made ornaments for the Nizam’s palaces and houses. He also points to a metal plate, proudly displayed, made by his father years ago —a licence for a bicycle, with the name and hometown of the bicycle owner, a testament to the versatility of their craft.
These tokens are still being used in a few cafes and restaurants across Hyderabad. One such eatery where Azeem sells his craft is the Nimrah Café and Bakery, located near Charminar. This café opened its doors to tea and biscuit lovers in 1993 and has been packed with tourists ever since. At present, the metal tokens are mostly used for ordering tea.
“These tokens are very convenient to use when customers gather in numbers because they help us keep track of our daily earnings and transactions,” said Aslam Bin Abdood, son of Abood Bin Aslam Al Katheri, the founder of the café.
But the melody of the metal tokens clinking has been replaced by crinkling paper receipts and plastic tokens. While convenient, these modern alternatives lack the spirit and environmental sustainability of their metal predecessors. Metal tokens, unlike their disposable counterparts, could be minted and recycled, creating a closed system with minimal waste.
The story of Hyderabad’s metal tokens is more than just the decline of the art; it’s a decaying culture. The next time you’re in town, look for a clanging hammer, a whisper of a tradition that refuses to be silenced.
