Plaster of Paris and 'P-O-P'

In our 11th standard chemistry book we encountered a revelation. When the teacher told us that, "Plaster of Paris was the other name for Calcium Sulphate Hemihydrate," some of us looked at each other and telepathically nodded in reverse-agreement: "Calcium Sulphate Hem-whatever is the other name for Plaster of Paris." 

So the omnipresent 'P-O-P' was something with a 'professional' chemical name! I always thought that in India, Plaster of Paris was affectionately called 'P-O-P' rather than being a simple abbreviation 'P.O.P'. It took me over twelve years of schooling to realize that P-O-P meant serious business. And serious business it is apparently. After staring at the corners of the ceilings of thousands of Indian homes and analyzing the beauty of the cornices made of P-O-P while the fan rotated at the centre of this affordable middle class architectural marvel, I found myself in Paris.

To gauge the versatility of this chemical, you have to look around (actually you don't even have to). The entire city is made up of Plaster...of Paris (quite literally). It is like a blanket that the city wears. And the majority of repair/renovation that you'd find in the neighborhood would be a redoing of the plaster. It does wither with time and must be redone. It might not snow in Paris every year but there are certainly a lot of plaster flakes precipitating in or around your apartment. 

It is known that plaster was invented about 8,000 years ago, the setting of terra cotta and stucco provides us with some insight to man's attempts at moulding stuff. The Greeks and the Romans used plaster on a huge scale, but it wasn't until the modern British industrial class branded it as the 'Plaster from Paris' that it became a subsequent household essential...more so in India.

P-O-P is manufactured by dehydrating (just the right amount) of the mineral gypsum. Majority of the gypsum produced in India comes from one region- Rajasthan. The case seems similar with France which has gypsum mines concentrated near the city that gives the final product its name. It is indispensably used in construction, architecture, design and medical industries in both the countries. However, there seems to have been a huge deviation in one field: sculpture.

While French sculptures at the Louvre, D'Orsay and Rodin Museums or the ones you see on the exteriors of magnificent public spaces all around the city have been cast in 'plâtre,' Indian sculptors have been strong believers of cutting and chiseling rather than moulding/casting. Though terra cotta toys of the Harappan age exhibit our infatuation with clay, Stone seems to be the ultimate Indian favourite. From the highly sophisticated Amaravati, Gandhara and Mathura schools of Ancient sculpture to the contemporary small busts of political leaders at town chowks/squares, stone is what holds the 'pedestal' and the sculpture (no pun intended). The so-called golden period of Indian sculpture stayed aloof of plaster while the post-Renaissance France capitalized on it centuries later.  

Marble is another shared love. Carpeaux would have loved to witness the Jataka inspired dome slabs of the Amaravati Stupa (or maybe he did get to see them). 

 

And then there's bronze! The Dancing Girl and the Thinker both have their hearts beating for it. And that is a whole new conversation.