K P Veezhinathan and K P Umapathy, hereditary sculptors, are a link in a tradition uninterrupted by modernity and Mammon. Members of the Vishwakarma community, which believes it has descended from the ancient sage by the same name, the brothers sculpt temple icons and sheet metal works. And for the last four months, they have been in Mumbai, creating silver idols representing the navagrahas -- the nine planets -- in a room that has doubled as a workshop and home of sorts at the Mukteshwar Devalay at Juhu.

The results were unveiled for the temple trustees and worshippers alike last Friday. But the discerning brothers are not just concerned with good reviews. Matching step withtradition has proved to be far more difficult than keeping pace with modernity, says Umapathy. Their art, dyed deep in spirituality, is now in the hands of sculptors whose techniques are far removed from any sacred experience. Sculpture is dying in its purity: Temples are being built, but they aren't making them like they used to. The principles of their sculpture were laid down in the Shilpi Shastras, an ancient treatise rooted in the Vedas which speak extensively and authoritatively of beauty, architecture and sculpture and elevate art to a spiritual exploration, not merely an aesthetic or a commercial one. Little wonder then that for the brothers, lifting a hammer and chisel is akin to an act of prayer.

"To form a mental image of God, one must meditate. Satisfactory dhyana leads you to attaining samadhi, where you can become one with the object," says Umapathy. The rules of creation are all inscribed in the shastras, which, he says , contain "size, proportion, length, breadth,measurements, everything. From Kashmir to Kanyakumari, the measurements in all temples are the same."

But a decided lack of interest in preserving the ancient pattern of creation within the community and poor knowledge of the texts outside of it has been chipping away at the pure tradition of ancient sculpture. "The purpose of our art is to realise the self, to help devotees attain spirituality," says Veezhinathan. "Our work is meticulous, involving several rituals and homams. But the standards of work are slipping. Few sculptors these days work according to the principles laid down in the shastras."

Adds Umapathy, "These days, there is too much material competition. The younger generation is just not interested in doing things the way they are to be done."

Ironically, Umapathy blames government patronage for aiding this standardisation of art. After independence, the government started training schools for promoting sculpture which took their traditional art outside the community, hesays. "Whereas, we don't share our art with outsiders. It is passed down within families, father to son." The irony now is that there are spiritual minded people who don't deal with art, and artists who are not spiritual, Umapathy wryly remarks. Perhaps, he suggests, corporate houses could step forward to keep their tradition intact.

Umapathy himself burnt the midnight oil to be a chartered accountant. "Then, my father asked me whether I wanted to break the family tradition. I tossed away my ambition."

The brothers now run Subarna Traders in Kumbakonam, Tamil Nadu, where they create metal relief works as well as bronze icons, panels depicting gods and goddesses, gifts and mementos. They have also created works for temples in Udipi, Pondicherry as well as South Indian temples in Mumbai. The Mukteshwar Devalay trustees saw their work at a Matunga temple and posted them a letter. Now that the icons have taken their place in the temple, the brothers will return to making gods and goddesses inKumbakonam.

"We refuse to be known as craftsmen. We are ordinary people who cannot create god ourselves. We can only aspire to attaining spirituality by creating god's form," says Umapathy.