Nadda mourns Vummidi Ethiraj, craftsman of historic Sengol
Synopsis
Key Takeaways
The man whose hands shaped one of modern India's most charged symbols is gone. Union Health Minister J. P. Nadda on Wednesday, 21 October 2026 expressed deep grief over the passing of Thiru Vummidi Ethiraj, the Tamil artisan whose family workshop crafted the Sengol — the ceremonial sceptre that now stands in the new Parliament building in New Delhi.
The craftsman behind the Sengol's enduring form
Vummidi Ethiraj belonged to the Vummidi family, whose artisans forged the Sengol — rooted in Chola-era tradition as a symbol of righteous power transfer — originally in 1947. The sceptre carries within its metalwork a lineage that stretches back centuries, and Ethiraj's role in shaping it placed him at a quiet but consequential intersection of craft and constitutional history. Nadda wrote that 'his invaluable contribution to crafting the historic Sengol will forever remain a part of India's cultural legacy.'
His passing, the minister noted, is 'a great loss to our cultural heritage' — a tribute that frames the artisan not merely as a craftsperson but as a living thread connecting ancient Indian traditions to the nation's ongoing journey.
From 1947 to the new Parliament: the Sengol's second life
The Sengol's return to public prominence came in May 2023, when Prime Minister Narendra Modi directed its ceremonial installation inside the new Parliament building in New Delhi — placing it in a position of honour as a civilisational emblem rather than a museum artefact. The moment recast the sceptre as a live symbol of India's self-understanding, drawing a direct line from the Chola tradition through independence to the present legislature.
For Vummidi Ethiraj and his family, that installation was a form of public recognition: the object their workshop had crafted was no longer a footnote but a centrepiece of the nation's most visible democratic institution.
A legacy that outlives its maker
Nadda closed his tribute with the words 'Om Shanti' — invoking the traditional Sanskrit prayer for peace — and extended condolences to Ethiraj's family 'in this hour of grief.' The register was restrained and sincere: no political architecture, just the acknowledgement of a life whose craftsmanship had quietly shaped national memory.
Artisans like Vummidi Ethiraj rarely appear in headlines while they live. The Sengol endures in Parliament; now so does his name. The hands that shaped history deserve to be remembered by it.