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Hindustan Times

Smol pleasures: Why miniature thalis, sofas and paintings are big business

Small is huge right now. Instagram Reels are zooming in on thalis no bigger than your little finger, laden with tiny rotis, veggie bowls, a cute papad and a mound of rice. Someone's handpainting model-train compartments the size of an eraser. Matchbox-sized wardrobes open up to contain five of Carrie Bradshaw's iconic looks, down to the Choos. Like. Like. Like. What began as a niche COVID-time hobby for craft-loving folks is now a thriving little business too. Miniature collectibles, especially food, are showing up as fridge magnets, wedding favours, pooja offerings and personalised presents for the besties. At 18th birthday parties, mini versions of the cake are turning into 'keep-cake' keychains. Artists work within a strict size range — five to seven centimetres — small enough to feel delicate, not so tiny that the details are lost. It's driven by precision and intention, everything must look cute. You don't need a psychology class to remind you that miniaturised bits of real life — model trains, Lego sets, architectural models, Barbie's Dreamhouse, even bobbleheads — tap into our sense of control. Items and ideas that are too much to take in at full scale are easier to process when they're shrunk down. Plus, in an age when we're filming everything, mini versions of the familiar are that much easier to like. It's why Chennai-based Sudha and Neha Chandranarayan's videos (@CNArts_Miniatures) of their handmade clay micro Maggi noodles has quietly amassed 39.6 million views. And the money coming in? Not so little. Minis to the max Sudha Chandranarayan, 55, spent more than three decades in traditional crafts. She's picked up mural work, doll-making and other painting styles while moving through Mumbai, Indore and Porbandar. 'Everywhere we lived, my mom absorbed the local art forms like a sponge,' says her daughter Neha, 25, who works alongside her. About 20 years ago, Chandranarayan discovered clay miniatures. 'She began sculpting tiny plants, birds, animals, even people, all by hand.' They ran workshops, passing on their techniques in an era before fancy art-supply shops and 10-minute delivery apps. 'We use air-dry clay, and back in the day, we had a relative bring it back to us from Thailand,' Chandranarayan says. Now, materials are readily available and the daughter puts up videos featuring prep, process, BTS and final product on social media. 'It's how we market, connect and get inspired by other artists.' Their keychains, magnets and earrings start at ₹499, on their website In Mumbai, Sailee Samel, 35, who runs The Yellow Brush (@TheYellowBrushh) works with polymer clay to create vada pao carts, vintage bakery nooks and chai tapris. It's 'like roti dough, just more refined,' she says. It comes in different colours, which reduces painting time, and gives miniatures a crack-free, stone-like texture when baked, 'but I have to import it in bulk from the US,' Samel says. It drives up costs. Polymer clay is four times the price of the air-dry version. Add the cost of workmanship, and a little banana-leaf platter can cost as much as ₹1,999. But customers love it. Her biggest order: A miniature collector who happily shelled out ₹1 lakh for 50 handcrafted pieces. Sourcing is just the first step. The real test lies in recreating a complex object, say, a South Indian thali, in miniature. Chandranarayan's version includes over 15 individual foods, all crafted by hand. 'Just the rice takes 8 to 10 hours, we stick together nearly 300 tiny grains,' she says. Observing the real thing is a big part of the prep. 'We study how gravies settle, how oil pools on curry.' After all, even if it's morsel-sized, the thali must look good enough to eat. Shrink wrap Everything, it seems, is making money when miniaturised. In 2020, Nagpur-based interior designer Ishani Umre, 29, owner of The Miniature Co. (@The_Miniature_Co), fell down a Pinterest rabbit hole and emerged obsessed with tiny furniture. Her first piece, a replica of her house, wasn't perfect, but she was hooked. She began taking on custom mini-teriors — a child's exact bedroom by a mom, someone's wedding venue, a home preserved in old photos. It's carpentered like the real thing. Sofas are upholstered with real fabric, cushions stuffed with cotton or rice, the plumbing in the little kitchens works, cabinets have working drawers. She uses foam board, balsa, polish, paints, even 3D-printed parts. 'I can't reuse anything. Your bed has to be your bed,' she says. A single piece can take 15 to 20 days, but clients, largely those looking to preserve a memory, don't mind the wait. They don't mind paying between ₹8,000 and ₹40,000 either. Umre says she's not selling objects but 'emotional storytelling in 1:16 scale'. Noida resident Meghna Roy, 36, switched from law to crafts (@Ashnalia_By_Meghna) but faced challenges selling her handmade greeting cards and bookmarks until she added tiny hand-painted artworks — Van Gogh's Starry Night, Vermeer's Girl with a Pearl Earring, down to the gilded vintage frames — to her repertoire in March. One customer bought 20 mini paintings in a single order. 'You'd think tiny means quick,' she says, 'but each painting takes four to five hours. The detail demands patience.' Nostalgia and storytelling, drive much of the sales. One of CN Arts Miniatures' customers gifted a platter of pao bhaji, curd rice and idlis to her husband stationed abroad: 'It was like sending him a piece of home'. Their bestseller is their crispy dosa — they've sold 3,000 of them worldwide. Despite demand, they cap production at 150 pieces a month to stick to handmade, precise in-house work. Umre's viral Reels push website sales. Her mini cabinets and lamps sell the best. It's like holding a memory in your hand. AI can't compete yet. From HT Brunch, June 14, 2025 Follow us on .