On most nights, when her 19-month-old finally falls asleep, Howrah resident Murchhana Bandyopadhyay tiptoes to the floor of her baby’s bedroom, which doubles up as her studio — this is where she creates miniature versions of College Street, chai-er dhokan and Kolkata’s Robibar afternoons in clay when the City of Joy is fast asleep.
Running The Miniature Lab, 36-year-old Murchhana also manages a full-time 9-to-5 job in the health ministry. “My only window to create these tiny pieces of joy is a quiet hour at midnight, once the day’s responsibilities are done,” she said.
A former student of Gokhale Memorial Girls’ School, Murchhana completed her Master's in English from Calcutta University. “I have been a very mediocre student,” she said with a laugh. “But I never really left art.”
She dabbled in jewellery designing before her government job, but miniature art found her unexpectedly in 2023 through an Instagram video. “I was very new to Instagram. I came across a behind-the-scenes video of someone making a miniature and I was obsessed.”
With almost no tutorials available, she taught herself by closely watching international artists. “I think I have followed 500 to 600 miniature artists from all over the world. If you watch intently, you might come across a technique, what colour they are using, what brushes they are using.”
In Kolkata, miniatures are often seen as toys or decorative utensils. Murchhana wanted more. “Miniatures have more to offer. They can be used to tell stories.”
She started with magnets representing plates of food. But soon she found her niche in Bengali culture and the City of Joy — Kamala Lebu and Kuler Aachar placed beside Feluda paperbacks, tram tickets tucked next to Shakti Chattopadhyay’s books, a grimy neighbourhood chai stall that carries memory in its details.
“I deviated from the pizza, pasta, Maggi thing and just focused on those stories only. I want to make things that I will love,” she explained.
She refuses customised orders. “When I make 40 similar items, I lose 40 chances of experimenting with 40 different stuff that I want to make.” For her, the work is personal expression, not production.
When she conceived in late 2023, she stopped working with clay because of the chemicals involved. For one-and-a-half years, she only watched and learned. “That hunger in me started building up. I have to make something.”
She returned through sheer will, preparing for an exhibition despite sleepless nights. “I used to work after the baby slept from like 11 at night till 2-3pm. I would feed my baby in between and go to the floor and make stuff.”
Her husband, a doctor, is her strongest ally. During an exhibition, when she fell ill, he manned her stall. “He said, ‘I will just go and sit in your stall if this means so much to you’.”
From her first exhibition in January 2024 to shows at the Academy of Fine Arts in June 2025, she has seen attitudes shift. “People were not seeing it just as a fridge magnet but as collectibles, a premium, exclusive piece of art.”
Her recent College Street miniature took 12 dedicated hours. It was created during a rare prescribed rest after a nosebleed. “For the first time in 19 months, I had some baby-free time. I thought resting wouldn’t be exciting. So I made miniatures.”
She dreams of a solo exhibition and of one day taking her work to the Tom Bishop miniature show in Chicago. “I want people to see it as a form of art that should stand out.” Until then, Kolkata will continue to shrink gently under her fingertips, long after midnight.
