The end of the year is a time of going back in time and re-living memories.
And one of the enduring memories for those of us who grew up in the 1950s, 60s and 70s, is the word Sandow. It was a part of everyday lives—an integral part of the pencil box, a dirty grey rubber that erased pencil marks.
For us in India, “rubber” was the term for eraser, a usage inherited from British English and reinforced through colonial schooling. A child did not “borrow an eraser”; they asked for a rubber. And the most trusted rubber of all in our times was the Sandow.
These erasers were made of natural vulcanised rubber, not vinyl or plastic as most modern erasers are. They were firmer, slightly gritty, and erased by abrasion — scraping graphite off paper rather than gently lifting it. They left dark crumbs behind and wore down slowly. A new Sandow rubber meant clean pages. A worn one told the story of errors made and lessons learnt.
Where did Sandow rubbers come from?
The earliest Sandow erasers were almost certainly manufactured in Britain and exported to India during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries through British stationery suppliers. During the colonial period, Indian schools depended heavily on imported notebooks, inks, slates and erasers.
Stupid Toy Day (December 16) is a celebration of the wonderfully useless things from childhood—rubber chickens, yo-yos, slinkies, and strange plastic objects that made no sense but brought endless joy. From ridiculous toys to unsettling antique dolls that now star in creepy museum contests, this post reflects on how toys—whether silly or sinister—stay with us long after childhood ends. A nostalgic look at why useless never really meant unimportant.
After Independence, Indian factories began manufacturing erasers using similar formulations and — crucially — the same name. By the 1950s, most Sandow erasers sold in India were produced locally. However, the word “Sandow” was never firmly trademarked in India, allowing multiple manufacturers to use it freely. Over time, it became not a brand but a category. “Sandow rubber” simply meant “the regular school rubber.”
Sandows were not the only erasers available. There were white, scented rubbers, with a gel-like coloured top. But alas, most of us never possessed one, given they were about four or five times more expensive!
And a Strongman called Sandow
Another Sandow (though of older vintage) was part of our childhoods too. He lived on barbershop calendars and tattered posters: a muscular European strongman frozen in permanent flex.
Eugen Sandow (1867–1925) was a Prussian-born showman, athlete and entrepreneur who became the world’s first international bodybuilding celebrity. He toured Europe, Britain and America performing feats of strength before royal families and packed audiences.
Sandow was much ahead of his time, and would have done great in the current days, surely becoming a hero of Insta reels, posing as he did to deliberately display his muscularity. He was also a businessman. He published training manuals, endorsed health products, sold exercise equipment, and promoted physical culture as moral discipline. King George V even appointed him “Professor of Scientific and Physical Culture” in Britain — a title that further elevated his image as a respectable authority on fitness.
In India, encounters were through his images — black-and-white posters, calendar art, tins, and labels that travelled through imperial trade routes. But nevertheless, his name was well known, whether with urban kids or rural youth.
Were the rubber and the strongman officially connected?
There is no evidence that Sandow ever licensed his name to an eraser manufacturer. No contract, no advertisement, no endorsement exists in any reliable archive.
However, the naming may have had a connection. The two existed at around the same time, and the name ‘Sandow’ symbolised durability, strength and European modernity. Calling an eraser “Sandow” suggested that it would last, work hard and not fail easily. In an era with loose branding laws, borrowing famous names for product credibility was common.
Today…
Now, erasers come in neon colours and cartoon shapes. Eugen Sandow is remembered only by historians and fitness professionals. But for those who grew up in that older India, the word still carries a double image: fingers dusted with graphite, and a chest forever flexed on fading paper.
Sandow was never just an eraser.
And Sandow was never only a man.
Both were a part of our simple, innocent youth!
–Meena
Photocredit: Wikipedia for Mr. Sandow
ebay for the Vintage Tin advertising the eraser
Millennial Matriarchs 