How beautiful, how clear and how appropriate it is that Srinagar be named the World Crafts City.
Every street, every house, every street corner is filled with the sights, sounds and presence of the weavers and spinners, the shawl makers and embroiderers, the paper pulp painters, the walnut carvers, the brass and copper workers, the jewelers. Namda Carpet makers, wicker makers, dyers and printers. The pattern maker’s song Training Buzzing like a carpet Artisan Tie knots skillfully with its rhythm.
Kashmiri crafts are an important means of employment and earnings; they are also a form of self-expression and identity. In a population of a little over 10 million, about 3.50 lakh people are directly involved in the crafts. In recent decades, even women have turned to embroidery, which had long been the privilege of men, as their husbands and fathers were absent – dead, in prison, or making a living in some Indian metropolis.
An artisan lays out strips of felt to begin a painting. Namda Carpet | Photo Credit: Laila Tyabji
Block printing between firings
Reading the good news, my mind goes back to 2005. I’m in Jan Mohamed’s tiny loft in the Old City, block-printing fabric for embroidery. The scene has been untouched for years: shelves stretching to the ceiling, filled with intricately carved mulberry wood blocks, some of them more than 100 years old. Poplar Leaves, paisley, kingfishers and irises are inspired by the flora and fauna of the valley.
Jaan Mohammad Block Printing | Photo Credit: Laila Tyabji
Jan Mohammad is kneeling at a low table, his Faerûn And long fingers evenly soaked in color. Samovar Beside him is a sip of salty tea, a hookah boiling nearby. The sound of the rice flour and resin-coated blocks is a rhythmic counterpoint to the wheezing music of his old transistor. His stern face is intense with an artist’s concentration.
A muezzin is chanting, and other prayers echo through the still air. Some women are doing embroidery. Puk-Puk Their Hey The sound of the needles piercing the taut cloth on the embroidery frame has a pleasant sound – one that has been familiar in the valley for centuries.
Women doing embroidery | Photo courtesy: Laila Tyabji
| Photo Credit: Laila Tyabji
But sadly, peace is an illusion. Suddenly the sound of gunfire echoes the sound of Jan Mohammed’s fists hitting the house in an odd way. Smoke fills the air. A stone shatters a window. Looking outside we see a crowd throwing stones, exchanging gunfire with armoured jeeps and the police, setting shops on fire. They are protesting the deaths of two young boys killed in the raid.
We are prisoners for today. A curfew has been announced – there will be no work this week. Naid Kadal, where we are, is a hotbed of insurgency. People live in fear: of being caught in a confrontation, of armed retaliation, almost daily. CloseThe valley’s economy, which has long depended on tourism and centuries-old rhythms of crafts, is in decline.
A slab of wood becomes intricate art | Photo credit: Laila Tyabji
Craftsmanship is a part of home life
The central government’s abrogation of Article 370 in 2019 and the subsequent harsh military lockdown changed things. It drove dissent underground and restored an uneasy peace. It also saw Indian tourists slowly returning to the valley. Still, crafts in Kashmir, like so much else, are under threat. Not from a loss of skills or a dearth of craftsmen, but from the absence of enlightened patronage to keep creativity alive.
Travellers on cut-price package tours, who are the main visitors today, want cheap souvenirs rather than expensive creations. Kashmiris themselves are selling machine-made imitations in Ludhiana Jamwar Shawls. The paper pulp used to make the royal throne is everywhere, as are toys for Christmas trees, tawdry pillboxes and napkin rings. Jan Mohammed, with whom I began this article, is now a janitor at the PWD.
Fortunately, the craft still remains a part of domestic life – in the form of interior decoration, clothing and artworks. Families sit, work and sleep on Kashmiri carpets, women wear embroidered shawls and FerranThe tomb of Khawaja Naqshband near the Jama Masjid is the best example of this. Khataband (woodwork), but the ceilings of houses and houseboats are ornamented with similar panels of intricately carved pinewood. The streets of the old town are lined with shops engraving Copper vessels made for local consumption – samovars, platters and trays – are engraved and embossed with stylised paisley or calligraphy.
The beginning of copper jug
| Photo Credit: Laila Tyabji
The need for discerning buyers
Hopefully this new identity of Srinagar will create new awareness about its unique quality and bring back international tourists and buyers. Materials, skills and makers are still abundant.
What makes Kashmiris such accomplished craftsmen? Craftsmanship is not just a trade, but a creative response to the environment and life. Kashmiri crafts are an echo of its landscape; it also expresses Sufi philosophy at its core. Kashmiriyat, though bearing the wounds of violence and militancy, is truly a civilization in itself.
An artisan weaving a wicker basket | Photo courtesy: Laila Tyabji
While the media was celebrating the announcement of Srinagar being declared a world crafts city, at the same time one of our national dailies carried a report on the suicides of handloom weavers in Telangana. It was an uncanny snapshot of our crafts sector. One story highlighted the potential of crafts in a world that is otherwise moving fast towards mass production; the other, ironically, highlighted that craftsmen, our great Indian asset, are not valued and supported.
Let us send our love not just to Srinagar and Kashmiriat, but to artisans everywhere. We appreciate their work, but often ignore the people who make it.
The author is a founding member of Dastkar and has been working on crafts in Kashmir since the 1980s.
