Artisans in Kashmir Struggle To Keep Dying Crafts Alive

Srinagar, Mar 29: In a dimly lit shop in Srinagar’s Downtown area, 60-year-old Ghulam Rasool Dar weaves a Kani shawl, his experienced hands creating a masterpiece of Kashmiri craftsmanship. Yet he mourns the diminishing significance of this centuries-old craft, uncertain about what the future holds for his skill.

The region’s cultural treasures—Pashmina, Kani weaving, Papier-mâché, Tilla embroidery, walnut wood carving, and copper engraving—are experiencing a steep decline.

Modernisation, machine-made replicas, and dwindling profits are the major challenges artisans face.

Kashmiri handicrafts have long been intrinsic to the Valley’s identity and economy, but today they face an undeniable crisis. According to data, the handicraft sector provides livelihoods to approximately 250,000 artisans.

In the Rajouri Kadal area of Srinagar, 58-year-old Abdul Rasheed runs a copper engraving shop his ancestors established over 90 years ago. “Earlier, people from across the world used to come here to buy handcrafted samovars and engraved trays. Now, mass-produced ones are coming from Amritsar and China. How can we compete?” he asks.

In rural areas, the situation is more severe. In Budgam, a hub for Tilla and Sozni embroidery, many women artisans have abandoned their work. Naseema, a 42-year-old embroiderer, explains: “A handmade Tilla shawl takes weeks to complete, yet I earn only a few hundred rupees per piece. Machine-made ones flood the market, and brokers take most of the profit. What’s the point?”

One of the significant threats to Kashmiri crafts is the influx of imitations. Low-quality synthetic Pashmina shawls from Ludhiana and Amritsar are sold as “authentic Kashmiri Pashmina,” deceiving customers and undermining local artisans.

“I’ve spent my life weaving real Pashmina, but people buy fake ones because they are cheaper,” says Bashir Ahmed, a 64-year-old weaver from Ganderbal. “We tried to introduce the Geographical Indication (GI) tag to differentiate original Pashmina, but customers don’t check.”

Similarly, machine-printed Papier-mâché products are sold at a fraction of the price of handmade ones. “A real Papier-mâché box takes a week to paint. The fake ones are made in factories and sold as Kashmiri art,” says artist Aijaz Bhat.

Officials at the Kashmir Handicrafts Department maintain that the government is trying to revive the industry. “We have started e-commerce platforms, held global exhibitions, and pushed for GI tagging,” says a senior official. “But artisans need to adapt to modern marketing strategies as well.”

However, artisans disagree. “How can we adapt when we struggle to afford raw materials? We don’t even have access to fair pricing,” says Muneer Mir, a walnut woodcarver.

Amid the crisis, a few young Kashmiris are attempting to revive traditional crafts by blending heritage with modern trends. Zainab Altaf, 27, runs a startup that sells handwoven Pashmina through Instagram. “Social media is our only hope. If we can’t bring tourists to Kashmir, we must take Kashmir to them,” she says.

Similarly, Faizan Khan, 31, has started an online store for handcrafted walnut wood furniture. “We cut out brokers and ensure fair wages for artisans,” he explains.