Celebrated, yet struggling: The uneven life of Kashmiri carpet weavers
Srinagar, Feb 3: In the narrow lanes of Rainawari, where everyday sounds mingle with the fading echoes of old Kashmir, 69-year-old Manzoor Ahmad Khan sits before a loom that has defined most of his life. His hands move with measured certainty, tying knots as they have for more than four decades. With each motion, birds, mountains and memory slowly take form in wool.
For Khan, carpet weaving has never been merely a livelihood. It is a lifelong discipline, learned, practised and preserved with patience. “I have been working on carpets for more than 45 years,” he says quietly, his gaze fixed on the emerging pattern. That devotion has earned him state recognition and, eventually, a national award—placing his work among the finest expressions of India’s handwoven heritage.
The inspiration behind his nationally awarded carpet came from the rugged beauty of Kalaroos in Kupwara, a region known for its dramatic landscape and silence broken only by wind and wings. During repeated visits, Khan found himself drawn to the rhythm of mountains and the flight of birds. “The idea came from there,” he recalls. “Nature speaks, if you observe it closely.”
Translating that inspiration into a carpet was a solitary and demanding process. After his application for the national award was accepted, Khan began work on what would become the defining piece of his career. For six to seven months, he worked alone, knot by knot, ensuring that the vision in his mind emerged faithfully on the loom. The same carpet later brought him national recognition.
Despite decades of change in the craft, Khan remains rooted in traditional methods. Kashmiri carpets still follow Talim—an ancient coded system that guides weavers on colours and knot sequences. “We still use old ways like Talim,” he says. “But with technological advances, we also get computer-made designs. That support helps.”
Earlier, every design began on graph paper, where motifs and colours were mapped by hand. These sketches became the weaver’s guide through months of labour. “We added colours ourselves, deciding the shape and shade,” Khan says. Today, computers can draft designs faster, but for him, technology remains a tool—not a replacement for the artisan’s eye.
Once a design is finalised, the work moves to preparing the thread. Depending on the carpet, yarn may be wool, cotton staple or silk-on-silk, all carefully dyed. “We use around 25 colours, not more than that,” Khan notes, believing that a limited palette brings balance and harmony to the final piece.
The time required to complete a carpet depends on its size and knot density. Khan’s award-winning piece measured just 2 by 2.5 feet, yet its intricate knotting demanded months of unwavering focus.
“First depends on size, then on design,” he explains. “More knots mean more time.”
Every inch of a Kashmiri carpet reflects this labour-intensive process—one that cannot be rushed or mechanised without losing its soul. Yet despite global admiration for Kashmiri carpets, the craft itself stands on fragile ground.
“This art is on the verge of extinction,” Khan says plainly. The reason, he explains, is economic. A skilled weaver today earns only Rs 250–300 a day—far too little to sustain a household. As a result, younger generations are turning away from the loom in search of work that offers dignity and stability. “If this continues, the craft will disappear with the craftsmen,” he warns.
Khan’s journey to national recognition was closely documented. After his application was accepted, officials made regular visits to his workspace, recording videos of the weaving process to establish authenticity. These recordings were digitally archived and later presented during the award process.
In December 2024, Khan was honoured with a National Award at Vigyan Bhawan in New Delhi, a defining moment in his long career. He also received a Geographical Indication (GI) tag, formally recognising the cultural and regional uniqueness of his work. “It was an honour,” he says simply, pride evident beneath his modest tone.
Yet recognition has not eased his concerns. Khan’s appeal to the government remains urgent: create separate markets for handmade and machine-made carpets. “Shopkeepers sell machine-made carpets at the same price as handmade ones,” he says. “This cheats both the buyer and the artisan.”
Customers, he explains, often pay premium prices without knowing they are buying factory products, while craftsmen earn little for months of painstaking labour. For Khan, preserving Kashmiri carpet weaving is not about nostalgia alone—it is about fairness, survival and respect for skill.
As the loom continues its soft rhythm in Rainawari, each knot becomes a quiet act of resistance against forgetting—carrying forward a tradition that still lives, patiently, in the hands of one weaver.
By: Duwa Bisati
