Culture in Crisis: Machines threaten Kashmir’s ‘Copper Soul’

Srinagar, Jan 30: In the narrow lanes of downtown Srinagar, where centuries of tradition echo through ancient workshops, Masroor Ahmad Lanker sits cross-legged before his workbench.

His weathered hands move with practised precision as he etches intricate designs into a copper samovar. But his eyes betray a deep concern that has been growing among Kashmir’s copper artisans.

“Machines have invaded our craft like a tsunami,” Lanker says, his voice heavy with emotion.

In his small workshop, where the rhythmic tapping of hammers once created a symphony of craftsmanship, the sound is now increasingly rare. A single machine, he explains, can replace twenty skilled artisans, threatening not just their livelihoods but generations of artistic heritage.

The story of Kashmir’s copperware is woven deeply into the region’s cultural fabric. For centuries, these artisans have created everything from beautifully crafted samovars to robust cooking pots, each piece telling a story through its carefully embellished traditional designs. Aziz Ahmad Misger, a seasoned coppersmith, remembers better days: “Our work was admired far and wide,” he recalls, “but now the market is flooded with cheap, machine-made alternatives.”

The human cost of this industrialisation is perhaps best illustrated through Bashir Ahmad Ahangar’s story. Having started his journey as a coppersmith in his youth, Ahangar now finds himself working as a construction laborer. “I was very young when I embarked on my copperworking journey,” he says, his eyes filled with nostalgia for a craft he was forced to abandon.

The government hasn’t remained blind to this crisis. The Directorate of Handicrafts and Handloom Kashmir has stepped in with various initiatives, including a labelling system and regular market inspections. “We are conducting inspections and educating copperware traders they should keep separate labels from machine made item and handmade items,” a senior Handicrafts official explains. The department has also designated copperware as a “Notified Craft,” opening doors to government support programs.

But the artisans aren’t just waiting for government intervention. They’ve begun fighting back with modern tools of their own. QR codes now certify authentic pieces, and community leaders are working to educate consumers about the value of handmade craftsmanship. “When people support our work, they’re not just buying a product; they’re investing in culture, history, and community,” Lanker explains with pride.

As sunset bathes Srinagar’s copper bazaar in golden light, the artisans continue their work with determined resilience. Each hammer strike, each etched design, becomes an act of resistance against the tide of mechanization. Their fight is about more than preserving jobs – it’s about protecting a cultural legacy that has been carefully passed down through generations.

The future remains uncertain, but the spirit of Kashmir’s copper artisans remains unbroken. In their workshops, they continue to forge not just copper but hope – hope that their ancient craft will survive this modern challenge, that the next generation will still hear the rhythmic symphony of hammers shaping metal into art, and that the legacy of Kashmir’s copperware will endure for centuries to come.

As the day ends, Lanker puts the finishing touches on his samovar. In its gleaming surface, he sees not just his reflection, but the reflection of centuries of tradition, skill, and artistry – a legacy too precious to lose to the relentless march of machines.