Kashmir’s papier-mâché maestro Altaf Hussain keeping tradition thriving for 50 years

Srinagar, Sep 25: In a modest workshop tucked away in the Lal Bazar locality of Srinagar, colour spills across wooden tables and shelves stacked with unfinished artefacts. Vases, bowls, and jewellery boxes—each layered with intricate patterns—catch the eye under the dim light. For Mirza Altaf Hussain Beigh, a master papier mâché artisan, this small space has been both workplace and sanctuary for the past fifty years.

Beigh has dedicated his life to an art form that has defined Kashmiri culture for centuries. “Papier mâché runs in my veins,” he says with a gentle smile, his hands stained with paint. “I have been doing this work for half a century, and even after all these years, I still try to bring something new in my designs.”

The art of papier mâché, locally known as kar-e-kalamdani, was introduced to Kashmir during the 15th century by renowned saint Mir Syed Ali Hamadani (RA), who played a significant role in shaping Kashmiri handicrafts, and is believed to have brought the craft to the Valley.

“Our forefathers learnt this art when Mir Syed Ali Hamadani (RA) came to Kashmir,” Beigh recalls.

“My family carried forward this tradition, and I learnt it the way a child learns his mother tongue. Later, I also taught it to others, hoping the tradition would never die.”

For decades, papier mâché thrived as a prized craft. Beigh remembers the glory days vividly. “I used to go to the Shalimar Garden with my friends, and there would be so many foreigners that outnumbered locals. They would buy papier mâché pieces with such love and respect. Tourists valued our work because it was unique—no two pieces were ever the same. It gave us dignity and a decent living.”

But times have changed. Political instability, declining tourism, and the influx of cheaper machine-made alternatives have eroded the market for this painstaking craft. “Now, only a handful of foreigners visit, and even fewer buy. Very few Kashmiris themselves are interested. They prefer cheaper, mass-produced items. Our work takes weeks or even months, and yet it hardly brings enough money to run a household,” he laments.

The decline has left a deep impact on artisans. Once, entire families and areas thrived on papier mâché, but today many workshops have fallen silent. “There are many jobless people. If they earned through papier mâché, they could support their families. But hardly anyone is willing to do this art anymore. Young people don’t want to spend months on a single piece when they can earn more in other jobs.”

Inside Beigh’s workshop, unfinished vases wait for their next layer of design. Delicate outlines of chinar leaves, birds, and flowers reflect a tradition passed down through generations. Each stroke of colour adds to the richness of a heritage that once made Kashmir famous across the world. Yet the silence of the workshop tells its own story—of a craft fighting for survival in an age of neglect.

For Beigh, however, giving up has never been an option. “It is my life,” he says firmly. “I cannot imagine a day when I don’t sit with my brushes and colours. I know the world has changed, but as long as I am alive, I will keep doing this work.”

Despite the challenges, he remains hopeful that papier mâché will not vanish completely. “I believe there will always be people who value real art. Maybe not in large numbers, but those who understand its worth will continue to support it. If more awareness is created and proper platforms are given, the craft can survive.”

In a city that has witnessed rapid transformation, Beigh’s workshop stands as a reminder of resilience. The riot of colours in Lal Bazar is not just decoration on paper—it is a living history, layered carefully with faith, skill, and memory. For the master artisan, each piece is more than a product; it is a story of Kashmir itself.

And as he dips his brush once more into bright blue paint, Beigh smiles: “The world may forget papier mâché, but I will never let it die in my hands.”