Once Celebrated, Now Forgotten: The Struggle of Kashmir's Potters

Srinagar, Feb 6: In the heart of Srinagar's old city, where the majestic Himalayas whisper tales of ancient crafts and traditions, Aijaz Ahmad Kumar, a seasoned potter, braves the biting winter chill. His small shop in Kralyar in Rainawari is a testament to fading artistry, filled with exquisite earthenware that tells the story of a craft steeped in history. Yet, amidst the beauty, despair hangs thick in the air as Kumar waits—a beacon of hope for customers who may never arrive.

"I can feel it in my bones that someone's coming," Kumar chuckles, but his eyes reflect the reality he faces each day. His hopeful wait often culminates in disappointment, as the shadow of modernity looms large, casting doubt on the survival of this once-thriving craft. A decade or two ago, Kumar’s wares were a source of pride in every Kashmiri household; now, they are reduced to relics of a bygone era.

The intrusion of modern materials, from stainless steel to plastic, has shown little mercy on the krals—the potters—who once commanded respect and admiration. Items that were once essential for daily life, from cooking pots to water storage, are now mere memories in an age where convenience trumps tradition. The once-bustling workshops echo with silence as the demand for earthenware dwindles, leaving artisans like Kumar grappling with an uncertain future.

“Back in the day, I had over 40 apprentices working under me. The demand was so high that we barely had time for anything else. Our income was more than enough to sustain our families,” Kumar reflects with a wistful gaze. Today, however, alongside the absence of foot traffic at his shop, he bemoans the lack of government support to revitalize this cherished craft. “Modern crockery has dominated the market, and this art is fading along with our livelihoods,” he laments.

The historical significance of pottery in Kashmir cannot be understated.

According to experts, pottery in the region dates back to the Neolithic settlement of Burzhome between 3000 and 1200 BC. Today, while clay-made utensils still find use in rural areas, the young generation increasingly opts for more lucrative and less traditional occupations.

Ghulam Kumar, another potter who has witnessed the decline first-hand, shares Nazir's sorrow. At 70, he recalls his family's deep connection to this craft, learning the trade passed down through generations. “My grandfather spun the wheel, my father followed, and now, I fear my children will not carry on this legacy,” he laments. The once-thriving community of Krals faces an uphill battle against modern kitchenware and a near-total absence of support for innovation in their craft.

As the discourse shifts towards contemporary adaptations of pottery, potters like Javid Ahmad express frustration. “Despite efforts to introduce artistic pottery, such as decorative cups and mugs, it doesn’t resonate with the essence of our traditional craft,” he states, highlighting the disconnect between modern aspirations and ancestral roots.

The plight of Kumar and his fellow potters is not just a personal loss; it represents a cultural tragedy, with the rich heritage and craftsmanship of Kashmir at risk of fading into obscurity. The vibrant colors and intricate designs of their creations are echoing whispers of a once-celebrated art form, now threatened by a fast-paced world that values novelty over tradition.

With the future of Kashmir's pottery hanging in a delicate balance, it calls for a renewed commitment from both the community and the authorities to preserve and revitalize this age-old tradition. “If we do not act now, we face losing not just a craft, but a piece of our identity,” Kumar whispers, as the winter sun casts its last rays over the storied streets of Srinagar, leaving behind the lingering scent of clay and unfulfilled dreams.