Working through the Siege
A photo-essay on the Kashmiri handicraft workers and the declining handloom industry since the abrogation of Article 370.
Image: Darash Dawood
Emily Dickinson once wrote in one of her poems:
If I could bribe them by a Rose
I'd bring them every flower that grows
From Amherst to Cashmere!
These lines offer evidence that the Kashmir valley, in the laps of the Himalayas, has been a symbol of divine beauty for centuries. In addition to being a spectacle of natural beauty, and hence referred to as "the paradise on Earth", Kashmir is also popular for traditional crafts that have mesmerised the whole world.
For their intricate designs and highly skillful workmanship, Kashmiri handicrafts have a magnificent reputation in the global market. One can find showrooms and galleries all through Europe, North America, and even Australia, that showcase Kashmiri handicrafts.
Kani shawl in progress in Ahmad’s handloom workshop. Image: Darash Dawood
The Indian subcontinent gained independence in 1947, out of which emerged the present-day nation-states of India and Pakistan (which included Bangladesh, formerly East Pakistan till 1971). The abrupt partition unleashed a period of violent turmoil across the region that continues to date.
Over the last seven decades, Kashmir has been at the core of the turmoil between India and Pakistan. The two heavyweights have fought three wars in these years and yet the "Kashmir issue" remains unresolved. India administers the southern and southeastern portions of Kashmir: Jammu and Kashmir, and Ladakh.
Kashmir remains the most militarized zone in the world with the Indian Army dominating civilian processes and people’s everyday lives. The situation in Kashmir reminds one of the famous quotes by Tacitus, "they make a desert and call it peace."
On August 5, the Hindu nationalist party, BJP (Bharatiya Janta Party), revoked the special status (limited autonomy), granted under Article 370 of the Indian Constitution to the state of Jammu and Kashmir. Article 370 encapsulated the terms and conditions under which Kashmir had agreed to be a part of India in 1947. Soon after, in April 1948, the UN Security Council guaranteed a fair and impartial plebiscite “as soon as possible” to the people of Kashmir to either choose between India and Pakistan or stay independent—a plebiscite they are still waiting for.
The night before the parliament session in which 370 was abrogated, the Centre deployed additional troops in the valley. Civilians were barred from leaving their houses. All political leaders and activists, irrespective of their political leanings, were either put under house arrests or sent to detention centers. Thousands of young men and boys were picked from their houses without any notice and imprisoned for months at end. The phone lines and internet were suspended, creating a communication vacuum in the whole region.
This unprecedented lockdown, with thousands under arrest and no communication with each other or the outside world, lasted for nearly five months. Civilians were prohibited from leaving their houses for another three months. Security personnel and check posts dotted the landscape. Only in the dead of the night, through backdoors, could one step outside to procure necessary food items. It was over a year before high speed internet returned to the Kashmir valley.
This was followed by another nation-wide lockdown as a preventive measure against the COVID-19 pandemic in India. The official figures state that the Kashmir economy incurred a loss of roughly $5 billion as a result of these two lockdowns.
Handmade shawls left to dry under the open sky. These shawls later sell for around 300$-1000$ in the retail market. Image: Darash Dawood
The handicraft sector was terribly hit by the restrictions of the past year. Around 500,000 artisans and weavers in the Kashmir valley were unable to reach their workplace, which made basic sustenance a struggle and gravely affected their mental health.
As an attempt to regenerate Jammu and Kashmir's economy, Manoj Sinha, the Lieutenant Governor of the union territory of J&K appointed by the Centre, announced a partnership with the e-commerce platform, Flipkart.
Flipkart, being among the ace e-commerce sites in India, was seen as a platform that would connect Kashmiri workers with buyers from all over the world.
On 15 October 2020, the J&K administration signed a Memorandum of Understanding (MoU) with Flipkart, which would allow the sale of Kashmiri handloom and handicrafts online, and enable the artisan community to reach millions of customers.
55 year-old Ghulam Muhammad smokes while working on his piece. It takes him around two to three weeks to complete one shawl. Image: Darash Dawood
From a window of his factory, Naseer points towards the courtyard of a local school on the opposite side of the street. “There is the raw cotton, the extra shuttles and loops I had ordered”, he tells us. Year after year, the number of his employees is decreasing. They choose to work as sweepers or as salesmen. Naseer, who is 45 years old, started this handloom Industry twenty years ago with a love for the craft and expectations of a steady income. "The business was alright”, he explains, “but the restrictions in the past two years have broken our back." He says that the last order he delivered was a week before the sudden abrogation of Article-370.
Inside a manufacturing cottage, a worker labours on a Namda — a traditional Kashmiri carpet. Image: Darash Dawood
For nearly eight weeks, he could not leave his house, let alone send product deliveries. Naseer exclaims how they rely on borrowed money and God's mercy in this precarity.
When asked, "what about the MOU signed by the government to involve e-commerce sites to help?”, he gave us a stern look and said, "the government? The government? That's the problem. They only sign documents and give speeches. Where are the orders?"
The old city, or downtown, which once echoed with the chirping of birds and handlooms clicking under deft fingers, now lay silent and empty. We had to ask several shopkeepers for the address of a kaarkhana (handloom factory). "There used to be a few at end of that street", some replied. After exploring a few “end(s) of the street”, we finally found one.
Abdul Rashid interlacing threads on the handloom. Image: Darash Dawood
Fayaz Ahmad spinning the wheel for cotton, which is then further processed on a handloom. Image: Darash Dawood
Among a handful of youngsters, who are still holding on to this dying art, is Bilal Ahmad. Bilal works at a small-scale handloom industry in the old-city of Srinagar, famously known as the Downtown. "Before the 90s, only the Hindus were educated and ergo, held positions in the government offices." When asked about the current state of artisans and other workers, Bilal, saddened, mentions that the last decade has been very difficult and a visit to a doctor or a new pair of shoes for Eid results in a financial crisis for their families. “The government is supposed to be giving us opportunities", he tells us with disappointed tone, “but it releases funds and shares them among the politicians. These funds and opportunities never reach us."
A worker assembles wool to make a Namda, a rug made by felting technique. Image: Darash Dawood
Many years later as he walks back home along the old, wooden bridge towards the Dal Lake's interior, Manzoor remembers the day he accompanied his father to his showroom.
"My father worked as a salesman in a showroom across the Dal Lake", Mazoor tells us. He talks about his late father who opened his own showroom in Rainawari before the independence struggle that rose in the early 1990s.
When Manzoor was 22 years old, his father, the owner of ‘A.M Khosa Sons’, started teaching him about the trade of papier machie articles. When we asked Manzoor about the change in the margin of profit over the decades, he sighed, "at one point I didn't have the money to buy bread and milk for the morning tea."
Like many others, Manzoor held on to this craft despite the losses because it embodies and reflects his culture and heritage, and is his only means of survival. "What else could I have done?”, he says, “my father and brother died and I was left alone." Manzoor, who has a family of four, is the sole breadwinner of his family.
"Over the years, I have invested some money in this business so as to reconstruct the channel of trade we once flourished under." Manzoor gave us this reply when we asked him if this industry has a future.
Sadly, Manzoor sold the new stock of papier machie articles—vases, pen-stands, makeup-boxes, bowls and cups—a few years ago for 100,000 rupees when he was in dire need of money. "It was worth at least 600,000 rupees", Manzoor concludes as we reach the doorsteps of his house.
Naseer Ahmad works at his handloom workshop. Image: Darash Dawood
Ghulam Mohammad (55) was one of the first employees of Naseer's handloom factory, and he still works for him. "I have spent the last twenty years of my life here in this factory, with these looms and shuttles”, he tells us, “This is all I know." When we asked him about the trade, without lifting his eyes from the loom, he says: "It seems like God is against us; first the floods that ruined all our stock, then it was the shutdown after they (the Indian forces) killed Burhan, then the Article (370), and now this pandemic."
Mohammad has not been able to visit his workplace for two years now as the curfew has brought all movement to a halt. He earns a little over 5000 each month and can barely support his family. When asked about the government’s effort to revive the artisan industry through the "MoU", Mohammad seemed to not know of it at all: "I do not have the luxury to watch TV, and no one has approached us yet. We have been left to rot here." He added that not only had no new dealers approached them, even the old ones had stopped placing orders anymore.
Sarib Yousuf is a literature student based in Kashmir.
Darash Dawood is an independent Photographer based in Kashmir.