My first job landed me in Srinagar, Kashmir, a few days after Shujaat Bukhari’s assassination in 2018. I had to rub my eyes on my window seat as my airplane flew in. The view outside was unbelievable. That shades of green, brown, blue and the light off of corrugated aluminium could harmonise this way, I never knew. How on earth could a place this beautiful house such unrest?
The next few days would be life-changing. It was a baptism by fire, and what a fire burned in Kashmir! I found it difficult to put my experience into words when I got back, and I still stumble with words when someone asks me what it was like.
Nevertheless, I shall try. Today, of all days, it matters if I try.
My work in the field involved documenting the innovations and skills of young craftspeople in the Valley, organising transport and food for a group of designers to access these craftspeople and to generally assist various other processes. The particular cluster of craftspeople during this trip were based in and around Srinagar.
What I saw inspired and humbled me at the same time. There were days I could not focus simply because I’d never seen the sky this blue before, or because no one I met about two hours ago had fed me with such love before. There were days when I found myself working till late because I had to find a way to tell more people the potential they were missing out on.
The first time I saw the Dal lake, the first time I saw an ‘aari’ needle at work, the first time I smelled a walnut wood workshop, the first time I drank actual kahwa, the first time I took a walk down a Srinagar street, the first time I had a chat with a Kashmiri about how they’d go down to Amritsar just to get to a cinema hall are all first times that will be hard to compete with. Future firsts, I hope you’re listening.
As of 2017, the Indian textile and handicraft industry employed about 7 million people, directly and indirectly. There is one thing that stands out about Kashmiri handicraft and handloom, though. Almost every house has a skill they’re associated with. It could be carpet weaving, wood carving, pashmina weaving, ‘naqashi’ (the delicate art of painting on papier-mache) or ‘sakhta’ (the art of moulding papier-mache), embroideries like ‘aari’, ‘sozni’, ’tilla’ or basket weaving.
This means that almost every house is empowered with the means of generating income, regardless of other economic factors and indicators. The Valley’s sheer proficiency and pride in their crafts have made sure that there is a sizable local market for handicraft and handloom goods within. I mean, the industry survived a five-month shutdown with ease.
As I learnt all of this, I was increasingly beginning to understand what my privilege meant. Every single thing that had led me to Kashmir at that moment seemed to amplify itself. As I traipsed through streets, workshops and eating joints, I saw young people like me, but we were separated by something invisible. Or perhaps, it was invisible for me.
Here’s another thing I learnt, which is the main reason I’m putting all this down anyway – if you haven’t been to Kashmir, refrain, with the fortitude the freedom of speech provides you, to speak of it. For clarification, going on holiday with the family does not count.
I can say this with certainty (if you’re not Kashmiri) – unless you have worked in Kashmir, you will never understand what makes it tick. And it’s not your fault. Many people have worked hard to keep this distance alive and well. What one has to do is not fall for the dirty trick.
Since I have seen the state through the eyes of ‘aari’ needles and windows of ‘naqashi’, I can only speak for myself. In my opinion, to present the Kashmir issue as black and white is not only naive but an insult to the rich traditional crafts of the region. This National Handloom Day, I’d like to remind you (kindly) that this is designed to distract you from the fact that our economy continues to slump. Should this continue, there will be no capital for new-age craft entrepreneurs from Kashmir to invest (amongst other alarming consequences), and you can kiss the ₹131.45 crore turnover goodbye.
The young people that I saw were bubbling to bring change to Kashmir, to bring a new reality to their homeland. To be able to provide for each other as coworkers, to be able to cross new ground as artists and to be able to make new strides.
What the recent decision threatens is not just the autonomy of the Kashmiri people, but also the beauty of the Valley. The craft chain that works locally is being rebooted slowly, but random policies like demonetisation and the GST cut a deep gash in sustainable methods of craft production each time they’re passed with a resounding majority.
To me, this behaviour is nothing but paradoxical and must be questioned. How can one trust a government that promotes one version of an alleged history, but systematically destroys every sign of a recorded one?
The Kashmir I saw may have had a bleeding heart, but it is a heart that wants to throb against all odds. There are a people, there are aspirations, there are hopes, there is a faith that exists behind a provisional act in the Constitution. There are also deaths, suspended internet services, human rights violations and injustice behind the same.
To pin the ‘development’ of a nation like India on the sensitive ground Kashmir rests on is shameful. Economics aside, legality aside, politics aside, we should be worried about what this means for us. For a democracy that is so young, our history is tainted by state-sanctioned violence. Inclusion and exclusion cannot go hand-in-hand unless it is a loom. Here is a video to help:
The next time you wear a pashmina, think of Kashmir. The next time you walk by an ‘aari’ embroidered kurta that catches your eye, think of Kashmir. The next time you buy a papier-mache box for trinkets, think of Kashmir. The next time you adore a ‘namda’ carpet, think of Kashmir.
Note: Please note that I have not named the organisation I worked with, to protect their identity and the associated craftspeople and businesses. The on-site and off-site teams work tirelessly to create a new, empowered narrative amongst Kashmiri youth, who come from generations of heritage. I remain a non-Kashmiri and it is not my intent to speak for anyone else. This is fully my personal experience and opinion. It is a deep appreciation for the opportunity I received to work in the Valley and my humility that numerous artisans I had the fortune of meeting sparked.