A craft-making cluster operating from private premises in Chatabal is home to a carpet weaving unit that could be the last of its style. The artisans working here are fed up with their work as weaving is unable to feed them, reports Babra Wani
In Srinagar, the bustling Chattabal market was home to a chain of carpet weaving facilities managed by the ubiquitous kaaleenbaafs, which still has an operational three-way carpet factory. It is run by a bunch of elder artisans who could be the last generation of the old people, artisans known as kaaleenbaafs are still thriving to keep the art alive.
The three-way factory, an old, worn-out building with broken windows and dilapidated walls, is home to different types of crafts. There is only one room that belongs to this set of old artisans, all of whom have more than three decades of experience.
Named after its owner, the Mushtaq Carpets the carpet-weaving factory has been in operation for more than four decades, “I think for more than 50 years we have had this unit around here,” said Fayaz Ahmed, a man in his sixties, and the owner’s elder brother, who has been a kaaleenbaaf for more than three decades now. “In this unit, I have been here for around twenty-five years now.”
Fayaz learnt the skill when he was very young. “I think I started learning this craft when I was born,” he said. “You know we were suffering from poverty, so we started very early.”
Both Fayaz and his brother were into kaaleen-baafi, but Mushtaq chose a different path. “My brother does this work but not as actively as I do,” Fayaz, who has no formal education stated. “There were many carpet weaving units here in the past, but now it’s just us.” A witness to the decline, he said many of the street hawkers and cart vendors in the Batamaloo and Lal Chowk were kaaleenbaafs like them. “But the poverty in this craft drove them to choose a different path altogether.”
Besides Fayaz, there are three people more in the unit, all of them skilled artisans. “I think we are the last lot of artisans here because the rest of the people have given upon it.” The unit operates on a rental basis in the old building that is owned by the local Masjid.
The Unit
The carpet weaving unit is located in a muddy room, lacking space to move freely around or for rest. The windows are broken and covered with polythene. The walls are worn out but the waan, as the handmade wooden machinery that is used in weaving the carpets is called locally, is still fresh.
The room has different types of aesthetics. Heaps of threads known as yaen, papers with a different type of encrypted inscriptions that only these artisans understand, illustrating the pattern, colour schemes and designs, called taaleem, and dust lie everywhere in the room. The black on the wood of the waan, gives an idea of its age, while the unfinished carpet being woven over it, reminds it of its freshness. They call it kaarkhana (workstation).
There are some small tools used as well, known as khoor, which resembles a sickle blade and panje, another tool which resembles a comb. Both these tools are made of iron and have wooden handles.
“Only we can differentiate and understand these tools and taaleem,” Fayaz said with a hearty laugh, his eyes full of pain. Even in the scorching heat, Fayaz was dressed in a sweater, calling his mates to come to the waan quickly.

The old kaarkhana has seen its mates and characters changing over the years, and its walls bear the testimony of all those mates. The cotton dust present in the wooden waan, which is crafted by a skilled carpenter, gives an idea of the hard work that goes behind the scenes.
“This place is all we know right now. We do not earn much, but what else can we do? Ghar chalana mushkil hai na, lekin gareebi hai (to run my household is difficult but poverty.),” he stated, “My wife helps me in running my household by spinning charkha. That is how we manage things.”
A kaleen which they weave takes three to four months to complete. “We are paid according to the size, and that too after we complete weaving the carpet,” he said. “Currently we are weaving four carpets in this unit.”
The Weavers
The three other men with Fayaz are Noor Ahmad Bhat, the woastad (master) as his mates call him, Abdul Ahad Wani, a very strict-looking man and a shy Ghulam Hassan.
Noor Muhammad lives at Chattabal and is a master of his craft. He has been weaving carpets for the past five decades. His experience reflects in the swift moments of his hands, as he skilfully weaves the threads to make intricate and delicate designs.
“I was the most recent addition to this unit before I used to work at my home,” blonde-looking Noor said, as he continued to do his work with a smile on his face. “I learnt this skill from my father. And I think I have been doing this since I was a child. My other brother also weaves carpets. I came to this unit because I was alone.”
Initially, Noor also worked in the leather factory but later came back to his own skill. “My heart was always here. I always came back.”
“But now I think this craft will vanish away soon. It won’t last long,” a visibly dejected Noor said. “Not many people are left who still do this. In the past, it used to fetch us good money but now it is difficult to survive.” When he got married, people suggested Noor give up carpet weaving. “Currently nobody is interested in this craft, unlike past when even women used to do kaaleenbaafi.”
Noor’s colleague Abdul Ahad Wani, a seasoned artisan too has been in the craft for almost half a century. He looks strict and hardly smiles, concentrating on what he does.
Dressed in a yellow and black shirt, Ahad did not talk much, but all his limited replies bore testimony of his survival struggles. He sarcastically remarked on his teammates’ replies, who laughed and cracked jokes in return.
“I think since the day I left my mother’s womb, I have been doing this,” Ahad, also a Chattabal resident, said. “Had this unit been shut, we would have lived freely too. I am too tired now,” he said, visibly annoyed.
Ahad never got married because of his financial situation. “Nobody was willing to give me his daughter, since I never earned enough.” Ahad lives with the family of his brother. He has been weaving carpets for more than two decades. Most of the kaaleenbaafs, Noor pointed out, “ will be unmarried because they never earn enough and avoid getting married.”
Their teammate, Ghulam Hassan, lives in Safa Kadal, not far away from the Waan. A shy and introvert, he has been a kaaleenbaaf for forty years. He said he started when he was a child. Interestingly the man who gave him the weaving skill, his teacher, is still alive but has left the craft due to health concerns. “This skill sucks out the life from you,” Hassan stated. “We hardly manage our expenses.”
Hassan is a father to two daughters, his wife passed away and now Hassan lives with his daughters and old mother. His younger daughter left her studies to look after their home and family. “My elder daughter holds a Master’s degree with a Bachelor’s in Education.”

Both Ahad and Hassan learnt from the same teacher. “Our teachers from whom we learnt were very strict. They used to beat us if we made any mistake,” Ahad said. “They wanted us to master as well. But now no master-disciple relationships are left, because nobody is interested anymore.”
The old men begin their day at 8 am and sit in one place till 6 pm. All of them have worked at different places in the past, but then life brought them to the Mushtaq Carpets, which is gradually sinking.
Their neighbour, a young man who works in the next room, visits them many times a day. “They are suffering,” he said. “They have never received any benefits from anything. Who will save their skills?” He left the “unit” frustrated.
The Survival Concerns
“We are being paid a thousand rupees per foot, but if you look at the market even Rs 2000 is less,” Noor said. “All of the people left this job because they were not able to earn even for the basics of their life.”
Only those people who are not able to fit anywhere else are still holding onto it, the old men said almost in unison. “I don’t think there is any hope left for it.”
“We always thought the government would help us but even their policies were not weaver-friendly. There were loans and guarantees but not weaver-friendly,” One of them said, insisting almost on every word. The old weavers who have spent most of their lives as kaaleenbaafs are struggling every day to survive.
They believe that only the government can help in saving this craft from dying, “If some weaver friendly policies are introduced. We are given good loans so that we can uplift the skill, I believe then only a change can happen,” Fayaz said. “We can make Rs 250 or 300 a day, why would we want our children to follow in our footsteps? None of our children are interested in this craft and we are happy they are not.”