As a child, Masrat Jan, now 47 years old, would wait desperately for the month to end. That was when her mother along with her four siblings would travel to her father’s home in Srinagar, the summer capital of Indian-administered Kashmir, to visit her grandparents.
There, Jan was able to do what she loved most: play with colors.
Her grandfather ran a Karkhana — a workshop in which he and his workers spent hours drawing papier-mâché art, a craft where artisans mold various shapes out of mashed paper, wood, and other materials. After smoothing, or pishlawun, the objects are then decorated with different motifs.
Jan was mesmerized by the polished papier-mâché items like Santa Claus, Easter eggs, flower vases, elephants, cats and many others which would later be exported, mainly to Europe and the United States.
Papier-mâché has been practiced for centuries by Kashmiri artisans like Jan’s grandfather, who make their living from the craft. But, in recent years, just as Kashmiri papier-mâché has gained recognition in museums across the world, the renowned and beloved art has faced extinction.
The number of papier-mâché artisans has shrunk due to meager (and shrinking) wages, widespread health issues, and a lack of government support. Yet, Jan and her colleagues in Kashmir are determined to ensure the craft survives.
Papier-Mâché’s Long History In Kashmir
While papier-mâché is a French phrase (translating literally to “chewed paper”), the craft in Kashmir is traditionally dated to the 15th century, when historians argue it was introduced from Persia during the reign of Kashimiri king, Sultan Zainul Abidin.
Some historians however suggest it was actually introduced some 50 years earlier by Persian Sufi saint Mir Syed Ali Hamadani, who arrived in Kashmir in 1372, along with hundreds of his disciples and companions. Hamadani is credited with organizing the Muslim community in Kashmir and bringing along artisans who taught papier-mâché to residents of the valley.
Most practitioners, like Jan’s grandfather, learned the art from the previous generation, who can trace their roots all the way to Hamadani’s disciples.
Jan, however, only began practicing seriously at 19, due, in part, to Kashmir’s fraught political situation. In the 1980s, a violent uprising against Indian rule led to a prolonged and bloody conflict pitting Kashmiri separatists against the Indian Army; thousands of Kashmiris were killed, injured, or disappeared between 1989 and the early 2000s, according to human rights groups. The conflict forced thousands of Kashimiris inside their homes as the government enforced curfews, while separatist groups often called for days-long shutdowns in protest of alleged rights abuses by the army.
Though Jan had been focused on her studies due the insistence of her father, a government officer, she found herself newly ignited by her childhood passion once stuck inside by the curfews. By her twenties, Jan had become a master artist, capable of producing intricate scenes like the Mughal Empires courts or Kashmir’s diverse variety of animals and plants.
“This work not only earns me livelihood and respect, it is also a major source of my spiritual health,” Jan told “This place where I work is like a shrine for me and the work that I do is sort of a prayer.”
Jan’s husband, Maqbool Jan, is also a master papier-mâché artist, having won numerous national and international awards, including the UNESCO Seal of Excellence Award in 2008.
Far more typical however is Haleema, a 55-year-old woman from the Budgam district in central Kashmir. Haleema first began working in papier-mâché in her father’s factory at the age of 9. She recalls drawing a flower on a papier-mâché ball and quickly becoming a pro. For Haleema, practicing the art is a duty.
“It is not something that I do for a living, but it is something that I do as payback. I don’t want this art to die.” Haleema told, as she explained the emotional connection she has with the art.
A staunchly religious woman, Haleema was diagnosed with stage-3 stomach cancer in 2014. She said she found that the art gave her courage as she battled for her health.
“Couple of months after my cancer recovery, I started spending time on art again. But this time my focus was on mostly Islamic art,” she said. Haleema said that she primarily engraves Quranic verses and other holy names on her paper mache work now.
Despite the best efforts of dedicated artists like Masrat Jan, Haleema, and Maqbool Jan – who himself has trained over 50 practitioners – papier-mâché faces numerous challenges to its survival in Kashmir.
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