Artisans struggle as Chattabal’s leather industry declines

Falak Bilal
Srinagar, Mar 28: In the quiet lanes of Chattabal in downtown Srinagar, where workshops once buzzed with activity, a deep silence now reflects the slow decline of a once-flourishing leather industry. Known for decades as the hub of traditional leather craftsmanship in Kashmir, the area today stands as a reminder of a fading legacy.

For years, Chattabal was synonymous with high-quality leather goods — from handcrafted shoes and belts to finely stitched bags that were sold not only across the Valley but also exported beyond. Skilled artisans worked tirelessly, passing their craft from one generation to the next, building both livelihoods and reputations.
“Those were golden days,” recalls an elderly artisan sitting inside his modest workshop. “There was enough work for everyone. This craft fed our families and gave us dignity.”
However, that legacy is now under threat.
Artisans attribute the sharp decline in demand to the growing presence of cheap, machine-made products that imitate traditional leather goods. These factory-produced items are widely available at lower prices, making it increasingly difficult for handmade products to compete.
“Fake products have changed everything,” says another craftsman. “People cannot always tell the difference, and they prefer cheaper options. Our work is being ignored.”
The influx of such goods has not only reduced sales but also undermined the value of craftsmanship that requires time, skill, and dedication.
The craft, artisans say, is both labor-intensive and time-consuming, often yielding limited financial returns. As a result, sustaining a livelihood solely through leatherwork has become increasingly challenging.
“This work demands patience and effort,” one artisan explains. “But the income is not enough anymore. It has become difficult to survive.”
Perhaps the most worrying trend is the lack of interest among the younger generation. Many artisans say their children are unwilling to continue the trade, opting instead for more stable and financially secure careers.
“Our children don’t want this life,” an artisan says with a hint of resignation. “They have seen how hard we worked and how little we earned. They want something better.”
As younger generations move away, the craft risks disappearing altogether, leaving behind empty workshops and unfulfilled traditions.
Despite the challenges, a few artisans continue their work, driven by a deep sense of identity and responsibility. For them, leatherwork is more than just a profession — it is a connection to their past and a symbol of their cultural heritage.
“When I work on leather, I feel I am keeping something alive,” says one craftsman. “This is not just about money. This is who we are.”
Experts believe that without institutional support, skill development initiatives, and greater awareness about handmade products, traditional crafts like leatherwork may not survive the pressures of modern markets.
As the sun sets over Chattabal, the remaining artisans continue to work quietly, their tools echoing faintly in near-empty workshops. Their struggle is not just for survival, but for the preservation of a craft that once defined the identity of the area.
The story of Chattabal’s leather workers raises an important question — in a rapidly changing world driven by convenience and cost, will there be space left for tradition, patience, and handmade excellence?
For now, the answer rests in the hands of those who still choose to create — and those who choose to value what they create.