Falak Bilal
Srinagar, Sep 5: The sound of the charkha has become increasingly rare in Kashmir’s homes. But for Haleema, name changed, the steady rhythm of spinning has been part of life for nearly three decades.
Seated with her spinning wheel, the Srinagar resident continues a craft she first learned from a neighbour after her marriage. What began as a skill acquired at home gradually became an important source of income, particularly after she lost her husband.
Her husband was associated with carpet making, and Haleema would assist him while also learning the art of spinning. Years later, when she found herself facing life without him, the charkha assumed an entirely different meaning.
“I struggled a lot after losing my husband. That was the reason I came here, so that I could support my expenses. If my husband was alive, I would not have come here,” she said.
There was no easy transition. With a family to look after and household expenses to meet, Haleema chose the skill she already knew rather than allow circumstances to force her into dependence.
Over the years, the earnings from her spinning work helped her meet responsibilities that once seemed difficult to shoulder alone. She says the same charkha that provided her with an income also helped her build a future for her children.
“This charkha supported me when no one was with me. With this work, I educated my children, got them married and built a home,” she said.
For Haleema, therefore, the charkha is not merely a traditional tool. It is a reminder of years of perseverance and the independence she managed to create through her own hands.
Haleema remembers a time when spinning was far more common in Kashmir. Women would work with the charkha from their homes, turning their skill into an additional source of household income.
Today, she says, that culture has changed. The craft has gradually slipped out of everyday life, with fewer women taking it up and demand for hand-spun work declining. What was once a familiar sight in Kashmiri households is now increasingly confined to a handful of practitioners and traditional craft spaces.
“Many people come here and appreciate my work, but no one wants to learn this craft. I want this work to come back in demand as it was earlier,” Haleema said.
Her concern is not simply about losing a means of livelihood. She fears that a skill passed down through generations could disappear if younger people do not take an interest in learning it.
At Baitul Meeras, Haleema has found a space where she can continue working with the craft she has relied upon for years.
She credits the organisation’s support for helping her remain connected with spinning at a time when opportunities for traditional artisans are becoming increasingly limited.
“I do my hard work, but their support has made it possible for me to continue,” she said.
Her story also reflects the wider role traditional crafts have played in the lives of Kashmiri women. For many, home-based skills such as spinning offered a way to contribute financially while remaining within the household and community.
Haleema believes that if the craft receives renewed demand and younger women are encouraged to learn it, spinning could once again provide such opportunities.
“Women could do this work safely from their homes. It was a way for them to earn while also managing their families,” she said.
For three decades, Haleema’s hands have continued the same movement—turning fibre into thread, one rotation of the charkha at a time.
But behind that simple motion lies a story of loss, responsibility and resilience.
The charkha helped her through the years when she had no one else to depend on. It helped put her children through education, supported their marriages and contributed towards building a home.
Now, as she sits spinning, Haleema has another wish: that the craft which once formed part of everyday Kashmiri life does not become merely a memory.
“I want this work to come back in demand as it was earlier,” she said. For Haleema, keeping the charkha turning is not only about preserving an old craft. It is about keeping alive a livelihood—and a part of Kashmir’s cultural memory.
