Fading Threads: Kashmir’s Rafoogari craft struggles to survive

Falak Bilal

Srinagar, Apr 25: In a quiet lane of Zadibal, far from the noise of bustling markets, the soft rhythm of needle and thread continues a tradition that refuses to fade. Inside a modest home workshop, 52-year-old Altaf Ahmad Sopori bends over a worn-out carpet, his fingers moving with careful precision. To an untrained eye, the fabric appears beyond repair — torn, faded, and fragile with age.

But to Altaf, it is a story waiting to be restored.“For us, every carpet has a past,” he says, without lifting his gaze. “When someone brings it here, they are not just bringing cloth. They are bringing memories.”Altaf is among the few remaining practitioners of Rafoogari — the intricate and demanding art of invisible carpet mending. Unlike ordinary repair work, Rafoogari requires restoring damaged sections so seamlessly that no trace of wear remains. It is a craft that blends technical mastery with artistic intuition.

“You cannot simply stitch a carpet,” Altaf explains. “You must understand its language — the weave, the colour, the pattern. If you make even a small mistake, it shows.”His journey into this rare skill began more than three decades ago under the strict guidance of a master craftsman known for both his excellence and his discipline. “My teacher was not an easy man,” Altaf recalls with a faint smile. “Many left because they could not handle his temper. But if you stayed, you learned something invaluable.”

Those years of rigorous training shaped Altaf into a craftsman capable of restoring carpets from across the world — from intricate Persian designs to fine Kashmiri weaves and even machine-made European pieces. Today, alongside his colleague Abdul Hamid, he continues to work quietly, often taking months to complete a single piece.

Hamid, who has worked with Altaf for years, describes the process as both exhausting and rewarding. “Sometimes we spend days just matching the right shade of thread,” he says. “And when the work is done, even the owner cannot find where the damage was. That is when we know we have done justice to the craft.”Their clients come from different parts of the Valley, often carrying carpets that have been passed down through generations. Some arrive with little hope.“People tell us, ‘If this can be fixed, it will be a miracle,’” Altaf says. “We don’t promise miracles. We just do our work.”Yet behind the quiet pride in their craft lies a harsher reality.

Despite the skill, patience, and time the work demands, Rafoogars struggle to make a sustainable living.“This work takes months,” Altaf says. “But what we earn is often not enough even for basic needs. It is difficult to survive like this.”The decline of traditional crafts, coupled with the rise of cheaper alternatives, has pushed artisans like Altaf to the margins. Younger generations, witnessing the financial instability, are reluctant to follow in their footsteps.“I have spent my whole life doing this,” Altaf admits. “But I would not ask my children to choose this path.

It is not because the work is bad — it is because it cannot support a family.”Still, he believes the craft itself is worth saving.“If proper support is given, we can teach this skill to young people,” he says. “There are schemes meant for artisans, but they need to reach us in reality, not just on paper.”Artisans like Altaf see hope in initiatives aimed at preserving traditional crafts, but implementation remains a challenge. Without structured training programs, financial backing, and market access, Rafoogari risks disappearing altogether.

Back in his workshop, Altaf carefully trims a repaired section of a carpet, running his hand across it to check for imperfections. The damaged area is now indistinguishable from the rest.“This carpet will go back to a family,” he says quietly. “They will use it again, maybe for another generation.”In a world moving rapidly toward the new, Altaf’s work stands as a quiet act of preservation — not just of fabric, but of heritage.

Each restored carpet carries forward a fragment of Kashmir’s cultural memory, stitched together by hands that continue their work despite uncertainty.And as long as those hands keep moving, the stories woven into these carpets will not be lost.