Falak Bilal
Srinagar, Aug 24: Before most of the city switches on its lights, the fire inside Kashmir’s traditional bakeries is already burning.
In the narrow lanes of Srinagar and in towns across the Valley, kandurs begin their work before dawn. Dough is shaped by hand, pressed and carried towards the hot tandoor. Within minutes, girda, lavasa, tchot and other breads emerge from the oven, ready to be carried home with a cup of noon chai or kahwa.
It is an old routine surviving in a very different Kashmir.
Modern cafés, supermarkets and commercial bakeries have changed what people eat and how they buy it. Yet the traditional kandur has retained something that packaged bread cannot easily provide: a loaf that is hot, local and connected to the neighbourhood.
The traditional bakery has also long functioned as more than a place to buy bread. Historical accounts of kandur culture describe these shops as informal meeting points where residents exchange news and conversation during their morning visits.
“People don’t come here only because they need bread. Many customers have been coming since childhood, and they know the baker personally,” said Rasheed Ahmad, a traditional baker in Srinagar. “When you see the same families every morning for years, the bakery becomes part of your life.”
The survival of the traditional bakery is also tied to Kashmir’s relationship with bread. Unlike many parts of India where bread usually means an industrially produced loaf, Kashmir has developed a wide variety of bakery breads that are closely associated with everyday meals and social occasions.
Girda and lavasa remain familiar breakfast choices, while tchot and tchowor are commonly associated with tea. Other breads, including roth and bakarkhani, have stronger connections with celebrations and special occasions.
For many families, therefore, replacing the kandur with a supermarket shelf would mean replacing more than one food item.
“My children eat cakes and burgers, but when they come home in the morning, they still ask for fresh girda,” said Ali Mohmaad Rather, a resident of Srinagar. “The taste of bread straight from the tandoor is something they have grown up with.”
But the traditional trade faces a challenge that may be harder to solve than competition: succession.
The work begins before sunrise, takes place around intense heat and smoke and requires skills normally learned through years of observation and practice. Cultural documentation has noted that younger members of some baker families increasingly look towards education and other occupations rather than continuing the family trade.
“The difficult part is not teaching someone how to make bread; it is finding someone willing to live this routine every day,” said Adil Ahmad, a second-generation kandur. “Young people naturally want cleaner workplaces and different careers. We understand that.”
Modern bakeries, meanwhile, have expanded the market with cakes, pastries, cookies, buns and other products, giving consumers more choices than ever before. Yet the traditional kandur has adapted in quieter ways, continuing to produce the breads for which customers specifically return.
That adaptability may be one reason the old bakeries have survived.
“We have modern bakeries everywhere now, but they are serving a different need,” said Ruksana Bhat, a food historian. “The kandur survives because its product is tied to habit, locality and memory. It is part of the morning routine rather than simply another food purchase.”
For customers, the attraction is often immediate: the sound of bread being lifted from the tandoor, the warmth of a freshly baked loaf in a cloth bag and the brief exchange with a familiar baker.
And then there is the social life around the shop.
Neighbours meet. News travels. Someone discusses a wedding. Another talks about the weather. An elderly customer arrives before everyone else; a schoolboy stops on his way home.
The bakery becomes a small piece of community life.
As Kashmir changes, its traditional bakeries are changing too. Some have modernised their shops, some have expanded their product range and others continue almost exactly as their fathers and grandfathers did.
But the essential equation remains remarkably simple, flour, fire, skill and customers who keep returning.
“As long as people want their morning bread fresh from the tandoor, there will be work for us,” said, a kandur from central Kashmir. “Our ovens may be old, but the people coming to them are still here.”
Outside, the morning traffic grows louder and modern Kashmir begins another busy day.
Inside the small bakery, another batch of bread is already being baked. The fire has been burning for generations. For now, it still has customers waiting.
