Falak Bilal
Srinagar: In a small workshop tucked inside the narrow lanes of Rajouri Kadal in downtown Srinagar, 72-year-old Nazir Ahmad Pahalwan bends over a silver pendant, carefully applying enamel to a design that has taken decades to master.
Widely regarded as one of the last surviving practitioners of the craft, Pahalwan has devoted nearly six decades to preserving an art form he inherited from his father.
Meenakari, an intricate decorative art involving the application of coloured mineral enamels onto gold and silver surfaces, was once highly sought after in Kashmir. The craft adorned jewellery, religious inscriptions, pendants and ornamental objects, earning admiration for its fine detailing and vibrant colours.
The process remains labour-intensive. Artisans first engrave delicate patterns on metal surfaces before filling them with enamel powders. The pieces are then heated repeatedly at high temperatures to achieve the desired finish.
“It requires patience and precision,” Pahalwan explained. “One small mistake can spoil days of work. Every colour reacts differently to heat, so experience matters.”
However, changing market trends, declining demand and the absence of younger craftsmen have pushed the centuries-old tradition towards extinction.
According to local artisans, machine-made ornaments and mass-produced jewellery have largely replaced handcrafted enamel work, leaving traditional craftsmen struggling to find buyers.
“There was a time when orders would come regularly,” Pahalwan recalled. “Now there are days when no customer visits. People appreciate the work, but very few are willing to pay for the effort it takes.”
Despite the challenges, the veteran craftsman continues to report to his workshop every morning.
For him, Meenakari is more than a profession.
“It is my heritage,” he said. “This craft fed my family and gave me an identity. I cannot leave it simply because times have changed.”
Local residents familiar with his work describe him as a symbol of dedication and perseverance.
“Many artisans left the profession because there was no income,” said Ghulam Hassan, a resident of the area. “Nazir Sahib stayed. He continued working even when business was poor. That shows his commitment to the craft.”
Cultural experts warn that Kashmiri Meenakari may disappear altogether unless urgent measures are taken to support artisans and train a new generation.
“Traditional crafts survive through transmission of knowledge,” said cultural researcher Dr Shabir Ahmad. “When the number of practitioners falls to one or two individuals, the risk of losing that knowledge becomes very real. Preservation efforts must focus on both documentation and training.”
For Pahalwan, the greatest concern is not financial hardship but the uncertainty surrounding the future of the art itself.
“There is nobody ready to take it forward,” he said. “Young people want professions that offer quick returns. This work takes years to learn.”
Still, he remains hopeful that someone will eventually step forward.
“As long as my eyes allow me to work, I will continue,” he said. “I do not want this art to disappear in my lifetime.”
As evening falls over the historic neighbourhood, the furnace inside his workshop continues to glow, illuminating tools that have been part of his daily routine for decades.
Outside, the city moves forward with modern life.
Inside, one artisan continues his quiet struggle to keep alive a fading chapter of Kashmir’s artistic heritage.
For now, the story of Kashmiri Meenakari survives in the hands of Nazir Ahmad Pahalwan — a craftsman determined that the final brushstroke has not yet been painted.
