Srinagar’s last silversmith keeps family legacy alive

Falak Bilal

Srinagar, May 25: In a narrow lane of Downtown Srinagar, hidden behind crowded shops and rusted signboards, a small dimly lit workshop still carries the sound of a vanishing craft.

Inside, surrounded by silver dust, worn-out tools and unfinished ornaments, 58-year-old Tariq Ahmad Zargar sits quietly at his wooden bench, carefully engraving delicate patterns onto a piece of silver jewellery. The room is old, the light is faint, but his hands continue to move with the precision of someone who has spent a lifetime mastering the art.
For Tariq, silver crafting is more than a profession. It is the inheritance of generations.
“I grew up watching my father work in this same shop,” Tariq says. “As a child, I would sit beside him for hours and observe how he turned plain silver into beautiful jewellery. Slowly, I learned everything from him.”
For decades, traditional Kashmiri silver jewellery was once among the most sought-after crafts in the Valley. Handcrafted necklaces, earrings and ornaments designed by local artisans decorated weddings and family celebrations across Kashmir.
According to Tariq, those years brought respect and stability to craftsmen.
“The market was alive then,” he recalls. “Customers would keep coming till late at night. Sometimes we closed our shop at 10 or 11 pm because there was so much work.”
But over the years, the shine of the craft has begun to fade.
Machine-made jewellery, changing fashion trends and rising silver prices have severely affected traditional artisans. In the old city markets, many workshops that once echoed with the sound of hammers and engraving tools now remain shut.
“Handmade work has lost its value,” Tariq says with disappointment. “People prefer factory-made jewellery because it is cheaper. We hardly earn enough now to survive.”
The shrinking demand has forced many craftsmen to abandon the profession entirely. Younger generations, seeing little financial future in the trade, are moving towards other occupations.
“There was a time when every lane here had silversmiths,” says another trader from the locality. “Now only a few remain. This art is slowly disappearing.”
For Tariq, however, walking away was never an option.
Despite financial struggles and poor health, he continues opening his shop every morning. His personal life, too, has been marked by hardship. In 2013, he lost his wife to kidney failure, leaving him to raise his two sons alone.
“After my wife passed away, life became extremely difficult,” he says softly. “But I kept working because this shop is all I have.”
Even today, he spends long hours shaping silver ornaments by hand, often without knowing whether customers will arrive.
“This work is connected to my father’s memory,” he says while polishing a half-finished pendant. “If I leave it, it will feel like I have buried his legacy.”
But Tariq fears the tradition may end with him.
“No one will continue this work after me,” he says quietly. “My sons have seen the struggles. They want a different future.”
Experts believe Kashmir’s traditional silver craftsmanship, once considered an important part of the Valley’s cultural identity, is now fighting for survival. Artisans say lack of financial support, modern marketing and declining public interest have pushed the centuries-old craft towards extinction.
Yet, inside his tiny workshop under a single hanging bulb, Tariq Ahmad Zargar continues to work patiently, engraving silver piece by piece — determined to keep alive a heritage that is slowly slipping away from Kashmir’s old city markets.