Falak Bilal
Srinagar, Apr 17: In a modest workshop tucked within the bustling lanes of Srinagar, the rhythmic clatter of wooden looms tells a story that stretches far beyond threads and fabric. It is a story of resilience, rediscovery, and revival — embodied in the life of 65-year-old artisan Ghulam Muhammad Baba.Baba’s journey into the world of weaving was not born out of passion, but necessity.
At the age of sixteen, after the sudden loss of his father, he was forced to abandon his education and step into the role of provider for his family.“I didn’t have the luxury to dream,” Baba recalls, his hands instinctively moving as if still guiding invisible threads. “At that time, survival was the only goal.”
He began as an apprentice in carpet weaving, quickly gaining mastery over the craft within just two years. But destiny had more in store. In 1978, Baba transitioned into pashmina shawl weaving — a shift that would unknowingly set him on a path toward cultural restoration.Years later, amid financial hardships and long working hours, Baba developed a quiet curiosity about the roots of Kashmiri craftsmanship.
He began reading, asking questions, and piecing together fragments of history.What he uncovered would alter the course of his life.“I learned about Kani weaving — a royal art that once flourished here,” he says. “But it had disappeared. Almost no one was practicing it anymore.”Historically patronized by royalty centuries ago, Kani weaving — known for its intricate patterns created using small wooden sticks called kanis — had nearly vanished, fading into obscurity over generations.
“For me, it wasn’t just information. It felt like a responsibility,” Baba explains. “If something so beautiful belonged to our land, how could we let it die?”In 1995, driven by determination and a sense of purpose, Baba joined hands with a handful of like-minded artisans to attempt what many considered impossible — reviving Kani weaving. The early days were filled with uncertainty.
“There were no guides, no teachers, no references,” he says. “We had to rebuild everything from scratch — the techniques, the designs, even the confidence.”After months of painstaking effort, they completed their first Kani shawl.“It wasn’t just a shawl,” Baba says with a faint smile. “It felt like bringing history back to life.”What began as a small effort soon grew into a movement.
Over the years, Baba has designed thousands of intricate patterns and trained numerous artisans, many of whom now depend on the craft for their livelihood.
Today, entire communities across Kashmir are connected to Kani weaving, thanks in part to his efforts.“This work feeds families,” Baba says. “But more importantly, it gives people dignity. When you create something with your own hands, it changes how you see yourself.”Colleagues and trainees often describe him not just as a craftsman, but as a mentor.“He doesn’t just teach weaving,” says one of his students.
“He teaches patience, discipline, and respect for tradition.”For Baba, Kani weaving is deeply personal — a blend of faith, identity, and purpose.“I believe this art chose me,” he reflects. “There were many struggles, many moments when it felt impossible. But something kept pushing me forward.”
Despite decades of work, his vision remains firmly rooted in the future.“I want the world to recognize this craft,” he says. “Not just as a product, but as a story — of Kashmir, of its people, and its spirit.”In an era where quick success often overshadows craftsmanship, Baba’s message to young people is grounded and clear.“Learn a skill,” he urges.
“It gives you independence. It gives you respect. Shortcuts may look easy, but they don’t last.”As the looms continue to echo through his workshop, Baba’s legacy is already taking shape — not just in the shawls that carry centuries of tradition, but in the hands of those who will carry it forward.“This work gave me a life,” he says quietly. “If it can give others the same, then I have done my part.”
