Jahangeer Ganaie
Srinagar, Oct 6: For over four decades, the rhythmic tapping of tools on copper sheets has echoed through the modest workshop of Manzoor Ahmed Naqashgeer, a 60-year-old artisan, from Teingpora Nawa Kadal, Srinagar. He has dedicated 45 years of his life to the centuries-old art of copper naqashi — an intricate engraving craft that once symbolized Kashmir’s rich cultural heritage.
Manzoor said, “I inherited this skill from my father, Mohammad Subhan Naqashgeer, when I was only 10 or 12 years old. This art has been in our family for five generations. I learnt it from my father, who learnt it from his uncle. But sadly, I don’t see it continuing beyond me.”
Manzoor, who has won multiple awards for his craftsmanship, including one from then J&K Governor N. N. Vohra and Chief Minister Omar Abdullah in 2012, said he recently received his fourth major award for his lifelong dedication to the craft. “My work has reached countries across the world, but back home, the art is dying,” he said.
According to him, while simple naqashi on copper utensils is still being practiced, the real and detailed naqashi — the one that earned Kashmiri artisans international recognition — is vanishing due to rising costs and dwindling demand. “Now I make pieces only on order. The cost of such pieces has gone up so much that people prefer cheaper, machine-made products,” he said.
Manzoor lamented that the government’s revival efforts are not yielding results because the trainers appointed to teach the craft lack expertise. “The people they have hired for training are not well-versed in this art. They are mostly teaching in village centres, and that too, to females who do it for livelihood without knowing about its background and real things,” he said.
Expressing concern about the future of his family legacy, he said his children are not willing to take up the profession. “They have seen me struggling. I haven’t received any significant work in the past year. It’s not enough to sustain a livelihood anymore,” he said.
Manzoor added that machine-made copper items have severely dented the market for hand-engraved products. “This art requires patience and time. Machines can replicate designs in minutes, but they can never capture the soul of a craftsman’s touch,” he added.
Reflecting on the irreversible decline, Manzoor said, “The real masters of this art are no more. The tools I used 20 years ago are lying unused now. A single hand-crafted piece made with them costs thousands, but there are no buyers left.”
For Manzoor Ahmed Naqashgeer, every engraved motif tells a story of tradition, patience, and fading legacy. But as markets shift toward mass production, he fears that the age-old sound of hammer on copper — once the heartbeat of Srinagar’s old city — may soon fall silent.
