In the midst of Srinagar, in houses that also serve as studios, and in workshops hidden behind centuries-old wooden doors, a craft as delicate as it is resilient silently struggles to survive. Papier-mâché, brought to Kashmir centuries ago, is one of the valley's most complex and culturally nuanced arts — and now, it is on the verge of disappearing.

Referred to locally as 'Kari-Kalamdani', Kashmiri papier-mâché is an art that transcends ornamentation. It is ritual, storytelling, and collective memory moulded into form. Produced solely by hand using a painstaking multi-step process, it recycles discarded paper into delicate, layered sculptures, ranging from trinket boxes and Christmas decorations to Quranic book rests and wall panels. At its best, it has colourful floral motifs, jungle scenes, chinar leaves, and even historical Mughal depictions painted with natural pigments, and fine-tipped brushes.

The origins of the craft reach back to the 14th century, when the holy Sufi saint Mir Sayyid Ali Hamadani introduced talented craftsmen from Persia to Kashmir, sowing the seeds of many of the crafts that would characterise the region's art identity. Papier-mâché, with its close association with Islamic arts of ornament and Persian visual culture, evolved as a particularly spiritual and aesthetic practice handed down from generation to generation, frequently within families or close-knit Shia Muslim communities.

Previously sustained by tourism and Mughal-era trade networks, papier-mâché's fortunes began to dwindle in the 1990s due to armed conflict in Kashmir. What ensued was a series of setbacks — political turmoil, economic shutdowns, internet shutdowns, crippling floods in 2014, and more recently, the failure of local markets during the COVID-19 pandemic.

Organizations such as INTACH Kashmir and Kashmir Box have worked to bring recognition and reasonable prices to traditional craftsmanship, enabling a few artisans to reach international buyers via online sites. At the same time, newer artists such as Hammad are working with illustrators and designers from around the globe. Such hybrid strategies are keeping the craft form in view — and just a bit more sustainable.

The process itself — beginning with the pulp, layering, drying, moulding, painting, and polishing — is laborious and ritualistic. A piece takes days, sometimes weeks. Artists work with natural lacquer, gold leaf, and hand-grinding mineral paints. This is not the sort of work that multiplies. Nor should it be required to.

What we need now is not more sentiment but consolidated and systemic support that includes improved artisanal wages, access to e-commerce, and a rethinking of how we see craft not only as aesthetic, but as ancestral knowledge. Until then, in households such as the Wani family's — and in the hands of those who yet prefer to hold on — the art lingers; slowly; quietly; beautifully.

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