Last German khar in Kashmir Valley laments extinction of his craft
After I cross the congested Rainawari city in central Srinagar, the narrow lanes take me to Banduk Khar mohalla. The houses on either side form a beautiful symmetry thanks to their similar structures and use of wood, mud and maharaja bricks.
The area in the Kashmir Valley, in India’s federally administered territories of Jammu and Kashmir, is also famed for its blacksmiths. Of these, a sect called the German khars were trained to transform iron, steel and other metals into polished medical instruments. They also learnt how to mend and replicate German-made machines and hospital equipment such as stethoscopes and blood pressure machines, as well as tools used in operations.
Ghulam Mohiuddin Ahanger, 77, is the last of the German khars. He and seven of his cousins learnt this special skill in their youth. The family has been in business for the past century, and Ahanger is the fourth generation practising the craft.
“Our forefathers acquired the title of German khars for repairing German machines that no one else could repair in the valley. They were known and respected,” says Ahanger.
The family could mend the international-grade equipment perfectly and even earned the admiration of German craftsmen at the time. In the 1940s, a German hospital administrator in Srinagar wrote a letter to Ahanger’s grandfather, saying his work was perfect. The letter said: “One cannot tell which is real and which the replica is. The work is extremely thorough and precise.”
However, unlike his forefathers, Ahanger will not pass the craft on to future generations because the work has dried up.
“This is the modern era; companies who make machines provide in-house repair services. When this shift was taking over, it initially restricted our work but, with time, we are left with no business at all.”
His workshop is in a corner of the courtyard at his family home. When the Covid-19 pandemic hit India in March 2020 and a lockdown was imposed, Ahanger received requests to carry out repairs at hospitals, but he was not able to take much on.
“I work very slowly now. My eyesight is weak and there is no one who can help me,” he says. “I mastered this craft during my youth. I would sit in the workshop for hours and observe my elders.
“In current times, young people don’t have time and are in an unnecessary hurry … how would they learn a craft that requires passion and patience?”
Kashmiri historian Zareef Ahmad Zareef calls these blacksmiths “life saviours”.
“These people made health care accessible back in the era when the only route between Kashmir and [the rest of] India would close for months due to heavy snowfall and would take weeks to reopen,” he says. “They have supported hospitals that had no money to import equipment and saved lives with their timely help. I feel disheartened to know the future of German khars will vanish because there is no one left to carry forward the skill.”
Producing replicas of hospital tools is hard work and does not pay a lot. Ahanger says he has often made an effort to hire helpers, hoping they will learn the trade. But he says the boys only turn up for work for a day or two.
“I am in this workshop throughout the year as this is the only skill I have. I will keep doing this work while I am alive. My son doesn’t like it that I still work, but I get sick if I sit idle,” he says.
Our forefathers acquired the title of German khars for repairing German machines that no one else could repair in the valley