Tucked away in the Budgam district of central Kashmir, Sonpah village is more than a geographical entity .It is a cultural heartbeat of the Valley, known for its mastery of Sozni embroidery. This intricate and time-consuming needlework, rendered in delicate patterns on Pashmina shawls and woolen garments, has been the pride of Kashmir for centuries. In Sonpah, the craft is not merely an economic activity but a lifeline and a legacy, practiced by elders, passed on to children, and cherished by the community as both identity and livelihood. The recent recognition of Sonpah as a "Craft Village" by the government was initially welcomed as a moment of pride and opportunity. Yet, beneath the celebratory headlines lies a tale of displacement, ecological disruption, and rising discontent with an uneasy tension between preserving tradition and imposing development. At the heart of Sonpah’s acclaim is Sozni, a revered embroidery technique that requires years of training and immense patience. Using fine needles and silk threads, artisans create symmetrical motifs like flowers, paisleys, vines on soft Pashmina fabric. These works of art can take months to complete and are known to command global admiration. Many Sonpah artisans have received state and national awards for their mastery, contributing to the village’s repute as a cultural landmark. In and around the Sonpah students, young artisans, and women are particularly engaged in this craft, often stitching after school or during winter months to supplement household incomes. This generational involvement has fostered a deeply rooted artisan ecosystem in the village, making Sozni both a profession and a community-wide passion.

Craft Village Recognition

Recognizing this potential, the government designated Sonpah as a Craft Village under an initiative designed to preserve traditional skills, enhance tourism, and integrate local artisans into national and international markets. The move aligns with broader efforts to protect Kashmiri crafts like Pashmina weaving, walnut wood carving, and papier-mâché through GI (Geographical Indication) tags, thereby preventing imitation and ensuring fair economic returns to authentic producers. The Craft Village designation was envisioned to boost artisan incomes, create job opportunities, and introduce infrastructure such as training centers, craft museums, and exhibition spaces. Prime Minister Narendra Modi, during a visit to Srinagar’s Craft Development Institute, hailed the work of Kashmiri artisans as “the pride of the nation,” underscoring the national cultural relevance of Sonpah and its people. But while the symbolic recognition has elevated the village’s profile, the ground realities reveal a more distressing picture. The implementation of the Craft Village plan reportedly involved forcible land acquisitions, with little or no consultation with villagers. According to local sources and parallels drawn with eviction drives in other parts of the country such as Delhi’s slum demolitions or Assam’s controversial eviction of Bengali-origin Muslim families, the situation in Sonpah follows a similar top-down trajectory. Several families claim they were displaced from ancestral land without fair compensation or proper resettlement, leaving them vulnerable and economically unstable. A lot mature fruit yielding trees especially walnut belonging to the villagers were mercilessly cut without any consideration to their livelihood and its ramification on environs. The helpless artisan- cum-agriculturist were left in the lurch in the face of dictates of administrative force. The development of craft village for the helpless poor villager apparently seemed despotic.  For artisans who rely on home-based workspaces, such dislocation is more than physical as it severs their access to tools, materials, and generational craft knowledge embedded within their domestic environments. Equally troubling are the environmental costs of the development. Reports suggest that trees mostly privately owned and culturally significant have been cut to clear space for the new infrastructure. In Kashmir, walnut and poplar trees are not merely part of the landscape; they are assets, livelihoods, and even spiritual companions. Walnut trees, for instance, are integral to Kashmir’s traditional wood carving industry, itself a GI-certified craft. Their removal, without reforestation or compensation, has potentials to cause both ecological harm and psychological trauma for villagers. The loss of green cover exacerbates climate risks in a region already vulnerable to extreme weather events and soil erosion, while simultaneously robbing communities of income derived from timber, fruit, or carving.

Development Sans Inclusivity

Such developments raise critical questions about the inclusivity and sustainability of cultural projects executed in the name of heritage preservation. While promoting traditional crafts is laudable, doing so without the consent and participation of the very communities involved undermines the goals of cultural sustainability. Many Sonpah residents now view the Craft Village not as a celebration of their skills, but as a government-imposed makeover that threatens to erode the organic rhythms of artisan life. Echoing the frustrations of Kolhapuri sandal makers who protested global exploitation of their designs without due recognition, Sonpah’s artisans fear that their craft may be commodified for tourism, with little benefit flowing back to them. From an economic standpoint, the Craft Village status offers both promise and paradox. There is potential for increased income through craft tourism, international exhibitions, and e-commerce platforms. The government’s stated intent to reduce GST on handicraft items could make Kashmiri products more affordable and competitive in national markets. But such gains are rendered fragile when artisans face eviction, uncertainty, and loss of workspace. Many Sozni embroiderers, especially women working from home, now face the challenge of continuing their craft without stable housing or inclusive infrastructure development. Economic advancement must be rooted in social and spatial security. Otherwise, the Craft Village becomes a hollow title, disconnected from grassroots realities.

Dilemma of Development 

There is also a deeper ethical dilemma at play: How do we preserve culture without violating the dignity of those who embody it? Can a community’s heritage be truly protected if its members are displaced or silenced? Preservation must not be reduced to aesthetics—it must be tied to empowerment. If Sonpah is to thrive as a Craft Village, its residents must be treated not as passive beneficiaries but as equal stakeholders. Policy should center around participatory planning, equitable land use, fair compensation, and environmental restoration. Engaging local panchayats, forming artisan cooperatives, and facilitating community-led monitoring are all crucial steps toward a development model that respects both tradition and rights.

Mushrooming Brick Kilns

The unchecked mushrooming of brick kilns in and around the Sonpah Craft Village poses a looming threat to both the ecological balance and the cultural serenity of the region. Once a peaceful rural setting known for its lush orchards, clean air, and the delicate rhythm of traditional craft life, the area is now increasingly marred by the industrial presence of brick manufacturing units. These kilns, often established without strict environmental clearance or regulation, emit harmful pollutants such as carbon monoxide, sulfur dioxide, and fine particulate matter that degrade air quality and contribute to respiratory ailments among local residents. The constant smoke discharge not only affects human health but also threatens the vibrancy of fruit orchards and the natural landscape that once defined the village's charm. Moreover, the kilns draw heavily on natural resources—especially clay soil and firewood—leading to the depletion of fertile topsoil and deforestation in the surrounding areas. This extraction disrupts local farming, reduces agricultural yield, and accelerates land degradation. The high temperatures and emissions from the kilns also disturb the microclimate, potentially affecting the dyeing and fabric-processing stages of craft production, which are sensitive to environmental conditions. The acoustic serenity required for focused artisanal work is now interrupted by the noise pollution and constant movement of trucks ferrying bricks and raw materials. For a village aspiring to become a hub of sustainable cultural tourism and handicraft-based livelihoods, the unregulated proliferation of brick kilns stands in stark contradiction to its goals. If not checked, it threatens to erode the very environment and ethos that the craft village is meant to protect and promote

Development at the Cost of Livelihood and Ecology

The unfolding situation in Sonpah Craft Village reveals a troubling picture of development marred by forceful eviction, ecological damage, and social exclusion. Once a serene rural landscape dotted with fruit-laden orchards and homes of skilled artisans may  now witnessing the erosion of its traditional character due to abrupt and forceful land takeovers. Stakeholders, particularly local artisans, farmers, and landowners, would face tremendous hardships as their ancestral lands are seized without due consultation or consent. The felling of trees with standing fruit ,a symbol of livelihood and seasonal sustenance is likely to add to the anguish, severing not only ecological balance but also the economic lifelines of the people. The region’s famed Sozni craft, known for its delicate embroidery and generational transmission of skill, now stands psychologically threatened. Displacement of artisans may disrupt their workspace, working environment, raw material supply, and market access, making it increasingly difficult for them to sustain their traditional craft. The development process, rather than being inclusive and participatory, has unfolded in a manner that excludes the very communities it claims to uplift. Women, who play a crucial role in the craft economy, are particularly affected, losing both workspaces and informal support systems. Moreover, the haphazard manner in which fruit-bearing trees have been felled without environmental or economic assessment indicates a lack of ecological sensitivity in planning. These trees were not only sources of income and nutrition but also played a role in sustaining the village’s biodiversity and rural charm. The mushrooming of brick kilns in nearby areas further degrades the environment, contributing to dust pollution, loss of fertile topsoil, and destruction of the rural aesthetic. What Sonpah needs is not development that alienates, but one that integrates. There must be a moratorium on evictions, a transparent dialogue with stakeholders, ecological impact assessments, and a community-driven approach that safeguards the craft, livelihood, and environment. Development in such culturally sensitive zones must reflect a blend of progress with protection, a model that builds, not bulldozes. Without it, Sonpah risks losing not just land and trees, but also the very soul of its identity.

Bottom line

Sonpah stands at a crossroads. Its designation as a Craft Village is a recognition of its rich artisanal legacy, but the processes behind its transformation reflect troubling patterns of exclusion and imbalance. The story of Sonpah is emblematic of a larger top down  development dilemma where development is driven by unchecked authority and absent community dialogue, unravel the very fabric it seeks to celebrate. To truly honour the threads of Sozni embroidery, policymakers must weave in justice, sustainability, and inclusivity. Only then can Sonpah  can flourish not only as a museum of nostalgia, but as a living, breathing hub of cultural pride and community resilience.