Aiyan Gulzar Paul
In south Kashmir, a quiet change is taking place. For years, women here had skills but little recognition. Now, with sewing machines, looms, and computers, they are building independent futures and shaping their own stories.
I met Aisha, a 24-year-old from anantnag, in a sunlit room filled with the hum of sewing machines. She was bent over a vibrant “pheran” her fingers deftly guiding fabric under the needle. Two years ago, she’d never touched a sewing machine. “my father believed education ended at marriage,” she said. But when a skill centre opened in her village under the government’s umeed scheme, aisha joined secretly, bribing her younger brother with sweets to keep quiet. Today, she earns ₹15,000 per month by stitching uniforms for local schools.
Aisha’s story isn’t unique. Across south kashmir’s four districts—anantnag, kulgam, pulwama, and shopian—thousands of women are rewriting their destinies through skill development programs. These initiatives, run by the government, ngos, and private collectives, have trained over 5,000 women since 2019 in trades like tailoring, organic farming, and computer literacy. The ripple effects are palpable: In shopian’skeller village, a group of women recently pooled their earnings to start a dairy cooperative. In pulwama, tech-savvy graduates now manage digital records for apple exporters, bridging the gap between farmers and markets.
The backbone of this shift lies in grassroots centres that blend practicality with cultural sensitivity. Take the national rural livelihood mission’s (NRLM) centres in anantnag, where courses in “sozni” embroidery—a delicate kashmiri craft—are paired with lessons on pricing and profit margins. “many women here can create art, but they’ve never handled money,” explained farida, a trainer. “now, they negotiate directly with sellers in Srinagar.” Then there’s the undp’s skills for life program in kulgam, which trains women in homestay management. With Kashmir’s tourism rebounding, graduates like 32-year-old rafiya have turned their homes into cosy guesthouses.
Private players are stepping in too. “she crafts”, a Srinagar-based collective, works with 200 artisans in shopian to design contemporary shawls and scarves. Their products now stock shelves in delhi and bengaluru, with earnings split evenly between the women and the collective. “earlier, middlemen paid them ₹500 for a shawl that sold for ₹5,000,” said co-founder arifa. “now, the artisans decide their prices.” A 2023 survey by the j&k women’s development corporation (JKWDC) found that 65% of graduates from their anantnagcentre now earn between ₹10,000–25,000 per month.
In pulwama, digital literacy programs have placed 120 women in jobs at local it hubs, with salaries 40% higher than the regional average. Over 1,200 micro-enterprises from bakeries to embroidery units have sprouted in south kashmir since 2020, many helmed by women.
But the true impact transcends economics. At a community meeting in kulgam, 50-year-old zaina spoke about her daughter, now studying engineering in jammu. “before the skill centre, we’d have married her off at 18,” she said. “now, we see her degree as an investment.”
In remote villages like dooru, erratic electricity stalls computer classes. Some families still clip wings—amina, a 19-year-old in shopian, dropped out of a tailoring course when her in-laws objected. “they said, ‘what will people think if you work?’” she sighed. Yet, attitudes are shifting. Local religious leaders now endorse skill programs in friday sermons, emphasizing islam’s emphasis on women’s education. Male “champions”—husbands like riyaz, whose wife runs a thriving spice business—volunteer at awareness camps. “when women earn, entire families benefit,” riyaz told me. “why wouldn’t i support that?”
The jammu&kashmir administration’s latest budget pledges ₹50 crore to expand these initiatives. Plans include:
- 20 new centers in underserved areas, focusing on AI basics and e-commerce.
- partnerships with companies like “amazon karigar” to help artisans reach global buyers.
- “green skill” hubs to train women in solar energy and eco-tourism—a nod to kashmir’s fragile ecosystem.
But for the women, the future is already here. In a dimly lit room in pulwama, i watched saba, a 22-year-old, demonstrate a digital invoice system she’d built for a fruit exporter. Her toddler played at her feet as she typed. “my mother couldn’t read,” she said. “my daughter will code.”
Skill development in south Kashmir isn’t just about jobs, it’s about reclaiming identity in an area often reduced to headlines about conflict. As the sun dipped behind the mountains, aisha summed it up while folding a finished “pheran”: “they call us ‘beneficiaries,’ but we’re architects. Every stitch is a brick in a new Kashmir.”And with that, she switched off her sewing machine, wrapped a scarf around her shoulders, and walked home—a little straighter, a little prouder.
Writer is a student hailing from south Kashmir and can be reached at [email protected]
