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PESHAWAR, Jul 29 (APP):In the centuries-old narrow alleys of Misgaran bazaar, once alive with the musical rhythm of hammers striking glowing brass, only silence now reigns.
The brass craftspeople are fewer, their tools rusting, and the once-vibrant craft of brassware, which were once the pride of Peshawar’s cultural soul, is disappearing into history.
Nestled near the historic Qissa Khwani Bazaar, Misgaran was once the epicenter of KP’s brass artistry. Today, only a few artisans remain, clutching their heritage in aging fingers as plastic goods, mass-produced imports, and public neglect push their craft toward near extinction.
“Fifty years ago, there were at least 200 brass shops here at Misgaran and Qissa Khawani bazaars,” said 75-year-old Haji Muhammad Rafiq, a third-generation craftsman while talking to APP. “Now, barely 10 are left here.”
Sitting cross-legged on the floor of his dimly lit workshop, Rafiq gently buffs the rim of a half-finished brass bowl amid load shedding. The golden hue reflects both the luster of a glorious past and the sorrow of a fading present.
“Plastic and imported goods may be cheap and trendy. but they have no soul and identity,” Haji Rafiq, whose son also joined him in shop told APP.
The roots of brassware in Peshawar stretch before the Mughal era who took keen interest in engraved samovars, ornate lanterns, ceremonial trays and teapots that once graced homes across South Asia, Afghanistan, Central Asian Republics and the Middle East.
Merchants from Central Asia, who passed through Peshawar, stayed at Qissa Khwani buying these treasured goods and took them across borders and generations.
Today, that rich history teeters on the brink due to sheer neglect by the PTI rulers. From hundreds of skilled craftsmen, only a few remain as some holding on for passion, others out of necessity.
Known as Ustad G in brass work, Safar Ali, one of the great artisans, is still active in Peshawar, carrying the weight of a nearly century of family tradition. “In May 2005, Angelina Jolie visited our shop and called it ‘beautiful’ and praised our brass work,” he said, beaming at the memory. “It meant the world to us.”
Safar Ali was later awarded the Pride of Performance by the government which was a great honour for his entire family. Safar’s late brother Khwaja Akhter Ali was also nominated twice in the past for Pride of Performance.
“There’s no training and no support either from KP Govt or civil society. The youth are also not interested in adopting this ancient art. They’re on their smartphones,” he lamented. “And brass is expensive. It’s easier to sell plastic.”
Despite the gloom, some sparks of revival are visible. A few NGOs and social enterprises are attempting to link artisans with modern consumers through online platforms. But without KP Govt support, their impact remains limited.
Senior academics Anthropology at University of Peshawar and cultural expert Dr. Muhammad Jamil Khan believed Peshawar’s brassware could thrive again if given the right platform and social media projection, adding KP Culture and Tourism Authority and Culture Department’s role in this regard carried significant importance.
“Tourists and collectors worldwide crave authenticity. Peshawar has that. What it lacks is promotion, preservation, and accessibility,” Dr Jamil said, adding preparation of small videos and photos of brass master pieces and its uploading on digital media can bring laurels.
Another craftsman, 64-year-old Khadim Hussain, still operates a small brass factory set up by his father in 1948. Starting at just 10, Khadim has dedicated his life to the art, teaching two of his grandsons in hopes of passing the torch.
“This is our identity. My father, my grandfather—they all worked this metal with their bare hands,” he said, leaning on his cane, pride gleaming in his eyes.
But today, brass costs up to Rs. 2,000 per kilogram. With the handwork and engraving, even a simple decoration piece can cost over Rs. 8,000 far out of reach for middle-class families.
“I love brass products due to its unique designs and art work,” said Nasir Khan, a property dealer. I came here to select few master pieces for decoration of my newly constructed house,” said Nasir who at Qissa Khwani’s brass shop.
Security and economic challenges besides lack of public and Govt support have all played a part in the decline of this ancient art,” he said and added that resultantly most workers have shifted to plastic or silver goods to stay afloat.
Even government officials are now recognizing the need. According to Baktzada Muhammad, Director of Culture and Archaeology KP, initiatives like transforming Nishtar Hall into a culture center and building Artisan Villages are on the pipelines besides providing training to artisans.
“These spaces will allow craftsmen to display and sell their work. It’s about reconnecting youth with heritage,” he said.
But for artisans like Rafiq and Khadim, time is running out. “If we are given a platform, this art can shine again,” Rafiq said, his voice full of quiet hope.
In Peshawar, where the scent of history lingers in every alley and the walls whisper stories from empires past, brassware is not merely a trade rather it’s a language of identity.
“When these traditions die,” said Dr. Jamil, “we lose a piece of who we are.”
As the sun sets on Misgaran Bazaar, shadows stretch long over shuttered shops. In a corner workshop, a hammer falls softly on brass, echoing faintly perhaps for one of the last times.
The craft may be fading, but its story still glows like the metal itself with a stubborn brilliance, refusing to vanish quietly.