Kashmir’s traditional headgear was once common to both Muslim and Hindu communities – Muslims tied their turbans to the right, while Hindus to the left. But in recent years, barring religious figures and non-Kashmiri ethnic communities, Kashmir has done away with turbans – replacing them with local versions of western and central Asian headgear.

Flocked by foreign traders for much of its recent past, the foreign designs came to Kashmir in waves. The Afghan Karakul hat, locally called Karakuli, is one such example. In the heart of Srinagar, near the Jamia Masjid in Nowhatta is one of Kahmir’s oldest cap shops, set up in the early 1980s, which locally manufactures and sell these caps. The walls of the shop are adorned with an assortment of caps and a mirror as old as the shop, for customers to try out their picks.

The owner, Mohammad Maqbool Shah, now in his 80s, taught himself the craft of cap-making. In the mid-1980s, when a foreign tourist arrived at his shop to get a polo cap fixed, Shah was fascinated by the simple yet fashionable design. Later, he attempted to recreate the cap.

“I wasted a lot of cloth learning the design, weaving through nights,” Shah said. “After a few weeks I was successful in recreating the cap and then improved on it until I perfected the craft.” He soon led to the development of a niche industry in the valley. Shah’s shop sees brisk business every year just as the Chinar trees start shedding their leaves in the autumn. The craze lasts until the first call of spring.

Shah employed three artisans and runs the shop along with his grandson since 2008, after having run the business single-handedly for three decades.

A customer tries on a cap at Maqbool Shah's store. Photo: Rayan Naqash

Over the last years he has created recreated designs catering to customers from various walks of life, from bureaucrats to young fashion aficionados. Each type has variations, in terms of a creative intermixing of fabrics. The “London type”, “office pick”, “gol (circular) type”, Karakuli, Pakol, “Russian type”, and “Baret” or beret, are among the most popular designs.

Caps and aspirations

The rise in the sales of these caps, since the first polo-replica which Shah made, can be attributed to the aristocratic air they lend the wearer. The “London type”, a flat cap with a small stiff brim on the front, is usually made with tweed or semi-wool blazers. While the original cap can still be seen worn by golfers and English cricketers, in Kashmir the style is worn to formal occasions and offices.

Over time, Shah has introduced leather along with tweed to his designs, to stay updated with contemporary trends. Top bureaucrats, judges, academics, politicians, and police officials are regular visitors to his shop. “A young magistrate in his 30s has a collection of such office caps,” Shah said. “He visits every year, along with fabric he procures himself to have new caps made, to add new varieties to his collection.” Checkered tweed and dark coloured blazers, Shah said, are the most popular choice among government officials.

A flat cap, colloquially called London type. Photo: Rayan Naqash

Poet and author Zareef Ahmad Zareef said the caps were first seen in Kashmir, worn by British polo players. Over time, they became popular among office-goers and bureaucrats. Shah said the cap was earlier prominently worn by Kashmiri Pandits in the government’s service. “Muslims picked up the trend in the 1980s, soon after that I started making these locally,” he said. A single cap sells for rupees 150. Today the caps range from between 300-1000 rupees, depending on the material used.

Caps in popular culture

“Gol” or round caps, like the “baret” or beret caps are popular among the youth – but the most prominent is the woolen Afghan Pakol and the Chitrali cap, which trace their origins to Chitra in Pakistani. Zahid Ghulam Mohammad, a columnist with a valley based newspaper, said the Chitrali cap has been in Kashmir for decades.

The cap, colloquially called Dard’e toop, was introduced in the valley by seasonal migrants of Dardic ethnicity, hailing from the Gurez and Tileil areas in north Kashmir’s Bandipora district. The road which linked the valley’s to the outside world passed through this region. “The Chitrali cap is worn in the Dard region, up to Gilgit and Hunza... in the whole belt up to Chitral, which was once a part of Kashmir,” Mohammed said.

“The migrants would come here (to Kashmir) when there was no work in Gurez,” Mohammad said. The cap came to signify strength and chivalry, as one of the hooligans, patronised by a former prime minister of the state, Bakshi Ghulam Mohammad, used to wear one. “It had come to stay in the minds of kids growing up in the 1950s,” said Mohammad, who still prefers a Chitrali cap.

While the Chitrali has been around for a while, the Pakol became a fad in the 1990s when the valley was teeming with Kashmiri militants, and foreign terrorists from Pakistan and Afghanistan infiltrated the valley.

These terrorists wore their traditional headgear which soon became popular among Kashmiris. One of the most prominent of these foreign terrorists was Mast Gul. Dressed in camouflage fatigues, sporting a beard and his long hair would flow out from his pakol, something which militants adopted. Later, images of the Taliban in Afghanistan sporting the pakol seeped into minds.

Mast Gul in Kashmir. Image: Screengrab of AP video

The craze for pakols and Chitrali caps was revived when Irrfan Khan sported both in the film Haider. Shah said there had been a spike in the demand for the caps after the movie became popular in the valley.

The Karakuli

Another Afghan cap, the Karakuli, has found a special place in the valley. The Karakuli caps are made from the skins of young lambs of the Karakul breed and come in biege, black, and grey shades. A single cap is priced anywhere between Rs 5,000 to Rs 15,000 depending on the quality of skin used.

Karakuli caps are a status symbol for those who seek an elegant and authoritative look. At Kashmiri weddings, grooms replace their turbans with the Karakuli once they reach the bride’s home. Politicians frequently sport the Karakuli in their public appearances.

Almost all the prominent politicians of the valley, from Sheikh Abdullah, the founder of National Conference, to his grandson Omar Abdullah and separatists such as the Mirwaiz, Omar Farooq, and Syed Ali Shah Geelani can be seen sporting a Karakuli.

Former chief minister Omar Abdullah wearing a Karakuli. Image: AFP

Shah makes the traditional Karakuli along with a Soviet-style Karakuli – a boat shaped cap with folded sides. Apart from the Karakuli, Shah also uses Karakul fur to make variations of pakols and other round caps.

The quality and texture of the fur makes the Karakuli a prized cap: lightweight, soft fur with tight curls, a velvety texture and glossy sheen. Shah said the curls in the fur were an indicator of quality. “The more the curls, the softer the fur is. It is also proportionally more expensive than the less curly fur,” he said.

The fashion of wearing Karakul fur is not cruelty-free. The fur is procured by killing newborn or foetal lambs. Zareef said that the traders use two methods to procure the fur. “They make the pregnant sheep run through a field, in order to induce an abortion,” he said. If the lambs are born, “the ones with good quality fur are chosen to be slaughtered.”

Karakul skins at Maqbool Shah's shop. Each skin is used to make a single cap. Photo: Rayan Naqash
Maqbool Shah wearing a Karakuli cap. Photo: Rayan Naqash
A boat shaped Karakuli cap. Photo: Rayan Naqash

Other methods include the slaughter of a pregnant Karakul sheep and skinning the unborn lambs. Traders of the skin are said to prefer the abortions as the fur is believed to be lighter before birth. The skins are small and takes one whole skin to make an average Karakuli cap.

Zareef said that the Karakuli was introduced to the valley during the Afghan rule in Kashmir. “While most would wear turbans in those days, the high ranking officials of the administration, poets, and courtiers would sport the Karakuli,” he said.

Maqbool Shah in his shop. Photo: Rayan Naqash