In his 200-year-old shop, the last Kozghar of Srinagar continues to make the Arq-e-Gulab

A heritage walk through the heart of Old Srinagar reveals the faded glories of a land that was once called “the paradise on Earth” by Emperor Jahangir. On the banks of the Jhelum stands a beautifully carved and intricately painted wooden structure known as the Khanqah Shah-i-Hamadan. This shrine was built in 1395 to honour Mir Syed Ali Hamadani the Sufi saint from Persia who brought Islam to the Kashmir valley.

Diagonally opposite the mosque is a non-descript old shop in a crumbling brick building with a sign in Urdu that reads ‘Arq-e-Gulab’ (rosewater). The grizzled old man who sits alone inside Abdul Aziz Kozghar is the sole owner and proprietor. It is his Turkish ancestors who came to Kashmir as part of Shah Hamadan’s entourage and brought the fine art of rosewater distillation with them.

Distilling the Arq-e-Gulab

Rosewater is traditionally sprinkled on devotees in mosques and shrines and on guests at formal wedding celebrations as a form of blessing. It is also used in cooking and is a refreshing addition to sherbets as well as sprinkled on handkerchiefs and dabbed on the face on hot summer days. But the political instability in Kashmir since the 1990s and mass production has taken its toll and demand for his handcrafted product has declined sharply.

We step into the musty interior of the old shop and the scene is positively Dickensian. The dust-laden shelves are lined with rows of large emerald green bottles, smaller brown jars and filigreed decanters imported by Abdul’s great grandfather from France and the UK when the shop was first opened in 1820. A Persian couplet framed alongside an old photograph of a Sufi saint clearly establishes the Kozghar family’s devotion to Shah Hamadan: “Yaani Aan Baani Musalmani, Mir Syed Ali Hamadani” (Mir Syed Ali Hamadani is the founder of Islam here).

Besides rosewater, the Kozghars (‘user of jars’, in Persian) used to produce and sell medicinal syrups extracted from valley flowers, musk, sandalwood, kewra and cinnamon. These were popular as quick remedies for stomach and kidney ailments. But now all of that is gone with the wind, crushed by the advent of modern medicine. Ironically Abdul’s own brother has just such a pharmacy right next door to Arq-e-Gulab.

The actual technique for producing rosewater remains a closely guarded family secret handed down from generation to generation. However, broadly, it involves the boiling of Kashmiri rose (koshur gulab) petals and other herbs in a cauldron following which the vapours travel through a mass of coils where they are condensed and distilled. All of it is done at home and all of it is done by hand, a time-consuming process but a true labour of love for an ancient craft that has come down through the centuries. Today, the trickle of clientele is mostly the faithful who come to the shrine next door and the odd tourist keen to buy a slice of history. Remarkably, a bottle of Arq-e-Gulab sells for as little as Rs40 a litre and Abdul pours our souvenir into an empty plastic Coke bottle that we are carrying.

As we linger to take photographs, he laments “There is no money and no interest in carrying on this family business. My children see no future in it and I can’t blame them. This ancient tradition that I alone have kept alive will die with me.” We steal away with a last glance at the silver-haired patriarch presiding over his Alladin’s Cave of evaporated fragrances. The Kozghar of Srinagar is the last man left standing among his silent army of empty cracked bottles.