Kashkul

Today I clean some brass and silver - not that I have much of either. This is not the weekly ritual I remember happening as a child - the piles of newspapers and rags black with liquid Brasso rub-off. No, this is a once-every-couple-of-years activity which I embark on with reluctance. But having completed it, the full beauty of my kashkul is revealed. 

We brought this back from Kashmir in 1980 - a reminder of one of the most beautiful places on earth, sadly now one of the most militarised regions. 

The papier-mâché is beginning to crack a little, and a tiny piece breaks off just below the right apex. It’s beginning to show its age. After all, its origins lie far back in time - the ‘kashkul’ form a begging bowl used by wandering Dervishes, the art of  papier-mâché brought from Persia in the C14th. Once the centre of this artistic form, apparently the conflict is threatening Kashmir’s workshops now. 

For us, it’s a treasured possession, part of our memories of travel that remind us how lucky we have been to see so much, even though our wings, for now, are very firmly clipped.