High silver prices threaten Lucknow’s famed bridal nagra craft

In Lucknow, the capital of Uttar Pradesh and a city known for its Nawabi heritage and artisanship, 55-year-old Azhar Hussain sits at the bench where he has spent years making decorative footwear. His tools are still there, but the customers are not. Amid soaring silver prices over the past year, demand for his work has plummeted.

The small workshop sits beside Chowk Bazaar, one of Old Lucknow’s oldest and busiest markets, a famed hub for wedding shopping full of silver jewellery and handcrafts.

For three decades, Hussain has been one of the bazaar’s busiest craftsmen, making a distinctive form of silver slip-on shoes, known locally as nagras.

He starts by cutting a thin silver sheet into the outline of a nagra, then sketches floral and leaf motifs onto the metal. Hussain then rests the sheet on heated lac, a soft natural resin that cushions the metal while he uses a hammer and engraving tool to tap intricate designs into place.

Hussain then bends the silver around a foot-shaped furma, or mould, before fitting it over a base of cardboard, rubber and velvet, soldering the pieces together and polishing the pair. Craftsmen have used this process to make silver nagras since the 1600s.

Originally, the decorative shoes were made for daily use by the Nawabi, Muslim rulers of the former kingdom of Awadh.

“Silver nagras used to be the most important part of a nawab’s attire,” said 68-year-old Nawab Masud Abdullah, an eighth-generation descendant of Nawab Muhammad Ali Shah, the ninth Nawab of Awadh, who ruled from 1837 until he died in 1842.

“They were not just footwear; they represented our culture and heritage,” he added.

Once reserved exclusively for Nawabs, silver nagras have become a cherished wedding tradition over the last century, embraced by Lucknow’s middle and upper classes alike.

“Our forefathers wore silver nagras every day. Later, they became reserved for celebrations and eventually only for special occasions,” Abdullah explained. “The good thing was that the tradition spread beyond the Nawabs. People, particularly brides across Lucknow, embrace it as their own and now a bride is considered incomplete without a nagra.”

 

Hussain and his family of craftsmen have seen this transformation firsthand.

“In the past, only Nawabs could afford these shoes because they symbolised wealth, power and status,” he said. “But over the last seven or eight decades, they became popular among middle-class and wealthy families too, especially for weddings and special occasions.”

There are two types of silver nagras — open-toed chappals and closed-toed jutis, and customers can choose different patterns, ornamentation and designs.

Lucrative trade vanishes

Hussain’s family has been making nagras since the early 1900s and the trade has provided a comfortable living. Before each wedding season, he has typically made about 10 pairs a month, he says, with each priced between $105 and $230 (10,000 and 22,000 rupees).

“We lived with dignity,” he said quietly. “We earned enough to feed our family, educate our children and save a little every month. We never imagined that one day we would struggle even to run our household.”

Over the past year, however, the orders have vanished with the rise in silver prices. The metal was already costing a bit more before the U.S.-Iran war launched in February, owing to tight supplies and growing investor demand. But the conflict added another jolt, as uncertainty in global markets drove investors towards silver and put the metal — and the nagras — out of reach for many Lucknow shoppers.

War-driven price rises

Prices for precious metals actually began rising with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine back in early 2022, but economists say prices surged significantly with the US and Israeli attacks on Iran.

In 2023, silver prices in India largely fluctuated between $725 (70,000 rupees) and $830 (80,000 rupees) per kilogramme, rising to around $985 (98,000 rupees) in 2024. But this year, amid the conflict with Iran, silver prices briefly soared as high as $4,670 (450,000 rupees) per kg before easing after the ceasefire. Even now, after some decline, prices are hovering around $2,600 (250,000 rupees) per kg, more than three times their levels just a few years ago.

Dr. Salahuddin Ayyub, an economist and international trade expert with India’s Ministry of Commerce and Industry, said geopolitical conflicts have triggered unprecedented volatility in global commodity markets.

“When stock markets become volatile, investors move their money into safer assets, such as gold and silver,” Ayyub explained. “This sudden surge in demand pushes the prices of precious metals sharply upwards.”

The consequences have been particularly severe in India, he said, because gold and silver remain deeply intertwined with weddings, other cultural traditions and family savings. As prices continue to rise, many households are increasingly opting for lower-cost alternatives, such as artificial jewellery.

He warned that while consumers may find substitutes, those whose livelihoods depend on the precious metals industry, including artisans, silversmiths, jewellery shopkeepers and traditional craftsmen, have far fewer options.

“The impact extends well beyond consumers,” Ayyub said. “Entire communities whose incomes depend on these metals are now facing shrinking demand and growing economic uncertainty.”

The surge in silver prices has had another consequence that is often overlooked by the government and policymakers. According to Ayyub, when a country witnesses a sharp rise in demand for imported precious metals, governments often intervene to curb imports and protect their foreign exchange reserves.

“India depends heavily on imported silver. A sudden spike in imports puts pressure on the country’s foreign exchange reserves, so the government tries to discourage excessive imports through tariffs and other restrictions,” Ayyub said.

These import duties are eventually passed on to consumers. “As tariffs increase, the landed cost of silver rises. That is one of the reasons why silver prices in India are currently trading above global prices,” he said.

Globally, silver currently costs $2,100 (201,000 rupees) per kg, but in India, it’s more than 20 percent higher because of heavy government import taxes and strict licensing that chokes off supply. India depends on imports to meet more than 80% of its domestic silver demand and its purchases account for over 20 percent of the global trade in refined silver.

India more than doubled its effective import taxes on gold and silver in May. That saw silver imports plunge by 87 percent to just $75.6 million that month, down from $566.2 million the previous year, the country’s lowest level in over three years.

High silver prices are now forcing Lucknow’s brides to make tough, sometimes devastating, decisions.

Bridal choices

For 28-year-old Lucknow resident Uzma Siddique, who is set to marry in December, owning and wearing a pair of silver nagras on her big day has always topped her wedding wishlist.

“My mother wore silver nagras at her wedding in 1992. So did my grandmother and so did my great-grandmother,” Siddique said. “I always imagined myself wearing them and taking my wedding photographs in them and posting them on Instagram. It was never just footwear; it was an emotion and a family tradition.”

But when she visited the market with plans to order a pair, the prices stunned her.

“A pair that cost around $156 to $208 (15,000 to 20,000 rupees) just a few years ago is now selling for nearly $673 (65,000 rupees),” she said.

Determined to have a pair, she decided to give up on other wedding luxuries instead.

“I had to cut back on many other wedding expenses. I bought a lighter lehenga (long skirt), reduced the number of suits I planned to purchase, and trimmed my budget in several places, just so I could afford these nagras.”

Despite the financial strain, she says giving up the footwear tradition was never an option.

“They have become incredibly expensive, but our emotions are attached to them. That’s why I still bought them,” she said.

But many of her friends have had to go without.

“Some had dreamed of wearing silver nagras on their wedding day, but they had to let go of that dream because they simply couldn’t afford them. They are deeply hurt by it,” she said.

Not far from Siddique’s home lives her friend, 25-year-old Safiya Khan, who is also getting married in December. Unlike Siddique, Safiya has not been able to buy silver nagras for her wedding.

From a lower middle-class family, she says soaring prices put upholding that tradition out of reach.

“My entire wedding shopping budget is around $1,250 (120,000 rupees). I simply cannot spend more than half of it on a pair of shoes,” Khan said, noting that she was sad to end the family tradition.

“I think this tradition will end with my generation,” she said. “My mother had a pair of silver nagras, but she had to sell them last year because of financial difficulties. We always believed we would buy another pair for my wedding. Had we known silver prices would rise so dramatically, we would never have sold them.”

She has been shocked by how a distant war has so negatively affected this beloved local tradition.

“I know the recent conflicts have pushed silver prices higher, but I never imagined that a war thousands of km away could take away a tradition so close to my heart,” she said. “I had always dreamed of taking my wedding photographs in silver nagras. Now that dream will never come true.”

Silver memories

Naseem Jahan, a Lucknow resident in her late seventies, still treasures the pair of silver chappals her mother gave her for her wedding in 1972.

“I remember my mother paid around $2.50 (250 rupees) for this pair,” Jahan recalled. “We had to wait nearly seven months after placing the order before it was finally ready. Those were beautiful days.”

More than five decades later, the silver slippers remain one of her most cherished possessions. She has them polished every three years and proudly wears them to weddings and other important family gatherings, as do many of the older women in Lucknow.

“Every time I wear them, people come to admire them and praise their beauty. That makes me so happy,” she said with a smile.

But Jahan fears the tradition may not continue into the next generation.

“Today, very few people can afford such footwear,” she said.

When she recently visited the market to buy a similar pair for her granddaughter, the soaring price of silver made it unaffordable.

Still, she wants her granddaughter to have traditional bridal footwear, so she has made a tough decision.

“I have decided to gift her my own pair,” she said. “Let these slippers adorn her feet now. I want them to continue their journey.”

As the only precious keepsake she has preserved from her wedding, Jahan knows how connected brides feel to the shoes.

“I have developed an emotional bond with them. They remind me of my mother, my wedding day and the Lucknow I grew up in. I only wish silver prices would come down again so that more people could experience this tradition.”

Jahan’s decision to part with her silver nagras will keep a pair in her family, but it will not bring new work to the craftsmen who once made the footwear for Lucknow’s brides. In Chowk Bazaar, dwindling demand has left many artisans facing the prospect of a trade that may not survive long enough to serve the next generation.

A dying breed

Jabbar Hussain, 48, a fourth-generation craftsman and shopkeeper who makes nagras and sells them in his shop, sits in his empty store in Lucknow’s Chowk Bazaar, struggling to understand what has happened to a business that once flourished.

Between June and September, Hussain’s shop would normally be crowded with customers placing orders for nagras. But over the past three months, Hussain says, he has not sold a single pair. He blames the unprecedented rise in silver prices for making the handmade footwear a luxury few can now afford.

“A pair that once sold for around $125 (12,000 rupees) now costs between $622 and $778 (60,000 and 75,000 rupees) because silver has become so expensive,” he said. “People still walk into the shop, admire the craftsmanship and ask about the price. But the moment they hear it, they quietly leave. Every customer who walks away feels like another piece of our family's future disappearing.”

Hussain, like others before him, now fears he will be forced to close his shop.

“There were nearly 30 of us not long ago,” he said. “Most have already abandoned the profession because silver has become too expensive and orders have dried up. Those who are still here are also thinking of leaving.”

He is now thinking of taking a loan to open a cafe, which he hopes will provide a steady income. “I need to find another way to earn,” he said.

Hussain had hoped to teach the craft to his sons so they could carry forward the family’s legacy, but now he is advising them to pursue other professions. He no longer sees a future in the silver nagras trade and blames the war in the Middle East.

“We have nothing to do with this war, yet we are paying the price,” he said, frustrated at how a conflict so far away has threatened his livelihood. “I don’t know what our future looks like anymore. Sometimes I think about what will happen to this craft and I cry. This wasn’t just our profession; it was our identity, our heritage and everything we were known for.”

Little relief in sight

Still, Hussain clings to the hope that silver prices will decline and orders will return. Economists and market analysts are less optimistic.

Ayyub said silver prices are expected to remain above $2,085 per  (200,000 rupees) kg for the foreseeable future because once precious metal prices rise sharply, they rarely fall significantly enough to return to their previous levels. Historically, the same has been the case with gold.

“Even if prices decline, they are unlikely to return to their earlier levels,” Ayyub said.

Not far from Hussain’s workshop, 40-year-old former silver nagras maker Kuldeep Gautam now spends his days behind the counter of a jewellery shop.

Known for his intricate workmanship, Gautam once earned between $415 and $518 (40,000 and 50,000 rupees) a month making the ornate footwear. But he has not received a single order since January, he says. As orders disappeared and his savings dwindled, Gautam was forced to abandon the craft and take up a job as a salesman.

“I left the craft because I had no other choice,” he said. “Whenever I pass my old workshop, I don’t even look at it. It hurts too much.”

Beyond the loss of income, Kuldeep says he mourns the loss of the identity his craft had given him.

“People knew me for my work and appreciated my craftsmanship. It gave me dignity. Today, I earn only $155 (15,000 rupees) a month, and I struggle to pay my children’s school fees. I never imagined my life would come to this.”

“I still yearn to make nagras, but there are no buyers anymore. The war has destroyed our lives.”

Back in his shop, Azhar Hussain also faces the prospect of abandoning a craft that has carried his family for more than a century. His plan, he says, is to secure a bank loan to buy an electric rickshaw so he can start earning again.

“At least an e-rickshaw will earn me $5 to $7 (500 to 700 rupees) a day,” he said. “I don’t want to leave this craft, but I have no choice.”