Delhi: As technology continues to reshape modern life, many traditional handcrafts are disappearing, with hardboard or cardboard bookbinding among those nearing extinction. The rise of machines, the growing reliance on alternative bookbinding methods, and other factors have contributed to the decline of the craft.
In the past, libraries, students, book suppliers, and university or office accounting departments would use hardcover binding to preserve books, documents, and records. However, with the advent of soft bookbinding techniques like spiral binding, many customers have shifted to these more modern options.
Mohammed Jahangir, 81, is not only among the oldest craftsmen associated with hardboard bookbinding but also perhaps the most knowledgeable about what remains of this fading art.
“I’ve been running a printing press for 60 years in Old Delhi and outsourcing bookbinding work,” the proprietor of Mercury Printers, founded in 1964, told Patriot.
“So, I know all the people who still do this work in this part of the city – there are only eight or ten in Old Delhi, and I’ve worked with all of them. They range from 25 to 70 years old. Of these, only three or four are youngsters.”
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Last man standing
In the Okhla area, about 15 kilometres from Old Delhi, Zafrul Islam, 77, is likely the only craftsman still practising hardboard bookbinding. A resident of Noor Nagar, his father, Hafiz Ghulam Subhani, originally from Afzalgarh in Bijnor, settled in the area decades ago in search of a livelihood. Subhani passed on the art of bookbinding to both his sons, Qamrul Islam and Zafrul.
At one time, all three worked together when work was plentiful. Both Subhani and Qamrul have since passed away, leaving Zafrul and his family to carry on.
“Father taught me this craft, and I perfected it in two months. The first book I worked on earned me Rs. 2.5, many years ago. Today, I charge just Rs. 50 for a standard-size book and have been charging the same for many years,” Zafrul told Patriot at his home in Noor Nagar.
As the number of customers began to decline, Zafrul partnered with a local book and stationery shop in Batla House. The shop owner outsourced the work to him on a commission basis, paying Rs. 50 per book.
However, after a dispute between two customers over a book they had jointly submitted for binding, the frustrated shopkeeper decided to stop accepting hard binding jobs. This decision severely impacted Zafrul’s steady income, as he heavily relied on this source.
The good, old days
Initially, Hafiz Subhani taught Arabic at a school in Noor Nagar, served as an imam at a half-built mosque, and carried out bookbinding work on the side.
A significant portion of the binding work came from various departments of the nearby Jamia Millia Islamia, a central university. Those were the good days, when Subhani and his two sons worked together and independently.
Khalid Shamshad, who retired as assistant registrar of Jamia Millia Islamia last year, has known Zafrul Islam, his family, and the quality of their work for nearly four decades.
“They received most of the hard binding work from the central library, the accounts department, and the examination department. In those days, Subhani sahib and his sons were constantly busy,” Shamshad, 61, told Patriot.
Abdul Wahid, a former in-charge of Maktaba Jamia (Jamia’s bookstore), also kept Zafrul occupied. “One of the biggest work orders we gave the family was for 1,100, or perhaps more, copies of Abbu Khan Ki Bakri, a collection of children’s stories written by former President Zakir Hussain,” recalled Wahid, now 80.
Zafrul’s struggles
Zafrul never attended school; his father taught him Urdu at home. He is clearly struggling to adapt to changing times. He doesn’t own a mobile phone, relying on his son’s device for communication. Dressed in the traditional kurta-pyjama, he mostly stays at home, and the entire family leads a quiet, low-profile life.
Both Zafrul and his son Zubair, who is similarly reserved, agree that the lack of publicity for their craft—and public awareness of it—is the main reason for the shortage of customers.
“Hardly anyone knows we do hardboard bookbinding. A few years ago, we tried to change that. We printed some pamphlets describing our work and contact details and put them up around the locality. It didn’t make any difference,” says Zubair, a civil engineering diploma holder who is currently unemployed.
Zafrul, sometimes assisted by Zubair, laments the decline of the art, with few takers for cardboard binding.
“Machines have taken over the work that was once done by hand. My brother Qamrul tried to adapt and bought a machine, but when work dwindled, he sold it. I also tried spiral binding and bought a spiral binding machine for Rs. 3,000 some years ago. But now it’s gathering rust, unused due to a lack of work,” he explains.
“I don’t have any other skills besides bookbinding. I never tried to learn anything else,” he adds without hesitation.
Another reason often cited for the decline in demand is the Delhi government’s ban on hardboard-bound books, as they were considered too heavy for schoolchildren’s bags.
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An art on its last legs
Hardboard bookbinding is evidently on its last legs. Even Zafrul is not aware if anyone else in the Okhla area still practises it.
“The only person I knew was one Mr Kabir, who died a few years ago,” he says.
With Zubair sitting beside him, Zafrul adds, “I have taught Zubair this art, but it’s entirely up to him whether he carries it forward.” Zubair promptly chimes in, “I’ve made books; I know how to do it.”
“There is no future for hardboard binding as technology has encroached upon this field as well,” Jahangir points out.
“All types of binding, excluding hardboard, are now done with the help of machines. So, Zafrul sahib is probably the last expert in this field, at least in Okhla.”
