In the winding streets of Srinagar, a dim workshop holds the final threads of a musical tradition as Ghulam Mohammed Zaz, the last artisan in Kashmir, meticulously crafts the santoor, a unique trapezoidal string instrument. This beautiful instrument, known for its enchanting tone, has echoed through Kashmiri culture for centuries, but its handcrafted art is under threat.
Mr. Zaz descends from a long lineage of artisans who have strived for over seven generations to produce this string instrument, along with others like the rabab and sarangi. However, with the rise of cheaper machine-made versions and changing musical trends, demand has plummeted, leading to Ghulam Mohammed's heartbreak. The younger generation, preferring modern genres like hip hop and electronic music, has lost touch with traditional rhythms and melodies, diminishing the santoor’s once-prominent place in the soundscape.
Earning India's Padma Shri award, Mr. Zaz’s creations once graced performances by celebrated musicians like Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma. Now, he finds himself not only as a craftsman but a reluctant custodian of cultural history, lamenting the lack of apprentices eager to train in this dying craft.
Representing a bond of time between the past and present, his workshop remains devoid of modern machinery. He believes that handcrafted instruments carry a warmth that resonates mechanically-produced alternatives lack. Creating a santoor is a labor-intensive process requiring patience; it involves selecting the right aged wood, sculpting its body, and finely tuning over 100 strings, which can take months.
Social media has provided some visibility for his work, giving a peek into a fading craft. Despite this attention, he fears for the legacy of the santoor once he is no longer around. With no heir from his family to carry the tradition forward, Ghulam Mohammed remains hopeful.
At 80 years old, he spends his time listening to hollow wood and the silence of an unfinished santoor, defining this ancient craft not just as an art but as a spiritual connection. "I want someone who truly loves the craft to take it forward," he insists, amplifying the urgency of preserving the soulful connection between wood and music before it fades into silence forever.
Mr. Zaz descends from a long lineage of artisans who have strived for over seven generations to produce this string instrument, along with others like the rabab and sarangi. However, with the rise of cheaper machine-made versions and changing musical trends, demand has plummeted, leading to Ghulam Mohammed's heartbreak. The younger generation, preferring modern genres like hip hop and electronic music, has lost touch with traditional rhythms and melodies, diminishing the santoor’s once-prominent place in the soundscape.
Earning India's Padma Shri award, Mr. Zaz’s creations once graced performances by celebrated musicians like Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma. Now, he finds himself not only as a craftsman but a reluctant custodian of cultural history, lamenting the lack of apprentices eager to train in this dying craft.
Representing a bond of time between the past and present, his workshop remains devoid of modern machinery. He believes that handcrafted instruments carry a warmth that resonates mechanically-produced alternatives lack. Creating a santoor is a labor-intensive process requiring patience; it involves selecting the right aged wood, sculpting its body, and finely tuning over 100 strings, which can take months.
Social media has provided some visibility for his work, giving a peek into a fading craft. Despite this attention, he fears for the legacy of the santoor once he is no longer around. With no heir from his family to carry the tradition forward, Ghulam Mohammed remains hopeful.
At 80 years old, he spends his time listening to hollow wood and the silence of an unfinished santoor, defining this ancient craft not just as an art but as a spiritual connection. "I want someone who truly loves the craft to take it forward," he insists, amplifying the urgency of preserving the soulful connection between wood and music before it fades into silence forever.