In the winding alleys of Srinagar, a small workshop remains, echoing the sounds of a forgotten era. Ghulam Mohammed Zaz, considered the last traditional maker of the santoor—the trapezoidal string instrument synonymous with Kashmir—dedicates his life to preserving this cultural legacy. As music trends evolve toward contemporary styles like hip hop and electronic genres, the once-thriving demand for handcrafted instruments has sharply declined, leaving artists like Mr. Zaz at a crossroads.
For over seven generations, Mr. Zaz's family has crafted string instruments, including the santoor, rabab, sarangi, and sehtar, but the allure of machine-made alternatives poses a serious threat to his craft. With fewer young people drawn to the complexities of traditional music, the demand for the santoor has evaporated, with many artisans without apprentices to carry on their legacy.
The santoor, which has its origins traced back to Persia, has evolved in Kashmir, becoming a crucial element of Sufi music and folk expressions. Esteemed musicians have utilized Mr. Zaz's instruments to perform across various genres, bridging historical and contemporary musical realms. In recognition of his craftsmanship, Mr. Zaz was awarded the Padma Shri, India's fourth-highest civilian honor, in 2022.
Born in the 1940s in Zaina Kadal, Mr. Zaz learned the craft from his father and grandfather. He recalls the importance of listening to the materials he works with and emphasizes that creating a santoor is an intricate process demanding time and care. It begins with selecting the right type of wood, aged for five years minimum, and meticulously crafting each component to achieve optimal sound quality.
As modernity marches on, Mr. Zaz's traditional methods remain untouched, sustained by a passion for his craft rather than commercial gain. He has enjoyed recognition through social media but worries about the future of his workshop and the art itself. His daughters have opted for different paths, leaving Mr. Zaz longing for a passionate apprentice to revive the craft's spirit.
Despite governmental offers for support, Mr. Zaz seeks a true devotee of the art, someone who dreams not of profit or fame, but of keeping the timeless expression of the santoor alive. He often sits next to an unfinished instrument, imbued with the quiet resonance of what could be, stating, "This is poetry. A language I give to the instrument." In this, the workshop transforms into a sanctuary of melody and memory—a space where wood, music, and craftsmanship unite, transcending the test of time.
For over seven generations, Mr. Zaz's family has crafted string instruments, including the santoor, rabab, sarangi, and sehtar, but the allure of machine-made alternatives poses a serious threat to his craft. With fewer young people drawn to the complexities of traditional music, the demand for the santoor has evaporated, with many artisans without apprentices to carry on their legacy.
The santoor, which has its origins traced back to Persia, has evolved in Kashmir, becoming a crucial element of Sufi music and folk expressions. Esteemed musicians have utilized Mr. Zaz's instruments to perform across various genres, bridging historical and contemporary musical realms. In recognition of his craftsmanship, Mr. Zaz was awarded the Padma Shri, India's fourth-highest civilian honor, in 2022.
Born in the 1940s in Zaina Kadal, Mr. Zaz learned the craft from his father and grandfather. He recalls the importance of listening to the materials he works with and emphasizes that creating a santoor is an intricate process demanding time and care. It begins with selecting the right type of wood, aged for five years minimum, and meticulously crafting each component to achieve optimal sound quality.
As modernity marches on, Mr. Zaz's traditional methods remain untouched, sustained by a passion for his craft rather than commercial gain. He has enjoyed recognition through social media but worries about the future of his workshop and the art itself. His daughters have opted for different paths, leaving Mr. Zaz longing for a passionate apprentice to revive the craft's spirit.
Despite governmental offers for support, Mr. Zaz seeks a true devotee of the art, someone who dreams not of profit or fame, but of keeping the timeless expression of the santoor alive. He often sits next to an unfinished instrument, imbued with the quiet resonance of what could be, stating, "This is poetry. A language I give to the instrument." In this, the workshop transforms into a sanctuary of melody and memory—a space where wood, music, and craftsmanship unite, transcending the test of time.
