Asghar Mangharhar, a 13-year-old boy, has arrived with a team of drummers in Hussainabad, a village located some 30 kilometres from Sujawal city, to play along with his father and uncle in a marriage ceremony. He is following in the steps of his father and uncle to master the beat of the drums and make people dance.
The Mangarhar tribe of Jati regards marriage ceremonies in their locality as a divine blessing, as these occasions help sustain their households. “I am interested in playing drums along with my Baba, but all children of our Mangarhar Basti might not be as interested in this work as I am,” says young Asghar, inadvertently hinting at the decline of this momentous tradition of drum beating to commemorate joyous events.
According to historian and writer Dr Muhammad Ali Manjhi, the tradition of drum beating during marriages, social, and political events flourished during the Mughal era in the subcontinent. Additionally, in earlier times, drum beats would signal the start and end of wars. “The drum and flute also hold significant status for Sufis, who perceive these two instruments as vital for inner peace and spiritual search,” says Dr Manjhi. He further adds that while the drum-beating tradition is rooted not only in Sindh but also in other parts of the country and beyond its borders, no significant efforts have been made in Sindh to promote or preserve this centuries-old custom.
In the Larr region of Sindh, which includes Sujawal, Thatta, Badin, and Tando Muhammad Khan, a centuries-old tradition is gradually fading. The drum beaters in these areas, renowned for their exceptional musical talents, are struggling to make ends meet as modernisation and technological advancements threaten to erase their cultural heritage.
Yaru Mangarhar, a 65-year-old resident of Jati, has devoted his life to preserving the traditional art of drum beating. Although he acknowledges the uncertain future of this profession and the diminishing financial prospects for future generations, he remains steadfast in his commitment to passing on his skills to his grandchildren.
Recalling the golden days, Mangarhar fondly remembers a time when drum beaters and Shehnai players were highly sought after for weddings and other ceremonies. Back then, he would often struggle to manage the numerous bookings, a testament to the immense popularity of traditional music in that era. Today, Mangarhar spends his days teaching drum beating to his grandchildren, striving to keep this cherished legacy alive.
The small town of Jati in district Sujawal has produced legendary drum beaters like Ustad Abdul Raheman Mangarhar and Ali Nawaz Mangarhar, who earned province-wide recognition for their exceptional skills in this field.
The drumbeaters of Sujawal, predominantly from the Mangarhar tribe, have been an integral part of the region's cultural fabric for generations. Their infectious beats and rhythmic melodies have long been the lifeblood of weddings, circumcision ceremonies, and other festive occasions. However, with the growing popularity of modern music equipment and loudspeakers, the demand for traditional drumbeaters has declined considerably.
Mir Muhammad Hingorjo, an octogenarian and a respected elder of the Mangarhar tribe, is deeply troubled by the erosion of this ancient tradition. "Modernisation is eroding our cultural roots," he laments. "The art of drum beating is not just a form of entertainment; it is an integral part of our heritage. We are losing our identity, our sense of community, and our connection to our past."
Hingorjo fondly recalls, "During weddings and other celebrations, our drums would beat in harmony with the Shehnai-reed pipes, creating an unforgettable atmosphere that would leave everyone mesmerised." He adds, "Villagers still prefer our traditional music over modern loudspeakers, but the younger generation is increasingly drawn to modernisation."
Ali Muhammad, a 70-year-old drumbeater, has dedicated his life to this art, but his financial struggles have worsened over the years
Rafique Mangarhar, a local drummer and leader of a group of drumbeaters, shares Hingorjo’s concerns. "We are struggling to make ends meet," he says. "People in villages still appreciate our music and shower us with money, but it is not enough to sustain us. We are reluctant to pass on this art to our children because we see no future in it."
Mangarhar reminisces about the lucrative earnings they once enjoyed during political gatherings and election campaigns. "We would perform for hours, and our drums would beat in rhythm with the crowd’s enthusiasm. Those were good times, but now they are few and far between." He further explains, "We are also invited by the custodians of local shrines to play drums during monthly events, Friday nights, and annual Urs celebrations. However, many of us do not charge for these performances as a token of love and affinity for the Sufi saints."
Ali Muhammad, a 70-year-old drumbeater, has dedicated his life to this art, but his financial struggles have worsened over the years. "I've spent my entire life perfecting this craft, but I've failed to provide a decent life for my family. It's heartbreaking to see this tradition die out," he says with a heavy heart.
The Sindh culture department’s neglect of traditional drumbeaters has further deepened the crisis. Senior journalist and historian Haji Zahid Ishaque Soomro condemns the department for failing to officially register drumbeaters or provide them with a monthly stipend. "It's shocking that the culture department has turned a blind eye to this unique cultural tradition. We urge them to recognise and support our drumbeaters before it's too late," he states emphatically.
Sharing his suggestions for uplift of the drumbeaters, Soomro emphasised that those living in remote areas of Sindh should upgrade their skills and learn new beats to adapt to the changing times. He also highlighted the urgent need for official patronage to preserve this crumbling art form.
Educationist and poet Zubair Jaffrani added that individuals associated with drum beating should prioritise educating their children, enabling them to better understand evolving trends in music and art.
As the sun sets over Sujawal, the distant sound of drums grows fainter. The town’s drumbeaters, once the vibrant heartbeat of celebrations, are now struggling to survive. It serves as a painful reminder of the fragility of cultural heritage and the need for its nurturing. Will the Sindh culture department take action to save this fading tradition, or will the drumbeats of Sujawal fall silent forever? Only time will tell.