The Last Custodian: Preserving the Art of the Kashmiri Santoor

In the tranquil lanes of Srinagar, Indian-administered Kashmir, Ghulam Mohammed Zaz stands as the last artisan of the traditional santoor, a trapezoidal string instrument that has been a hallmark of Kashmiri music for centuries. At 80 years old, Zaz is the sole remaining craftsman capable of handcrafting this beloved instrument, which has become increasingly rare in a market flooded with machine-made alternatives.

The santoor, celebrated for its crystalline tones, has historical roots tracing back to Persia, making its way to India by the 13th or 14th century. It achieved prominence in Kashmir, where it became integral to Sufi poetry and local musical traditions. According to Shabir Ahmad Mir, a local music educator, the santoor's evolution included adaptations by renowned artists like Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma, who transformed it into a central instrument in Indian classical music by modifying its structure to enhance its tonal range.

However, in recent years, the demand for handcrafted instruments like the santoor has plummeted, largely due to changing musical tastes among younger generations. Mir highlights that the rise of genres such as hip hop and electronic music has led to a disconnection from traditional forms, resulting in fewer apprentices willing to learn the craft.

Zaz's workshop, filled with the scent of aged walnut wood and the sound of silence, reflects a fading tradition. "There is no one left [to continue the craft]," he laments, sitting beside a hollow block of wood and ancient tools that once created music. He recalls a time when his craftsmanship was sought after by the courts of local kings and celebrated musicians, including Sharma and Bhajan Sopori, who performed with his instruments.

Despite receiving significant recognition, including India's Padma Shri honor in 2022, Zaz feels disheartened by the lack of genuine efforts to preserve this aspect of Kashmiri culture. Though social media influencers have spotlighted his work, he worries about the future of the craft, stating, "What will become of this place when I am gone?"

Zaz’s three daughters have chosen careers outside of music, and though he has received offers of support from government agencies, he seeks a true successor who loves the craft rather than someone motivated by financial gain. He emphasizes the profound connection between the artisan and the instrument, declaring, "This is not just woodwork; it is poetry. A language. A tongue I give to the instrument. I hear the santoor before it plays. That is the secret. That is what must be passed on."

As modernity encroaches upon traditional arts, Ghulam Mohammed Zaz remains a solitary figure in a slowly vanishing world. His workshop stands as a testament to the rich musical heritage of Kashmir, filled with memories and the hope that someone will one day carry his legacy forward. In his eyes, both wood and music require time and love to thrive. "I want someone who truly loves the craft to take it forward. Not for the money, not for the cameras, but for the music," he states, echoing the sentiment of a craftsman who understands the profound essence of his art.

As he continues to craft his instruments, Zaz embodies the spirit of a tradition that is at risk of being lost forever, leaving a legacy that transcends mere musical notes and resonates with the soul of Kashmiri culture.