Srinagar, Jul, 20: In a modest home in Khuserpora village of Hajin in north Kashmir’s Bandipora district, the rhythmic sound of chisels on wood echoes with a deeper purpose—saving a fading legacy.
For over 25 years, Ghulam Mohammad Dar devoted his life to Kashmiri Sufi music. Today, the veteran musician has transformed into one of the Valley’s few remaining Rabab makers, striving to preserve an instrument that has long been regarded as the soul of Kashmir’s musical tradition.
What began as a passion has now become a mission. Over the past five years, Dar has painstakingly handcrafted Rababs—one at a time—using traditional techniques passed down through experience rather than formal training.
“I spent decades performing Sufi music and always admired the Rabab. One day I decided to learn how to make it myself. After successfully crafting my first Rabab, my confidence grew. Renowned Kashmiri singer Nabi Ji bought my first instrument, and that encouragement changed my life,” Dar told Rising Kashmir.
The increasing demand for his handcrafted Rababs eventually forced him to step away from singing.
“I had to leave my musical performances because I started receiving more orders than I could manage. Today, I spend almost all my time making Rababs,” he said.
Crafting a single Rabab is a slow and demanding process. Every instrument is carved entirely by hand, without the use of machines, taking more than a month to complete.
“Even if someone works day and night, they can hardly make eight Rababs in a year. Every piece requires patience, precision and dedication,” Dar said.
Despite the painstaking effort involved, financial returns remain meagre. Dar said most Rabab makers belong to economically weaker sections of society and struggle to sustain their families through the craft alone.
“We earn just enough to buy wood and meet our household expenses. There is little profit, but we continue because this art is our identity,” he said.
Calling the Rabab the “King of Kashmiri Music,” Dar said no Sufi performance feels complete without its soulful melodies.
“The Rabab gives life to Kashmiri music. It has a unique sound that no other instrument can replace. Today, I perform with a Rabab made by my own hands. It is a dream I waited more than 25 years to fulfil,” he said.
However, Dar fears that the future of the craft is uncertain. He said the number of customers remains limited, forcing many artisans to abandon the profession altogether.
“There are only a handful of buyers. At present, I am working on five Rababs ordered by different customers, but such orders are not regular,” he said.
The Rabab is crafted from a special type of wood found in Kashmir, making the Valley one of the few places where the instrument continues to be produced using traditional methods.
Dar has participated in numerous Sufi music festivals across Jammu and Kashmir and other parts of the country. His handcrafted Rababs have found buyers from different communities, including Kashmiri Pandits and Sikhs.
In a ray of hope for the endangered craft, Dar’s son has learned both the art of playing and making the Rabab. He is currently pursuing music studies at the University of Kashmir, carrying forward his father’s legacy.
“My son understands every stage of making the Rabab and is also studying music. I hope he will continue this tradition after me,” Dar said.
He said the survival of Rabab making is closely linked to the future of Kashmiri Sufi music, as many musicians rely on the instrument for performances at cultural events, weddings and government functions.
Warning that the centuries-old craft is on the brink of extinction, Dar appealed for collective efforts to protect it.
“If the younger generation does not come forward to learn this art, Rabab making will disappear from Kashmir. This is not just my profession; it is our cultural heritage. It is our responsibility to preserve it before the last strings fall silent.”
