Pahadi bands make merry as people tire of DJs

Rakesh Agrawal, Dehradun

THE wedding took place in Kalsi, a plateau perched up in the hills, in Dehradun district. The bride, Sangita Jhunwan, a Rajput, looked resplendent  in her wedding finery. Her groom, Sanjay Tomar, was a Pahadi from Chakrata, a popular tourist destination which gets buried under snow every year. 

What was so special about their wedding? The music. Instead of loud, thumping filmi songs put together by a DJ, a local band called the Jhankar Pahadi Band played dulcet music under a colourfully decorated shamiana. The lyrics were poetic, the music melodious and the ambience dignified.

The sounds of traditional and modern instruments fused to create music with local flavour. The band strummed on the ramtulla, a  stringed instrument, and the dhol, the damana brass cones, the khanjari or dhapali, a hand-held drum, along with a Casio organ, all came together to serve up local music. 

Local Pahadi bands have taken over from DJs and filmi music in parts of Uttarakhand and in Sirmour district of Himachal Pradesh. “Today, in all 398 villages in the Jaunsar-Babar region no DJ performs. They have been completely replaced by us, the Pahadi bands,” claims Vinod Kumar, who heads a similar music group called the Chhaleshwar Band Party.

The Jhankar Pahadi Band’s repertoire isn’t confined to weddings. They play for all kinds of celebrations, be it a birthday or a marriage anniversary, the birth of a child or a ritual like a mundan. The band, through its music, promotes the region’s unique cultural traditions and its lyrics speak against casteism.

It was Prem Pancholi, a researcher and artiste, who began this music revolution in Dehradun in 2005. He carried out a study of the musical instruments, musicians and singers of Uttarakhand. In December 2005, he invited folk musicians of the state and held a 15-day workshop. 

“In 2003 I began a campaign to promote the dhol and its players. We did a study on why this instrument had fallen into disuse. It used to be played at almost every occasion. We listened to the problems of  dhol players and ideated on a strategy to turn it into a remunerative profession,” says Pancholi.

About 12 traditional dhol players participated in the workshop and came up with a common policy. “We decided we would play for a fixed time, at a fixed rate. Patrons would earlier force us to play for hours and pay us just a pittance after the show,” says  Sunil Besari, chief singer of the Pahadi Band Party. 

Not only would the players receive a trivial honorarium, they would also be treated very shabbily. The dhol players were all Dalits whereas their patrons were upper-caste. “My father, a famous dhol player, and his party members would be housed in the cow shed at night. They were given left-over cold food for dinner,” recalls Vinod Kumar. 

Word spread and in just five years, local musicians got organized. Dehradun district now has 175 bands with a set of rules and regulations that everyone adheres to. “People who hire us must tell us in advance the duration of the event, how long they want us to play and agree to pay the fee we demand,” says Kumar.

The local bands have become popular. For bands like Jhankar Pahadi Band and Mahasu, the waiting list is six months.

“We are booked almost three months in advance,” claims Besari. He is supported by Jhankar Band's Jubal Das.

In 2007 there were just two or three bands. “Now, there are 175 band parties of eight to 10 members each. Each band earns around Rs 12 lakh to Rs 15 lakh a year. So far, it’s a steady income,” says Pancholi.

It has also given the Dalit dhol players more status in society. Uttarakhand is the only state in India where upper castes form the majority community and Dalits are a minority. 

“We ask for and get comfortable rooms to sleep in and we eat what their guests are served,” says Deepak, a dhol player of Deevan Jaunsari Band.

Enhanced status and income have changed the character of the bands. The Pahadi Band Party, for instance, has ten members. Eight are Dalits and two are Kshatriyas, who are upper-caste.

After playing for three hours at the wedding of Radha Dobhal to Manoj Juyal in Kaplol village in Uttarkashi district, Devendra Panwar and Mahi Rawat sang with full josh the famous Jaunsari song, “Rani Chumma”. “We work together and proudly carry forward our unique culture,”  says Panwar.

“We eat together. After all, we are all kalakars (artistes). That is our identity. We are above caste and communal identities,” says Harish Lal, his Dalit companion.

After the wedding, more than 100 guests hit the floor to dance the Jhumelo, a popular folk dance of Uttarakhand.

About 35 km from Chakrata, close to Lakhamandal, near an ancient Hindu temple dedicated to Lord Shiva, Reema Chauhan was getting married to Ratan Singh. When a local hill band’s lead singer, Sunita Rohilla, burst into “Jimedaro Ki Beti”, the vibrant folksy music electrified the atmosphere and had guests on their feet. 

This February, in Kundu village,  a Himachali band performed for an hour for 14-year-old Priyanka Negi’s birthday party. Her father, Mohan Singh Negi, owns an apple orchard.

Local musicians are earning a decent income. “A band player earns about Rs 1.5 lakh a year. They charge Rs 5,000 per wedding. Besides, gifts are showered on them by the appreciative baratis and gharatis,” says Pancholi.

Band players like Suresh Kumar and Harish Lal and singers like Anand Singh Panwar endorse this. “Last year, I earned Rs 1.5 lakh and many gifts,”  says Suresh Kumar. 

Also, band members like Suresh Kumar of Pujeli village, Uttarkashi district, who was  unemployed earlier, are now quite content. “Since I earned Rs 1.5 lakh last year, I’m planning to construct a new home,” he says. But most of his relatives and friends have migrated to Delhi.