Minority Folk Artists of South Punjab Struggle to Keep Their Art Alive

By Aneela Ashraf

Like the rest of the world, preparations for the Hindu festival of Diwali were at their peak on October 31, 2024, in South Punjab. Folk artists cleaned their instruments and tightened the strings, preparing to enchant listeners with their soulful melodies. Yet, much like the artists themselves, their instruments—tabla, dhol, bansuri, tili, ektara, and ranti—bear visible signs of neglect and decay. Despite their struggles and little hope for compensation, the artists’ commitment to cultural expression and the joy of a listening audience kept their spirits high.

Despite the region’s rich cultural heritage, minority singers in South Punjab are fighting against poverty, neglect, and societal indifference to preserve their traditional music. South Punjab, a land brimming with cultural diversity, is home to various minority communities and boasts a vibrant musical legacy. However, beneath the lively rhythms lies a bitter reality—minority folk artists face immense challenges in sustaining their craft.

In the dusty villages near Rahim Yar Khan, 45-year-old Daito Lal, a Hindu singer, clings to his ancestral profession. “I’ve been singing since I was 10,” he recalls nostalgically. “But it’s getting harder now. People don’t value our traditional music anymore.” In an attempt to preserve his craft, Daito even established a small academy. “A few young people come to learn occasionally, but they lack the patience to truly master the art. They want quick success and often abandon the old ways.” Saddened, he laments that both the music and the instruments are vanishing with his generation.

Shakuntala Devi, a 50-year-old singer from Multan, echoes similar concerns. “We are socially and economically marginalized. People dismiss our music as ‘outdated’ or ‘backward.’” The traditional music of South Punjab’s minority communities is an extraordinary fusion of Sufi, folk, and classical influences. Yet, with every passing generation, this heritage fades further as younger people turn toward more profitable mainstream music industries, leaving folk artists struggling to survive, often resorting to menial labor.

Daito Lal highlights not just economic struggles but also societal discrimination. “We’ve received threats from extremists who call our music ‘un-Islamic.’” Despite these challenges, minority singers continue to sing with passion and determination. “Music is our identity,” he asserts. “We’ll keep singing no matter what.”

Under the starry skies of Cholistan, Azari Lal Bhil enchants the night with the ranti in Marwari language. A father of five, he spends most of his days harvesting crops or working as a laborer. The toil of his life is evident in his demeanor, yet when he dons the role of a performer—transforming his appearance and movements—no one would guess the struggles hidden beneath the façade.

Ranti players and Marwari dancers live in obscurity in the villages of Bahawalpur division. While the economic condition of folk artists across Pakistan is dire, Hindu folk performers bear an additional burden of social prejudice. Their music, often rooted in Hindu traditions and legends, faces disapproval from conservative sections of society.

“We sing about stories of Krishna Kanhaiya and Ram Lakshman,” Daito Lal explains. “There are songs for weddings, funerals, and even for exorcising spirits. This music is part of our religious healing traditions.” He fondly remembers a time when they were invited to perform at cultural events in big cities. Stored in an old iron trunk, his certificates and photographs from those days remind him of better times. The small earnings from such events helped him build mud houses for his children, though they were often exploited, made to sign documents they couldn’t read, and paid meager sums.

Two years ago, renowned singer Adoo Bhagat passed away in the Cholistan village of Chak 177. Adoo Bhagat had performed on Radio Pakistan Bahawalpur, Multan, and PTV Lahore. He was 65 and had long suffered from asthma, yet government requests for his treatment were ignored. A stroke in January 2020 proved fatal. Adoo Bhagat’s son, Koda Bhagat, shows interest in music, but their family remains impoverished. Born in 1955 in Cholistan, Adoo Bhagat considered the legendary Sindhi folk singer Kanwar Bhagat his spiritual mentor and was an expert in singing kafi, bhajan, and folk songs in Marwari style.

In the serene nights of Derawar Fort, Utham Bhagat sings passionately, often for his ears alone. “Visitors who come to enjoy these cold, soulful nights appreciate our art,” he says, “but there are no real efforts to sustain it. We don’t even hear about the government’s welfare programs meant for artists.”

During a previous administration, when Raja Jahangir Anwar served as Secretary of Information, the Artist Support Program was launched, providing relief to thousands of artists. This initiative was crucial, as laws like the Sound Act had severely impacted artists’ livelihoods, forcing some to the brink of starvation. However, this relief largely benefited urban, literate artists, while minority folk performers in rural areas remained unaware of its existence. When the PTI government came to power, former Punjab Minister for Culture Fayaz-ul-Hasan Chohan discontinued the program, leaving struggling artists without even minimal support.

Despite possessing mesmerizing voices, artists like Multan’s Amar Sono and Rahim Yar Khan’s Noori remain unrecognized even within their neighborhoods. Instead of acknowledging their talent, neighbors often refer to them with derogatory remarks, an agonizing reality for any sensitive artist.

According to MPA Salman Naeem, chairman of the Chief Minister’s Task Committee, the Punjab government has now reintroduced the Artist Khidmat Card, with plans to increase grants and expand support programs for artists’ welfare. The Chief Minister has also sought a comprehensive policy for artists’ well-being, with an emphasis on transparency and equitable distribution, particularly for rural minority artists.

Minority folk artists, who simply wish to be treated as equals, stress that such efforts must be fair and far-reaching. Like past initiatives, today’s programs should focus on benefiting all artists across Punjab, especially those in remote areas, ensuring their survival and dignity.

Efforts to document and preserve South Punjab’s minority cultural heritage continue, with organizations like the Folk Heritage Institute and PNCA working tirelessly to promote traditional music. As the Indus River flows through South Punjab, it carries echoes of a rich cultural past. Despite facing uncertainty, minority singers persist, their voices a testament to resilience and hope. Whether their legacy will endure or be swallowed by time and the shifting sands of Cholistan remains to be seen.