In Kashmir, Ghulam Mohammed Zaz stands as the final practitioner of handcrafted santoor-making, a centuries-old tradition facing decline amid shifting musical preferences and technological advancement. With no apprentices to continue his legacy, Zaz reflects on the art’s deep-rooted significance, longing for a true successor who values it beyond fame or financial gain.
Preserving the Melodies: A Farewell to the Last Santoor Artisan of Kashmir

Preserving the Melodies: A Farewell to the Last Santoor Artisan of Kashmir
Ghulam Mohammed Zaz, the last traditional craftsman of the santoor in Kashmir, battles the erosion of his musical heritage as modernity reshapes cultural tastes.
In the tranquil lanes of Srinagar, a dim workshop resonates with the sounds of a fading craft—a small sanctuary of traditional craftsmanship where Ghulam Mohammed Zaz, the last artisan who handmakes the santoor, follows the echoes of a musical lineage that has shaped Kashmir’s cultural fabric for generations. The santoor, often compared to the dulcimer, is a trapezoidal string instrument cherished for its crystalline tones, historically considered the very essence of Kashmir's musical identity.
Born into a family of craftsmen who have been creating string instruments for over seven generations, Zaz’s journey as a maestro of the santoor reflects both pride and sorrow. “I am the last,” he laments, as he faces the reality of dwindling demand for his art—a demand that has fallen victim to machine-made instruments, which are mass-produced and more affordable. This shift in consumer preference, coupled with the rise of contemporary music genres like hip hop and electronic music, leaves little room for the centuries-old traditions that once thrived.
Experts like music educator Shabir Ahmad Mir underline that the emergence of new music styles has severed the bond between younger generations and traditional forms of artistry. “With changing tunes, the connection with the depth of our heritage has diminished,” he states, reflecting the concerns felt by traditional musicians and artisans alike.
Zaz's workshop—filled with the comforts of crafted wood and polished tools—stands defiantly against the march of time. Adorned with photographs of celebrated artists such as Pandit Shiv Kumar Sharma performing with his personalized instruments, each corner of the shop holds stories of musical creation and heritage. In recognition of his remarkable contributions, Zaz was awarded the Padma Shri in 2022, an honor reflecting his dedication to maintaining the essence of the santoor.
The history of the santoor in India can be traced back to its Persian origins, evolving through centuries into a cornerstone of Kashmir's rich musical heritage. Zaz recalls the time when his craftsmanship won him the patronage of local kings, who sought instruments that could stir the soul. Despite his fame, Zaz holds a deep frustration as the craft faces abandonment. His desire isn’t for accolades or monetary reward; it is for a true devotee of the art to step forth and ensure its continuity.
In his youth, Zaz was mentored by his father and grandfather, who instilled in him the artistry that exists beyond mere sound making—the emotive nestling of wood and music entwined. He describes the lengthy process of creating a santoor, emphasizing patience and an understanding of the instrument's essence. “It’s not just about making an instrument,” he asserts, “it’s about listening to its voice before it even plays."
The challenge remains as younger generations pursue careers that lead them far from the foundry of tradition. With no apprentices waiting in the wings, and his three daughters having chosen different paths, Zaz finds himself at a solitary crossroad, yearning for someone passionate enough to inherit the craft. “This is poetry,” he shares, a testament to the depths of emotion coursing through his work.
In an age where modernity beckons loudly, Zaz’s workshop silently guards the sagas of music, capturing the scent of walnut and the echoes of a rich history begging to be preserved. “Wood and music both die if you don’t give them time,” he reflects, illustrating a poignant truth about the passage of artistry into the unseen hands of time.
Ultimately, Zaz envisions a future where the santoor continues to resonate, not for the spotlight or riches but for the profound love of music itself. “I want someone who truly loves the craft to take it forward,” he declares, leaving a heartfelt call to arms for those who may carry melodies into the future.