Langas, Manganiyars, and Dagars: In the heart of Rajasthan’s Thar Desert, where golden dunes shimmer beneath a relentless sun, the soulful strains of the kamaicha and Sindhi sarangi rise like echoes from a bygone era. For centuries, the Langas and Manganiyars hereditary Muslim musician communities—have been the guardians of this vibrant soundscape, weaving Sufi mysticism, Hindu epics, and desert tales into a rich cultural mosaic.
Their music has travelled from village courtyards to global stages like Carnegie Hall and the Cannes Film Festival, preserving a timeless heritage while fostering unity in a divided world. Pulsating with life, this music carries Rajasthan’s syncretic spirit, inviting listeners into a shared human story. Alongside them, the Dagar family, custodians of Dhrupad, represents Rajasthan’s equally profound classical tradition, completing a spectrum of sound that binds folk devotion with spiritual austerity.
A Heritage Rooted in Faith and Time
The origins of the Langas and Manganiyars trace back to the Dholi or Mirasi caste, ancient wandering musicians and genealogists of northern India. Out of this shared lineage, they emerged as distinct communities by the 19th century, settling largely in Rajasthan’s Barmer and Jaisalmer districts, with echoes reaching across the border into Pakistan’s Sindh.
Legends infuse their identity with poetic depth. The Manganiyars’ name is said to derive from mangan (to beg) and har (garland), recalling a tale where Bibi Fatema (may Allah be pleased with her) bestowed a necklace upon a Mirasi named Mangan in 570 AD.
The Langas, meaning ‘song-givers,’ are equally evocative, their name linked to their melodic gifts and instruments. Their gradual conversion to Islam, inspired by Sufi saints such as Khwāja Muʿīn ud-Dīn Chishtī (mercy of Allah be upon him) in the 12th century, blended seamlessly with pre-existing traditions. What emerged was a faith that honoured Islamic mysticism while embracing older devotional and oral practices.
Today, these communities form part of Rajasthan’s sizeable Muslim minority, which according to the 20011 census numbered over 9.1 million. Villages such as Barnawa Jageer, home to over 200 Langa musicians, and Lakhe ki Dhani, a hub of Manganiyar artistry, still nurture these traditions. Yet social marginalisation persists, rooted in their Mirasi origins. Despite this, their art transcends caste and creed, weaving connections through stories and melodies that resonate far beyond the desert.
Instruments That Echo the Desert’s Soul
The music of the Langas and Manganiyars springs from instruments as distinctive as the Thar itself. The Manganiyars’ hallmark is the kamaicha, a bowed instrument almost extinct elsewhere. Crafted from mango wood, its round body is stretched with goat skin, and its seventeen strings—of gut, copper, and steel—produce an earthy resonance that seems to carry the desert wind itself. Some instruments are treasured heirlooms: Gazi Khan Barna, for instance, plays a 450-year-old kamaicha, passed down through generations.
The Langas, divided into sub-clans, show remarkable versatility. The Surnaiya Langas excel in wind instruments such as the surnai, algoza, satara, and murli, their reedy notes echoing the desert’s shifting dunes. The Sarangia Langas are masters of the Sindhi sarangi, whose vocal-like tones can reduce listeners to tears. Both communities share the dholak, the clattering khartal (wooden castanets), the metallic morchang, and the more recent harmonium.
Together, these instruments create performances that pulse with vitality: the khartal’s crisp beat mimics a camel’s gait, while the harmonium provides a modern underlay, ensuring ancient melodies remain relevant across generations.
A Tapestry of Songs and Stories
Though Marwari forms the foundation, the music of these communities is richly multilingual. Songs flow easily between Sindhi, Punjabi, Saraiki, Dhatki, Braj Bhasha, and Hindi, reflecting their adaptability to patrons’ backgrounds. Their repertoire is a living archive: Sufi kalaams invoking divine love, Hindu bhajans recounting mythological epics, romantic ballads such as Umar-Marvi, Heer-Ranjha, and Moomal-Rana, alongside heroic genealogies of patrons. Performances often begin with an improvised dūha (couplet), before unfolding into ragas tied to specific times or occasions.
This blend of sacred and secular themes ensures their universality. A Manganiyar rendering a Krishna bhajan may move a Hindu audience to tears, just as a Sufi kalaam can stir Muslim listeners with equal intensity. Their art thus becomes a bridge, rooted in centuries of cultural exchange, reminding audiences that emotion and devotion speak a common language.
Patronage, Struggles, and Endurance
For centuries, the jajmaani system sustained these artists. Langas traditionally performed for Sindhi Muslim families, while Manganiyars served Rajput and Hindu households, singing at births, weddings, and funerals. This bond fostered deep syncretism: Muslim artists would sing Hindu hymns with such authenticity that audiences often forgot religious distinctions. “Hindu Rajputs have nurtured our art, ensuring its survival. Their patronage has been our lifeline for generations,” reflects singer Manjoor Khan.
The decline of princely states fractured this system, forcing artists to seek new livelihoods. Many now depend on global tours, music festivals, and city-based patrons. Economic hardships remain acute, with some musicians excluded from village life due to caste prejudice. Yet their resilience shines.
Much credit goes to ethnomusicologist Komal Kothari 1929–2004), who founded the Rupayan Sansthan in 1960. His tireless work documented their traditions and connected rural artists to international audiences. Over 20,000 hours of recordings from 1980 to 2003—now being digitised with the Archives and Research Centre for Ethnomusicology and the American Institute of Indian Studies—preserve epics in Marwari, Sindhi, and other tongues. Training camps at the Arna Jharna Museum continue to mentor young musicians, ensuring collaboration between Langas and Manganiyars, and keeping their heritage vibrant.
Global Ambassadors of Rajasthan’s Heritage
In recent decades, these artists have risen as cultural ambassadors. Manganiyar star Mame Khan, who has performed at Carnegie Hall and Cannes, describes folk music as “the soul of Indian tradition.” His Cannes appearance, he says, was “a privilege to showcase Rajasthan’s cultural richness.” Ustad Anwar Khan Manganiyar, honoured with the Padma Shri in 2024, blends classical ragas with folk and Sufi elements, and has contributed to Bollywood soundtracks, including Ghoomar in Padmaavat. The late Sakar Khan, awarded the Padma Shri in 2012, was a kamaicha maestro whose family carries forward his art.
Festivals such as the Pushkar Camel Fair and Jaisalmer Desert Festival attract global audiences, while digital platforms have expanded their reach to new generations. Whether through desert gatherings or international concerts, their performances remind audiences of a heritage at once local and universal.
The Dagar Legacy: Guardians of Dhrupad
While the Langas and Manganiyars epitomise Rajasthan’s folk syncretism, the Dagar family represents its classical depth. Custodians of the Dagar-bani tradition of Dhrupad—the oldest form of Hindustani classical music—the Dagars trace their lineage back nearly five centuries to Brij Chand of Daguri, near Delhi, and possibly to the era of Swami Haridas, Tansen’s revered teacher. The gharana’s true founder was Baba Gopal Das, a Hindu musician who embraced Islam during the reign of Emperor Muhammad Shah, taking the name Imam Baksh Khan. From that turning point, the family not only remained steadfast in their faith but also rose to musical eminence, nurturing generations of extraordinary singers.
Their prominence grew with figures such as Behram Khan (1753–1852), a celebrated singer, scholar, and musicologist associated with the Jaipur court. His grandnephews, Allah Bande Khan (1845–1927) of Alwar and Zakiruddin Khan (1840–1932) of Udaipur, were hailed as a vocal duo likened to “the sun and the moon” of Dhrupad. Their meditative alaap set the standard for the gharana. Later, Allah Bande Khan’s descendants, especially Nasiruddin Khan (1895–1936), refined the art with technical brilliance. His brother Rahimuddin Khan was the first to adopt “Dagar” as a patronymic surname, a practice soon followed by the entire family.
The 20th century saw the Dagars carry Dhrupad to international prominence. The Senior Dagar Brothers, Ustad Nasir Moinuddin (1921–1967) and Ustad Nasir Aminuddin (1923–2010), alongside the younger Ustad Zahiruddin (1932–1994) and Ustad Faiyazuddin (1939–1989), safeguarded the art during years of declining patronage. Ustad Zia Mohiuddin Dagar (1929–1990) elevated the rudra veena to global acclaim, while training disciples such as the Gundecha Brothers, who remain leading exponents today.
Despite challenges, the Dagars’ unwavering devotion has preserved an austere yet profoundly spiritual art form, embodying Rajasthan’s role as a crucible where classical discipline met devotional fervour.
A Symphony of Unity in a Changing World
The Langas, Manganiyars, and Dagars are more than musicians—they are guardians of Rajasthan’s syncretic spirit. Their art blends Sufi mysticism, Hindu devotion, and desert lore into a mosaic of sound that transcends boundaries. In an age of division, their music reminds us of the unity possible through shared cultural heritage.
By supporting initiatives such as the Rupayan Sansthan, or by engaging with their digital archives and live performances, audiences can sustain this legacy. These melodies, carried by desert breezes and echoing in concert halls, remind us that tradition, faith, and resilience can create harmony that endures across centuries.
By Dr M Iqbal Siddiqui
(Senior Columnist hailing from Kota Rajasthan. Dr Siddiqui is a qualified Unani Physician who writes on a wide spectrum of subjects, blending cultural, social, and historical analysis)