In erstwhile weddings the plaintive notes of the shehnai were as much a part of the ceremony as the red of the sari or jora, and the prayers of the pandit. So integral was this instrument that the first thing a newly-engaged woman's family would look for wasn't wedding jewellery or even the pandit but the shehnai player. Shehnai maestro Hassan Haider, son of Ustad Ali Ahmed Hussain, hailed as one of the greatest exponents of the instrument, recalls those days with perfect clarity. He, along with his accompanying artistes – who played the dukkad, surmandal, surpeti, sur shehnai and the tanpura – were asked to play at weddings across the country, even though they hail from Kolkata. "The shehnai is an important aspect at any wedding, but in Bengal, people still revere the instrument," he begins. "However, now the instrument itself is on the verge of dying out because its exponents are so few. We still play at conferences and weddings alike, but the numbers have dropped exponentially."
A wind instrument of unusual beauty, the shehnai sounds similar to a high-pitched voice and dominates most classical set-ups. As such, it is mostly used for solo performances. In a world inundated by Bollywood music, the shehnai finds itself under the threat of extinction. Haider laments that a common misconception is that one will not find the breath required to play this wind instrument. "If you learn to play the shehnai, you will not have any heart or lung problems for the rest of your life."
With the changing music in Bollywood leaning towards dance beats, and away from the classical-driven compositions of yore, popular tastes have also followed the same route, finds music teacher, stage performer and musical events organiser Amitabha Chakrabarty. "A contrast between the shehnai and the band baja party in this context. Both have been associated with weddings in the past 30-odd years that I have been in this field. But while the band parties are still in demand to go along with the baraat, the shehnai has lost much of its wedding crowd," he explains, adding, "Maybe that people are drifting away from music that has any gravitas towards rhythmic beats that they can dance to. For instance, the sangeet and mehendi functions, which include dancing are gaining popularity across the country."
Haider says that the opposite is also the case – even those who want the shehnai to play at weddings cannot find skilled exponents. "There are so few shehnai players left that even with the lessened demand, the real dearth remains in the supply of artistes." He recalls the time when the government had called upon people to fund Bharat Ratna awardee Bismillah Khan's medical expenses when the latter was admitted to the hospital. He was given a 21-gun salute at his funeral and buried with his shehnai. "Today, however, the instrument that got the great Bismilla Khansaab this tremendous respect is about to disappear. And the government has done nothing to aid its propagation," he rues. "When I play at concerts abroad, people often applaud with tears in their eyes, yet in my own country my instrument remains forgotten."
All, perhaps is not lost, as long as there are those like Haider, who not only play the instrument at weddings and classical conferences across the globe, but also teaches those who are eager to learn. His own nephew, 21-year-old Shujat Hussain Khan, has been under his tutelage for the past three years and has also accompanied him in many concerts. "I have accompanied him at the Dover Lane Music Festival in Kolkata as well as a number of other musical conferences," he says proudly. "We even played at Shreya Ghoshal's wedding. I play the instrument because it has a beautiful sound, it is ageless, and my friends like it as well."