The sitarmakers of Miraj: A legacy forged in music and metal

Just a short ride from the railway station in Miraj, a city in Maharashtra’s Sangli district, lies a modest street known as Sitarmaker Lane (Sitarmaker Galli). Old homes and old-fashioned workshops line either side of the road, while intricately carved sitars, tanpuras and large, dried bitter pumpkins hang from ceilings and doorways. The neighbourhood is home to more than 200 master artisans, from nearly 60 families, who have preserved, across generations, the delicate craft of making Indian classical musical instruments.

The tradition dates back to the Maratha empire, when the community was known as the Shikalgars. Skilled metalsmiths, they forged swords, armour and other military equipment for Maratha rulers. Their fortunes declined after 1818, following the fall of the Maratha empire. They changed course in the 1850s under Shrimant Balasaheb Patwardhan II, the king of Miraj. A patron of classical music, the king regularly invited musicians from cultural centres such as Banaras and Agra to perform at his palace. But the string instruments would often get damaged during travel and also during performances.

In search of someone who could repair them locally, the king turned to two talented brothers from the Shikalgar community, Moinuddin and Farid. Drawing on their expertise in metalwork and hand tools, the brothers succeeded in repairing the instruments. Gradually, instrument making replaced metalsmithing as their principal livelihood, and the family name evolved from Shikalgar to Satarmaker, or Sitarmaker. Today, many of their descendants in Miraj proudly carry both as surnames.

The artisans make a wide range of classical string instruments, including the sitar, tanpura, rudra veena, sarangi, dilruba, israj and taus. Each instrument is completely handmade, using skills passed down from parent to child, often beginning at the age of four or five. Two vital raw materials for sitars and tanpuras are sourced from specific regions. Bitter pumpkins, or bhopla, form the rounded resonator base, or tumba. Grown by farmers in the Pandharpur region, about 130 kilometres away, these gourds are so bitter that they are inedible. Farmers cultivate them exclusively for sitarmakers, who pre-book the crop in summer for harvesting in winter. In Miraj, the pumpkins are hung from workshop ceilings to prevent dampness and fungal growth, which can affect sound resonance and shorten an instrument’s life. Red cedar wood from the Chikmagalur region of Karnataka is prized for its resonance and natural resistance to pests. It is used for the long neck, or dand, and the main structural frame.

Crafting an instrument is labour-intensive and can take 15 to 30 days. The pumpkin is first soaked in water for one or two days, after which the wooden neck is attached and the frame assembled. Master craftsmen then use hand drills and stencils to carve intricate floral patterns into the wood. After polishing, the engraved grooves are carefully cleaned to preserve the detail. Finally, wooden tuning pegs, or khunti, are fitted, strings attached and the instrument tuned. Depending on the design, a finished sitar costs between Rs20,000 and Rs1.5 lakh. Prices vary according to customer requirements, the intricacy of the engraving and the size of the pumpkin, as larger gourds produce a richer sound.

Musicians such as Mahesh Kale, Rahul Deshpande, Pt Ajoy Chakrabarty and Padmaja Phenany Joglekar use Miraj instruments, while orders arrive from across India, the US, Canada, Europe and Australia. In 2019, 64-year-old master artisan Majid Gulabsaheb Sitarmaker, a fifth-generation craftsman, received the prestigious Sangeet Natak Akademi Award for his contribution to the state’s musical instrument craft. He belongs to the lineage of Farid Sitarmaker, one of the brothers who repaired the king’s instruments.

Despite global demand, the craft faces serious challenges. About 85 to 90 per cent of the work must be done by hand, resulting in modest financial returns for the physical effort involved. With more career options available, many younger family members are choosing different professions. Yet some, like 22-year-old commerce graduate Arbaz Satarmaker, are determined to keep the family craft alive.The Maharashtra government is now backing plans for a Miraj Music Heritage Park, which is intended to showcase the city’s musical legacy and support cultural tourism.

For Miraj’s artisans, the craft is much more than a business. As fourth-generation sitarmaker Altaf Mulla puts it: “Amchi vaddya vajat nahit. Ti boltat, gatat (Our instruments don’t just play music; they speak and sing).”