Ustad Anwar Khan Manganiyar: The voice keeping Rajasthan’s folk music alive

There is a hush in the audience as Ustad Anwar Khan Manganiyar takes centrestage in his trademark colourful Rajasthani pagdi (turban) complementing his spotless white kurta. The maestro’s perfect rendition of Kesariya Balam pierces the night sky. His deep, rusty voice carries the rawness of Marwar; raw enough to make 300-odd Punjabis forget the boundaries of language and geography at the recently held Sacred Amritsar festival. Kesariya Balam soon fuses into the high-pitched Nimbooda Nimbooda almost symbolic of the transition of Manganiyar strains into mainstream Bollywood music.

Khan, a Padmashri awardee, belongs to the Manganiyar community of western Rajasthan popular for their folk music and rustic voice. They perform in groups of five to six, their catchy tunes and signature spontaneity, draw the listeners, keeping them hooked to every beat. But there is more to their music than meets the eye. “Our music is rooted in our beloved dhoran (desert land) and the stories connected to it,” says Khan. The music thrives through the secular fabric of age-old Jajmani Pratha—where Rajput rulers would give patronage to Manganiyar families.

Indeed, the tradition of patronage that has sustained this art form for generations is what Khan calls its lifeblood. Today, the Manganiyars continue to sing praises of their patrons through special ragas like Subhraj and Bakhaan, preserving the oral genealogies of the families of their patrons.

As the audience listens to Khan’s spellbinding performance, it becomes evident how the folk rhythms of the Manganiyars—the beats of the kartal, the rhythmic dholak, and the soulful twang of the bowed, stringed khamaycha—is integral to their music. These instruments, Khan explains, are unique to Rajasthani folk music, and their presence on stage brings an authenticity that cannot be replicated. Khan’s passion for preserving this music and sharing it with the world is palpable. He recalls the endless hours spent understanding the origins of different ragas—how they evolved, how they travelled across lands, and how they fused with other musical traditions. “Raags like Kod Malhar, Megh Malhar, Raag Todi, and Raag Subhraj were composed by our forefathers. These ragas are an immense sea of treasure that will never dry up,” he says with reverence.

Despite his success in various genres—from classical music on stage to collaborations with Bollywood and Sufi music—Khan makes it clear that performing folk music is an entirely different experience. “Singing for movies or collaborating with other forms of music is one thing, but performing traditional folk music is something else altogether. It has a different meaning, a different soul. We are the protectors of this art form, and it is our responsibility to ensure it lives on,” he says quietly.

Looking to the future, Khan emphasises the need for the next generation to study and learn the intricacies of music. “The young generation must learn this art form, understand its roots, and carry it forward. This music needs patronage— not just from the community, but from the government as well,” he urges.

This sense of responsibility is what motivates him to take the stage night after night. “When people listen to our music, they ask about its origins, the instruments, and the attire. And that is what keeps me going. It is my duty to carry this legacy forward,” Khan says in his heavy rustic voice. “Every time I step on stage, I know I am singing not just for myself but for the future of our tradition.”

Story by Tej Prakash Bhardwaj