PUBLISHED
March 30, 2025
KARACHI:
The bards of Sindh, known as Chaarans, have long been the custodians of oral tradition, their voices weaving tapestries of history, myth, and legend. These wandering minstrels once stood in the courts of kings, maharajas, chieftains, and nawabs, their verses resonating in grand halls, met with admiration and reverence. Their tongues carried the weight of royal epics, their memories safeguarded the chronicles of nations, and their songs breathed life into the annals of time. To hear a bard was to traverse the past, to live the triumphs and tragedies of those who came before.
Even today, their gatherings, known as “rehaan,” echo through select circles, preserving their art. Scholars debate the true meaning of Chaaran. Some claim it denotes a nomadic existence, a people never bound to one place. Others insist it signifies those adorned with four distinct virtues. Yet another school of thought asserts that Chaaran refers to those who recount history in a singularly poetic style. But beneath the uncertainty of definition lies an undeniable truth: bards are restless souls, forever yearning to sing the songs of their land and people.
Their devotion has often met with the highest form of tribute. Legends tell of rulers so moved by a bard’s tale that they offered their very heads in gratitude. Among such fabled accounts is that of Rai Dyach and the Sodha king of Nagarparkar, whose noble sacrifice stands as testimony to the power of poetry.
Before partition of the subcontinent, the bards of Sindh and Hind shared a common legacy. Now, though divided by borders, they remain linked by tradition. Once, the art of poetry and storytelling was their passion; now, it has faded, a shadow of its former self. Once numbering in multitudes, the Chaaran clans are now splintered into nearly 120 branches across Sindh and Hind. Some remain in Sindh, their lineage extending into sub-groups — Naara, Maadha, Absorra, Chorrara, Gaadarr, Baacha, Gangaarin, Mesmaa, Merro, Beejal, Ratno, and Gaango — each thread forming part of the grand tapestry of the bardic tradition.
Among the dunes of Thar and the lush landscapes of the Sindh barrages, dwell both Muslim and Hindu bards. While the Muslim bards have largely forsaken their ancestral craft, the Hindu bards persist, their voices still carrying echoes of bygone eras. They reside in Tharparkar, their settlements stretching across Khaaroro Chaararn, Naon Chorr, Chaaran Horr, Mithrio Chaaran, Rattan Jo Tarr, Paabohar, Raathi Chaaran, Bhopan Ji Werrhi, Gaddro Chaaran, Othehar, and Gaatro Chaaran. Here, they live in harmony with Thakurs, sharing both land and legacy.
Proud of their Rajput heritage, the Chaarans mirror the customs of the warrior clans they serve. Their women remain veiled, their dignity safeguarded by the strictest traditions. Tall and striking, their men bear the hallmark of Rajput ancestry, their moustaches grand, their countenance noble. Disputes within their community are settled not in the courts of outsiders but within their own councils, the venerable Ghardero.
To the Rajputs, bards are more than mere storytellers. They are blessed, revered as descendants of deities. To insult a bard is to invite misfortune; to seek their blessings is to walk in fortune’s favour. Such is the reverence they command that Rajputs, in an act of deep respect, lay offerings at their feet, touching them in devotion. A bard’s black-threaded necklace is a mark of his craft, and when he sings, he drapes himself in black, his voice carrying secrets only the wind remembers.
The sacred deities born of bards find their places of worship in Tharparkar, with Dewal Dewi standing in Khaaroro Chaaran and Juma Dewi resting in Chachro. Another shrine watches over Nagarparkar, its sanctity upheld by the faithful. Here, bards are not only revered for their craft but for their unwavering simplicity — a trait that has earned them the title of “bard faqirs.”
Though they converse in Dhatki, their verses blend Hindi, Gujarati, Sindhi, and Dhatki into a lyrical fusion of tongues. It is said that their ancestors trained in the ancient languages of Pingal and Dingal at the fabled university of Bhoj. From their lips emerged a myriad of poetic forms — songs, couplets, elegies — each perfected under the guidance of seasoned masters.
In the golden age of Sindh, bards were indispensable to history. During the reign of the Soomra dynasty, the bard Samang’s hymns immortalised the valour of Dodo Soomro. Even Shah Abdul Latif Bhittai, the venerated Sindhi poet, paid homage to their legacy. His Sur Surath extols Beejal, the bard whose song so bewitched Rai Dyach that the king, enraptured, laid down his head in offering. The Kalhora era, too, bore witness to the rise of bardic fame, with luminaries such as Juman and Sadruddin of Dadu and Larkana carving their names into the annals of Sindh.
Beyond the realm of poetry, the bards hold another power — the power to unite. As esteemed matchmakers, they arrange marriages among Rajputs, their proposals beyond refusal. They do not marry outside their caste, and their unions follow the sacred principle of reciprocation. Like Rajputs, they cherish their animals, yet their greatest treasure remains their song, for which they demand their due. Though these customs wane, the Rajputs still honour their debts, ensuring that each year, the bards are cared for.
Their respect extends beyond Rajput courts. Even the Muslim chieftains and Nawabs of Sindh acknowledge the bards’ might — not just as entertainers, but as truth-bearers. A bard’s tongue can sing praise, but it can also rebuke, holding rulers accountable for their deeds. In past times, a sect known as the Moti Sarai upheld this tradition, their voices fearless against injustice. Yet today, they are but a whisper in the wind, gone from Sindh’s soil.
As the era of rajas and maharajas fades into history, so too does the bard’s voice. Once, they were met with generosity, their words valued above wealth. Now, their language teeters on the brink of extinction, their stories left untold. But Sindh has always needed its bards — to remind its people of their duty, to sing of valour in times of war, and wisdom in times of peace. Their legacy is a call to remembrance, a melody that should never be allowed to fade.
Ashfaq Azar is a writer, poet and journalist
All facts and information are the sole responsibility of the author
