Are Shehnai, Dholki, And Brass Bands and Other Iconic Wedding Musicians Still Thriving or Fading in the Age of DJs?

Traditional wedding musicians—shehnai players, dholkis and brass bands—are losing ground fast. Across North India, where these performers once commanded pride of place during baraats and ceremonies, their bookings have plummeted. Research by the Indian Council for Research on International Economic Relations (ICRIER) reveals that DJs have aggressively captured market share from traditional segments, particularly brass bands. According to the study, brass-band musicians see around 60% of their annual work concentrated in just three to five months during peak wedding season—leaving them scrambling for income the rest of the year.

Shanawaz Ali, a veteran bandmaster from Old Delhi, remembers better days. "There was a day when our brass band would lead the baraat, and the entire street would dance to our trumpets and drums," he recalls. "Now, couples barely ask for us; they prefer electronically amplified music. It's as if our identity is fading."

Ustad Farid Khan, a shehnai player, shares similar anguish. "I learned from my father and grandfather. When I blow into my shehnai, I feel as though I am continuing a conversation that spans generations. But more often than not now, young couples ask for DJ sets, even for the sehra-bandi."

The Economics of Survival

The numbers are stark. ICRIER data shows that brass-band musicians earn a median monthly income of just Rs. 19,000, less than many unskilled labourers and significantly below the Rs. 27,000 median earned by DJs. Individual earnings for traditional musicians range between Rs. 6,000 and Rs. 31,000 monthly, depending on the season. 

Shahnawaz asserts the same, “During wedding peaks in November and December, we as band members might receive a maximum of Rs. 1,500 per person per day, but after deducting travel, instrument maintenance and middleman fees, 10–20% of our earnings come into our hands.”

After more than 35 years in the profession, one brass-band musician admits he has "no savings, nothing." Rafiq Shaikh, a brass-band trumpeter from Ali's band, echoes this desperation. "We used to travel across towns, leading processions, playing rousing fanfares. Now, I might accompany a baraat, but more often I am told, 'We have a DJ already.' The work is seasonal. Five weddings one month, zero the next. I earn, but I don't save. My children ask if they should learn something else."

Outside peak season, many musicians return to their villages to take up farming or manual labour just to survive. Meanwhile, DJs flourish with portable equipment, scalable sets and the ability to dominate entire wedding schedules from sangeet to reception.

Cultural Casualties and Fading Respect

The decline isn't merely economic; it's a loss of cultural reverence. Iqbal Darbar, a 70-year-old brass-band patriarch in Delhi, speaks with palpable pain. "No one wants to listen to melody any more. Weddings demand thumping beats. That pains me. We used to play thirty songs in three hours; now they ask for the same blaring song on repeat."

Meera Begum, a dholki artist from Prayagraj, shares her heartbreak as she arrives in Delhi for her only second gig after a month of almost nothing in peak wedding season, "I still play the dholki ke geet (folk wedding songs), but our gigs are fewer. They don’t understand that the London Thumakda they are desperately wanting to play in their haldi or mehndi is based on songs and beats we have played for decades, passed down generations. No electronic modern song can take away that culture. It's disheartening, because these songs carry our history." As Iqbal tells us, "There used to be a time when weddings without shehnai were unthinkable and now, hardly any wedding invites us.”

Volume has replaced virtuosity. Clients want guaranteed energy, not subtle craftsmanship. For musicians trained in classical ragas and intricate rhythms, this shift feels like erasure. "Our margins have halved," says Sanjay Sharma, owner of a brass band troupe. "Some band owners have tried to work with DJs, but many say. 'It's different music, a different pace, I can't relate to it.' That divide often prevents collaboration."

Glimmers of Hope

Despite the gloom, pockets of resistance remain. In Hyderabad, Sameena Begum has revived 160 traditional dholak ke geet from older generations. In West Bengal, dhaak and dhaakis remain an integral part of celebrations. In rural Uttarakhand and Himachal Pradesh, as per locals, live folk bands remain central to celebrations, with communities actively rejecting DJs in favour of acoustic authenticity.

Elsewhere, hybridisation offers a lifeline. Progressive DJs are incorporating live dhols, tablas and shehnais into their sets, creating fusion experiences that appeal to tradition-conscious couples. A spokesperson from ICRIER told us, “We need to have policy interventions, including better social security for informal musicians. There is also a stronger copyright enforcement need; most DJs use traditional music but seldom give credit to the original musicians.”

Whether this signals revival or a last stand remains uncertain. Traditional musicians face structural disadvantages, but their adaptability suggests they may yet carve out niches in the evolving wedding landscape—not as relics, but as living custodians of musical heritage.