The beating heart of Durga Puja

For Dhaka’s vanishing dhakis, devotion outlasts the pay

Inside the dimly lit courtyard of the ancient Ramna Kali Mandir, the scent of burning incense, its smoke curling through the air, and the rhythmic beating of the dhak lend an ethereal quality to the atmosphere. Dusk settles on Maha Shashthi, and the priest begins offering the first Sandhya Aarti to Goddess Durga.

The slow, heavy thuds of the dhak initially match the measured arcs of the priest’s panchapradip. Then the dhakis shift to mid-tempo patterns, alternating deep beats with sharp, wooden rim shots.

Suddenly, the drums explode into a deafening crescendo, transforming the solemn ritual into an electric celebration.

There is a saying among Bangalee Hindu devotees: “Dhak chhara Durga Puja hoy na” -- Durga Puja cannot take place without the dhak.

A large, barrel-shaped wooden drum wrapped in animal hide, the dhak is the literal heartbeat of the ritual. When dhakis strike its hide, the sound is not just heard but felt, vibrating through the chest. It is a sacred language, integral to Sharadiya Durga Puja celebrations.

Yet, this centuries-old craft is sustained by a class of traditional musicians who are navigating a modern world where legacy is fighting a losing battle against the cost of living in a megacity.

For Binoy Das, 35, the five days of the festival offer a brief, transcendent escape from his everyday life. A garment factory worker in Gazipur, he travels to the capital every autumn to perform as a seasonal drummer at Ramna Kali Mandir, bringing with him a seven-member troupe that includes a sanai (traditional oboe) player, a flautist, and a bell player.

None of them are full-time musicians. They are salon owners and agricultural labourers who put down their scissors and sickles and pick up their instruments when the festival arrives.

Binoy has been a dhaki for 14 years. This year, he will receive Tk 18,000 for his performance, an amount he says isn’t enough for five days of intense physical labour in an inflation-weary economy.

“Considering the cost of living in Dhaka and the quality of my work, I expected more,” Binoy admits candidly. “I had a better offer in Cumilla, but I didn’t go out of loyalty to this mandir.”

“It’s devotion to my craft and to Goddess Durga that has kept me going for more than a decade,” Binoy says, his eyes lighting up as the evening prayers begin. “The feeling I get when I play in front of Durga is otherworldly.”

Across the city at the Dhakeshwari National Temple, the epicentre of the country’s celebrations, a different group of dhakis speak of similar devotion.

Leading the temple’s drummers is Shanti Ranjan Das, 70. He is the senior-most dhaki, having slung the heavy wooden instrument over his shoulder for 45 years. Alongside him are Tapan Chandra Das, 47, and Ripon Chandra Das, 42, both permanent employees at the temple.

Ripon takes home a fixed monthly salary of Tk 8,000.

“I learned the craft from my father at the age of 17,” Ripon says.

To supplement his income, he manages a local “band party” that performs on demand at weddings and household pujas.

“My devotion to the craft and to Goddess Durga, and my wish to uphold my father’s legacy, have been my guiding forces all these years.”

But that legacy may stop with him. His 21-year-old son, Shaon Chandra Das, watched his father struggle and chose a different path. He now works as a journalist at a local newspaper.

The younger generation’s reluctance to inherit the drumsticks is compounded by a shift in the seasonal migration of artists across the country. Historically, the capital has been the destination of choice for seasonal performers during Durga Puja.

“There was once a time when dhakis from all over the country would come to Dhaka during Durga Puja in search of work and stay until Kali Puja,” Ripon recalls. “There was better pay here than in the suburbs and villages.”

Now, a reverse seasonal migration is occurring as urban expenses rise. “Nowadays, they’re reluctant to come to Dhaka because the costs outweigh the pay,” Ripon explains. “There are better opportunities in suburban towns where puja organisers backed by wealthy donors offer better pay to employ local dhakis.”

The financial anxieties of the drummers stand in sharp contrast to the festival’s global profile.

In 2021, UNESCO inscribed Durga Puja on its Representative List of the Intangible Cultural Heritage of Humanity, recognising the festival’s extraordinary cultural value and the many traditional art forms that sustain it.

Heritage, however prestigious, cannot guarantee livelihoods.

As the nights of Durga Puja unfold across Dhaka, the city’s temples continue to pulse with the familiar rhythms of the dhak. Worshippers sway to its cadence. Priests move in step with its tempo. Children watch in fascination.

Few pause to consider the uncertain future of the men producing those sounds.

For now, the beat endures.

For five autumn days, the dhakis will breathe life into the festival, sustaining a tradition that has endured for generations, even as the heartbeat of their own profession grows fainter with each passing year.