Dholki evolution: A dance of pre-wedding rites, from Mussarat Nazir to Taylor Swift

Madhaniya,
haayo mere daadiya rabba,
kinnā jāmiāñ, kinnā le ke jāṇiyāñ haaye

Dholkis, a pre-wedding celebration with singing, dancing, and family fun, are a staple of Pakistani nuptial festivities. Many of us remember them as small, intimate family gatherings, but over time, they’ve evolved into grand celebrations of their own. And let’s be honest — we all know at least one khala (maternal aunt) or a good friend who plays this small double-headed drum like a pro, the one person without whom a dholki simply wouldn’t be the same.

While the concept of the dholki has prevailed, the content of the songs, their rhythms, and their meanings haven't been translated through the generations. In Punjabi culture, the dholki is not just a wedding tradition; it is a story in itself and a cultural institution in its own right.

There will always be a nani (maternal grandmother)/dadi (paternal grandmother) or general ghar ka bara (an elder of the family) at modern dholkis who will reminisce about the dholkis of yore; how it was a part of life, in happiness and sadness, and how there was always an utaar and chardhao (ebb and flow) in the songs themselves, so let’s dive in.

Suhaags

I’ll start this with a little anecdote about myself; the main crux of which is that I watch too much YouTube. I was down some rabbit hole when I came across the YouTube channel of Reena Kaur, a professional dholki player and performer in the UK. In one of her videos, she talked about the types of Punjabi songs in the context of weddings. Of course, my interest peaked and I proceeded to dig deeper.

Suhaags, such as the song 'Madhaniya' (from which the above lyrics are taken), are traditionally sung at the start, setting a sombre tone for the beginning of the dholki.

These songs are often laced with prayers for the new couple, but also carry a tinge of sorrow — the end of childhood and, for the bride’s family, the pain of separation. In some of her videos, Reena Kaur often celebrates this emotion and time for reflection, explaining how these songs set off the wedding festivities with prayers and love. Suhaags, among wedding songs, are traditionally sung only by women.

Of all the factors contributing to this tradition, the main one is the emotional nature of these songs as they bear prayers not only for the bride’s acceptance in her new home but also for her to find love with her partner. These prayers serve to protect the bride as she undergoes the transition from her parental home to her husband's.

Mahiye and tappay

Mehndi taan sajdi
Jay nachay munday di maan

It is from the suhaags, that the mahiye and tappay begin. These are songs that everyone takes part in and are often the ones that have carried forward somewhat to modern dholkis. These are songs of general merriment and often are the ones best suited for the actual days of the wedding.

Within this, one element has been lost and that has to do with the rendition of Heer by Waris Shah, referring to the story of Heer Ranjha, which men would perform, with theatrics and singing. This is something that I have heard come up in stories from my own relatives about how there were known men in each village who would be called to ‘read’ Heer at houses where weddings were set; the free-flowing Punjabi of the original text living on, from one village to the other.

The lost humour of sithniyan and boliyan

Koi vechhe sundh jāve, koi vechhe rāī, naz siyo apṇī, zoro vechhe ṭāke, ṭāke sirsāī, khabardār rehṇā jī, chaunkī nānkeā dī ai

In all of the videos I found after Reena Kaur’s, be it by individual artists, or by whole villages in Indian Punjab, there was an added rib-tickling touch to their dholkis; poking benign fun at one another, or what we know colloquially here as juggatein — playful, witty remarks or taunts, often exchanged between people, especially in a humorous or teasing manner.

All songs have an element that called out particular family members, playing up stereotypical tropes associated with that relation; the khala being jealous, the mami (maternal uncle's wife) being thrifty, or the phuppo (paternal aunt) stirring the pot. Because no one was spared, it was a "no hard feelings" space.

What pulled me into this was how these songs were not rehearsed or memorised, they were made up on the spot; each rendition found online, was significantly different than the last.

These sithniyan and boliyan are first exchanged within the bride or groom’s family, where the maternal and paternal sides playfully compete. Later, the teasing extends to the in-laws on both sides.

It might seem odd why these songs and traditions exist in the first place. According to Nahar Singh, a music historian with a keen eye on Punjabi music, these practices were commonplace because the nature of marriage was different back then.

“Since villages were so insular, any marriage outside of a village meant that the families would often see and meet each other at the wedding itself; awkwardness would be at its peak, and so these songs were sung to break the ice,” Singh explains.

Boliyan, in particular, were sung to bring family members from each side together, be it for a thumka, a little bhangra, or to just sing together.

Bring all of these categories of shaadi walay geet, and you can begin to see a flow; from suhaags and their emotionality and prayers to sithniyan that aimed to bring families together through cheekiness and humour. This roller coaster of songs, emotions, and prayers, when brought together, sought only to celebrate a marriage and to help the new couple start right.

But then, why are traditions changing?

Panjvi vaar mainu aap lein aa gaya,
Mahiye de naal mainu jaya vi jaye,
Ghund chukeya vi jaye,
Muhon boleya vi jaye,
Kunda kholeya vi jaye,
Haan mahiya ve,
Mahiya dhol sipahiya,
Main ehde naal tur jaana

There was a time when Pakistani media played up the importance of these songs with Pakistan Television (PTV) airing shows featuring mostly wedding and folk songs. Mussarrat Nazir, Pakistani singer and film actress, who starred in many Urdu and Punjabi films in the fifties and sixties, made a whole special on Punjabi wedding songs, complete with a lot of storylines and a fantastic voiceover explaining the intricate rasams (rituals) of the time.

Prime time and regional TV shows too celebrated this culture. Even back then, the dholki rituals were shortened, but traditional songs remained at the heart of the celebration.

Over time, these traditions were held on to in villages and small towns, but in cities, much of their charm faded. It lost its spontaneity and became a formal affair instead; it lost its utaar chardhao, and along the way, the songs themselves were lost too. One major reason is that the media itself saw a massive boom. While PTV did produce educational and cultural content, it was unable to keep this up with the changing media landscape with no private channel taking on the mantle.

Then, of course, is the surge of Bollywood and songs from movies becoming the mainstay in weddings. Modern weddings now also place importance on the mehndi as the main function of "fun". With the distance between the dholak superstars (the older generation) and the young kids of today ever increasing, it seems as though dholkis and their traditionality might be dying down, or at least evolving with the times.

Recent viral reels of young women singing Taylor Swift songs on the dholak gave rise to the theory of dholki-evolution. But this, in itself, is an interesting phenomenon. Reena Kaur, in her videos, and Manorma Sharma, in her book "Musical Heritage of India", both talk about how traditional dholki songs were a way of giving the bride (especially) a voice to express her emotions, something that wasn’t afforded to her back then.

Women hold a different position in today’s society as compared to when these traditional songs were first penned. Their emotions do not need the help of tappay and mahiye anymore. There is a disconnect between what the songs conveyed, and what the realities of today are. Taylor Swift, regardless of how you feel about her, captures this new emotion; but then of course, we run the risk of our traditions falling outside of our languages too.

This disconnect is also seen, in large part, to the language of the songs, and their deference to the patriarchy. In her study for Karachi University, Syeda Bushra Zaidi studied Urdu dholki songs and their implicit gendered lens — the study fits well with Punjabi songs too. According to her, these songs promoted the view that the bride must be submissive, that she would be dependent on her husband, and that those songs celebrated her as a naive and innocent girl, stepping out into the world, her husband as her only guide. In the face of modern empowerment, these songs sound and feel dated, they feel out of touch. This is also why we see Aurat March organise Feminist Dholkis that changed the perspective and focus of the songs to empowerment.

Does this mean that dholkis, as an art form and as a way of community should be forgotten? Absolutely not! The role of culture and tradition is to evolve in the hands of those who keep it alive; today, the onus falls on younger generations. The mantle — or in this case, the dhol — has been passed on. While elements like submission and patriarchy can be left behind, the themes of community, love, and humour must live on; after all, what is life without a little dhol dhamaka?

Arslan Athar is a writer based out of Lahore, Pakistan. He was a 2021 South Asia Speaks fellow, working on his novel with mentor Fatima Bhutto. Arslan's fiction and non-fiction work has been published in numerous national and international publications. He posts on X @ArslanArsuArsi

Header and thumbnail illustration by Geo.tv