NUSHKI, BALOCHISTAN: In Pakistan’s conservative southwestern province of Balochistan, where women rarely pursue music publicly, 15-year-old Yasmeen Baloch is quietly challenging expectations, one note at a time.
Seated cross-legged with a large wooden benju resting in her lap, Yasmeen’s fingers move with practiced precision. One hand presses the instrument’s small keys while the other works the strings, filling the room with music rooted in Baloch tradition.
In a deeply patriarchal society where women have historically had limited access to public life including music, Baloch’s journey stands out.
The benju, a stringed instrument with thin iron wires stretched beneath a wooden board and played using note buttons, is central to Baloch cultural expression and widely used in traditional songs. Yet it has long been considered a male domain.
Baloch’s connection to the instrument began at home. Her father, Muhammad Anwar, a professional benju player and craftsman, has spent 15 years making and performing the instrument. Over time, she began watching him closely and learning on her own.
“Since my childhood, I was fascinated about my education and by beju,” Baloch told Arab News. “But I couldn’t manage with my education. However, Benju’s note buttons attracted me like Urdu’s alphabetic words.”
At first, she hesitated to tell her father she wanted to play, fearing he might reject the idea. Instead, she began experimenting in secret.
“I started counting the note buttons and practiced with them,” she said. “And I learned how to play this musical instrument.”
Her father recalls the moment he realized what she had done.
“All these Benjus I made were originally for men because I never imagined a woman could play this instrument,” Anwar said. “Now that Yasmeen has taken it up, I am happy and hopeful that more girls will come forward.”
But the path has not been easy.
“Even people called my father and asked him to stop me from playing benju because it is not made for a girl,” Baloch said.
“But I replied, ‘How can this musical instrument be bad for girls, as I grew up with a pile of benju in my home?’”
Despite the criticism, her father stood by her, encouraging her to continue.
“Yasmeen has shown the world that the benju is not just for men, but women can also play their cultural musical instruments,” he said. “Because music and art are not limited to men, they belong to women as well.”
FROM JAPAN TO BALOCHISTAN
The benju has also gained wider recognition in recent years through performers like Ustad Noor Bakhsh, whose renditions of popular qawwalis on the instrument went viral on social media, drawing national and international attention to the tradition.
Though now closely associated with Baloch culture, the benju has an unusual history.
According to Ustaad Taj Muhammad Tajal, a veteran musician in Quetta, the instrument arrived decades ago in Karachi from Japan as a “musical toy” before being adopted and transformed by Baloch artists.
“Benju traveled from Japan to Aleppo and reached Karachi, where Baloch artists squeezed every bit of potential out of it,” Tajal said.
Over time, it spread from Karachi to Makran, Quetta and across the province, becoming a staple of Balochi and Brahvi music.
“[If it is missing from a song], it is like food without salt,” the 71-year-old musician said.
Writer and cultural researcher Panah Baloch noted that traditional Baloch instruments include the dambura, a two-stringed lute, and the suroz, a bowed string instrument. But the benju has become deeply embedded in the region’s musical identity.
But for many women in Balochistan, opportunities in music remain limited.
Nousheen Qumbrani, a singer with more than three decades of experience, said Baloch represents a rare breakthrough.
“Yasmeen is a lucky child among millions of daughters who have been seeing benjo, suroz and harmonium since their childhood,” she said. “But they don’t have access to play these instruments publicly.”
Qumbrani recalled facing similar resistance in her own career, with critics questioning her place in music.
“I got extreme love from my people, and they have given me acceptance,” she said. “And I believe that those who used to speak against you in the beginning, they start making you into a role model [later].”
She remains hopeful about the future, noting that more women in Balochistan are beginning to pursue music.
“Yasmeen was chosen by nature and when nature chooses you it protects you,” she added.
Baloch practices for hours each day with her father and dreams of performing beyond her hometown, though she remains aware of the challenges ahead.
“I am worried whether I will be able to play the instrument in the long run or not,” she said.
But her resolve remains firm.
“Benju is an old instrument and I believe it will never disappear,” Baloch said. “Because as long as I live, I will continue playing it because it is a beautiful instrument.”
