Why would anyone learn Indian classical instrumental music in the 21st century?

If a musician who has spent his or her life playing selected ragas on a musical instrument leaves the planet without any valuable recordings or disciples, most of us may deem his or her life to be devoid of any contributions to the world. Only a few individuals who have directly received moments of joy from the artist’s efforts may appreciate his or her presence. Besides, in the field of music composing, synthesizers and software have partly replaced traditional instrumentalists. Moreover, success has become least correlated with formal training and loyalty to classical music, and only a few out of hundreds of trained musicians are able to gain money, respect, and fame. Under such an arrangement, why would anyone spend over a decade learning a skill that has a low success rate?

The answer to this question has been given again and again by many artists and even saints. Tulasidasa summarizes the reason for his writing the Ramacharitamanasa through a very simple phrase: swantah sukhaya, meaning “for the happiness of the self.” Music is learned solely for one’s own joy even though this understanding may be latent when a young pupil starts dedicating time to it. The production of marketable music under tight deadlines from the supervisor is never the dream of the true musician. Nor is it learned to exhibit one’s reasoning abilities to the world. On the other hand, if engagement in music does not trigger a simultaneous search for happiness, a connection to music has probably not been made. Without nurturing (or unveiling) of inner joy, what will one share with others?

Secondly, “contribution to the world” is a vague concept in the context of spirituality and the arts. While exertion in certain areas of expertise, say technology and economics, may be labeled “more significant” by the onlooker depending upon one’s liking (read bias), their results, including all products and most discoveries, are equally perishable in time. Alternatively, the propagation of positive vibrations through the universe may be a more real accomplishment.

Holi Special: The "Hori" style of Vocal Music

Holi, a greeting to the spring season, is joyfully celebrated to remember Lord Vishnu’s protection of Prahlada, one of his kid devotees, and to remember Lord Krishna’s exchanging of colors with his friends in Vrindavan. Nothing equals such remembrance of God when it is coupled with music. The traditional style of vocal music developed specifically to celebrate this arrival of spring with devotion is called “hori.”

Hori songs with a devotional theme are almost always related to Krishna. Depending upon the imagination of the devotee poet, while the lyrics of one hori may envision the colorful galaxies as Krishna splashing colors (playing holi) in the universe, the lyrics of another may express the longing (viraha) that arises from not finding Krishna around even on the festival of holi. Numerous hori songs that display a delightful feel illustrate gopis, who already have their souls irreversibly colored in his love, continually requesting Krishna not to throw more colors at them.

As for the musical specifications, all ragas with the “spring” mood or a devotional feel are apt for a hori. However, Raga Kafi, which beautifully expresses the mood of the spring season, like Basant and Bahar, stands out as the most popular selection for composing a hori. Similarly, the fourteen-beat rhythmic cycles of Deepchandi (tabla; usually fast-medium tempo) and Dhamar (pakhawaj; slow tempo; classical) are favored in this style of singing.

This mix of festivity, devotion for the Lord’s divine plays, and musical sounds is offered in temples throughout early spring along with colored powders (gulal), flowers, and sweets.

Happy Holi!

Infinite Bliss from Music: The Nada-Brahman Principle

We can use music as a means to reach God by forgetting ourselves as we sing hymns, mantras, and the names of our favorite form of the Lord. In devotional music, including bhajans and kirtans, this spiritual connection remains the objective. But what about the non-emotional musicians who solely worship music? They too can obtain the highest levels of ecstasy that comes not from the mood of the raga, nor from the proper application of notes, and nor from the rhythm, but comes from considering musical sound as God according to the notion of Nada-Brahman.

When the musician recognizes this oneness, which occurs after all early levels of perfection in technique and expression have been transcended, music becomes joy, not the means for joy. At this point, the sound of a melody from a string instrument no longer appears sweeter than the stroke of a percussion instrument, for both are musical sounds and accordingly forms of the Divine. Similarly, devotional lyrics are no longer needed for the connection. They are useful only until a duality in musical notes and God is present. When musical notes become Brahman and represent His sound, there is no other God to connect to.

At this stage in music, which appears plainly theoretical to most of us, one can say that perfection in music has been achieved. Just like the devotee musician who forgets oneself in the memory of the Lord while performing, the advaitist worshipper of music forgets oneself in music to remember nothing but music. While one at this spiritual or musical plane may no longer be fit for entertaining fellow beings on a big podium, it fulfills what the Indian tradition anticipates from a ‘seeker of music’ as opposed to a ‘learner’ or ‘creator’ of music: finding God while finding music.

Indian Percussion: Can we play devotional music on the Tabla?

Many of you might have heard percussionists recite and play a Tabla composition, usually a sequence of diverse syllables aesthetically tied together in rhythm along with its speed variations. Like any other piece of music, for piano or vocal, every group of strokes on this instrument is reproducible and writable.

While any composition can be labeled 'devotional' if it is accompanied by the feel of bhakti, gurus have specified paths through which learners can explicitly combine spirituality with music. Just like a vocalist uses the lyrics of a bhajan to add in spirituality, a tabla or pakhawaj player can integrate spirituality in a presentation through a bol (stuti)-paran particularly composed for a specific form of God, such as a Krishna-paran or a Ganesh-paran.

In this percussion composition, phrases praising a form of God in Sanskrit (or Hindi) are inserted between the regular syllables of tabla. Once the syllables and Sanskrit words are blended harmoniously in the mind, tabla syllables that mimic the sound of the selected Sanskrit words are practiced. When the whole paran is put together in a recital, the mapped tabla syllables are played on the drums while concurrently pronouncing the Sanskrit words orally. As one may expect, new devotional parans are very rare, for they require some poetic skills in addition to the core curriculum.

Lastly, to play a perfect prayer on the Tabla, the maestro is expected to mentally focus on the form of God for which the composition has been created. This may be necessary to make the Divine a part of the audience.

Vedic Musical Instruments: A Gift from God

The string instrument veena, the primordial percussion instrument damaru, and the wind instrument flute form a special trinity among Indian musical instruments. These instruments can be categorized as divinity’s choice as far as Hindu culture is concerned, for they are played to create the three components of music – melody, rhythm, and expression – by an ensemble of divine instrumentalists. The veena of Goddess Sarasvati creates the vedic musical notes (swara), the damaru of Lord Shiva ties everything together with rhythm (tala), and the flute of Lord Krishna is the source of expression and mesmerization. It is believed that Lord Shiva’s child, Lord Ganesha, is the maestro of mridang, an offspring of the damaru, but we may choose not to count this evolved form of the damaru separately.

Influenced by this symbology, followers believe that God adores musical sounds and they should offer vibrations from musical instruments in temples as a part of their devotion. In this context, Hindu scriptures have given a preference to some instruments over others. For example, the Skanda Purana tells us that besides the sound of Pranava (Omkar), the sounds of the bell (ghanta), the mridang, and the conch (shankh) are the favorite of Lord Vishnu. Today, while the sitar and the tabla have replaced the veena and the mridang to a considerable extent, particularly in North India, music from the newest instruments continues to be offered to God by professional musicians of all faiths.

The Six Mystical Ragas of Indian Music

In addition to affecting the mood of its listeners, the vibrations of Ragas used to have their impact on material nature as well. In this context, the six primary Vedic Ragas used to be associated with mystical powers.

As I heard from music gurus of Jaipur, Raga Bhairav could create the energy to rotate a grinder called kolhu, a village machine typically driven by bulls to extract oil from seeds. Raga Hindol could induce movement in a swing, usually hung from the branch of a tree, probably by its effect on the atmosphere. Whereas Raga Deepak could ignite the wick of a lamp, Raga Malkauns could melt a stone. While Raga Megh could ‘invite’ clouds and condense water from them to bring a monsoon rain, Raga Shri could rejuvenate a dead tree to produce tiny green leaves again.

History of Indian Music tells us that two of Swami Haridas’s disciples in the 16th century, Tansen and Baiju, had developed the perfection, in terms of swara-lagaav (perfect application of notes), for such magical effects. Even to the present day, with a lot of knowledge lost, the tradition continues. We may not observe the promised magical response on the environment, but living beings still find it difficult to escape the influence of a Raga in a recital.