One of the most fundamental rules of Indian classical music, Carnatic or Hindustani, is that the music must be perfectly aligned to the ‘sruti’ — defined as the ‘basic tonic’ and sounding as a monotonous, meditative drone — which must be set perfectly on the ‘tambura’ to suit a singer's voice or the tone of a soloist’s instrument.
In a dynamic sense, the sruti is like a smooth road along which the traffic must flow in an orderly fashion — or like an insulated cable through which an electric current flows. ‘Sruti suddham' or ‘purity of sruti’ is considered to be one of the hallmarks of excellence in Indian music, including our film music.
While such built-in regulation is a vitally important factor, it is not the only significant purpose served by the sruti, which has another equally basic function. In a static sense, the sruti is like a canvas on which music is painted. Just as the texture of the canvas has a bearing on the quality of the picture, the sound of the sruti affects the quality of the music. Being an integral part of the music, it needs to be heard properly with high fidelity not only by the musicians (for regulating their performance), but also by the audience (for refining their perception).
It’s a well-known fact that Hindustani musicians as a rule are extremely sensitive to this aspect of the sound of music and usually take enormous trouble to ensure that the sruti not only sounds perfect, but is also properly audible to the audience. They tend to spend a lot of time setting the sruti and tuning their instruments separately and precisely for each of the selected melodies -- and in the hands of some maestros, such exercises even sound like lovely preludes to the actual music which follows! And often they have two tanpurs in place instead of just one, so that the sound of the sruti is effectively heard by the rasikas. This is by and large true even today.
Moreover, the tanpurs (tamburas in Carnatic music) serve yet another purpose besides producing the sound of the sruti. They create a classic and visually pleasing impression of the whole musical ensemble. Can you visualise an authentic picture of Tyagaraja or Tansen without this basic instrument, hand-held or somewhere in the background? In general, Hindustani musicians are very conscious of this aesthetic aspect also.
In contrast, even traditionally (starting at least from around the middle of the 20th century) Carnatic musicians have never cared much for the sound of the sruti. True, they would like to hear it themselves, for anchoring their music to the proper pitch; but they generally don’t worry about whether the sruti sounds proper and pleasing to the audience. In fact, by unduly raising the volume of the sruti through separate microphones, they often manage to make it sound quite unpleasant, and sometimes even jarring! This happens to be all the more true today, even in the case of some very seasoned musicians. The overall indifference shown by the performers to the sound of the sruti is shocking.(There are, of course, some exceptions!).
Moreover, for the past 30 years or so, Carnatic musicians have been inclined to give up the good old tambura altogether, and use electronic devices instead, often with disastrous consequences. So let us next take a close look at the menace of the sruti-box!
( To be continued )
