A couple of weeks ago (June 18) in this column I had noted the importance and indispensability of the element of sruti in Carnatic and Hindustani music. It is a continuous drone that forms a kind of backdrop of sound, which naturally affects the impact of a presentation.
On reading that article online, my friend S. Rangarajan (alias RJ), who lives in the U.S., and who occasionally writes in this newspaper on artistic and Russian themes, reminded me by e-mail that “the magazine devoted to cover various aspects of music is aptly given the name Sruti, so as to emphasise that sruti is the soul of music.”
His message did serve to remind me that the element of drone is not unique to Indian music but that it can be found in other musical systems also, including Western classical and pop. The basic difference is that while it is an optional element in other systems, it is an integral and indispensable part of Indian classical music.
A significant fact which must be noted in this context is that the sound of the drone in our traditional system is not just a series of plain notes, but has a certain trembling resonance caused by very short strips of fine cotton or silk yarn tied intricately to a tambura’s strings. When I say that the sruti must be properly audible not only to the musicians but also to the listeners, I do imply that these subtle vibrations of sound must be distinctly heard by them and get registered in their consciousness. In fact, the process of tuning a tambura calls for extremely fine adjustments of those fluttering bits of yarn, so as to ensure the right kind of vibrations and resonance.
There used to be a time when the tambura-player was a minor musician in his own right, because he or she had to have a perfectly steady hand to pluck the strings properly and let the sound of the sruti flow evenly, a perfect ear to stay sensitively tuned to any slackening of the tone and adequate skill to re-tune the instrument accurately from time to time.
But with the invention of the electronic sruti-box, organisers of Carnatic music concerts began to find it more convenient and less expensive to use the gadget rather than engage a person to play the tambura. Unfortunately the musicians (including the greatest and most popular ones among them) didn’t seem to mind, and were glad enough to co-operate with the organisers without realising the risk they were running of undermining the quality of their own music.
Moreover, gradual and marginal improvements in the concerned technology somehow tended to create an impression that the sound of the sruti-box too was progressively improving, although this was an illusion. Anyway, it does induce Carnatic musicians to carry their own sruti-box wherever they perform and it has become a standard item in their personal baggage today. Oh, it is so compact and convenient and it makes them look so tech-savvy and sophisticated! Some of them have even started using two boxes instead of one, and placing them very close to the microphones to fortify the sruti as it falls on their own ears. Then why worry about the trivial question of how it sounds in the ears of the audience?
No wonder the magic box has turned into a menace!
