Psychology defines intelligence in various ways, one of which highlights the coordination and interplay between the left and right hemispheres of the brain. If this is true, the performance of two classical musicians on stage can be described as a stunning display of intelligence. The tabla, mridangam, ghattam, or any percussion instrument responsible for the ‘laya’ or ‘taala’ symbolises the left brain.
The ‘taala’ adheres to a strict cycle of beats—whether it consists of 7, 8, or 16 beats—it remains consistent throughout the performance. This rhythm is sacrosanct, rooted in a rigid mathematical structure that embodies pure logic. It forms the backbone of the music, dividing the composition into segments. Every beat is meticulously calculated, and its trajectory predictable, adhering to established patterns that signify analytical precision.
For instance, a cycle of 6 beats will always conclude in a predictable manner. While the rhythm permits slight variations—such as adjusting the timing between two beats, omitting certain beats, or improvising within the structure—the underlying framework remains constant. This consistency reflects the left brain's focus on pattern recognition, number crunching, and logic. No matter how creative or experimental the performance may seem, the rhythmic framework persists, guiding the musicians with meticulous order.
I invite you to immerse yourself in a tabla solo performance for thirty minutes. You might feel inclined to give up after just ten, unless the intricate mathematics of rhythm captivates you. Observe how those sixteen beats divide into smaller segments, where an extension in one compensates for a contraction in another, all culminating perfectly on the first beat, time after time.
Heraclitus famously described the soul as a mixture of fire and water, where fire symbolises good deeds, and a dry soul—devoid of water—represents nobility. While I wouldn’t categorise ‘Laya’ and ‘Sur’ as noble or ignoble, this analogy conveys a powerful message. A dry soul, though noble, remains parched, missing the joys and pleasures of life—those moments of happiness that quench our thirst for existence. Such experiences, often deemed ignoble, serve to moisten the soul. Here, the tabla's ‘taala’ acts as the bedrock of music, laying down a foundation that is undeniably dry, yet necessary.
Now, let us shift our focus to melody—the flute, sitar, santoor, sarangi, violin, and countless other sources of pure bliss. This realm belongs to the right brain, following a free path of imagination, creativity, and storytelling. The melody, too, is bound by the same seven notes (or twelve if we include half notes). Yet, within these constraints lies an expanse of possibilities—the highs and lows, permutations and combinations of notes, variations in speed and texture, and the art of delay—inducing audiences’ anticipation for the closure via that one last note. This vibrant expression is akin to the right brain on steroids, adding colour to the canvas where beats provide structure. It serves as the moisture for the soul, enriching the experience and inviting indulgence.
When the gap between melodies stretches too long, the soul yearns for more. A ‘raaga’ can unfold over hours, its intricate improvisations a testament to centuries of exploration. For thousands of years, these ‘raagas’ have been reimagined in countless ways, creating an ever-expanding tapestry of sound that is nearly impossible to fully track.
While some overlap exists between rhythm and melody, understanding this nuance elevates a musician to mastery. Few tabla Ustaads, such as Ustad Zakir Hussain, Pandit Kishan Maharaj, and Pandit Anindo Chatterjee, have achieved extraordinary artistry where the tabla transcends mere beats to attain a voice. It becomes more than just a percussion instrument; it chants words and conveys emotion. This transformation reflects a profound commitment to the art form, breaking free from the conventional view that the tabla merely follows a fixed pattern of beats.
Such experimentation broadens the tabla’s scope, shifting its essence from a purely left-brained function toward a balanced integration with the right brain. While our country may boast countless tabla players, only a select few truly embody musicality—intelligently navigating their craft by striking a balance between rhythm's fire and melody's water.
A similar dynamic occurs within the realm of melody. While it may appear creative and imaginative, every raaga is governed by specific restrictions, such as ‘chalan’, ‘aroha’, ‘avroha’, ‘vaadi’, ‘samvaadi’, and notes that must be avoided. For example, in ‘Raaga Bihag’, one cannot emphasize “Rishabh” (Re) and “Dhaivat” (Dha). In ‘Raaga Des’, the ‘Nishad’ (Ni) is ‘shuddha’ in ‘aroha’ but shifts to ‘Komal Nishad’ in ‘avroha’. In ‘Raaga Hansadhwani’, both ‘Madhyam’ (Ma) and ‘Dhaivat’ (Dha) are excluded, while in ‘Raaga Bhupali’, both ‘Madhyam’ and ‘Nishad’ are forbidden.
These guidelines serve as foundational rules, but our ancestors recognised that these raagas evoke specific moods. Certain phrases and notes are more adept at inducing particular emotional responses. Though we may not possess the ability to identify such intricate details, we adhere to these rules to achieve our musical goals. This introduces a layer of logic to melody, activating the left brain.
A beginner may feel overwhelmed by these restrictions, questioning their rationale. They might argue that such limitations stifle their creative expression. However, a true master embraces these restrictions before mastering the freedoms of their art. They paint their musical canvas while honouring the purity of our cultural heritage and the wisdom of our ancestors.
Ultimately, a classical music performance exemplifies the intelligence derived from blending the left brain (rhythm) with the right brain (melody). However, a performance by the masters of the craft transcends this basic confluence, symbolising a deeper level of intelligence. In their hands, the creativity of the right brain is intricately woven into the tabla, ghattam, or mridangam, while the discipline and logic of the left brain elevate the rich melodies of the flute, sitar, and santoor. This nuanced expression of intelligence shines brightly in both categories of musicians individually, highlighting that mastery is not merely a fusion of two distinct forms but rather a sophisticated interplay where each element stands as a testament to profound artistic understanding.
Vivan Pande
Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and are not intended to spread misinformation or manipulate anyone. The information provided is based on the author's knowledge to the best of their ability. Readers are advised to conduct their own research and seek professional advice as needed. The author takes no responsibility for any actions taken based on this article.