Surely we must have all observed how nature’s movements are different. The gentle sound of the breeze as it caresses the leaves of a tree may be different from the howling sound of the wind during a cyclone. On the same lines, when it comes to the sounds of the stillness in nature, we would have come across the changing colours and texture of the sky.
Paying attention to these nuances of nature, the Hindustani music constructed the tangible and intangible aspects of the melodic framework, the ragas. The tangible aspects of the raga are technical like the number of notes used and the arrangement of notes in ascending and descending scales. The intangible aspects are the relationship that the notes share with one another and with other ragas giving it a personality and emotion. It also includes certain adherences to traditional practices.
Without much ado, let us listen to what Pandit Chetan Joshi, a noted Hindustani flautist, shares on a few specialities in the melodic framework of Bhairavi. But before that, it is important as rasikas to be informed that Bhairavi’s presence exists in Western, Hindustani as well as Carnatic musical traditions. From a feeling space, Bhairavi has the potential to evoke the sentiments of serenity and compassion, setting the stage for anyone to immediately immerse into its devotional qualities of form to experience true beauty. It also has the capacity to invoke a melancholic side hidden within a rasika. To any listener, Bhairavi as a raga has a tendency to deflect the gaze from outward to inward. Undoubtedly, this raga facilitates self-introspection and personal reflection. Hence, Shyama Shastri used this raga to describe Kamakshi, which we saw in the last edition.
Going beyond the feel of the raga, Chetan explains, “Apart from being a heptatonic, or sampoorna raga, all notes of Bhairavi in Hindustani music are komal svaras. This would mean: the melodic construct of the raga consists of the lower frequency positions of the notes in space, giving Bhairavi a special status of being sada suhagan raag (meaning eternally auspicious).”
For the unvered, in Hindustani music, among the various ways in which ragas are classified, one popularly followed by performing artistes is how a raga is chosen for a concert. Here, the textual aspect of tradition has classified ragas based on time of the day; wherein, Bhairavi falls in the pratham prahar, or the early morning cycle in the ashta prahar cycle of time. However, the practitioners have found that the melodic range and scope of Bhairavi is such that it need not be restricted to only sunrise and can be sung during any time of the day. The melodic quality of Bhairavi has elevated it to be eternally auspicious.
Chetan continues, “In Hindustani tradition there are some concert protocols usually followed. The protocol associated with the usage of Bhairavi raag in concert presentation is that: only the artiste who is concluding the concert could choose to perform Bhairavi.” When questioned if such protocols are relevant today, he explained just as it was done to him by his mentor Ajay Chakraborty. “Before the Mahabharata war breaks out, Arjun would release an arrow that would land on Bhishma’s chariot wheel as a gesture of bowing down. In response, Bhishma would return an arrow, striking the umbrella of Arjun’s chariot giving his blessings. Such gestures are important in the concert space as a show of mutual respect.”
Not just that, apparently, this analogy is applied as a protocol for two reasons. Firstly, the emotional resonance of Bhairavi being so mellifluous, allows an artiste to effortlessly fulfill the required goals of the concert. And so, any suddha svara of a raga cannot even be attempted after Bhairavi. Therefore, as a mark of respect to the artiste following, Bhairavi is avoided by the first performer. Secondly, the sweetness of Bhairavi’s notes are apt as a gesture of bowing down to the audience, taking their permission to leave before the curtain falls. It is clear, protocols in traditions have a deeper ethos and are an ornamental aspect of our culture.
Wrapping up, Indian classical musicians are like visual artistes!
The forms they paint are the ragas they choose. The unusual aspect of the painting they create is that the canvas is the mindscape of every listener present inside and outside the auditorium. And, while the artiste picks the colours and splashes it on the canvas, the listeners are allowed to co-create with the musician. With the colours given to them, the audience are free to add their shades and textures to the form. In a certain way, the artiste and the audience are collaborating, meeting in a suspended realm, where the form is created and recreated continuously. If the musician is painting a cloud, the audiences are free to imagine it as cirrus, nimbus, or cumulus. Similarly, if the music is pouring down as rain, the audience can bring in their own flavour to the rain from their lived experience. At the end of the concert, while the painting created by the artiste disappears into thin air, the one created by the audience remains forever in their mindscape as a memory.