The Music of Hindostan c13: Chapter VIII. Tāla
The Music of Hindostan c13
- Language
- English
Contents
- c13.s1 I. Language — 11 parts
- c13.s2 II. Verse — 106 parts
- c13.s3 III. Musical Time — 145 parts
Chapter VIII. Tāla
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LANGUAGE, VERSE, MUSICAL TIME
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From Helicon’s harmonious springs
A thousand rills their mazy progress take:
The laughing flowers that round them blow,
Drink life and fragrance as they flow.
GRAY.
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Musical time is in India, more obviously than elsewhere, a development from the prosody and metres of poetry. The insistent demands of language and the idiosyncrasies of highly characteristic verse haunt the music like ‘a Presence which is not to be put by’. The time-relations of music are affected both by the structure of the language, and by the method of versification which ultimately derives from it. Without pretension to any minute acquaintance with these, a sketch of their bearings upon musical time is here attempted.
I. Language
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Those who spoke and speak Sanskrit have shown the delicate appreciation they had of minute phonetic changes. They have introduced modifications of the word to suit every emergency of context, and have recorded these with a precision to which Europe is a stranger. We may acquaint ourselves theoretically with the characteristics of the language, but it requires an effort to feel their effect and therefore to realize the force of the music which suits it. What we find difficult is to make a syllable long without putting a stress on it, or to put a stress at will on any short syllable; we do not easily imagine the effect of a language which is quantitative and not (or only slightly) accentual. In setting such a word as *Ălăkălăllă*, an Englishman would certainly put the fourth syllable on the musical accent, because he would think at once of *Abracadábra*, confusing duration with stress. It has been set in an Indian song:
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Tāl Rūpak.
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Ex. 308. A-la-ka-lā-lla lā-da-
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and could no doubt have been set in other ways provided the fourth syllable were *longer* than the others; and we notice that it does not disturb the singer that the first syllable, which is short, comes on the accent, while the two long syllables (*lā*) come one of them off and the other on the accent; but both are kept long, and all the short syllables are kept short in the music. It is moreover set not in 6/8, as the sound of the word would have suggested to us that it should be, but in 3/4, which further throws a slight emphasis on the syllable *ka-*, because, as we shall see, the beat comes there. Not that a long syllable invariably has a long note, especially if two or three of them come together; but it does as a rule.
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In our poetry we do not know long and short, only stressed and unstressed syllables. When Keats writes:
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Upon the sodden ground
His old right hand lay nerveless, listless, dead,
Unsceptred;
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there is hardly a syllable that we can call longer than the others, unless perhaps ‘ground’. But there are several places where we pause between the words, making up a kind of imaginary musical time. We lengthen out the last syllable of ‘sodden’ because of the next word. If that word had been ‘earth’, ‘sodden’ would have gone quicker. As it is, a little more emphasis is laid on ‘sódden ground’ than would be the case in ‘sodden earth’; and the same thing happens with ‘nerveless, listless’, where the difficulty of pronouncing one word after the other makes us pause a little at the termination and so throw a slightly greater emphasis on the root of the word.
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All this is unlike Sanskrit. If we could imagine these syllables to occur in their poetry they would all be long by position—sōddēn grōūnd. ‘Nerveless, listless, dead’ would be altered to ‘nerveleh, listleh, dead’, the whole idea of the line being to run smoothly on as if it were one word, and not to aim at what we prize, the variety imported into it by the irregular stresses. Consequently rests are seldom written (except in order to break up the metre intentionally in a dramatic way) in any of their songs, at any rate not, as we should, on account of the words:
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Tāl Ādi.
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EX. 304. En - ta mud-dō . . en - ta - sō-ga-sō . . En-ta - &c.
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A European would probably have put a rest at the end of each word. They appear to take breath when they want it, not at the end of words; but it would require an intimate knowledge of the various languages to be sure of this.
II. Verse
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Sanskrit metres fall into two main classes: (1) those which consist of quarter-verses (*pāda*) of a given number of syllables, and (2) those which consist of verses of a given number of feet, each foot having a given time-length which is reached by equivalence. The first are called ‘syllable-fixed’ (*varṇavṛtta*), the second ‘time-unit-fixed’ (*mātrāvṛtta*).
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In the first class (*varṇavṛtta*), when the *pāda* does not exceed eight syllables most of them are of optional quantity; when it exceeds eight the quantity of every syllable is fixed. The typical metre of this class with an eight syllable *pāda* is the *śloka*, the ‘flowing’ measure. The following lines constitute the first two *ślokas* of Bharata’s *Nāṭyaśāstram* (28th *adhyāya*):
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tātām caivāvaṇaddhām că | ghănām śūṣirăm ēvă că
cătūrvidhām tū vijñēyăm | ātōdyām lākṣaṇānvĭtăm (1)
tātām tāntrīkṛtām jñēyam | avanaddham tū pauśkărăm
ghănām tālās tū vijñēyăḥ | śūṣirō vāṃśă ēvă că (2)
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The first two lines make a verse marked off into quarter-verses. Though the normal verse is a distich, an occasional tristich or three-line unity is, as in Scott’s ballad metre, not excluded. The sense ends with the couplet, which includes, as in Pope’s heroic metre, both the subject and the predicate of the sentence. Out of the sixteen syllables in the line only four are fixed by rule as regards quantity. These are marked below the words in the example; the quantity of the other syllables is optional; and the two lines of the *śloka* are independent of one another as regards this distribution.
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But it is difficult to realize the prosody of a language which is not familiar. The scansion may therefore be illustrated in any language which, like Latin, distinguishes quantity. The quantity of these particular lines is accordingly reproduced in the following rule for the versification of the *śloka*:
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Hăbēnt pērnīcĭtātēmqŭē : pēdūm mōdūmqŭē cārmĭnă.
Mōdīs brēvēsqŭē lōngīqŭē : mīscēntūr vērsīpēllĭbūs.
Brēvīs qūīntūs lōcūs, sūmmō īn : pēdē dūplēx īāmbŭs ēst.
Brēvī lōngāvē mōmēntă : sōnāntūr vōcē cāetēră.¹
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¹ ‘The verses contain feet which are at once measured and flowing. Longs and shorts are mingled by chameleon-like measures. The fifth place is short; there is a di-iambus in the last foot. The other syllables are sounded either long or short.’
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Even this, however, is not quite satisfactory, as Latin does not convey the sonority of the ubiquitous *ā* sound in the Sanskrit, or the final thud of such a word as *lakṣananvitam*, which is more heavily stressed than the final of, for instance, *pedum*.²
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² When sung, the note to which it is set is hummed on the *m* and not vocalized on the *a*.
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The *śloka*, or *anuṣṭubh* (‘with regular stops’) is the most famous of all Sanskrit metres. There are two other typical examples of a *pāda* with 8, or less, syllables—the *gāyatrī* (‘singing’) of 3 × 8 = 24 syllables, and the *uṣṇih* (‘hymn’) of 4 × 7 = 28, which like the *śloka* have a large number of optional quantities and only a few fixed.
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When the *pāda* is of more than 8 syllables—as in the *triṣṭubh* (‘with three stops’) and the *jagatī* (‘lively’), of 11 and 12 syllables respectively, and various others up to 21 or more syllables—all the quantities are fixed. Couplets of these greater lengths are usually written in stanzas of four lines, and the lines are in modern poetry rhymed. Here is an instance of the *triṣṭubh* genus (11 syllabled); it has the poetical name of ‘the thunderbolt of Indra’ (*Upendravajra*), and is in Marathi (rhymed):
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Nā-hēṇ nābhō-māṇḍălă, vārī-rāsī,
Nā tārākā, phēnsăcī hā tăyāsī,
Nā cāndrāhā, nāvācī cālătāhē,
Nā ānkă tō, tīvără sīdă āhē.
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Metre, Upendravajra.
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◡ — ◡ — — ◡ — ◡ — ◡ —
Not this the sky-vault, but a li-quid o-cean;
Not stars we see span-gle, but flecks of sea-foam;
No moon a-loft glides, but a ship; and those spots
Masts, that the wind bends as she runs be-fore it.
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Ex. 305. Na heṇ na-bho-maṇ - ḍa-la vā - ri - rā - śī
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Musical notation with lyrics: Na tā . . ra - kā, pheṇ - sa - ci hā ta - yā - śī
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Musical notation with lyrics: Na can - dra hā, nā - va - ci cā - la - tā - he . .
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Musical notation with lyrics: Na an - ka to tī - va - ra śī - da ā - he.
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It will be noticed that the line is composed of the first half of an Alcaic (◡ — ◡ — —) and the second half of a Sapphic (◡ ◡ — ◡ — ◡). And there is a pretty story of Alcaeus having sent Sappho a line which began, similarly, in his metre and ended in hers:
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Alcaic.
Ĭ - ō - plŏk’ āg - nā mēl - lī - chŏ - mēi - dě Sāp - phōi¹
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¹ Dark tress'd, chaste, dimpled Sappho!
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Sapphic.
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which, but for the fifth syllable, is exactly the metre Upendravajra. It does not spoil the grace of the valentine if we fancy that its metre was one of many Aryan memories that lingered on in the Hellenic consciousness.
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Upendravajra is read thus:
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Nă-hēṇ năbhō- | māndălă | vārī-rāśī
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as the arrangement of the words in the four lines of Marathi shows This is of the form *a + b + a'*, in which *a'* is *a* taken backwards, and *b* is a well-contrasted member of the line. This suggests an interesting reading of the scansion of Alcaic and Sapphic stanzas, both of them forms about which it is difficult to make up one's mind:
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| *Sapphic.* | | |
| Iam satis ter | rīs | : nĭvĭs | atque dirae | *a + b + a* |
| Grandinis mi | sīt | : Pătēr, | et rubente | *a + b + a* |
| Dextera sa | crās | : iăcŭ | latus arces, | *a + b + a* |
| | Tērrŭĭt | urbem. | *b + a/2* |
| *Alcaic.* | | |
| Vides ut alta | stēt nĭvě cāndĭdŭm | *c + d* |
| Soracte, nec iam | sūstĭnēānt ŏnŭs | *c + d* |
| Silvae laboran | | { *c + c* |
| | antes, geluque | { overlapping |
| Flūmĭnă cōnstĭtĕ | | { *d + c* |
| | stiterint acuto. | { overlapping |
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where the masculine element, as it were (in the Sapphic – ◡ – –, in the Alcaic – – ◡ – –), balances the feminine (in the Sapphic one dactyl, in the Alcaic two). The *caesura*, shown in the Sapphic by the dotted line, and coinciding with the other division in the Alcaic, is at the corresponding place after the fifth syllable in the true Sanskrit form of *Upendravajra*,
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– – ◡ | – ⁝ ◡ ◡ | – ◡ – ◡
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and it is this clash between the formal and the free manner of reading it that gives it much of its charm.
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Meanwhile, Indians themselves scan the lines on a different plan. They have a useful *memoria technica*:
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Yă-mā-tā-rā-jă-bhā-nă-să-lă-gām.
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Taking these syllables in threes they arrive at names for all feet of three syllables composed of longs and shorts:
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| Yămātā | bacchic. |
| Mātārā | molossus. |
| Tārājă | antibacchic. |
| Rājăbhā | cretic. |
| Jăbhānă | amphibrach. |
| Bhānăsă | dactyl. |
| Năsălă | tribrach. |
| Sălăgām | anapaest. |
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The first syllable of each word is all that is generally used. The last two syllables of the line (not necessary for that purpose) represent the words *laghu* (short) and *guru* (long). Accordingly four more feet of two syllables can be named:
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| Lălă | pyrrhic. |
| Lăgā | iambus. |
| Gălă | trochee. |
| Gāgā | spondee. |
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and the line
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Nă-hēṇ năbhō-māndălă, vārīrāśī,
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is scanned
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Jăbhānă, Tārājă, Jăbhānă, Gāgā.
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or, for short,
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jajagau¹
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¹ *Gau* is the dual of *ga*. There is a similar *memoria technica* for the 2⁴ = 16 varieties of four-syllable feet, ◡ – – –, – – – –, &c., used in the *śloka* and elsewhere.
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There are many dozens of metres with fixed length of syllable like *Upendravajra*. Here are two or three more which are in common use:
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*Vasanta-tilaka*. 14 syllables. Caesura not given. (ta-bha-ja-ja-gala)
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◡ ◡ — — ◡ ◡ — ◡ — ◡ — —
Ha chandra ma ugavalā gaganā pradīpa
A - he - ta shukta, guru, mangala jya samipa
Tya cha prakāśa bharata gagano daranta
To andha kara lapala giriga - bharanta.
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(Cp. Ex. 280.)
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*Śikhariṇī*. 17 syllables. (ya-ma-na-sa-bha-laga)
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◡ — — — — ◡ ◡ ◡ ◡ — ◡ — ◡ — —
Bhalyacya sangenen avaguna ase toguna dise
Khalyacya sangenen suguna tari to lopata ase
Jaseṇ khareṇ pani piuni ganateṇ goḍa kariti
Phani dugdha teṇci piuni garala teṇci vamati.
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Metre, Śikhariṇī.
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◡ — — — — ◡ ◡ ◡ ◡ — ◡ — ◡ — —
1 A good man's our firm friend,
2 A bad man's our false friend,
3 For so clouds drink salt brine
4 And so snakes drink sweet milk,
◡ — — — — ◡ ◡ ◡ ◡ — ◡ — ◡ — —
1 and ev - 'ry lit - tle fault soon will be for - got;
2 and ev - 'ry bud - ding vir - tue will droop and die.
3 from ev - 'ry lit - tle wave-crest, and make it sweet;
4 and ev - 'ry drop be - comes poi - son at the last.
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Rāg Bhūp. Tāl Tevra. (3+2+2.)
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Ex. 306. Bha-lyā - chyā san - gā - neṇ . . . a-va-gu-ṇa a - se to . . . gu-ṇa di se. . . . Kha-lā - chyā san - gā - neṇ . . . su-gu-ṇa ta - ri to lo - - - - pa-ta a - se . . . Ja - seṇ khā-reṇ pā ṇī . . . pi-u - ni gha-na-teṇ go - -
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Musical notation with lyrics: ḍa ka-ri-tī. . . . Pha-ṇī du-gdhā-teṇ - hī. . . . pi-u-ni ga-ra-lā - teṇ - - - - chi va-ma-tī. . .
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*Śārdula-vikrīḍita*. 19 syllables.
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— — ◡ — ◡ ◡ — ◡ — — — ◡ — ◡ — ◡ — Doḷyaṇṇiṇ baghatoṇ dhvani parisatoṇ kaniṇ padoṇ calatoṇ Jivheneṇ rasa chakatoṇ madhura hi vace amhi bolatoṇ Ha taṇṇiṇ bahusala kama karitoṇ viśranti hi dhyāvaya Ghetoṇ jhompa sukheṇ phiromi uthatoṇ hi īśvara cadaya.
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Metre, Śārdula-vikrīḍita. — — ◡ — ◡ ◡ — ◡ — — — ◡ — ◡ — ◡ —
1. Ḍō - lyaṇ - ṇiṇ ba - gha - toṇ dhva - ni pa - ri - sa - toṇ Sweet these sounds in our ears, and sweet the ma - ny sights — — ◡ — ◡ ◡ — ◡ — — — ◡ — ◡ — ◡ —
1. ka - niṇ pa - doṇ ca - la - toṇ that greet our eyes voy - a - ging.
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**Ex. 307.** (Cp. Exs. 226, 253, 254.)
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Musical notation with lyrics: 1 & 2. Ḍō - lyaṇ - ṇiṇ . . ba-gha-tōṇ dhva-nī pa-ri-sa - Hā tāṇ - ṇiṇ . . ba-hu-sā - la kā - ma ka-ri -
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Musical notation with lyrics: 1. Sweet these sounds in . . our ears, and sweet the ma-ny
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Musical notation with lyrics: 2. Sweet these u - ses . . of hands and feet and ev'-ry
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Musical notation with lyrics: 1 & 2. - tōṇ kā - ṇiṇ pa - dōṇ . . chā - - - la - - tōṇ vi - shrāṇ - ti hī. . . dhyā - - va -
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Musical notation with lyrics: 1. sights that greet our . . . eyes voy - - - -
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Musical notation with lyrics: 2. limb, and sweet to lie . . . . . . down to
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1 & 2. (Musical notation)
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- tōn . . . Jī - vhe - neṇ . . . . . . .
- yā . . : Ghē - tōn - jhōm . . . . . . .
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1. (Musical notation)
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- - a-ging; Sweet this taste . . . . . . . . on the
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2. (Musical notation)
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rest . . . All these gifts . . . . . . . . are our
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1 & 2. (Musical notation)
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ra-sa chā - ka tōn . . . . . . . ma-dhu-ra - hī
- pa su-khēṇ phi - ro . . . . . . . mi u-tha tōn
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1. (Musical notation)
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tongue, and sweet . . . . . . . the rea-dy power . . .
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2. (Musical notation)
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own, and His . . . who, in our souls, dwells
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1 & 2. (Musical notation)
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vā chē - - - - - - am-hī bo - la - tōn. hī īś - - - - - - va-rā - chā - da - yā.
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1. (Musical notation)
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. . of so - - - ci-able col - - - lo-quy
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2. (Musical notation)
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. . im - - - - - - ma-nent, life - giv-ing.
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The characteristic of the other great class of Sanskrit metres, those measured by time-unit (*mātrāvṛtta*), lies in the principle of equivalence, that is, in the fact which we are familiar with in the hexameter, that two shorts take the time of one long. *Mātrā* means instant, or unit; what the Greeks called ‘Chronos prōtos’, the ‘first’ or smallest ‘duration’ from which you start reckoning. Each foot contains four mātrās, and its prosodial possibilities are:
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Proceleusmaticus ◡ ◡ ◡ ◡ Amphibrach ◡ — ◡ Dactyl — ◡ ◡ Anapaest ◡ ◡ — Spondee — —
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The general effect of the Āryā, which is the typical metre of this class, is much that of hexameters or elegiacs, though the details are very different.
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Poetry, then, bases the verse on the unit of (1) the syllable (akṣara¹), less or more fixed, and (2) the time-length (mātrā) treated as the basis of equivalent combinations. Music similarly has two clearly defined stages, when time was reckoned (1) by akṣara and (2) by mātrā.
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¹ Lit. ‘imperishable’, in the sense perhaps of the ‘irreducible minimum’; Sanskrit syllables are, of course, one consonant (simple or compound) plus one vowel (simple or diphthong). Cf. Aristot. Met. xiii. 1. 7, p. 1087 b, Basis hē syllabē. Aristoxenus knows nothing of the syllable as a unit of rhythm.
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Reckoning by akṣara, that is, by the number of notes in a period (parvan). The parvan, as we shall see in the chapter on the Sāman chant, is the amount that can be conveniently sung in a breath, and the akṣaras which fill it are there of two kinds—long (dīrgha) and short (hrasva)—and occasionally the long note is intensified or lengthened, or both of these, in which case it is called vṛddhā (increased). Secular music similarly starts from a long (guru) and a short (laghu) note, and adds on one side the prolate note (pluta) and on the other the quick note (druta, from dru, to run). The laghu is then taken as the unit (mātrā), and the four notes have relative value, thus:
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| O | Druta | ½ mātrā | ♪ |
| | | | |
| | Laghu | 1 mātrā | ♩ |
| S | Guru | 2 mātrās | d |
| 3 | Pluta | 3 mātrās | d. |
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To these is added the rest (virāma), which is the equivalent of the druta,² and is marked thus: 𝛿, and 𝛾. It does not occur with the guru (S) or the pluta (3).
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² Day says that its value was not definitely stated by his authority. It seems
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The Ratnākara gives 120 examples of such periods as may be formed by combinations of these four values, varying in length from one note to nineteen notes. Another authority gives 108. It is clear that this list is not meant to be exhaustive, for it does not reach a millionth part of the possibilities; and it is also clear that the four measurements of music (or five including the virāma) cannot directly represent the two dimensions (long and short) of poetry. So that not all of these can represent poetical metres (though some may) and that for others there must be some other explanation. A list of forty-two specimens is given in Day; but as that book is now scarce a few typical ones taken at haphazard are given here:
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| No. of syllables or notes. | Name. | Indian and European notations. |
| 1 | Ekatālī | O 𝅘𝅥𝅮 |
| 3 | Pratāp | 𝅘𝅥𝅮 O 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅗𝅥 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 |
| 5 | Rangapradīpakaḥ | 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅗𝅥 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅗𝅥 𝅗𝅥 𝅗𝅥 𝅗𝅥 𝅗𝅥. |
| 10 | Layaḥ | 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅗𝅥 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅗𝅥 𝅗𝅥 𝅗𝅥. 𝅗𝅥. 𝅗𝅥. 𝅗𝅥 𝅗𝅥. 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 |
| 19 | Miśravarnaḥ | O O O 𝅘𝅥𝅮 O O O O 𝅘𝅥𝅮 O O O O 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 S O O 𝅗𝅥 𝅗𝅥 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅗𝅥. 𝅗𝅥 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅘𝅥𝅮 𝅗𝅥 𝅗𝅥 |
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(An instance of 𝅘𝅥𝅮 is not included here because its value is not certain.)
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The names do not help us. They are often merely picturesque appellations. Where they have a recognizable meaning it is sometimes refuted by the accompanying signs; thus Jhampa tāla and Marnt tāla both occur, but the signs show them to be quite different from the modern Tāls of those names. Possibly the explanation, but it can only be a guess, may be that the longer tālas represent the rhythm of good recitation of well-known verses or mantras. It is clear that in our own poetry, for instance, longs and shorts do not represent to be defined in the Ratnākara where (adhy. 5 śl. 258) ‘a druta followed by a rest is a detached mātrā’ (i. e. laghu); though if this can be held to imply that the laghu followed by a rest is a detached guru the value of the rest is relative to that of the note which it follows.
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all the distinctions we make in good reading. When we read aloud:
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1. Of man's first disobedience, and the fruit
2. Of that forbidden tree, whose mortal taste
3. Brought death into the world and all our woes
4. With loss of Eden, till one greater man
5. Restore us and regain the blissful seats,
6. Sing heavenly Muse.
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our voice travels somewhat as follows:
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and such clusters of notes have a sort of family resemblance to those we are discussing.
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This may account for the longer groups given in our list, but not for the short ones; it may account for layaḥ, for instance, which is much like the cadence of a Sāman (or of one of our mediaeval hymns), but not for ekatāli. We will examine some of these shorter ones. The first five in the list given in the Ratnākara, and these alone, are named by the first five ordinal numbers—Adi, dvitīyaḥ, tṛtīyaḥ, caturthaḥ, pañcamaḥ—just as the notes of the Sāman chant were named prathamaḥ, dvitīyaḥ, tṛtīyaḥ, caturthaḥ. It is possible that they were felt to represent more fundamental distinctions than those tālas which have what we may call a fancy name. They are:
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| Name. | Indian symbol. | European symbol. |
| āditālaḥ | | ♩ |
| ¹ dvitīyaḥ | O O | ♩ ♩ ♩ |
| ¹ tṛtīyaḥ | O O 𝛿 | ♩ ♩ ♩ ♩ |
| ¹ caturthaḥ | | ♩ ♩ ♩ ♩ |
| pañcamaḥ | O O | ♩ ♩ |
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¹ These are given differently by Day. But the Ratnākara is a good authority, and there is no doubt as to the meaning of the text.
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If the explanation of the longer groups as typical examples of recitation was correct, the time-values of the several notes may well have been somewhat indefinite; we do not feel in the example from Milton that the musical notes present our style of reading more than approximately, nor that we should invariably read it so. In reciting a whole sentence the structure of one word reacts imperceptibly on the pronunciation of the next and interferes with the time-value. But these short groups cannot be sentences; they can at most be single words, and there is every probability that they represent exact time-values. And in passing from those to these we may be passing from the Cola, Commata, Membra, Incisiones, Distinctiones, &c., of the tenth century in Europe to the Modi, Proprietates, Perfectiones, and so forth of the fourteenth—from music which regulated its time-values by the words, to music which evolved its own values.
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What makes these five groups interesting is that they offer a connecting link between the prosodial feet given on p. 196 (*ya-ma-ta-ra*, &c.) and some of the fundamental principles of Indian musical time. In the second, third, and fourth of them we have all the eight three-syllable feet. *Dvitīyaḥ* represents, according to the note you begin upon, three of them, ◡ ◡ —, ◡ — ◡, — ◡ ◡; *tṛtīyaḥ* two more, ◡ ◡ ◡ and — — —; and *caturthaḥ* the remaining three, — — ◡, — ◡ —, and ◡ — —. *Pañcamaḥ* similarly represents ◡ ◡ and — —; and, according as one or other note is dwelt upon, ◡ — or — ◡ also. That this is the true view is made more likely by the position of *pañcamaḥ* after the others; for the two-syllable feet follow the three-syllable in the *memoria technica*. *Aditālaḥ* is placed first, as much as to say ‘this *laghu* (crotchet) you are to take as your unit (*mātra*) throughout the list’. We see also the genesis of the rest (‘): for, stress-accent being foreign to this versification, there would, without it, be nothing in a series of *tṛtīyaḥ*s to mark that they were to be taken in sets of three. This is borne out also by the comparative rarity of genuine Hindu songs which are in three time (it is commoner with Mohammedan); what we should call 3/8 and 6/8 are not unknown, but they are not favourite rhythms.
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But *caturthaḥ* introduces us suddenly to a five rhythm, instead of, as we should have expected, a three rhythm. It is interesting to see how this comes about. Since the earliest, and by far the most prevalent metre is the *śloka*, which primarily counted the syllables and only secondarily weighed them also, the number of syllables in a unity of any sort came to have a greater importance than we should naturally have attached to it. Hence, when only three syllables were taken together (leaving aside ◡ ◡ ◡ and — — — which we have already disposed of), the trisyllabic forms — ◡ ◡ and — — ◡, for instance (of four and five mātrās), seemed to be more nearly related to each other than the trisyllabic — ◡ ◡ and disyllabic — — (each of four mātrās). Similarly, it being possible to proceed from — ◡ ◡ (four mātrās) to — — ◡ (five mātrās) or to — ◡ (three mātrās), the former step which kept the number of syllables seemed more natural than the latter which changed it. This may give a hint as to the hitherto unexplained delight of the Greeks in five rhythm; but it would be going too far to assert that it is the origin of five rhythm in general; for this appears quite independently in places as remote, in more than a geographical sense, as Finland and the Malay Archipelago, and others.
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Reckoning by mātrā, that is, by the time unit and its multiples, or the principle of ‘equivalence’, launches us into the domain of
III. Musical Time
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The simplest unity after the solitary beat (āditālaḥ) is, as we saw, dvitīyaḥ (◡ ◡ —, ◡ — ◡, — ◡ ◡). This gives us the three ordinary distributions of the longs and shorts (crotchets and quavers) within the four-unit foot (beat), a certain number of which, generally four, make up the bar (āvard) or section of common time. The name Ādi is used for common time (transferred from the solitary beat). Further development within the beat takes place by resolving any long or short into any one of these feet. Thus:
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and similarly with
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and
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So that such a combination of notes as the look of which frightens us and the sound of which does not particularly appeal to us, appears to an Indian as quite an ordinary distribution of his accepted metrical units
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|| 1 ◡ ◡ | 2 ◡ ◡ | 3 ◡ ◡ | 4 ◡ ◡ ||
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in an *āvart*¹ of *Ādi tāla*. In fact, the main difficulty of realizing and enjoying the nice distinctions of Indian rhythm is that we have not acquired the habit of resolving mentally every unit into any distribution of its constituent elements so that we could sing them at a moment's notice or that they would instantly appeal to us when we heard them sung.
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¹ This word is translated by ‘bar’ or ‘section’ as the context seems to require : its literal meaning is ‘enclosure’. The smaller unit, or bar or half-bar, is a *vibhāg* (lit. division). Sanskrit, *āvarta* and *vibhāga*.
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Here are some instances of *Ādi*:
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Tāla Ādi. Rāg Jhinjoti. (1)
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Ex. 308.
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&c.
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(2) Rāg Dhīraśankarābharaṇa.
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Ma - ri - yā - - - - da gā - - - - - du-rā
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Ma - ri - yā - - - - da gā - - - - - du-rā
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Ma - ri - ya - - - da gā - - - - - &c.
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Rāg Dhīraśankarābharaṇa.
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Musical notation for (3) Rāg Dhīraśankarābharaṇa. Do-ru-ku-ṇa yi-ṭu vaṇ-ti śe-va Do-ru-ku-ṇa &c.
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Musical notation for (4) 1st. 2nd. O . . . . . . . Ran-ga śā-yi . . śā-yi . .
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Tālam Ādi. This Rāgam has E and A omitted in descent.
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(5) d = 72. Vivace.
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Musical notation for (5) d = 72. Vivace. Nin nē . . . . . . . bha-ja-na sē - - - yū . . vā - ḍa-nu Nin - - nē . . . . . . bha-ja-na . . sē - - - - yū . . vā - ḍa-nu Nin - - - nē . . . . . . . bha-ja - - na . . . . . . . . .
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But the section (āvard) need not synchronize with the bar (vibhāg); it may begin in the middle of the vibhāg, though, as with us, it seldom does. A more usual place for it to begin is on the last unit of the four. This kind is called Deśādi (foreign Ādi):
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Deśādi Tālam. (1) Ex. 309.
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Musical notation for Ex. 309. De - vā-di De - va sa-dā - śi - va . . De - vā - di De . . . va sa-dā - śi - va . . dī-na-nā - tha su - dhā &c.
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Musical notation for (2) Che-ra - rā va - de - mi-rā . . Rā-ma - yya che -
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2nd half.
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- - ra - rā va - de - mi - rā Me - ra - gā - du - rā i - ka ma [Figure: ] &c. hā - - Me - ra - gā du - ra
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Or it may begin on the second unit of the four, and is then called *Madhyādi* (‘middle’ *Ādi*). As the *Āvard* of *Deśādi* beginning on the fourth unit ended on the third, so here beginning on the second it will end on the first:
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Madhyādi Tālam. (1)
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Ex. 310.
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Vi-du-la-ku mrok-ke-ḍa . . vi-du-la-ku mrok - ke-ḍa .
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. . vi-du-la-ku mrok - ke-ḍa . . .
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Ka - li - na - ru - la - ku ma-lu . . ma-lu de - li - [Figure: ] &c. pe - mi . . Ka-li - na-ru
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En - na - ḍu zū - tu - no . . in a - ku - la [Figure: ] &c. ti - la - ka . . . . En - na - ḍu
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These are South Indian names; the things are common enough in Hindostani song and probably have specific names, though I was unable to make sure of them.
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A different interest attaches to the *tṛtīyaḥ*, ♪♪♪┐. This is also common time. But this peculiar form has left its mark, not in any special metrical form, but in the way a bar of common time is counted, in whatever metre. A short explanation is necessary first.
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When three notes of neighbouring pitch and no more are sung without any particular emphasis on any one of them, the voice tends of itself to emphasize and the musical consciousness to give pre-eminence to the middle one. Thus in the scale of the Andaman islands, which (in some parts at least) consists only of three notes separated by some very small interval, it is recorded that the middle note is made the tonic. Again, in the snake-charmer’s pipe (see Ex. 274) the middle note of three is made the drone. Similarly, if three equal units of time are repeated and an accent is put on one of them, it will gradually determine to the middle one of the three: ◡ ú ◡, ◡ ú ◡ (or, if the commas between them represent rests: 2/4 ♩ ♩ ♩ ⁑ ♩ ♩ ♩ &c.).
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It is difficult to prove this, because it is so hard to make the experiment fairly. But, for some reason best known to the builders, the wheels of railway carriages commonly beat out a tripleted rhythm, and the reader may have noticed that if he is not particularly attending to them (and so making the experiment a fair one) these take the form ◡ ú ◡, and not ú ◡ ◡ nor ◡ ◡ ú. However that may be, here is Indian verse on the one hand employing three equal syllables in succession followed by a rest ♩ ♩ ♩ ⁑, and Indian music on the other counting a bar of common time with three equal beats (tāl) and a blank, or empty (khālī) beat; and the curious fact that this blank beat comes invariably on the third of the bar which gives the exact effect of prosodical feet: | ◡ ú ◡ | ◡ ú ◡ |¹ Common time is, accordingly, called in the North invariably ‘three-beat’ (tintāl), the fourth beat being ‘empty’. The first of the bar, which bears the musical accent, is called sam ² (‘complete’, or ‘total’), because at that point the two independent rhythms of singer and drummer from time to time coincide. Time is ordinarily beaten with the hand upon the thigh (the singer is invariably seated), emphasizing the *sam* slightly, and beating in the air with upturned palm for the *khālī*. This method of beating is also applied to other times besides common time in a way which will appear presently.
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¹ Cp. the first four bars of Tristan, of which the main accent is on the second bar and the fourth is blank.
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² Pronounced like, and accidentally having the same meaning as, our word ‘sum’. It is important to be clear about this conception. The sam has no such stress as we place on the first of the bar. It gets its pre-eminence over the other tāls (beats) owing to the cross-rhythm (either with some other instrument or in the melody itself) being adjusted at that point. Or if there is no cross-rhythm, still the sam is pointed out by its distance from some typical or recurrent phrase elsewhere in the āvard (or vibhāg); as the quaver triplet of Tschaikowsky’s Scherzo tells us how far we have got each time in the series of crotchets. It is true that when singer and drummer coincide at that point their united triumph at having got it right after all does result in a little more tone, i. e. in stress, but this in no way necessary to the rhythm of the music.
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These other times, various forms of three, five, and seven rhythm for the most part, are often regarded as intricate and unaccountable; but in the light of prosody they have a simple explanation. They are best summarized in the Carnatic system, which enumerates thirty-five different kinds as typical; but the principle which underlies them is of indefinite application, and as a fact I saw a book at Bhavnagar which enumerated some hundreds of them. It will be unnecessary to give the names of these thirty-five rhythms, because their names are only a piece of *memoria technica*,¹ or the picturesque ruins of titles whose meaning is long forgotten, and would only confuse us. It will be enough to arrange them in seven ranks and five files, lettering the ranks and numbering the files.
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¹ See Mudaliar's Oriental Music, p. 25.
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Counting by mātrā (Carnatic).
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| | I. | II. | III. | IV. | V. |
| A. | 3 | Eka. 4 | 5 | 7 | 9 |
| B. | 3 2 | Rūpaka. 4 2 | 5 2 | 7 2 | 9 2 |
| C. | 3 1 2 | 4 1 2 | 5 1 2 | Jhampa. 7 1 2 | 9 1 2 |
| D. | Tripuṭa. 3 2 2 | (Ādi). 4 2 2 | 5 2 2 | 7 2 2 | 9 2 2 |
| E. | 3 2 3 | Mātya. 4 2 4 | 5 2 5 | 7 2 7 | 9 2 9 |
| F. | 3 2 3 3 | Dhruva. 4 2 4 4 | 5 2 5 5 | 7 2 7 7 | 9 2 9 9 |
| G. | 3 3 2 2 | 4 4 2 2 | Āṭa. 5 5 2 2 | 7 7 2 2 | 9 9 2 2 |
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N.B.—Rank A is usually given in the order 4, 3, 7, 5, 9; the point being that 4 and 3 make 7, and 4 and 5 make 9 (9 is never treated as 3 × 3). 6, 8, and 10 are obviously omitted as being multiples of three numbers which are already there, and 9 is, as we saw, not considered to be a multiple. Those in heavy type are in common use. The names refer to the whole rank (Eka, for instance, to the whole of rank A, Tripuṭa to D, &c.), but are confined in practice to those files to which they are here assigned.
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In rank A are the different values (in *mātrās*) given to the bar (*vibhāg*) when it is counted as a complete whole, that is, when it is not composed of various beats (*tāl*).¹ This merry little tune is an instance of the five-unit bar. Four bars make a section, as usual:
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¹ In this chapter *Tāl* is used for ‘time’ and *tāl* for ‘beat’.
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Khaṇḍajāti Laghu. Rāgam Mohāna (= Rāg Bhūpkaliān). ♩= 96.
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Ex. 311.
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(Musical notation)
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(Musical notation)
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[Figure: (Musical notation)] &c.
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A common way of counting the uneven numbers is by continuous syncopation:
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3 ♩ ♩ | ♩ ♩ | &c. 5 ♩ ♩ ♩ | ♩ ♩ ♩ | &c. 7 ♩ ♩ ♩ ♩ | &c.
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The name of this is *Chapu Tāla*. File V is rarely used.
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Rank B has two beats to the bar, C, D, and E three beats, and F and G four. It is not difficult to see in these the two, three, and four-syllable feet of poetry. B gives various forms of the trochee (— ◡) and iamb (◡ —), according to the beat with which the rhythm begins. The five files allow for different proportions between the long and the short beat. We may arrange the ten possibilities of iambs and trochees in a graduated proportion to a scale of 100, and it will be seen that a large number of ways of dividing a bar into two beats has been reached by very simple means:
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We see from this diagram that just as the scales took account of *śrutis* of different sizes, so here the rhythms take account of different sized units (*mātrā*) and embody them in a system; and it is characteristic of Hindu practice to tabulate ten species of a thing and to make practical use only of one of them. The other ranks may be taken in the same way, and these thirty-five are seen to include by implication one hundred varieties of *Tāl*:
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A B C D E F G 5 + 10 + 15 + 15 + 15 + 20 + 20 = 100
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To continue: C and D give five varieties of dactyl, amphibrach, and anapaest (— ◡ ◡, ◡ — ◡, ◡ ◡ —). D. II is the normal dactyl, &c.; the rest of D lessens or increases the proportion of the long to the two shorts. C is our old friend the ‘cyclical’ dactyl¹ which modern theory has criticized out of existence, for Greece at any rate, but which made a considerable stir in its day. Here at any rate it has five separate values of its own. E gives the cretic (— ◡ —), bacchic (◡ — —), and antibacchic (— — ◡).
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¹ The cyclical dactyl is one in which the middle syllable is shorter than the last.
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Of the four-syllable feet (four beats in the bar—F and G) there are sixteen possibilities (for two things taken four together). Only eight appear here. Thus: F. I gives 3 2 3 3, and implies 2 3 3 3, 3 3 3 2, and 3 3 2 3. G. I, similarly, four more.
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The other possibilities are: . 2 & 2 & 2 & 3 / 2 & 2 & 3 & 2 / 2 & 3 & 2 & 2 / 3 & 2 & 2 & 2 rare in the *śloka*. . 2 & 3 & 2 & 3 / 3 & 2 & 3 & 2 C. IV is used if wanted. . 3 & 3 & 3 & 3 / 2 & 2 & 2 & 2 already accounted for by *āditālaḥ*.
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So that ranks F and G fairly represent the chief possibilities of the *śloka*.
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But it will be more interesting to see how the most characteristic of these work out in practice. We will take: B. II. 2 + 4 *Rūpaka* (iamb). D. I. 3 + 2 + 2 *Tripuṭa* (dactyl). C. IV. 7 + 1 + 2 *Jhampa* (cyclical dactyl). and as a curiosity G. III. 5 + 5 + 2 + 2 *Āṭa* (ionicus a majore).
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Rūpaka Tālam. (2 + 4.)
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Ex. 312. Vi-na-ve O ma-na-sā vi-na-ve . . O ma-na-sā vi-va-ram-bu-ga ne . . del - pe da vi-va-ram-bu-ga &c.
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A - la-ka-lā - lla lā - ḍa ga-ga-ni A - la - ka - lā - lla lā - ḍa-ga-ga-ni A-la-ka-lā - lla lā - &c.
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Su-gu - na-mu-le - - jep-pu koṇ - ṭi sun - da-ra ra-ghu Rā - ma . - - Su-gu - &c.
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Rūpaka is in idea Saraband rhythm. It is quite one of the commonest Tāls, and presents no difficulty, as, in practice, it is a simple 3/4.
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Tripuṭa is harder. The secret of all these Tāls is that the units are taken as sums, not multiples. And though seven is not a multiple of anything, yet the European having counted three, finds it very difficult not to expect another three. The only way is to take a fresh lease of counting with each beat. It will be found quite easy to realize all these Tāls if one does as a native does—count out each beat 1, 2, 3, &c., and tap at every ‘1’.
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Tripuṭa Tālam. (3 + 2 + 2.) (Telugu words.)
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Adagio. ♩ = 100. Ex. 313. (Musical notation with lyrics: En - du - ku - da - ya - rā - - du - rā . . śrī rā - ma - chan - dra nī - ken - du . . ku - da - ya rā - - du - rā - - śrī . . rā - ma - chan - dra nī - ken - du - ku - - da - ya - rā - - du - rā . .)
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Jhampa Tālam. The ‘bar’ (Āvard) is from one double bar line to the next. The single bar lines show the beats. Though it is counted 7 + 1 + 2, it is thought as 2 + 3 + 2 + 3 quavers.
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Andante. ♩ = 144. Ex. 314. (Musical notation with lyrics: Am - ma rā - vam - ma Am - ma rā - vam - ma Am - ma rā - vam - ma Am - ma rā - vam - ma tu - la - sam - ma na - nu pā - lim - pa - ram - ma sa - ta - ta - mu pa - da - mu lē - - - - nam - mi - nā nam - ma rā - vam - ma.)
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Āṭa Tāla. 5 + 5 + 2 + 2. (The Rāg omits E and A in ascent). Molto vivace. ♩ = 160.
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Ex. 315.
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Āṭa is one of the more difficult rhythms. This particular example seems to us almost impossible. We lose our bearings in the course of fourteen crotchets divided into semiquavers, especially at such a tempo as this, and with all sorts of cross-rhythms in the ‘bowing’. The slurs really represent the syllables of words; and this tune is actually sung, and sounds very puzzling but very interesting. The Āvard is divided into four groups (marked I, II, III, IV), and the phrase, which is the same length as the Āvard but does not coincide with it, begins and ends at the third beat of the first group. (Mind the flat!)
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Later on in the Svaras of this song another sort of rhythm is induced upon this. Every second crotchet of the melody ends on the note Sa, which occurs in the words at the same moment. This would have the effect of combining
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But the last two Sa’s come one unit late. The original tune began, we saw, on the third beat, and the Svaras begin on the first beat; as there is a Da Capo at the end of them back to the tune, there will be two beats to make up; and this is the ingenious and effective way in which it is done.
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N.B.—The slurs represent the syllables of the words. The *āvard* finishes at the end of each line. The phrase begins on the third of the fourteen beats.
First 200 of 269 passages. Read on
Linked texts (2)
- Saṅgītaratnākara — Śārṅgadeva, Sanskrit
- Nāṭyaśāstra — Bharata, Sanskrit