There are two opposite energies hidden in music. One excites, inflames, and disturbs the mind. The other steadies it and calms it down. One helps in concentrating, the other perplexes the mind. One is for dhyāna, the other is for play.
There is pleasure in both types. Some people find pleasure in composure, some in hustle and bustle. Some people sit alone and forget themselves in samādhi. Some others dance incessantly, become tired, and forget themselves. Some people find peace to be pleasurable, others find pleasure in excitement and flurry.
This applies to literature as well as music, and also to all art experience.
If we observe the luxury and recreational pastimes of Europeans[1] and present Indians who blindly ape them, we can get a perspective of the passionate form of pleasure. They need incessant excitement. They need engagements and functions from before dawn till well into the night; everything should be done speedily; the speed of their car is too less for them. We can realize it if we listen to their rock bands[2] or look at their modern art. For the Europeans, flurries are favourable, galloping is gratifying. Minds should be high; itches should be scratched; heads should spin; brains should fall down tired. This is a special feature of (modern) western civilization[3]. It is not that there is no peace and calm in their art and literature at all. They are there. But flurry and fury are more commonly found than peace and calm. Today’s people prefer excitement and commotion.
We can see these two kinds even in the music of our country. One is favourable for dhyāna while the other excites emotions. The rāga Śaṅkārabharaṇa calms the mind; it is said that even saṃnyāsis can listen to it blissfully. However, there are scholars who while employing it in aggressive musical warfare, make the violinist sweat and the skin of the mṛdaṅga to crack. Tyāgarāja was a saṃnyāsi[4] who desired peace and calm. But there are mighty musicians who perform acrobatics and wrestling in his kritis. Their main intention is to exhibit their knowledge. Dragging the swaras and drum thumping — this is a type of music.
There is another kind, where tranquility is most important. It is a full stream, limpid and deep. There is no jostling of the waves; its progress is not seen with the eyes. Its flow is understood by flowers that have fallen from the trees on its banks. This is the kind desired by a dhyāni.
Coming to the present, if the Bhagavadgītā has to be sung, there should first be a discernment of rasa. I feel that ragas more suited for bhakti such as Nāṭa, Ārabhi, and Varāḷi are more apt for the Bhagavadgītā. The method of setting the tune is more important than choosing the rāga. Thoughtlessness of a musician can drag any rāga down to an illusionary rasa and make it a fiasco. The singing of the Bhagavadgītā should neither be sorrowful moaning nor frivolous fun. It should not draw the mind of the listener to spectacles of swara or laya. The song of the Gītā is to be heard by the ears of the heart, the ears of the ātmā, not the ears enveloped in skin. If the music has to be effective there -- in the heart-cave of the jīva -- the singing should be soft, simple, deep, sans ornamentation, and should aid in performing dhyāna. This means that the singer should have remembrance of the ātmā that pervades all beings. He should have found pleasure in the kṛtis of Sadāśiva Brahmendra and in the melody of Vedic recitation. For someone who has relished this pleasure, singing in the style that the Bhagavadgītā requires becomes easy. In the singing of the meditative seeker, the heart of the sāhitya that has to be sung should be the master; the arrangement of the svaras and the pace of the tāla should become its servants; they should not usurp mastership for themselves. If the voice is sweet, pronunciation clear, musical embellishment limited, and the pace deliberate, the essence of the Gītā can be easily experienced. The Bhagavadgītā is a book for meditation. It is music for dhyāna that suits it - simple music without show.
satyānveṣaṇe śāstraṃ
hṛt-toṣaṇe kāvyam aṃtu mati-managaḻa dāṃ-
patyada phalam adhirasaruci-
yātmānandamadu śāstra-kāvyānubhavam ॥ 1 ॥
Śāstra is the search for Truth, whereas Kāvya
Makes the heart happy.
The fruit of the union of the mind and the intellect is beyond rasa,
Experiencing śāstra and kāvya together is Ātmānanda.
Kāvya-nadi śāstra-giriyoḻ
bhāvyaṃ śāstramaṇiyaṃtu kāvyāṃbudhiyoḻ ।
bhavyobhaya-ruci-yamṛtaṃ
divya-kṛpā-srotam-aduve bhagavadgītam || 2 ||
The river of kāvya in the mountain of śāstra
Can be experienced;
As well as a pearl of śāstra in the ocean of kāvya.
Magnificent with both charms, a veritable ambrosia,
A fount of divine compassion, is the Bhagavadgīta
Thoughts on the word Bhagavān
The words ‘Bhagavān’, ‘Bhagavat’, ‘Bhagavanta’ — these words have been used repeatedly in the Gītā. Indeed, we also use the word ‘Bhagavanta’ in our ordinary conversation. What does that mean?
‘Bhaga’ is a word from the Veda. It is the name of a deity there.
bhaga praṇītur-bhaga satyarādho
bhagemāṃ dhiyam udavā dadannaḥ ।
bhaga praṇo janaya gobhir-aśvaiḥ
bhaga pranṛbhirnṛvantaḥ syāma ॥-Ṛksaṃhitā, 7.3.41
“O divine Bhaga, you rule us; you are the splendour of truth; you are the trove of riches; you fulfil our wishes. Make our prayers fruitful. With your prasāda, we will beget children and grandchildren, and earn wealth in the form of horses and cattle, and find the help of people”.
This meaning is according to the Sāyaṇa-bhāṣya. ‘Bhaga’ might be the Sun, the moon, Varuṇa, Rudra or any deity according to the context. Sāyaṇācārya has interpreted ‘bhaga’ as ‘bhajanīyam’ in all the chapters. Bhajanīyam means “fit to be worshipped, obtained, served”. The word ‘bhakti’ has also come from the same root. Bhaga is that thing towards which bhakti is beneficial; Bhagavanta is supreme energy — that energy, which bestows upon us the most auspicious (vara), when we worship it.
Srīmad-viṣṇu-purāṇa endorses this view :
sandarbhateti tathā bhartā bhakāro’rtha-dvayānvitaḥ ।
netā gamayitā sraṣṭā gakārārthas-tathā mune ॥-Visnupurāṇa, 6.5.73
“The letter ’bha’ has two meanings : (1) One who fills (2) Master. The letter ’ga’ has these meanings : “one who leads” (2) One who makes something gained (3) One who creates. The word bhaga is formed from these two letters”.
Another meaning:
aiśvaryasya samagrasya vīryasya yaśaḥ śriyaḥ ।
jñāna-vairāgyayoś-cāpi ṣaṇṇāṃ bhaga itīraṇā ॥-Visnupurāṇa, 6.5.74
Complete mastery over everything, (2) Valour (3) Glory (4) Wealth, (5) Knowledge and (6) Freedom from worldly desires” — these six are called ‘bhaga’.
These six great qualities are present in the fundamental reality that is called ‘divine’ by people. Therefore he is called ‘Bhagavanta’.
In the above verse, there is a version with ‘vīryasya’ replaced with ‘dharmasya’. Even that is interesting. The master of the universe is the root of all dharma. Dharma is the universal system — the sustained state.
There is another ancient meaning for the word Bhagavān. It has been explained in the Rudrabhāṣya of Sāyaṇa. That is also to be considered.
utpattiṃ ca vināśaṃ ca bhūtānām āgatiṃ gatim ।
vetti vidyām avidyāṃ ca sa vācyo bhagavān iti ॥
“He is said to be Bhagavān, who knows the nature of birth and death of all beings, their ascents and falls in life, and a knower of the nature of both knowledge (vidyā) and non-knowledge (avidyā)”.
We call those whom we think of as Gurus and display bhakti towards them, as bhagavanta. For instance, Vyasa-bhagavan, Buddha-bhagavan, etc.
Duties without Rights
One of the famous verses from the Bhagavadgītā is this:
karmanyevādhikāraste mā phaleṣu kadācana ।
mā karma-phala-hetur-bhūḥ mā te saṅgo’stv-akarmaṇi॥-BG 2.47
Bhagavān means to say this — “Your authority is in performing your duty. The result or lack thereof, does not belong to you. Do not expect results and take unnecessary responsibility. Thinking that one has to be indifferent towards results, do not fail to perform your duties”.
Along with this verse should be contemplated the following verse from the eighteenth chapter!
adhiṣṭhānaṃ tathā kartā karaṇaṃ ca pṛthag-vidhaṃ ।
vividhāśca pṛthak-ceṣṭā daivaṃ caivātra pañcamam ॥BG 18.14
There are five elements responsible for the results of an action : (1) Adhiṣṭhāna = the field where karma is performed (2) Kartā — which includes the capacity and śraddhā of the doer (3) Karaṇa — the instruments to perform the activity (4) Ceṣtāḥ — the methods (5) Daiva — divine design.
Let us look at the example of agriculture as a karma. For this karma, (1) Fields are the adhiṣṭhāna, (2) The farmer is the kartā, his discernment, and capabilities, (3) Plough, oxen, seeds, etc. are the instruments — karaṇa, (4) Ploughing, raking the soil, sowing, etc. are ceṣṭā — methods, (5) Daiva — timely or untimely rain, flood, storm, earthquake, pests, etc., Each of the above five should be favourable. Even if one of them is unfavourable, the karma is spoiled. The first four are dependent on humans; the fifth is beyond them. Even if the first four are correct and daiva disposes, everything is futile.
To be continued...
The present series is a modern English translation of DVG’s Kendra Sahitya Akademi Award-winning work, Bhagavad-gītā-tātparya or Jīvana-dharma-yoga. The translators wish to express their thanks to Śatāvadhāni R Ganesh for his valuable feedback and to Hari Ravikumar for his astute edits.
Footnotes
[1]Popular forms of western music seems to be intended here
[2]Translator’s note: changed jazz to rock to make it contemporary
[3]The state of young, rootless Indians is not very different.
[4]He took the monastic name Nādabrahmānanda Sarasvatī on the day of his departure
