\chapter*{Introduction\\\Large by Guy L. Beck}
\addcontentsline{toc}{chapter}{Introduction by Guy L. Beck}
\markboth{The Rādhāvallabha Songbook}{Introduction}

\pagestyle{headings}

Vrindaban is the principal center of Krishna worship in India, and a
truly magical place. While the historic and geographic site of
Vrindaban is located within the region of Braj, just south of New
Delhi in northern India, its place in the Hindu imagination is
boundless and timeless, as it radiates an aura of mystery and serves
as “window” into a transcendent sphere of reality.  From its location
nestled among the hamlets along the Yamunā River, it is especially
enchanting in the late evening hours during the autumn season of
Karttik.  If one carefully listens to the devotional music emanating
from the various temples in this small town, what was a noisy and
bustling pilgrimage site during daylight hours is now transformed into
a serene sanctuary that belongs only to its permanent residents.  One
night in 1988, as the temple bells rang to signify the final Darshan
(viewing) in the main Rādhāvallabha Temple, the musicians began their
closing song, a lullaby for laying the deity of Rādhāvallabha
(Krishna) to rest for the night.  After the curtain closed at 10 p.m.,
and the Samāj-Gāyan music session ended with the final clap of the
hand cymbals, the lead singer (at that time, Śrī Damodar Das
“Mukhīya”) suddenly stood up and walked over to me, seated in the
audience.  Without a word, he dropped a large {\it laḍḍu}
(sweetball), taken from the temple {\it prasādam} (holy food) given by
the temple priests, into my open right palm.  While I was savoring
this delicious confection, the drummer wrapped his instrument ({\it
  pakhavāj}) in a large white cotton cloth, and the {\it esrāj} (bowed
lute) player, Śrī Ramnath Prasad, put away his instrument in a
colorful quilted case.  Śrī Prasad, the only person who could speak
English among the musicians, attempted to explain to me the meaning of
the beautiful songs and ballads that I had just enjoyed for the past
three hours.  After a few passionate comments about Vaishnava
aesthetics and the writings of Jayadeva and Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa,
he spoke the following soliloquy in a calm tone of voice:
\begin{quote}

After we sing these songs, the entire sound vibrates in our minds
night and day, bringing a deep and unspeakable joy. The {\it līlās} or
pastimes of Lord Krishna were composed in the form of these ballads
right by the side of the Yamunā River. The nature and activities of
Lord Krishna and Rādhā have been des\-cribed by our poets in such a
way that it will take years to explain them.  Even then, it is not
possible to give the full explanation.  That is why we go on singing
these songs.  Our only activity is to observe the love affairs of
Rādhā and Krishna by singing these songs. Then the divine beauty
manifests in dif\-ferent colors, as\-pects, and forms.  I have been
singing these songs here for over forty years.\footnote{Interview
  conducted with Sri Ramnath Prasad at the Rādhā\-vallabha Temple in
  Vrindaban, U.P. on July 20, 1988. The content was transcribed and
  edited from an audiotape.}

\end{quote} 
For me, after only a few nights of listening to the enraptured sounds of the
Rādhāvallabha temple music, I was permanently transfixed and felt that I was to become
a lifelong {\it chelā} (devotee).

As is perhaps evident from this passage, and is certainly so upon
close observation of the worshipping community, musical activity in
the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya (RVS) is a vital and central occupation
of its members.  It would be a mistake to assume that their musical
worship is a kind of extra feature, a decoration or
“window-dressing.”  On the contrary, the entire devotional life of
the community of followers and initiated members has revolved around
the twice-daily musical sessions of Samāj-Gāyan (“group singing”)
held in the temples, based primarily in Vrindaban, for centuries.
This particular form of devotional singing is the central core of
their religious practice, and the focus of this book.

\section*{Scope of this Book}
\addcontentsline{toc}{section}{Scope of This Book}

Within the context of the Vaishnava worship of Krishna in northern
India, this book presents and examines a special collection of
Rādhāvallabha {\it bhakti} poetry in Braj Bhasha (a dialect of
Hindi), referred to as the “Rādhāvallabha Songbook.” This
devotional poetry is utilized musically as part of the seasonal
liturgical worship of the image of Krishna known as Rādhāvallabha,
“Dearest of Rādhā.”  The Vaishnava sect known as the
Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya is one of the foremost {\it bhakti}
devotional movements, founded in the sixteenth century CE in the
region of Braj. Yet it is strangely unknown outside of its immediate
environment.

Based on extensive research at the headquarters of the
Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya in present-day Vrindaban within the
Braj region of Uttar Pradesh, and in consultation with relevant
literature, this book seeks to expand the resources for the study of
Hindu liturgy and music by presenting material that is new to
Westerners despite having been a vital part of Vaishnava worship in
India for nearly five hundred years.  In textual and audio forms, it
makes available 108 songs, many for the first time in English
translation.

Over the course of several visits, including over an entire liturgical
year, the author collected and recorded many of the most important
songs from this tradition.  All of these songs date from roughly
1530-1850 CE, and their lyrics, in Braj Bhasha, appear in the
three-volume published anthology known as the {\it Śrī Rādhāvallabhajī
  kā Varṣotsava}.  This anthololgy will be signified by the
letters RV, or as simply the Rādhāvallabha Songbook.  Beside the poems
of the founder Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa (c. 1502-1552 CE), this expansive
anthology contains many poems from both prominent and lesser-known
members of the {\it sampradāya} (tradition), such as Harirāma Vyāsa,
Damodara Dāsa, Dhruva Dāsa, Nāgarī Dāsa, Cācā Vṛndāvana Dāsa, and
Rūpa Lāla, as well as from non-sectaries like Sūra Dāsa, Nanda
Dāsa, and Svāmī Haridāsa.  These poems are each placed in the text
according to the liturgical season.  Most of them display a free
metrical structure comparable with some Western hymnody.  They are
performed in the musical style known as Samāj-Gāyan (“group
singing”), which is a unique vocal music tradition of Braj.  It is
related to classical Dhrupad and largely based on Hindustani {\it
  rāgas} (scale formulas reflective of distinct emotional moods or
{\it rasas}) and {\it tālas} (rhythmic cycles).  Set within fixed
daily or seasonal formats, these poems are sung on specific days by
trained singers along with musical accompaniment of harmonium, {\it
  tanpura} (lute), {\it pakhavāj} (barrel drum), and cymbals.  The
liturgical calendar of the sect, based on the solar/lunar system, is
composed of a series of festivals and observances extending from
Spring (Basant) to Holi, Pāvas Ritu (Rainy season), Rāsa Dance, and
Kārtik.  As part of this prominent living tradition in northern India,
all of these songs, and many others not included, are embedded into
the seasonal liturgical worship of the image of Krishna by the
Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya.

Following this introduction, this book presents, over the course of
three chapters and an appendix, the Braj Bhasha texts of many of the
original songs (in the appendix), their Roman transliteration, and
their English translation.  There are also brief notes explaining the
genre, context and structure of each of the songs, including mention
of the {\it rāga} (melodic scale), {\it tāla}, (rhythmic cycle),
and other specifics of the performance rendition.  The songs have been
presented in the same sequence according to the seasonal chronology
represented by the three volumes of the original anthology.

\begin{description}

\item[Volume I (Chapter One):] songs of spring (Vasant, Holi) and the appearance day
of Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa.

\item[Volume II (Chapter Two):] songs of summer (Rainy Season) and early autumn, and the
appearance days of Śrī Krishna and Śrī Rādhā.

\item[Volume III (Chapter Three):] songs of mid-autumn (Rāsa Līlā) and late autumn,
as well as evening worship songs.

\end{description}

English translations of some of these songs have been previously
published in the works of Charles S. J. White (1977), Rupert Snell
(1991), Heidi R. M. Pauwels (1996, 2002), and R. S. McGregor (1973).
In addition to incorporating these, as appropriate, translations of
many other poems by H. S. Mathur and Dr. Chandrakala Pandey, done in
collaboration with the present author, are included.

Two compact disks are available free for those who buy this book, each
filled with samples of representative songs.\footnote{The sample
  compact disks as well as several free songs for download and
  listening are available at www.radhavallabha-songbook.com.} A full
set of eighteen compact disks, containing many complete songs and
portions of other of the 108 songs is also available
separately.\footnote{Available from www.radhavallabha-songbook.com.}

\section*{Rādhāvallabha Scholarship}
\addcontentsline{toc}{section}{Rādhāvallabha Scholarship}

Previous scholarship on the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya,
praiseworthy for its detail, has focused almost exclusively on the
literary output of the founder Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa and his
immediate follower Śrī Harirāma Vyāsa, with comparative
analyses of vocabulary, grammar, meter, and syntax as evidenced in a
variety of manuscripts.  These works, like many scholarly studies of
{\it bhakti} poetry, have often overlooked the important ritual and
liturgical contexts of the poems, especially their musical performance
within living communities.

The Rādhāvallabha tradition had been all but ignored in Western
scholarship until the work of Charles S. J. White and Rupert Snell.
Orientalist writings had mentioned it in passing or in footnotes.  In
his 1977 translation of the poems of the {\it Caurāśi-Pad} ({\it CP},
“Eighty-four Songs”) of Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa, the first lengthy study of
the Rādhāvallabha tradition, Charles S. J. White provided an
introductory section on the religious beliefs and ritual traditions of
the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya, drawing mostly upon the earlier Hindi
scholarship of Vijayendra Snatak (1957, 1968), the first Indian
scholar to give serious attention to the Rādhāvallabha tradition.
Charles S. J. White had also translated Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa's {\it
  Sphu\d{t}a-Vā\d{n}ī} (SV, “Clear Speech”) as well as two letters to
his disciple Śrī Vi\d{t}\d{t}haladāsa, called {\it Śrī Mukha Pātrī}
(“Chief Vessel,” 1996).  His translations of the Harivaṃśa poems into
English attempted to carry over the poetic effects of the Braj Bhasha
lyrics into English verse.  Some of his translations of the {\it
  Sphu\d{t}a-Vā\d{n}ī} have been included in this collection.

Because of the unabashedly erotic nature of much of the
Rādhāvallabhite poetry, however, Indian natives of this tradition have
been reluctant to have these poems translated and discussed by
foreigners, with the attendant risk of misinterpretation of spiritual
meanings as mere sexual imagery associated with ordinary human
relationships.  Their concern has validity.  In several poems in which
erotic situations between Rādhā and Krishna are distinctly portrayed,
some editions of the {\it CP} have employed the terms “sexual” and
“sexual desire” in their English renderings, to the possible detriment
of the intended sublime and spiritual meaning of the poetry.  The
translations of Rupert Snell (1991) have been selected for inclusion
in this collection, as they are most sensitive to the issues in
question, and are able to convey the amorous nature of the divine
encounters without the need to reduce them to gross sensuality.  Snell
has also been able to successfully nuance the many varieties of
romantic expression of the Braj Bhasha language into attractive
English renderings in both prose and poetry.  Because of the unique, I
would say “spiritually aesthetic,” nature of Braj Bhasha Vaishnava
poetry, it is very unlikely that its naive beauty can be transferred
by endeavoring for similar effects in English.  In addition, it is our
contention that a proper appreciation and understanding of the depth
of musical expression of these poems precludes any tendency to view
them as comparable to ribald European expressions.  As becomes evident
through sustained study and analysis of the context of Braj devotional
poetry, the poems were themselves written as songs, and composed for
the purpose of offering them in liturgical worship for the pleasure of
the deities, Rādhā and Krishna.  Thus the poem/songs are believed to
have been divinely inspired.  This inspiration affects and includes
the rhythms and repetitions which pull the listener into the
experience of devotional joy in all its playfulness and energy.  A
tiny sample in English is appended to show something of how the Braj
Bhasha lyrics might sound if composed in English.  The remaining
translations in this project have been rendered in simple prose
without the extra endeavor of placing them in poetic format.  The
intention is for the reader to be exposed directly to the Braj Bhasha
sounds as composed, by virtue of the CD recordings, as they are sung
and performed in their original context.

Heidi R. M. Pauwels, in {\it In Praise of Holy Men: Hagiographic Poems
  by and about Hariram Vyas} (2002) thoroughly analyzed the poetical
output surrounding the Rādhāvallabha poet Śrī Harirāma Vyāsa.  Her
earlier work, {\it K\d{r}\d{s}\d{n}a's Round Dance Reconsidered:
  Harirāma Vyāsa's Hindi Rās-pa\~ncādhyāyī} (1996), had provided the
complete Braja Bhasha text with English translation, and notes, of Śrī
Harirāma Vyāsa's lengthy poem on the Rāsa-līlā theme,
“Rāsa-pa\~ncādhyāyī” (“The Five Chapters on the Circle Dance”).  Other
issues discussed by Pauwels are the debates surrounding Hari\-rāma
Vyāsa's actual religious affiliation.

The first scholarly work that attempted to analyze specific
Rādhāvallabha songs in musical performance is an article by Rupert
Snell (1983).  Though not strictly examining musical elements, he
discussed the metrical structure of about eight poems of the {\it CP}
of Hita Harivaṃśa, and how these structures were manifest in
performance in terms of their rhythms.  Regarding the context of his
recording, he stated, “The recording ... was made by me in the
Radhavallabhi temple of Choti Sarkar, Vrindaban, in the summer of
1977.  The {\it gāyana samāja} [group of singers] consists of the
{\it mukhīya}, who plays harmonium, a small chorus, one of whose
members plays the {\it jhā\~njh}, and a tabla player.  The ensemble
sits on the {\it jagamohana}, the raised section of the temple floor
immediately in front of the shrine.”\footnote{Rupert Snell (1983),
361.}  More details about the musicians will be given later.

While Rupert Snell does not mention the names of the performers on his
recording, the precise location and the specific performing artists
studied by him are essentially the same as the source informants for
this book.  Over the course of 1975-1980, I regularly visited the
Rādhāvallabha Temple and Choti Sarkar, which also houses an image
of Rādhā\-vallabha. It has been independently confirmed that
Snell's informant-singer was Śrī Rajendra Prasad Sharma, the same
individual whom I recorded and studied with later in 1992-1993.  Śrī
Sharma (“Masterjī”) would sing daily at Choti Sarkar in the
early evenings about 5:00-6:30 PM.  In 1975, 1976, and 1979, I had
also recorded Śrī Damodar Das Mukhiya, who sang at the main
Rādhāvallabha Temple for over fifty years until retirement in
1996.  Three of his recordings are included in the present anthology,
as well as two by Śrī Krishna Bhatt, another important singer
of Rādhāvallabha poetry in Vrindaban.  By the time of my 1988
summer visit, Śrī Sharma and his accompanying musicians were
also performing nightly, just after their session at Choti Sarkar, at
Śrī Satsanga Bhumi in Hitashram, the residential temple of Śrī Hita
Dasji Maharaj, an important living {\it guru} of the Rādhāvallabha
Sampradāya.  This location was slightly outside the main streets of
the town of Vrindaban.  The second sessions there began at 7:30
P.M. and lasted until about 9:00 P.M.  Unless otherwise specified, all
of the songs on the eighteen CDs in our collection were sung by Śrī
Rajendra Prasad Sharma and his musicians, either at Choti Sarkar or at
Śrī Satsanga Bhumi.

Regarding scholarship of Braj musical traditions including
Rā\-dhā\-valla\-bha, mention must be made here of the recent work
of Selina Thielemann.  In {\it Musical Traditions of Vaisnava Temples
in Vraja: A Comparative Study of Samaja and the Dhrupad Tradition of
North Indian Classical Music} (2001), based on her Ph.D. dissertation
at Benares Hindu University, Thielemann presents and analyzes many
examples of Braj songs in both Indian and Western notation.  In the
first volume of this large two-volume work, she examines selections
from the five major musical traditions of Braj, beginning with the
Caitanya Sampradāya, followed by Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya,
Nimbārka Sampradāya, Haridāsī Sampradāya, and Vallabha
Sampradāya (Pu\d{s}\d{t}imārga).  While containing many insights
valuable to musicologists, there are no recordings to accompany her
discussions.

Her section on the Rādhāvallabha temple music (pp. 143-215)
includes analyses of six songs in performance: three from the {\it
Caurāśi-Pad} (23, 27, 28), one from the {\it
Sphu\d{t}a-Vā\d{n}ī} (16) of Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa,
one of Śrī Rāmarāya Prabhu, and one from the most prolific
of RV poets, Cācā V\d{r}ndāvana Dāsa.  The first selection is
not included in our collection.  The remaining five songs are listed
in our collection as numbers 1, 2, 62, 7, and 20.  Thielemann's
intention is to compare different renderings of the same composition
to show that various interpretations exist.  She thus points out
differences between the versions sung by the aged Śrī Damodar
Das Mukhiya, recorded in 1994 just two years before his retirement
from leadership, and those led by Śrī Jayesh Khandelwal, a
musically untrained lay singer-follower who performs occasional
Samāj-Gāyan.  As she recognizes, the recordings she transcribes
are flawed.  Regarding Śrī Damodar Das Mukhiya, “the voice of the
aged mukhiya is no more able to utter the pitches distinctly—the
pitches sung by him do not correspond to the notes he plays
simultaneously on the harmonium.” (167) Regarding Jayesh Khandelwal's
group, “the singers are not always in tune.  It should be kept in
mind that here, one has to deal with lay musicians and devotees rather
than professional singers as in the temple.” (173)

The three lengthy examples of the singing of Śrī Damodar Das
Mukhiya that are included in our CD collection were recorded when he
was in his prime (1970s), when his vocal production was excellent
beyond description.  It is significant that nowhere in Thielemann's
writings is there mention of Śrī Rajendra Sharma, our
singer/informant, who is the most competent representative of the
Rādhāvallabha tradition by virtue of his training in classical
music and his close following of the texts and oral traditions. And
the Śrī Satsanga Bhumi, where Śrī Sharma leads
Rādhāvallabha Samāj-Gāyan every evening, is the quintessential
location for experiencing the fruits of this tradition.

Thielemann's other books (1998, 2000, 2002) contain chapters that
represent reprint\-ed articles, lectures and seminar papers with
considerable overlap.  A more useful volume is {\it The Music of South
Asia} (1999), representing her wide-ranging interests in many aspects
of religious music in South Asia, including Śrī Lanka and
Nepal.

Another few words of caution regarding definitions are in order at
this point. The term Samāj-Gāyan is often misleadingly translated
as “congregational sing\-ing” in some of the above works (i.e. Selina
Thielemann 1998, 59, 199, 292; 2001, Vol. I, 31; 2001, Vol. II, 916;
2002, 55, 58).  While the word {\it samāja} may signify society,
community, congregation, etc., in ordinary Indian usage, in the
context of music it refers to a specific genre of religious music that
is a form of high art.  Samāj-Gāyan is no more “congregational”
than Gregorian Chant, Lutheran Chorales, or Vedic chant.  Also, in
Thielemann (2001), the term {\it samājagāyana} is inappropriately
used in a kind of generic sense to refer to all five traditions of
temple music in Braj.  The term must only refer to the particular
group singing style that was founded and developed by the
Rādhāvallabha, Haridāsī, and Nimbārka sampradāyas.  For
example, in the Pu\d{s}\d{t}imārga tradition, the Vallabha
Sampradāya, there is no Samāj-Gāyan, and so the term cannot be
used as a description of their temple music.  Samāj-Gāyan is
occasionally performed within the Caitanya Sampradāya, but since the
Caitanya Sampradāya is essentially a Bengali tradition, its primary
form of music is Bengali {\it kīrtana} and {\it
nāma-sa\.nkīrtana}, the chanting of divine names in
congregation.  It is only in the Braj “branches” of the Caitanya
tradition that Samāj-Gāyan is practiced. Thus, employing the term
Samāj-Gāyan for all of the music of the Caitanya tradition is also
misleading.  As Samāj-Gāyan is not found in Bengal where the {\it
sampradāya} was founded, it represents a native Braj tradition that
has been adopted by the Caitanya Sampradāya.
 
\section*{Research and Study}
\addcontentsline{toc}{section}{Research and Study}

After several shorter visits to the region, I obtained grants which
enabled me to remain in Braj for a full year, studying the
Rādhāvallabha musical worship over the many seasons of the annual
calendar.  Due to the rather stringent religious piety of the
informants, most of the songs are only performed on specific days of
the calendar.  Thus, if one arrives in the spring or summer seasons,
only those particular songs would be heard.  It should be added here
that these songs have a unique charm and are jealously guarded by
followers of the sect.  As suggested above, it takes a considerable
period of time before one can obtain the good graces of the singers
and persuade them to reveal these songs and perform them, much less
allow them to be recorded.

Out of the eight songs of Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa that Rupert
Snell discussed in his 1983 article, six are included in this book as
well as on the accompanying CDs.  In his article, Snell pioneered a
particular venue of scholarship, the metrical and rhythmic analysis of
the Rādhāvallabha songs.  Snell's later monumental work (1991),
the full translation and analysis of Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa's
{\it Caurāśi-Pad} (CP), is especially appreciated, as he has
permitted some of these translations to be incorporated into the
present work.  The present author only wishes to enlarge and enhance
what Snell had originally accomplished, and to build upon his
information and methodology.  Careful linguistic scrutiny and analysis
of each song in the entire RV anthology, however, would fill volumes,
and so that is not the object of this book.  Rather, this work places
over a hundred of the important songs in their ritual and musical
context with introductory comments.  It is hoped that other scholars
and interested parties will continue to mine this extraordinary field
of material and examine it in various levels of depth and precision.

A unique aspect of the present book is that the Rādhāvallabha
songs included here in their transliterated textual form are
supplemented by their authoritative audio rendition taken from field
recordings of Rādhāvallabha musicians, and compiled into a series
of eighteen CDs.  The CDs contain my complete archive of one hundred
and eight (108) Rādhāvallabha songs that were collected and
recorded over several visits in 1975, 1976, 1977, 1978, 1988, and
during the year-long research trip in 1992-1993 that was funded by a
Fulbright Research Grant and the American Institute of Indian Studies
(A.I.I.S.).  Thus the reader will have both the audio and textual
version of each song presented.  The number one hundred and eight,
while normally considered very auspicious within Hindu religious
circles, was arrived at by chance.  There is no implicit relation
between this number and the total number of songs in this archive.

A close study of all of these hymns in context reveals a vast
multi-leveled “auditory environment” in the total mixture of songs
descriptive of Krishna {\it līlā}, in {\it rāga} scales and
in emotional moods associated with various times of the day and
seasons of the year. This book suggests that hymns in
Rādhāvallabha worship can only be fully comprehended when they are
viewed as a contributive part of an interlocking network of liturgical
meaning, created from the unique combination of a number of
independent variables such as {\it rāga}, time of day, season, mood,
theology, and song lyrics.

\begin{sloppypar}

The complex relationships revealed by this type of presentation point
toward broader comparative issues such as the relation between
metrical song and theistic worship in other religious traditions.
Furthermore, these studies are enhanced and complemented through
conversation with the fields of liturgy and music in Western
religions.  Referring to Western liturgical traditions, Mary McGann in
{\it Exploring Music as Worship and Theology} (2002) observed that in
ritual, song texts are inseparable from other aspects of the social,
cultural, and religious communication that takes place musically.
Furthermore, concepts in liturgical studies such as “auditory
environment” or “tonal landscape” as discussed by Edward Foley in
{\it Ritual Music: Studies in Liturgical Musicology} (1995), and
vernacular “corporate song” as explained by Robin A. Leaver in {\it
Liturgy and Music} (1998), are enriched by the Hindu data and are also
shown to be useful in fostering general insight about function of
music in theistic religious life, where “hearing is believing.”  The
present book is a partial response to the critical need for studies in
traditions that effectively combine religion and music.  It seeks to
provide a salient example of how music is inextricably intertwined
with religious thought and ritual in northern India, with special
attention to the Rādhāvallabha tradition in Vrindaban.

\end{sloppypar}

\section*{Background: Music and the Study of Religion }
\addcontentsline{toc}{section}{Background: Music and the Study of Religion}

Religion and music are clearly acknowledged by experts as distinct
universal features of human culture and society.  A commonly repeated
tenet of musicologists and ethnomusicologists is that music is a
universal aspect of culture and civilization.  Yet the special bond
that frequently exists between music and religion in religious belief
and thought, and their integral relationship in religious practice,
are important dimensions that have been largely overlooked by scholars
of both religious studies and musicology.

The pressing need for more studies in the field of religion and music has been outlined in
the Introduction to my recently edited volume, {\it Sacred Sound: Experiencing Music in
World Religions} (2006).  A concluding statement from this book may be cited here:
\begin{quote}
\begin{sloppypar}
Encountering and incorporating sacred sound enhances the ability to understand religion at
its deepest levels.  Music and chant are most often located at the core of religious life
in any culture, tied in with ritual and liturgical action.  Just as it is unthinkable to
approach or understand a religious liturgy without the oral dimension, it is just as
impossible to effectively penetrate a religious tradition without the musical
dimension.\footnote{Guy L. Beck (2006), 8-9.}
\end{sloppypar}
\end{quote} 

Just as it would be deficient to study Christianity without looking at
Protestant hymns and Gregorian chant as part of the religious
services, or to approach Islam without recognizing the significance of
the oral recitation of the Qur'an, in the same way it is partial at
best to study {\it bhakti} poetry and Hindu {\it bhakti} traditions in
India without a basic knowledge and appreciation of Indian music.
With overpowering evidence from all corners of the world, the field of
phenomenology of religion, then, must include music and chant as
essential elements in the study of religion.

While there may be a wide variation in the definitions of and
approaches to religion, scholars of the discipline generally strive to
collect data in order to validate, or invalidate, the presence of
“religion” in its many forms.  One prominent form of interpretation
of this data, for example, is to perceive a religion, including the
cultic and social dimensions, as a kind of artistic creation
expressing the existential human response to the presence of the
“wholly other,” which is frequently labeled the sacred or the divine,
but also that which is of ultimate value and importance.  As a “work
of art,” a religion elicits interpretation through the methods of the
humanities rather than through the purely logical explanations ({\it
erklarung}) often employed in the social and natural sciences.
Referred to in this way as the phenomenology of religion or the
history of religions, many thinkers in religious studies stress that
all “religious worlds” contain authentic voices that when assembled
express, in various ways, the universal human condition.  In this
view, any foreign or unfamiliar religion may be understood or
apprehended by outsiders through a kind of “empathetic understanding”
({\it verstehen}) that draws upon our common human experience of
finitude and the need to grasp life in it greatest possible
totality.\footnote{Guy L. Beck (2006), 3.}  Phenomenology of religion
as a method in religious studies also purports to give primacy to the
experiences of the believers themselves.

There is evidence that early historians of religious studies as a
budding academic discipline did seriously consider religion and music
as important overlapping categories. For example, Rudolf Otto in his
classic work, {\it The Idea of the Holy} (German 1917, English 1923)
declared that the feelings associated with music are very similar to
feelings of the holy itself, the numinous, which is something “wholly
other”: “Music, in short, arouses in us an experience and vibrations
of mood that are quite specific in kind.  The resultant complex mood
is, as it were, a fabric, in which the general human feelings and
emotional states constitute the warp, and the non-rational
music-feelings the woof.  The real content of music is not drawn from
the ordinary human emotions at all, and is in no way merely a second
language, alongside the usual one, by which these emotions find
expression.  Musical feeling is rather (like numinous feeling)
something ‘wholly other.’”\footnote{Rudolf Otto (1923), 49.}
Consequently, the human response to music is composed of similar
feelings and experiences as toward the numinous, such as {\it
mysterium tremendum} (mystery and awe) and {\it fascinans}
(attraction).

The phenomenologist of religion Gerardus van der Leeuw, in his now
famous work {\it Religion in Essence and Manifestation} (1938),
enlarged upon Otto's insights by affirming that “musical expression
of the holy occupies an extensive domain in worship.  There is hardly
any worship without music.”  His other major work, {\it Sacred and
Profane Beauty: The Holy in Art} (1963), reaffirms that “Almost all
worship uses music—religion can no more do without singing that it
can without the word. . . . Music represents the great struggle of
reaching the wholly other, which it can never
express.”\footnote{Gerardus van der Leeuw (1938), 453, (1963), 225,
227.}

Unfortunately, however, additional studies that further pursue this
connection between religion and music along the lines of Otto and van
der Leeuw, are relatively scarce.  As such, the detailed study of
sacred or religious music seems to have played a relatively minor role
in the overall development of the disciplines of phenomenology of
religion, comparative religion, or the history of religions.  But this
in no way should obscure the significance of music in the study of
religion.  In fact, the emerging sub-disciplines of ritual studies and
liturgical studies have partially taken up the slack and have
contributed further inspiration for the present book and its methods
of approach.

The object of ritual studies and liturgical studies is the liturgy
itself, apprehended as a pivotal dimension of a living community.
Liturgy is the structured series of rites combining word, action,
music, and physical space.  Accordingly, it becomes a useful category
for approaching religious practices associated with musical worship in
Hinduism.  Yet scholarly studies in Indian music have mostly focused
on private and non-liturgical contexts, such as domestic devotion,
rites of passage (wedding songs), popular entertainment (film songs),
and secular courts ({\it darbari dhrupad}, {\it khayal}, {\it thumri},
{\it ghazal}), leaving a paucity of work on the large corpus of
religious songs or hymns that are regularly and publicly performed
within the context of liturgical rites in Hindu temples.  Since a
number of well established Vaishnava traditions of Krishna worship in
the Braj region have integrated devotional hymns or {\it
kīrtanas} into daily and seasonal rituals known as {\it p\=ujā}
or {\it sevā}, there is an unexplored surplus of data for studies of
music in Hindu liturgy.

\section*{The Spirit of Krishna in Braj: Beginnings}
\addcontentsline{toc}{section}{The Spirit of Krishna in Braj: Beginnings}

The in-depth study of Krishna traditions in the Braj area of northern
India, including Vrindaban, was pioneered in the English language only
recently with the book of A. W. Entwistle, {\it Braj: Centre of
Krishna Pilgrimage} (1987).  Though some previous studies had been
done during the British colonial period, they were sketchy, with
serious field work in the region being delayed until the 1980's.
Charlotte Vaudeville, John S. Hawley, David Haberman, and A. Whitney
Sanford have also made signal contributions in this vein with
religio-geographic studies of some of the forests, hills, villages,
and rivers of Braj.

In his thoroughly researched book, Entwistle confides that his
scholarly approach was neutral and unfettered by the kind of
devotional fervor that is so visibly characteristic of the area.  He
stated, “Though I have attempted to suppress value judgments and be
less opinionated than my colonial predecessors, my perspective remains
that of an outsider who, being charmed by the aesthetics and vivacity
of Braj culture, has remained stubbornly impervious to the theology
and mysticism.  I am intrigued by the sentimental and emotional appeal
of Krishna devotion, but have failed to let it sweep me off my
feet.”\footnote{Alan W. Entwistle (1987), xvii.}

In my own case, the opposite disclaimer is advanced.  I was “swept
off my feet” by the same object of study, from the very first time
that I was exposed to the music of Braj and Vrindaban.  In 1974, while
working as a Sanskrit editor for a well-known Indian Studies publisher
in New York, the Bhaktivedanta Book Trust, one of my associates who
had just returned from India presented me with a short audio tape of a
recording that he had made in the Rādhāvallabha Temple.  Knowing I
was “into music,” he thought I might find it interesting.  Somehow I
could not stop listening to it!  The unusual melodies in Indian {\it
rāgas}, along with the unique call-and-response style of choral
singing, with its repetitions, exclamations, and variations in overall
tempo, were things that I had never heard before.  The exotic {\it
tāla} rhythmic patterns were also overwhelming.  But there was
something more—a powerful and intangible element of devotion that
penetrated directly to the heart.  While I was somewhat familiar with
the sounds of the {\it sitar} and {\it sarod} which were popular then,
this vocal music was on a totally different level, possibly an
antecedent to the compositions performed on these instruments.  To say
that I was merely “blown away” by the emotional effect of this
listening experience is an understatement.  I became, in fact,
“smitten” by the whole mystique of the Krishna myth as expressed in
Indian vocal music.  The singing on that tape lingered in my mind for
a year until I was able to visit the Rādhāvallabha Temple myself
in 1975 to make further recordings.  This was followed by more lengthy
visits in 1976-1980, 1988, and 1992-1993.  I am certainly not alone in
being enchanted by the culture and music of Braj.  Still, in allowing
my emotional responses to the musical and religious phenomena of
Vrindaban to delay the prompt analysis and publication of my research,
I stand in contrast to Entwhistle and those like him.

In addition, my lengthy period studying Indian classical music meant
postponing timely and precise scholarly research expected in the
humanities and social sciences.  That is, rather than scouring
libraries for different manuscripts of the poems I had heard, I was
repeatedly drawn to taking more and more music lessons in order to
collect many compositions in different {\it rāgas}, as the best means
of understanding the performance traditions.  In fact, one of the
primary motivating factors that led me to enroll in formal Hindustani
classical music lessons in Calcutta (1976-1980) was to attempt to
comprehend the elusive Rādhāvallabha melodies and rhythms, which were
sophisticated and, as I came to appreciate, quite connected to the
current classical tradition.  More biographical details of my
classical training in Indian music are found in my article, “The Magic
of Hindu Music,” in {\it Hinduism Today} (Oct/Nov/Dec, 2007: 20-31).
In short, I came to realize that the “spirit of Braj,” or that
intangible element of Krishna devotion, was not limited to a
geographic area or spiritual lineage, but permeated the entire field
of Hindustani classical music.  This spirit or element was thus
equally present in the classical compositions (also in Braj Bhasha
language) that I received from renowned musical exponents in different
parts of India, whether from my Hindu teachers Śrī Sailen Banerjee,
Pandit Vijay Kichlu, Pandit Arun Bhaduri, and Śrī Ashish Goswami, or
from the Muslim Dagar Brothers and Ustad Latafat Hussain Khan.
Furthermore, all of this training reinforced my conviction that the
Rādhāvallabha songs were compelling and that they urgently needed
appreciation and dissemination.  Hopefully, by now, there is
sufficient preparation and emotional “distance” between subject and
object for credible and articulate scholarly work to take place,
resulting in this book and CD collection.

The term “Braj” does not refer to an area with clearly defined
boundaries and “has never been used as the official name of a
political territory or administrative division.”\footnote{Alan
W. Entwistle (1987), 1.}  The term comes from the Sanskrit {\it
vraja}, meaning a place where cattle roam, where Krishna tended his
cows many centuries ago.  Nonetheless, Braj is often defined as the
religious and cultural sphere occupying about eighty-four square miles
in western Uttar Pradesh and eastern Rajasthan where there is the
predominance of the spoken language of Braj Bhasha; it includes the
entire districts of Mathura and Bharatpur, as well as adjacent parts
of other districts, like the towns of Aligarh, Hathras, Agra, and
Alwar.\footnote{Alan W. Entwistle (1987), 1.}  The single most
important town within the Braj area in terms of the intensity of
Krishna devotion and worship, is Vrindaban, the place where the
adolescent Krishna is believed to have exhibited his childish pranks,
heroic feats, and amorous pastimes roughly five thousand years ago.

The people of Braj, or “Brajbasis,” as they are usually called, in
Entwistle's words:

\begin{quote}

have taken the image of the romantic and pastoral Krishna to their
hearts and have made him the central character in their folklore.
They are proud to be associated with the land in which Krishna spent
his youth and delight in telling visitors stories about the deeds he
performed in their neighborhood.  In keeping with their pastoral
background, they are lovers of all dairy products and, if they indulge
in a feast, prefer to gorge themselves on butter, ghee, and sweets
made from milk, rather than any other kind of delicacy.  They are also
proud of their dialect, usually referred to as “Braj Bhasha.”  It is
universally admired for its sweetness and is popularly assumed to be
the language that Krishna spoke while he lived and played among the
rustic people of Braj.  Because it was thought to be the dialect most
appropriate for describing Krishna's pastoral adventures, it became
the most widely used form of literary Hindi from the sixteenth to the
nineteenth century.  Throughout this period Braj was a centre of
inspiration for anyone concerned with the adventures of Krishna and
Rādhā.\footnote{Alan W. Entwistle (1987), 8.}

\end{quote}

The geographic Braj remains an important locus today for the study of
Krish\-na, but the “spiritual” Braj which has taken on a life of its
own within human consciousness: “Even though there is hardly a trace
of his mythological environment, the presence of Krishna remains alive
in the hearts and minds of the people.”\footnote{Alan W. Entwistle
(1987), 2.}

Krishna worship in India generally centers around the human-like form
of Krishna who, either as supreme being or as an incarnation of
Vishnu, is believed to have manifested in both space (the Braj region
of northern India) and time (ca. 3000 BCE).  The image forms of
Krishna are venerated according to special events in his earthly life,
like birth, childhood miracles, adolescent dalliances with cowherd
girls, partnerships with his favorite milkmaid Rādhā, marriages
with various queens, slaying of adversaries, ruling of dynasties, and
speaking of holy teachings ({\it Bhagavad-Gītā}).  Devotees of
Krishna normally strive to invoke and recall his real presence.  They
do so by referring to one or more of these events in ritual worship
and by hearing and singing his names and activities, often through the
medium of vernacular songs or hymns variously known as {\it
vishnupad}, {\it dhrupad}, {\it samāj-gāyan}, {\it bhajan}, and
{\it kīrtan}.  Unique among Vaishnava traditions, the
Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya focuses attention almost solely on the
romantic/erotic relationship between Rādhā and Krishna.  The
liturgical tradition of the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya
(community), which venerates Rādhā and Krishna but gives
prominence to Rādhā, is one of the oldest and strongest of the
various devotional {\it sampradāyas} established in Braj between
1200 and 1600 CE (the others include the Nimbārka, Vallabha,
Haridāsī, and Gauḍīya {\it sampradāyas}).

\begin{sloppypar}

Historically, Krishna fits into the broad category of the Hindu
tradition known as “Vaishnava,” acknowledged to encompass the
majority of Hindu believers.  Beside Krishna, it includes the
veneration of Vi\d{s}\d{n}u, Nārāya\d{n}a, Lak\d{s}mī,
Rādhā, Rāma, Sītā, and the remaining {\it avatāras}
(incarnations) with their female consorts, saints, and sectarian
leaders and followers.  The various “Krishna” traditions within
Vaishnavism differ regarding theology and the methods of worship,
though nearly all involve music in some form.  In a recent work, {\it
Alternative Krishnas: Regional and Vernacular Variations on a Hindu
Deity} (2005), I discussed these traditions and separated them into
two general camps, one normative, and the other alternative.  The
normative Krishna tradition is based primarily on a canon of early
Sanskrit texts (Purā\d{n}as, epics), while so-called “alternative
Krishna” traditions may or may not include these along with regional
or vernacular sources.\footnote{See Guy L. Beck (2005), 65-90, for a
discussion of the “Alternative Krishnology” of the Rādhāvallabha
Sampradāya.}

\end{sloppypar}

While the Sanskrit Purā\d{n}as and epic texts describing the life and
pastimes of Krishna have proliferated throughout the more elite or
literary sectors of Indian society, the production of vernacular
versions and descriptions of his {\it līlās} in the form of devotional
songs are gradually being recognized as equally significant for the
study of Hinduism.  Braj Bhasha scholar Heidi R. M. Pauwels has
explained,

\begin{quote}

One of the favorite vehicles of the [{\it bhakti}] movement is the
genre of devotional songs in the vernacular of the Braj area, the
region closely associated with Krishna.  Studying these apparently
simple Braj Bhasha devotional songs reveals the complicated processes
underlying them.  Roughly speaking, the songs are the result of a
merging of the brahmanic Puranic tradition (itself complex), Sanskrit
poetics usually associated with the courtly tradition, and popular
devotional and even secular folk traditions.  In other words, these
songs are excellent materials for the study of
Hinduism.\footnote{Heidi R. M. Pauwels (1996), 1.}

\end{quote}
As this book seeks to focus on an important living vernacular
tradition, it gives closer attention to the listening experience of
hymns in ritual context, rather than to texts and commentaries.

\section*{Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya}
\addcontentsline{toc}{section}{Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya}

One of the most unique of the various “alternative Krishna”
subdivisions is the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya (RVS). This medieval {\it
  sampradāya} flourished in northern India from the early 16th Century
CE, and remains a potent force of Vaishnava devotion today in Braj,
especially at its home town of Vrindaban.  The sacred image of Krishna
is central to this sect, but within the theology of RVS, Krishna is
approached, not as the consummate Godhead, but as the penultimate step
toward the supreme Deity which is not Krishna alone but primarily
Rādhā, his spouse and only female companion.

The name ”Rādhā-vallabha” refers to Krishna as ”the dearest of Rādhā,”
yet Krishna is subservient to Rādhā, who stands supreme in the
theological hierarchy.  The poetry of this tradition deals almost
exclusively with the intimate and erotic relationship between Rādhā
and Krishna.  This ”alternative” Krishnology, while not totally
without precedent in Vaishnava literature, is firmly located within
the literature and tradition of the RVS, beginning with the works of
the founder.

The Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya was founded in about 1535 CE by Śrī Hita
Harivaṃśa (1502-1552 CE) in Vrindaban (cf. V\d{r}ndāvana), near
Mathurā, where according to pious tradition, Krishna was born
miraculously in roughly 3000 BCE.  Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa assisted in the
medieval revival of the town of Vrindaban as a major pilgrimage center
for Hindus.  Along with Caitanya and the Six Goswamis of the Gauḍīya
tradition, Śrī Vallabha and the A\d{s}\d{t}achāp poets, Śrī
Bha\d{t}\d{t}a and Śrī Harivyāsa\-deva from the Nimbārka Sampradāya,
and Svāmī Haridāsa of the Haridāsī Sampradāya, he is recognized by
historians as a pioneer in developing Vrindaban.  Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa
established four important shrines there, each closely related to one
of Krishna's pastimes.  Sevā Ku\~nja is the alleged location of the
original Rāsa-līlā, or circle dance, in which Krishna multiplied
himself in order to dance with each of the towns\-women
simultaneously.  Rāsa Ma\d{n}ḍala is the site where the Rāsa-līlā
plays are staged; Vaṃśīva\d{t}a is the tree where Krishna played his
flute and inaugurated the Rāsa-līlā; and Mānasarovara is the pond
where the cow-tending girls, the Gopīs, rested after Rāsa-līlā dance.

Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa's extraordinary life has been briefly summarized by
Braj scholar Rupert Snell (1991), from the account of Uttamadāsa, an
18th century disciple of the Rādhāvallabha tradition.  Hita
Harivaṃśa's family was from the town of Deoband in Uttar Pradesh.  His
father, Vyāsa Miśra, was a wealthy Brahmin astrologer who served at
the royal court but was at first unable to conceive a child.  However,
Vyāsa rejoiced at his brother's dream of a son who would soon be born
to Vyāsa's wife as a joint incarnation of Hari (Krishna) and {\it
  vaṃśa} (Krishna's flute).  Since the Miśra family was often in
transit, Harivaṃśa took birth in the small village of Bada near
Mathura, Krishna's own birthplace.  From an early age the child was
obsessed with the name and form of the Goddess Rādhā, often receiving
communication from her in dreams.  Rādhā had told him to make known a
special {\it mantra} of her name to the world, and to rescue a Krishna
image from a well in his father's garden.  Harivaṃśa took these
commands seriously by establishing this deity in a temple in his
hometown.  After marrying and raising three children, Harivaṃśa was
further ordered by Rādhā to leave his family behind and proceed to
Vrindaban, but only after going to another village and accepting two
daughters in marriage from a Brahmin as well as another image of
Krishna to be installed there.  This image was known as
“Rādhāvallabha,” and was installed in a new temple in Vrindaban in the
year 1535 C.E.

According to the record, “He [Harivaṃśa] established the service of
the deity with seven food offerings ({\it bhoga}) through the eight
periods of the day ({\it yāma}), according to the
season.”\footnote{Rupert Snell (1991), 19-20.}  Their unique tradition
of Samāj-Gāyan singing began with the inauguration of this temple,
drawing first upon the early Braj Bhasha hymns of Hita Harivaṃśa.
Samāj-Gāyan, the focus of our study, is a collective style of
vernacular hymn-singing resembling the Hindustani classical forms of
Dhrupad and Dhamār.  This is performed twice daily, in the morning and
in the evening.  The daily schedule is described more in detail
further below.

The Rādhāvallabha scriptural canon is almost entirely in the
vernacular dialect of Hindi known as Braj Bhasha.  This special
language is believed to be the speech of the intimate associates of
Rādhā and Krishna in both the earthly Vrindaban and in the
corresponding eternal spiritual abode.  Braj Bhasha is also said to
provide access to a more profound level of spiritual experience than
that represented by the Sanskrit “canon,” which is thought to be
inferior since it is spoken only in the heavens by the various gods
and goddesses, and neglects Rādhā as the highest truth.  Though a few
works in Sanskrit by members of the RVS survive, these texts develop a
theology of Rādhā and Krishna rather than build upon standard themes
of Vedānta, Mīmāṃsa, Yoga, Nyāya, or Vaiśe\d{s}ika philosophies.
Moreover, RVS theology does not align itself with classical positions
of nondualism or dualism.  In the Sanskrit work of Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa
known as the {\it Śrī-Rādhā-sudhā-nidhi-stotra}, “The Treasury of
Rādhā's Nectar,” the supreme divinity of Rādhā is presented as
irrefutable.  There are over sixteen commentaries on it written by
disciples of the Rādhāvallabha lineage.  Beside this, there is a short
work in Braj Bhasha, {\it Sphu\d{t}a-Vā\d{n}ī} (SV), and a prayer in
Sanskrit to the Goddess Yamunā.

Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa's principal work in Braj Bhasha is the {\it
Caurāśi-Pad} (CP), which has eighty-four verses covering themes of {\it
niku\~nja-vihāra} (the intimate love pastimes of Rādhā and Krishna taking place in
eternal time), the Rāsa dance, Rādhā's {\it māna} or pride, and descriptions of
the Spring and Autumn scenery of Vrindaban.  His devotional focus is primarily on the {\it
yugala-m\=urti}, the combined form of Rādhā and Krishna in loving embrace.  Other
aspects of Vaishnavism, such as {\it avatāra} mythology and worship, {\it vy\=uha}
expansions, theology, personal privations and rituals like fasting on Ekādaśī,
etc., are rejected as distractions.  In fact, most of what passes as Sanātana Dharma
Hinduism, including caste duties, {\it saṃskāras}, Vedic rituals, etc., are viewed
as irrelevant to the central {\it līlā} of Rādhā and Krishna and are even held
with some disdain.  Avoidance of all of these conventional components of religious life
further underscores the singular importance of music as the primary means of group
participation and expression of the faith.

Besides the work of Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa, there is an immense body of poetic
literature of the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya which is unfortunately both unedited and
unpublished.  Most of the existing writings and manuscripts attributed to members of the
various disciplic lineages, with dates, have been tabulated in a book by Śrī Kisori
Saran Ali, {\it Śrī Hita Rā\-dhāvallabhiya Sāhitya Ratnāvalī}.  In the
fall of 1992, in the Vrindaban home of his grandson/disciple Śrī Jayesh Khandelwal,
Śrī Kisori Saran Ali showed me two gigantic closets filled with hand-written
manuscripts and transcriptions that had accumulated for generations, pointing out that the
poetic riches of this tradition have been largely untapped.

The subsequent development of the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya incorporated two parallel
streams, one dependent on the other. The principal stream is the hereditary line derived
from Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa, through his sons and descendents.  Those individual
householder leaders in the hereditary line are called Goswamis (Gosvāmīs), and the
stream is called the Bindu Parivāra (“family from the seed”).  The other line is a
chain of ascetics linked through initiation ({\it dīk\d{s}ā}).  This is called the
Nāda Parivāra (“family from the sound”).  The ascetic line is not independent and
derives its authority from the Goswamis.  The Bindu Parivāra (hereditary line) maintains
control over the following religious sites: the main Rādhāvallabha temple, Sevā
Ku\~nja and Ra\.ngīlāla Mandira in Vrindaban.  Some of the names in this line are
Vanacandra, K\d{r}\d{s}\d{n}acandra, Hita R\=upalāla, and V\d{r}ndāvanadāsa
Gosvāmī.  The Nāda Parivāra (ascetic line) maintains the sites at Bād Grām,
Māna Sarovara, and the Rāsa Ma\d{n}ḍala in Vrindaban, and includes the names of
Nara Vāhana, Dāmodara Svāmī, Rāmak\d{r}\d{s}\d{n}adāsa, Ativallabha,
Sahacārī Sukha, Uttamadāsa, Premadāsa, Vrajajīvana, and
Priyādāsa.\footnote{For a complete listing of the members of each line along with
their literary contributions, see Vijayendra Snatak (1957, 1968), 573-581.}

The Rādhāvallabha tradition maintains a “Krishnology” that is complex, and believed to
represent the highest and truest culmination of centuries of Vaishnavism and Krishna
worship.  In order to understand and appreciate this consummation of devotion, it is
helpful to study the development of Vaishnavism from the initial stages of Vedic religion
that gives reference to the deity of Vishnu to the ultimate supremacy of Rādhā over
Krishna.

\section*{Indian Music and Hindu Devotion}
\addcontentsline{toc}{section}{Indian Music and Hindu Devotion}

The role of music in Hindu devotion requires some elucidation
beginning with a brief description of the development of Dhrupad and
Samāj-Gāyan as theoretically derived from Gandharva music, the
ancient music contemporary with Vedic ritual and the Sāma Veda.
This will assist in providing a deeper understanding of the importance
of music and rhythm in Vaishnava worship.

Rather than a secular art or folk expression, music in Hindu
traditions is believed to be originally created by the gods for their
own amusement, and later bestowed upon humans both for enjoyment and
as a means of release from mortality.  As such, music is seen to be
innately possessed of sacred qualities, whereby the individual notes
({\it svara}) and beats ({\it mātrā}) reflect natural and cosmic
forces.  The bestowal of music is said in Hindu mythology to have
happened in response to a plea or petition in a time of critical need.
Brahmā, after meditating for thousands of years, finally decided to
give music to the entire human race when sages begged him to bring
relief to the sorrow and hardships of the world.  The use of music in
various Indian religious contexts is thus more readily understood and
expected, since virtually all music, like language, reflects the
divine realm.

The Sāma Veda {\it sāmans} were hymns that were comprised of 3-7 {\it svaras} or
notes.  Each note has a specific finger position ({\it mudrā}): {\it kru\d{s}\d{t}a}
({\it Pa}), {\it prathama} ({\it Ma}), {\it dvitīya} ({\it Ga}), {\it tritīya}
({\it Ri}), {\it caturtha} ({\it Sa}), {\it mandra} ({\it Dha}), {\it atisvārya} ({\it
Ni}), {\it anudātta} ({\it Pa}). The {\it riks} or verses of the original Rig Veda were
chanted in one, two, and three notes that were linked to three accents known as {\it
anudātta}, {\it udātta}, and {\it svarita}.  There was no percussive element apart
from the rhythm of the singing, yet the hand gestures indicated falling and rising moments
at appropriate times.  In order to create more effect, both aesthetically and spiritually,
{\it stobhas} or semantically meaningless syllables were inserted between notes to conform
to patterns of melody and rhythm.

Ancient Indian music was also understood as a form of yoga that served
to bring about a state of blissful immortality for the chanter and
listener.  Sometimes this was referred to as {\it nāda-yoga}, in
reference to the concept of Nāda-Brahman, the cosmic or sacred sound
that is believed to pervade the universe but also resides within the
human consciousness.  Musicians are often cited as having experiences
of this Nāda-Brahman while in their performance or private practice.
Sanskrit texts have identified this experience and amplified it with
the notion of {\it rasa}, which is equated with that bliss or {\it
  ānanda} which is felt when the divine nature of the Self is
realized.  Music came to be practiced not merely as an aesthetic or
mental exercise but as a means toward realization of the knowledge of
the {\it ātman}.  The aim of music is to restore equanimity to the
mind and induce a state of bliss to the inner self.  {\it ānanda}
being an attribute of Brahman or the Hindu God Vishnu or Krishna, it
is the most pure, elevating and intense joy that also brings with it
an intuition of reality.  More details on the Sanskrit philosophy of
Nāda-Brahman as well as the Vedic notion of {\it ad\d{r}\d{s}\d{t}a}
are found in the author's study, {\it Sonic Theology: Hinduism and
  Sacred Sound} (1993).

Indian music, if properly performed according to the canons of musical
theory, is said to provide salvation (heaven) and relief from {\it
  bhava-sāgara}, the ocean of material suffering.  The tradition of
Gandharva Sa\.ngīta, ancient classical music, according to the texts
of {\it Dattila} and {\it Nā\d{t}ya Śāstra}, was based on the Vedic
system of sacrifice, in which the correct performance of rites
guaranteed entrance into heaven.  This was realized through the same
principle of {\it ad\d{r}\d{s}\d{t}a}, or unseen merit that
accumulated within the soul of the practitioner over a lifetime on
earth.  Though the rite would finish, the result derived from its
execution remained invisible to the performer only to be reclaimed
after death.  This corresponded to the principle of {\it ap\=urva} in
Mīmāṃsā philosophy and linguistics.

Solveig McIntosh, in her new study of ancient music, {\it Hidden Faces of Ancient Indian
Song}, states that,

\begin{quote}

In general, all formalized music was known as Gandharva and was even considered a
secondary Veda.  More specifically, it meant music that was intended for {\it
ad\d{r}\d{s}\d{t}a phala}, for obtaining the unseen result, for religious merit or
praising the gods.  This was a highly grammatical music and in the {\it Nā\d{t}ya
Śāstra} [of Bharata] was used in a specific sense. The main components of Gandharva
were {\it svara}, {\it tāla}, and {\it pada} (tone, time, and word or syllable) with
specific rules for obtaining unseen spiritual results.  Vocal music, {\it vī\d{n}ā}
and the flute formed the triad of Gandharva music with the main emphasis on vocal music
and with {\it vī\d{n}ā} and flute lending a special harmony.\footnote{Solveig
McIntosh (2005), 79.}

\end{quote}

Gandharva music has been described in detail in the Sanskrit treatise {\it Dattilam},
written by Dattila (ca. 300 BCE).  Based essentially on the Vedic theory of sacrifice,
the performers “earned” their way to salvation through the correct performance of
traditional music.  Mukund Lath, a contemporary interpreter of the {\it Dattilam}, argues
in {\it A Study of Dattilam} that, 

\begin{quote}

Gandharva was not only immutable like the Vedic {\it mantras}, its performance was not
unlike the performance of a Vedic sacrifice.  It was a special kind of sacrifice in honor
of the gods.  It was a {\it yāga} that was free of the immense expenses involved in
Vedic sacrifices and was especially pleasing to Lord Śiva.  Like Vedic sacrifices,
Gandharva was governed by strict commands regarding do's and don't's.  Every movement in
it had to strictly follow the injunctions or {\it vidhis} laid down for it.  These
injunctions were preserved in the manuals on Gandharva (such as the {\it Dattilam}) ...  A
properly performed Vedic sacrifice was said to result in {\it ad\d{r}\d{s}\d{t}a} (or {\it
ap\=urva}, a concept synonymous with {\it ad\d{r}\d{s}\d{t}a}).  The same belief existed
regarding Gandharva.\footnote{Mukund Lath (1978), 82, 84.}

\end{quote}

Ancient Gandharva music was primarily vocal and employed as its main percussion instrument
the {\it jhānjh}, hand cymbals, which were employed to demarcate the {\it svaras} or
musical notes and the {\it mātrās} or rhythmic units of {\it tāla} as they unfolded.
Similar types of hand cymbals are used all over India today primarily in religious music
and are especially found in the Vaishnava temple music traditions.  As observed by Lath,
“A distinct feature of Gandharva {\it tāla} was the peculiar nature of the instrument
used.  {\it Tāla} measures were demarcated chiefly by sounding bronze cymbals.  To this
day in India, the {\it jhānjh} and {\it ma\~njīra} (large and small bronze cymbals)
are specifically connected with music in a religious or devotional
setting.”\footnote{Mukund Lath (1978), 110.}  The great musical scholar Śār\.ngadeva
of the thirteenth century C.E. included a small section on bells and cymbals and their
proper usage in his {\it Sa\.ngīta-Ratnākara} (“Ocean of Song,” 6.1170f).
As such, similar notions of earning merit toward liberation in Vedic sacrifices and
ancient Gandharva music hold for much of the temple music from the medieval periods to the
present.

The later Vaishnava temple songs, while grouped according to {\it rāga} and {\it
tāla}, incorporate the basic principle of {\it ad\d{r}\d{s}\d{t}a} which functions
independently of the particular {\it rāga} or {\it tāla} that may be employed.  And as
the syllables of the Braj Bhasha text are vocally rendered in the strict manner of
rhythmic units or {\it mātrās}, the {\it śakti} or power of the letters unfold
within the mind of the performer or listener, accumulating merit through the building up
of {\it ap\=urva}.  In addition, the references to the Gandharva musical instruments in
later {\it bhakti} poetry, especially drums, cymbals, and other percussion instruments,
are insightful with regard to the soteriological dimension of Vaishnava temple music, such
as found in the Rādhāvallabha tradition, in the terms discussed above.

The two most characteristic types of Vaishnava temple singing in Vraja
are Samāj-Gāyan, the congregational singing of devotional poetry at
fixed times, and Nitya Kīrtan, also known as Haveli Sangit, the
soloistic rendition of verses to accompany the temple worship service
on a continuous basis from morning until evening.  Whereas Samāj-Gāyan
is the special genre of Vraja, in particular the Rādhāvallabha,
Nimbārka and Haridāsī Sampradāyas, Nitya Kīrtan is still observed
today in the temples of the Vallabha Sampradāya (Pu\d{s}\d{t}imārga),
which have dispersed throughout Western India.  The Hindustani
classical form known as Dhrupad forms an integral part of both
Samāj-Gāyan and Nitya Kīrtan.

\section*{Dhrupad}
\addcontentsline{toc}{section}{Dhrupad}

Dhrupad is the most important classical vocal musical form in North
India.  It is named as such because its song-texts have a “fixed”
({\it dhru}, {\it dhruva}) relation between the syllable, note ({\it
svara}), and rhythmic unit or beat ({\it mātrā}). The term Dhrupad
is thus nominally related to the ancient theatre songs known as {\it
dhruva}, which were rendered in the vernacular Prakrit dialects of the
day.  In fact, Dhrupad is the oldest surviving genre of classical
singing in India.  Its name, derivative of {\it dhruva-pada} — an
older variety of devotional music — means simply “refrain”, and
today means both a form of poetry and a style of music in which the
poetry is sung.  A Dhrupad composition comprises four parts, usually
represented by four lines of a complete poem, that are termed {\it
sthāyī}, {\it antarā}, {\it saṃcārī}, and {\it
ābhoga}.  In theory, these four parts each have a separate melody
within the confines of a specific {\it rāga} that serve to unfold
the characteristics of the {\it rāga}.  Modern practice has tended
to reduce these to the first two, as in the genre of Khyāl, its
direct successor in form and popularity.

The direct connection between Vaishnava temple music and Dhrupad
singing is explained by Selina Thielemann with reference to the {\it
Bhāgavata Purā\d{n}a} scriptural text: “While classical musicians
often refer to Śār\.ngadeva's {\it Sa\.ngīta Ratnākara},
and more specifically to the description of {\it prabandha} contained
in it, as the theoretical fundament of classical Dhrupad, the
scriptural confirmation of the superiority of the temple Dhrupad over
other genres of Vaishnava devotional music is sought not in a
musicological treatise, but rather in the text that forms the
theological basis of Vaishnavism, namely the {\it Bhāgavata
Purāṇa}.”\footnote{Selina Thielemann (2002), 27.}  The verse that
specifically refers to devotional music is from Chapter Thirty-three
of the Tenth Book (10.33.10), which offers an elaborate description of
the Rāsa-līlā, Krishna's famous round dance which he
performed with the {\it gopī}s (cowherd women) of Vraja on the
side of the Yamunā River during the full-moon in autumn. The passage
describes a musical exchange between the {\it gopīs} and Krishna.

\begin{verse}

{\it kācit samaṃ mukundena svarajātīr amiśritā\d{h}\\
unninye p\=ujitā tena prīyatā sādhu sādhviti\\ 
tad eva dhruvam unninye tasyai mānaṃ ca bahvadāt}

\end{verse}

In Graham Schweig's translation: “One of them, together with Mukunda, sang out in pure
embellished tones, freely improvising on a melody. Pleased by her performance, he honored
her, saying, “Well done! Well done!”  Another one sang out that melody in a stylized
rhythmic pattern, and he offered her much praise.”  The footnote states, “in a particular
measure of music known as {\it dhruvam}.”\footnote{Graham Schweig (2006), 68.}

In Selina Thielemann's translation: “A certain ({\it gopī}) sang together with
Krishna (in a way that) the notes of the scale did not harmonize.  She was honored by him,
as she had pleased him, (with the words) “Splendid! excellent!”.  (When) she proceeded to
sing to the measured beat ({\it dhruva}), he paid much respect to her.”\footnote{Selina
Thielemann (1999), 357.}

In the second half of the stanza, the appearance of the term {\it dhruva} is very
significant.  It indeed refers to a type of song in the ancient music style of Gāndharva
Sa\.ngīta.  {\it Dhruva} was a fixed metrical song that was rendered in the
vernacular or Prakrit dialect of the time, and survives by name in the Vaishnava tradition
of Dhruvapad or Dhrupad, a close relative of the Samāj-Gāyan tradition.  In her
studies of Vaishnava temple music, Thielemann has commented on this passage: 

\begin{quote}

The usage of the term {\it dhruva}, which is nowadays interpreted as
{\it dhruva pada} (i.e. {\it dhrupada}) and quoted as evidence for the
superior position of {\it dhrupada} among the song types of devotional
music.  In the present context, the term {\it dhruva} refers clearly
to a melody set to a fixed metric pattern, i.e., to a composition as
distinct from a freely improvised melody, but if we keep in mind that
{\it dhruva pada} is most likely to have been the original and
principal type of composition in Vaishnava devotional singing, the
interpretation of {\it dhruva} as {\it dhruva pada} gains indeed
authority.\footnote{Selina Thielemann (1999), 357.}

\end{quote}
In a later work, Thielemann cites a Vaishnava authority in connection
with the interpretation of this passage:

\begin{quote}

Interpretations by contemporary {\it Bhāgavata} scholars equate “{\it dhruva}” with
“{\it dhruva pada}” i.e. “{\it dhrupada}.”  Thus, Shri Purushottam Goswami ji Maharaj of
Vrindaban explained in a commentary on the present verse [sermon on April 26, 1995] that
the {\it gopī} referred to in the text was honored by the lord as she proceeded to
sing {\it dhrupada}, and he continued by saying that {\it dhrupada} derives its special
spiritual significance from the power inherent in the twelve {\it mātrās} of its
metric cycle, i.e. Cautāla.\footnote{Selina Thielemann (2002), 28.}

\end{quote}
He also attributed this same spiritual power to the fourteen {\it mātrās} of Dhamār
Tāla. This statement about the power of the {\it mātrās} serves to validate the
connections between Indian musical rhythm and Vedic chanting briefly outlined above.

Like all other Indian classical music, Dhrupad is modal or monophonic music, having a
single melodic line and no harmony in the Western sense.  The modes are known as {\it
rāgas}, and each {\it rāga} is a scale but has its own complicated framework of
melodic rules.  Apart from other genres of folk and popular music, Dhrupad is in slower
tempo, mostly in Cautāl (twelve beats) and Dhamār (fourteen beats).  It has less melodic
development, and a limited set of ornaments.  Based on available evidence, Dhrupad seems
to have originated as a form of devotional singing in Hindu temples.  It is thus believed
to have a very long history that is traceable back to the Vedic period, since there is
mention of {\it dhruva} as a kind of vernacular song in ancient texts like the {\it
Dattilam}.  Gandharva music was the musical counterpart to the ancient Vedic hymns of the
Sāma Veda called {\it sāmans}.

Dhrupad became popular in both the Hindu and Muslim courts during the medieval times.
Abul Fazl, who was the courtier and chronicler at the court of the Emperor Akbar, wrote a
work called the {\it Ain-e-Akbari} in which he defined {\it dhrupad} as “Four rhyming
lines, each of indefinite prosodial length of words or syllables.”  The four lines, in
serial order, are {\it sthāyī}, {\it antarā}, {\it saṃcārī} and {\it
ābhoga}.  The subject matter was mostly religious, but also included praise of royal
figures, musical symbolism, and romantic themes.

Gradually by the eighteenth century Dhrupad singing began to decline and was replaced by a
more fluid improvisatory genre called Khyāl.  It allowed for more display of virtuosity
and was configured as less religious and more of a courtly entertainment.  At this time,
new instruments were being developed such as the {\it sitar} and the {\it sarod}, that
mirrored the rendering of Khyāl with regard to fast tempos and rapid passages in
succession.

The classical Dhrupad of today is performed by a solo singer, or a small number of singers
in unison, to the beat of a double-headed barrel drum, the {\it pakhavāj}.  The songs
are mostly in praise of Hindu deities, but, as in Abul Fazl's time, Islamic or simply
regalist lyrics have been composed and added to the repertoire.  In concert performance,
the text of the {\it sthāyī} is usually preceded by an introductory improvised
section called the {\it ālāp}, without instrumental accompaniment.  Sung without
words, it uses instead sets of syllables in a repetitive fixed pattern, such as, {\it ā
re ne na}, {\it te re ne na}, {\it ri re re ne na}, {\it te ne toom ne}.  This practice is
often called {\it nom-tom}.  These syllables are actually derived from sacred syllables of
Vishnu {\it mantras} like {\it Om Hari Ananta Narayana}.  It has became the trend in
modern concerts of Dhrupad that the {\it ālāp} will comprise the greater part of the
performance, lasting up to an hour, beginning in slow tempo with a gradual, controlled
development of the {\it rāga}.

\section*{Samāj-Gāyan}
\addcontentsline{toc}{section}{Samāj-Gāyan}

As a form of devotional singing that is related to the classical Dhrupad styles,
Samāj-Gāyan is based on similar notions of the formal structure and development of the
{\it rāga} and {\it tāla}. It also employs the {\it pakhavāj} drum (sometimes the
{\it tabla}) and may utilize a {\it tanpura} drone.  However, principal differences exist
between Dhrupad and Samāj-Gāyan.  Hand cymbals must always be used in Samāj-Gāyan,
while they are virtually absent in classical Dhrupad concerts.  There is no {\it ālāp}
in Samāj-Gāyan, and Samāj-Gāyan is never a solo singing event. The harmonium is
used in Samāj-Gāyan but rarely in Dhrupad; however, this does not reflect on the
structure and age of either tradition.  One of the main differences is that
Samāj-Gāyan is never for entertainment purposes, whereas Dhrupad had developed as
courtly entertainment by the 16th century.  Selina Thielemann notes the complexity of
Samāj-Gāyan in contrast to the simple four-fold structure of classical Dhrupad: “The
most complex structure is found in Samāj-Gāyan, where the verses may comprise any
number of lines from four onwards; very often the texts are extremely extended, and they
have to be rendered in full during the performance owing to the sanctity of their
devotional content.  The sequence of {\it sthāyī} and {\it antarā} is repeated
for each couplet; {\it saṃcārī} and {\it ābhoga} (i.e. the final couplet) are
melodically identical with {\it sthāyī} and {\it antarā}
respectively.”\footnote{Selina Thielemann (2002), 31-32.}  Yet many of these differences
are circumstantial and do not obscure the fundamental similarities in origin and
structure.

The Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya gives a central place to the singing of Samāj-Gāyan
within its temple enclosures and sacred shrines.  English scholar and researcher Rupert
Snell confirms that, “Special importance is attached to the singing of appropriate texts
in Samaj, and a large body of sectarian literature, mostly in Braj Bhasha, exists for this
purpose.”

Members of the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya utilize music and singing in Braj Bhasha as
a vehicle with which to gain direct access to ecstasy and pure religious experiences.
American scholar Charles S. J. White, commenting on the musical dimension of this group,
says: “Where the tradition of the sect provides for the composition of hymns or {\it
bhajans} for group singing, such music becomes, through participation and understanding, a
vehicle for the devotee to move beyond the external forms of the cult to an inner
experience of ecstasy based on the intensity of his faith.”\footnote{Charles S. J. White
(1977), 31.}

While several groups in Vrindaban practice Samāj-Gāyan and hold music and singing as
central to their cult worship, the RVS prides itself as the originator of Samāj-Gāyan.
As a unique form of devotional singing that has ties with the classical tradition, it is
most likely native to the Braj area.  The RVS claims that it has maintained this musical
tradition continually on a daily basis since its origination in the 16th century.  The
central temple of Śrī Rādhāvallabhaji established by Śrī Hita
Harivaṃśa indeed houses the longest continuing tradition of Samāj-Gāyan in Braj,
with performances daily and frequently twice-daily.  In addition, several other branch
temples have maintained a daily regimen of Samāj-Gāyan as well, including Jaipur and
Calcutta.  Modern scholarship has reaffirmed this view with reference to a painting of
Harivaṃśa, Haridāsa and Harirāma Vyāsa sitting together in Samāj-Gāyan.
Thielemann says: 

\begin{quote}
\begin{sloppypar}
The musicians of the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya claim that their practice of
congregational singing reaches back to the 16th century when it was initiated by the
founder of the {\it sampradāya}, the poet Hita Harivaṃśa.  This opinion is
supported by a miniature painting dating from 1538 C.E., that shows Hita Harivaṃśa
and his followers performing Samāj-Gāyan to the accompaniment of cymbals, barrel-drum
and {\it tanpura}. Beginning with Hita Harivaṃśa, the Rādhāvallabha tradition
has developed a rich poetic heritage, and music has always played a predominant role in
this community.  The Rādhāvallabhite Samāj is perhaps the oldest tradition of
Samāj-Gāyan to have been maintained on a continuous basis to the present.  The
principal religious center of the {\it sampradāya}, the temple of Rādhāvallabha in
Vrindaban, arranges Samāj performances twice daily\footnote{Selina Thielemann (1999),
305.}
\end{sloppypar}
\end{quote}

Śrī Rajendra Prasad Sharma, the principal singer of this tradition and the one most
prominently featured on the accompanying CDs, stated emphatically in an interview that
Samāj-Gāyan began within the RVS: “The origin of Samāj-Gāyan is only in Vrindaban
and particularly in the Rādhāvallabha temple.  And if held elsewhere outside
Vrindaban, it is only in the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya.  There is no worship of
Rādhāvallabha without Samāj.”\footnote{Interview with Śrī Rajendra Prasad
Sharma in Vrindaban, March 23, 1993.  Transcribed from an audio tape and translated from
Hindi to English by Śrī Harishankar Mathur, former Director of the Śrī
Rangaji Temple in Vrindaban.}  This claim to seniority, however, has been contested by
members of the Nimbārka Sampradāya who state that Śrī Bha\d{t}\d{t}a, an early
Braj Bhasha poet in their tradition, sang Samāj-Gāyan.  But while some of the
literature of the Nimbārka Sampradāya even claims that the legendary Nārada
\d{R}\d{s}i of antiquity learned Dhrupad from the gods, there is no reference to
Samāj-Gāyan, which is distinct from classical Dhrupad.  Classical Dhrupad and
Samāj-Gāyan are only sung in non-Sanskritic dialects such as Braj Bhasha, and not in
Sanskrit which was the basic language of the gods, of Nārada \d{R}\d{s}i, and the
Puranic authors.  While Sanskrit is called Devanāgarī (“City of the Gods”) and is
believed to be spoken by the gods, {\it bhakti} authors of North India claim that Krishna
and his associates, who are on a higher plane of power and intimacy, speak and sing in
Braj Bhasha, a dialect related to Apabhraṃśa Prākrita and medieval Hindi.
Moreover, Braj Bhasha is less formal with regard to grammar and pronunciation, has more
allowance for vowel sounds, and is thus sweeter to the ear and more suitable for singing.

Śrī Kisori Saran Ali of the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya disputes all
other claims to seniority by saying that Samāj-Gāyan is a relatively
recent practice in other {\it sampradāyas}: “Samāj-Gāyan has been
recently adopted by the followers of Svāmī Haridāsa, while the
Nimbārka Sampradāya and others are now also using Samāj-Gāyan in their
communities.  The Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya is most certainly the
originator of this music, as it is attested in older manuscripts of
this tradition and lacking in others.”\footnote{Interview with Śrī
  Kisori Saran Ali in Vrindaban, July 22, 1992.  Transcribed from an
  audio tape and translated from Hindi to English by Śrī Harishankar
  Mathur.}  Indeed, with specific references to Samāj-Gāyan in early
literature of the Rādhāvallabhites, their credentials appear stronger
than the others who lack such references and most probably adopted the
style of singing from the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya. The Haridāsī
Sampradāya inaugurated their Samāj-Gāyan as late as the 18th century.

During my own research from 1992-93 on the music of the Rādhāvallabha
Sampradāya, I found the most effective “singing” informant to be Śrī
Rajendra Prasad Sharma, who sang every evening at two different places
in Vrindaban: the Choti Sarkar Temple in Autkhamba from about 6 to 7
P.M., and then at the Hitashram at Śrī Satsanga Bhumi from about 7:30
to 9 P.M.  While there were only a few people at the former, including
on some days only the {\it tabla} player and one {\it jhela} who also
played {\it jhānjh}, at the latter {\it āśrama} one could readily
absorb Samāj-Gāyan at its very best. There, the singer was accompanied
by an expert player on the {\it pakhavāj}, several {\it jhānjh}
cymbals, and a fervent and dynamic chorus of {\it jhelās} consisting
of local disciples but also many wandering, bearded “holy men” who
seemed to revel in the assurance that this was where the real ”Braj
vibrations” were to be heard.  Except for occasional bouts of
load-shedding (electric power cuts), the sessions were amplified
through a microphone which added greatly to the intensity of the
music.  “Masterjī,” as I called him respectfully, allowed me to record
his music on a daily basis and was very eager about discussing the
tradition, though he was rather limited in English expression.
Sometimes I would walk with him from Choti Sarkar to Hitashram, and he
stressed that I would now hear {\it bahut badiya samāj} (“the very
best samāj”).  I was also invited to some of his private sittings at
the home/shrine of the now-deceased guru Śrī Lalitcaran Goswami.
There I was able to record, with almost no background noise, rare
songs such as “Lāla kī r\=upa mādhurī” (“The Boy's Form is Sweet”) and
“Mohana madana tribha\.ngī” (“Enchanting, Intoxicating Threefold
Bending Form”), which are only sung once a year.

Masterjī Śrī Rajendra Prasad Sharma was at that time the best-trained and most
authoritative of the singers in this tradition, having a good background knowledge of
Sastriya Sangit (classical Hindu music) and many years experience learning the
Rādhāvallabha Samāj tradition.  I stress his musical qualities because I heard (more
than once) some other Samāj-Gāyan singers in Vrindaban, whom I will not mention, who
were much less-trained and often out-of-tune.  Although not a Goswami, a hereditary
descendent of Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa, Masterjī has been pronounced Mukhiya,
“chief songster” of this sect by its leaders, having thoroughly studied the style and
repertoire of his predecessor singer of the {\it sampradāya}, Śrī Damodara
Dvivedi Das Mukhiya.  The latter Mukhiyajī has led the Samāj for over thirty years
in the main temple of Śrī Rādhāvallabhajī and is recognized as a person
whose singing is {\it alaukika}, or completely transcendental.  Damodara's son, Rakesh,
has now been trained by both his father and Masterjī, and is accepting the
responsibility of carrying on the tradition of Samāj-Gāyan in the main
Rādhāvallabha temple.

Śrī Rajendra Prasad Sharma sang every evening at the Hitashram in Vrindaban, headed
by Śrī Hitadas Maharaj.  In an interview, Śrī Rajendra Sharma related his
background in music and in the tradition of the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya: 

\begin{quote}

Music has been my hobby since childhood.  I started learning by myself, as my father was
not a singer.  My original music {\it guru} was in Kamban, one of the areas of Braj.  Then
I joined in service as a teacher in Rajasthan.  My first post was in Bhulpur, then
Rajakhara.  Then I learned music from Kallu Khan who was a {\it sāra\.ngī} player.
When I came to Vrindaban, I developed contacts with Bābā Jīvan dās, a retired
professor of music from the University of Rajasthan who was then living as a
recluse-devotee in Vrindaban.  But I started learning Samāj-Gāyan on my own when I
came to Vrindaban.  Within two years, I picked up the style of singing, which I learned
from Śrī Lalitacaran Goswami, my spiritual {\it guru}.  I heard many singers and
used to call many singers to my house for occasions like the birthday of my son, etc.  

By and by, I gained a full command of Samāj Gāyaki.  I learned primarily by hearing in
the company of other musicians.  The system of Samāj music is that the {\it guru} sits
face-to-face with the student.  The {\it guru} will sing and the student will hear, and
this is the tradition of Samāj-Gāyan.  Notation started quite late, but the earlier
tradition was that of {\it guru-śi\d{s}ya paramparā} (guru-disciple lineage).  Playing
the {\it tanpura}, the {\it guru} would sing and then I would repeat, sitting in front of
him.  Memory and grasping power are both necessary to pick up this music.  Sitting for
many years in the Rādhāvallabha temple and also at other places like Bhattaji's and
Tatti Sthan of the Haridāsī Sampradāya, I absorbed many features of devotional
music.  But my main concentration was on the Samāj-Gāyan of the Rādhāvallabha
Sampradāya.  After listening to me and testing me for two years, Śrī Lalitacaran
Goswami finally gave me permission to sing in the Rādhāvallabha temples.  Now I have
been performing in Vrindaban for over twenty years.\footnote{Interview with Śrī
Rajendra Prasad Sharma in Vrindaban on March 28, 1993.  Transcribed from an audio tape and
translated from Hindi to English by Śrī Harishankar Mathur.}

\end{quote}

Another person who is extremely well-informed about the literary
tradition as well as the music, is Śrī Kisori Saran Ali.  More a
scholar than a performer, he has written and published several works
including a commentary in Hindi on the {\it Caurāśī-Pad}.  He resides
in his own ashram very close to the Vrindaban Research Institute in
Raman Reti where there are several manuscripts of the works of Śrī
Hita Harivaṃśa and other saints of the RVS.  In an interview, Śrī
Kisori Saran Ali stressed the unique nature of Samāj-Gāyan and its
relation to various types of folk music and women's songs in Braj:

\begin{quote}

Samāj-Gāyan is very old.  It is the form of worship of the
Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya, both {\it upāsanā} and {\it sādhanā}.  It is
also a special form of music sung to please the chosen deity.  This is
a devotional music drawn from certain forms of {\it lok-sa\.ngīt} and
{\it lok-gīt}, folk music still alive in the Braj culture today (i.e.,
the local festivals). In {\it saṃskāra} ceremonies like the birth of a
child, hair shaving, and marriage, there were folk songs sung by
ladies with {\it dholak} and {\it jhāñjh} in particular tunes, not
necessarily in {\it rāga} and {\it rāginīs}.  One lady addresses
another using “eri ha, ari heli, ari sajani,” etc.  This is proof that
Samāj-Gāyan is connected with women's songs of Braj.  No man will
address another man with the words, “eri or saheli.”  When you sing
Samāj-Gāyan you feel a sort of emotion towards God.  It is another
method of pleasing God. It was started in the latter part of the 16th
century.\footnote{Op. cit. Interview with Śrī Kisori Saran Ali.}

\end{quote}

The musicians of Samāj-Gāyan employ melodic forms and rhythms drawn
from the Hindustani classical tradition of Dhrupad that was developing
in the surrounding court {\it darbars} of the sovereign rulers.
Though it is much closer to Dhrupad than the later emerging Khyāl
form, there are some differences from the classical Dhrupad, as
explained by Śrī Kisori Saran Ali who also shared his views regarding
the relationship between Samāj-Gāyan and Hindustani classical music:

\begin{quote}

Samāj-Gāyan is not necessarily based only on classical {\it sa\.ngīt},
for it has independent {\it dhuns} (tunes).  Classical {\it rāgas} are
there, but they are not rendered in a totally classical style, but in
a mixture.  These may be called mixed {\it rāgas}, {\it miśrit rāgas},
not pure {\it rāgas}.  The emphasis is rather on emotion and the words
that convey the emotion.  The intention is not to preserve the pure
form of the {\it rāga}, but more on maintaining the words and their
clear meaning.  The {\it ācāryas} of Samāj-Gāyan possess their own
independent tunes which cannot be fully defined according to classical
{\it rāga} classification. Yet the {\it rāgas} have not been totally
abandoned. The songs are not wedded to the {\it rāgas}.  The main
thing is {\it bhāva}, the emotional meaning of the
words.”\footnote{ibid.}

\end{quote}

Vaishnava Dhrupad, unlike its classical counterpart, is always
composed in Cautāl.  In fact, the {\it theka} (the basic structure of
claps and waves within the twelve {\it mātrā} cycle) of Cautāl in
all traditions of devotional music is identical with that in
Hindustani music.  However, the term “Dhrupad” is not used in the RVS,
nor equated with Cautāl. To be sure, there are compositions in Cautāl
in the RVS, as the reader will find in this collection, but they are
not referred to as Dhrupad compositions, simply as Samāj-Gāyan.
As clarified by Thielemann, 

\begin{quote}

\begin{sloppypar}

The equation of {\it dhrupada} and {\it cautāla} is ... strongly
rejected and regarded as a terminological confusion by the
representatives of Rādhāvallabha Samāj-Gāyan.  In the opinion of the
Rādhāvallabhite musicians [Śrī Kisori Saran Ali of Vrindaban], {\it
  dhrupada} is firstly a singing style ({\it gāyakī}) rather than a
{\it tāla}, and secondly it belongs to the tradition of North Indian
classical music which has to be strictly separated from the {\it
  samāja} practice of the Vai\d{s}\d{n}ava temples. ... the
Rādhāvallabhite musicians themselves do not employ the term “dhrupada”
(or any other specific term denoting song types for that matter) with
reference to Samāj-Gāyan.\footnote{Selina Thielemann (2002), 29.}

\end{sloppypar}

\end{quote}

The most celebrated author, scholar, spiritual leader, and {\it ācārya} (guru) within
the Rādhāvallabha tradition was Śrī Lalitacaran Goswami.  He has outlined the
importance of Samāj-Gāyan in his literary works: 

\begin{quote}

In the Puṣṭi Mārg and Rādhāvallabha temples, {\it kīrtankāras}
(performers of Kirtan) are appointed to sing {\it padas} in front of
the deity of Krishna at specific hours.  The {\it kīrtankāras} of the
Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya are known as Samājīs. The number of Samājīs
is at least four, one of whom is the {\it mukhīya} (leader), one the
{\it pakhawājī} (player of the {\it pakhawājī} drum), and two {\it
  jhelās} (responsorial singers).  The {\it mukhīya} first sings one
line of a {\it pada} which is then repeated by the {\it jhelās}.  One
of the {\it jhelās} usually plays {\it jhāñjh}, and the other plays
{\it tanpura} or something else.\footnote{Śrī Lalitacaran Goswami
  Maharaj, former {\it ācārya} of Śrī Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya. “The
  Musical Style of the Rādhāvallabha Samāj-Gāyan.”  Translated in Guy
  L. Beck (1996), 136.}

\end{quote}
Accordingly, 

\begin{quote}

the Rādhāvallabhīya Samājīs have their own distinctive style.  Their
singing style has been created in such a manner that words or {\it vā\d{n}ī}
(speech) must be properly pronounced and distinctly audible to listeners.  Whenever the
rendering of any {\it rāga} or {\it rāginī} with {\it ālāps} and {\it
tānas} (melismatic passages) was found to be obstructing the pronunciation of the words,
a new compound {\it rāga} was created by mixing the {\it svaras} of other {\it rāgas}
of the same {\it ṭhāṭ} (group of {\it rāgas}), so that the words could be expressed more
distinctly and appealingly ...  There is no scope for elaborate {\it tānas} in this
style, and only very brief {\it murkis} (ornaments) are tolerated.  [In Samāj-Gāyan,]
the attempt is made to reproduce the description or subject matter of the various poetic
compositions with the help of {\it svara} (musical notes) and {\it laya} (rhythmic
styles).  For example, in the Jhulan compositions where the deity is described as being
placed on a swing, the motions of {\it hindola} (swinging) are recreated in the musical
rendering.  Similarly, in the compositions of Rāsa-līlā the paces of dancing, and
in Holi songs the joy of Phag (Spring), have been expressed musically.”\footnote{ibid.}

\end{quote}

More specifics of Samāj-Gāyan style may be described from first-hand observation by
the author. The musicians are generally seated along two rows adjacent to the deity or
altar platform.  In most cases the percussionist faces the deity toward the end of the
rows, and the {\it jhelās} face each other and the {\it mukhiya} who may be on either
side.  After an invocatory prayer in Sanskrit honoring Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa and
other {\it ācāryas}, the leader begins the Samāj session with a slow composition in
either Dhāmar {\it tāla} or Cautāl, which speeds up intermittently according to the
dynamics of the call-and-response format.  Within the time frame (one to three hours), a
number of songs are selected by the leader, and the session is usually closed with a few
songs in lighter {\it tālas} (Dadra or Dīp Chandi) that most everyone knows from
memory.  Beside these, the songs are generally followed in the hymnal by both the
musicians and the congregation.  Unlike most other genres of Indian music, Samāj-Gāyan
displays a much more intimate interaction between the lead singer and the responders.
There is also a close adherence to the text, with little or no attention to individual
creativity or improvisation as found in courtly classical traditions.  The most
conspicuous feature of Samāj-Gāyan is the presence of the two or more {\it jhelās},
responsorial singers who reiterate each line, or half-line, of the main singer, {\it
mukhiya}.  The lines of the text are also broken up into short phrases that are each
repeated by the responders with a variety of additional exclamations accompanied by
special hand gestures.  It is said that without the {\it jhelās} there can be no
Samāj-Gāyan, for the essence of the singing tradition is constituted by the
interactive “play” of the participants, who temporarily assume the role of the associates
of Lord Krishna and the {\it gopīs}.  Part of the response patterns of the {\it
jhelās} in Samāj-Gāyan include long exclamations of the short phrase “eri ha” or
“iha,” which is a sign of affirmation believed to have been used by the {\it gopīs}
in association with Krishna.  The tempo of the performance intermittently speeds up during
the repetition of the refrain, and then resumes its normal slow pace once a new verse is
commenced.  It is obvious that the {\it jhelās} are experienced musicians who understand
the dynamics of this style of singing.

The instruments which are normally used in Samāj-Gāyan are the barrel-shaped drum
known as the {\it pakhavāj} (sometimes replaced by the {\it tabla}), hand cymbals known
as {\it jhāñjh} or {\it kartals}, and the harmonium, a small portable reed organ, to
accompany the lead singer.  Occasionally a drone instrument such as a {\it tanpura}, or a
bowed lute called a {\it sāra\.ngī}, or {\it esrāj}, is added for melodic effect.
Since the text of the song is the main focus of the singing, there is little or no solo
playing of instruments or virtuosity for its own sake.  The players are there to accompany
the singers and enhance and support the overall effect of the lyrics as rendered in song.

More information regarding the instruments and their techniques of playing may be
discussed here.  The styles of {\it pakhavāj} drumming in Samāj-Gāyan are close to
that of Dhrupad.  Although there are no {\it jhāñjh} cymbals in concert Dhrupad today,
they did have an important role in the {\it tālas} of temple music.

For example, using “X” to denote the strike of the cymbals (one {\it mātrā}), and
“xx” as double strike (which also counts as one {\it mātrā}), the most common {\it
tālas}, including the number of unstruck {\it mātrās} (beats), are given below with
their corresponding strikes on the hand cymbals: \begin{description}

\item[Cautāl (12 mātrās):]  X - - - X - - - X - X - 

\item[Dhamār (14 mātrās):] X X - X X X - , X X - X X X -

\item[Dīp Chandi (14 mātrās):] X X - X - X -, X X - X - X -

\item[Rūpak (7 mātrās):] X xx xx X xx X xx

\item[Jhaptāl (10 mātrās):] X xx X xx xx X xx X xx xx

\item[Tintāl (16 mātrās):] X X X - X X X - X X X - X X X -   

\item[Kehervā (8 mātrās):] X xx X xx xx X X xx

\end{description}
A familiarity by the reader with these cymbal patterns will lead to
their recognition in the recorded examples, which are centered on
these basic beats.

A brief note is also given here regarding the musical notation
utilized in discussing the song-texts.  The Indian diatonic scale is
generally written as Sa Re Ga Ma Pa Dha Ni sa (ascending), and sa Ni
Dha Pa Ma Ga Ri Sa (descending).  In this work, they appear as S R G M
P D N sa. The upper Sa is written as sa, lowercase.  The Western
C-scale note equivalents for the Indian diatonic scale letter-notes
correlate as follows: Sa = C, Re = D, Ga = E, Ma = F, Pa = G, Dha = A,
Ni = B, sa = upper C.  When a note is flattened, it is underlined
(\underline{G}, \underline{N}), and when sharpened, italicized ({\it
  M}).  This system covers all of the principal notes used in {\it
  rāga} music. However, some of the ornaments used by musicians in
certain {\it rāgas} may employ semitones for aesthetic effect.

North Indian vocal music, as it developed further in the secular
courts in the form of Khyāl, contained stylistic elements like {\it
  tānas}, rapid patterns and phrases of notes sung with a, i, u, or o,
etc. that did not have linguistic meaning.  This led to egoistic
gestures and mannerisms that were believed to be out of sync with the
Vaishnava tradition of solemn and reverent worship, and generated the
impression that Indian music had human romantic and sexual
overtones. The practice of {\it tānas} was thus particularly deplored
by exponents of Samāj-Gāyan.  According to Masterji, “there is no
scope for {\it tānas}, as they will spoil the {\it śabda}, the meaning
of the words. There are some {\it murkis} [short melismatic phrases]
but not {\it tānas}. There is no scope for artistic display in the
form of {\it tānas}, etc.  Such deviations affect the devotion, and
are a distraction.”\footnote{op. cit. Interview with Śrī Rajendra
  Prasad Sharma, March 28, 1993.}  According to Śrī Lalitacaran
Goswami, “the Rādhāvallabhiya Samājīs have their own distinctive
style.  To ensure and protect the clear pronunciation of {\it śabda}
(words), {\it ālāps} have been regulated in this style, and only
prescribed {\it ālāps} are sung with {\it sthāyī} and {\it antarā}.
There is no scope for elaborate {\it tānas} in this style, and only
very brief {\it murkis} (ornaments) are
tolerated.”\footnote{op. cit. Śrī Goswami Lalitacaranji
  Maharaj,136-137.}

The unanimous opinion of the informants regarding Samāj-Gāyan was thus that this music
was primarily meant for devotion and worship, and not for virtuosic display of musical
skills or for pleasing human audiences. Masterji commented that, “Samāj-Gāyan is
basically a {\it bhakti sangīt}, meant for worship and not for {\it lok ra\~njan},
human entertainment.”\footnote{Sharma Interview.}

With regard to improvisation and the insertion of exclamatory syllables, Thie\-lemann has
concurred with the above:

\begin{quote}

Because of the sacred character of the temple songs, the foremost musical requirement for
Samāj-Gāyan of the RVS is simplicity of style and plain melodic rendition that allows
for the poetic word to be pronounced with absolute clearness.  Melodic embellishments or
rapid turns of notes are prohibited because they may affect the comprehensibility of the
text. ... In Samāj-Gāyan of the RVS, only the text-based compositions are sung. The
non-metricized {\it ālāpa} introductions are dispensed with, because they are merely
musical entities and of no significance for the rendition of the devotional verse.
Improvisation, too, is prohibited.\footnote{Selina Thielemann (1999), 305-306.}

\end{quote}

Thielemann does note that {\it tālas} follow classical traditions: 

\begin{quote}

The only type of variation which is not only legitimate, but whose execution is compulsory
in Samāj-Gāyan, is the insertion of melodic phrases sung on the syllables {\it eri
ha}.  The musicians of the RVS claim to be the originators of the practice of inserting
extra syllables, which is followed in Samāj singing of all Vai\d{s}\d{n}ava communities
of Vraja.  Further additional syllables such as {\it ri mai} may occur at the end of
verses or verse-lines: these serve as verse-fillers in order to adjust the poetic line to
the cycle of the musical meter.  With regard to the {\it tāla} cycles, on the other
hand, there are no discrepancies between the Rādhāvallabhite temple music practice and
the classical tradition.\footnote{ibid.}

\end{quote}

Within the region of Vrindaban, a select group of highly-trained musicians are regularly
employed by the Rādhāvallabha temples or trusts.  During most of my recording
sessions, there were two very skilled musicians who were faithful to Masterji that I will
mention; Śrī Kunj Bihari Das, a Bengali who sang back-up and played the cymbals,
and Murari Das, a percussionist who doubled on {\it tabla} and {\it pakhavāj}. The basic
instrumentalists and singers are paid a small stipend to maintain the daily regimen of
Samāj-Gāyan throughout the liturgical year.  Occasional substitutes would appear, but
generally the same musicians appeared regularly, unless they had accepted other
engagements elsewhere.

From a religious viewpoint, by intensely participating in Samāj-Gāyan, it is believed
that the participants are not merely observing the pastimes of Rādhā and Krishna, but
actually participating vicariously.  A “theology” of Samāj-Gāyan would explore and
possibly explain the manner and degree of spiritual elation obtained by the singers and
their ability to experience aspects of the divine pastimes that are unavailable to persons
who may simply read the song-texts.  To what extent the current singers in this tradition
are on this higher level is difficult to assess from the outside, but has been attested by
informants.  It seems more than likely in that the singers have committed themselves to a
lifetime of devotion in this manner and have eschewed all commercialization.  It took many
weeks for me to gain the confidence of the singers so that recordings could be made.  As a
devotee-scholar, I believe that the combination of many years of accumulation of merit
through performance plus the grace of the sacred image of Krishna (and particularly of
Rādhā) enables the Samāj-Gāyan performers to make valid claims of advanced
spiritual states.

\section*{Rādhāvallabha Songbook: Hymnal and Liturgical Calendar}
\addcontentsline{toc}{section}{Rādhāvallabha Songbook: Hymnal and Liturgical Calendar}

The living musical tradition of the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya
possesses an impressive repertoire of songs for different occasions
that are distributed over their annual calendar.  Most of the songs
are strictly linked to the {\it sevā} in the temple, as well as to
the specific pastimes of Rādhā and Krishna, so that outside of
these occasions or holidays, they are not sung.  Thus nearly all of
their music is structured around their solar/lunar calendar of
festivals, with dates that of course vary from year to year due to
lunar calculations.  Śrī Lalitacaranji Maharaj, former {\it
ācārya} for the tradition, notes few exceptions:“Most of the
devotional lyrics, except for some prayer {\it padas} of {\it
bhakti-kāvya} and some didactic stanzas, are linked to various
festivals and jubilees.  Worship of the deity and other routine
functions ... are carried out with the help of these {\it
padas}.”\footnote{op. cit. Śrī Goswami Lalitacaranji
Maharaj,136-137.}

Accordingly, there is little or no general {\it kīrtan} or {\it
bhajan} for any day or time in the Rādhāvallabha tradition, nor is
there {\it nām kīrtan} as found in groups like the
Gauḍīya Sampradāya of Śrī Caitanya. Neither does the
RVS attempt to spread their teachings through street singing or
processions.  Their musical worship remains largely in secluded
enclaves, relished only by the {\it rasikas}, the accomplished
devotees who understand and appreciate the aesthetic feelings and
devotional nuances of the literature and music.  Yet the main temple
gets overcrowded on special festival days like Holi, when giant
syringes of colored water are squirted on pilgrims by priests from the
altar, and Annakut, when the entire altar area is covered with
sumptuous food offerings to Krishna.

The current liturgical hymnal of the Rādhāvallabha community, was
originally published as the four-volume {\it
  Ś\d{r}\.ngāra-rasa-sāgara} (edited by Śrī Tulasi Das Baba,
1956-1962).  This was re-edited by Śrī Lalitcaranji Goswa\-mi Maharaj
and published as the {\it Śrī Rādhāvallabhji kā Var\d{s}otsav} (RV)
(1978-1980) in three volumes of slightly smaller print.  A second
edition of Volume II was published in 1994 and of Volume III in 1996.
Songs of the {\it Caurāśī-Pad} (eighty-four songs) of Śrī Hita
Harivaṃśa, as well as the complete {\it Śrī Bayalis Līlā} (forty-two
{\it līlās}, twenty-two {\it rāgas}) of Dhruva Dās are contained in
this collection, one of the largest of its kind in Braj Bhasha
literature.  Portions of the four hundred and eighty-two verse,
thirty-two rāga {\it Vyāsa Vā\d{n}ī} of Harirām Vyāsa are also
included.  Cācā V\d{r}ndāvanadāsa (18th century), the most prolific
poet of the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya with works numbering in the
hundreds, is strongly represented.

The songs in these volumes are organized according to the seasons and
holidays that are celebrated in the main temple.  The liturgical year
begins in Volume I with the season of Basant in the Spring, and ends
in Volume III with {\it bayalis līlā} in the Winter months.

\begin{description}

\item[ Volume I:] Basant (Spring), Holi, Rasiya, Dol, Caitra, and Hita
Badhāi (Appearance day of Śrī Harivaṃśa).

\item[Volume II:] Phul Racana (Flower arrangements), Van Vihār
(Forest pastimes), Grī\d{s}ma Ritu-Jal Vihār and Naukā (Summer
water and boat pastimes), Ra\-tha Yātrā (Chariot), Pāvas Ritu
(Rainy Season), Jh\=ulan (Swing Ceremony), Ra\-khi, Sevak Badhāi
(Appearance Day of Sevakji Maharaj), Krishna Badhāi (Birthday of
Krishna, Janmā\d{s}\d{t}amī), Rādhā Badhāi (Birthday of
Rādhā, Rādhā\d{s}\-\d{t}amī), and Sā\~njhī.

\item[Volume III:] Rāsa Līlā, Dasahara (Diwāli), Caupar
(Game pastimes), Anna\-k\=u\d{t} (Feast at Govardhan Hill), Vyahulau
Utsav (Wedding of Rādhā and Krishna), Patotsava, Khicari Utsav,
Mohan Bhog, Phutkar (assorted songs), Sain ke Pad (lullabies), and
Śrī Bayalis Līlā (sung during the Winter months).

\end{description}

The {\it Śrī Rādhāvallabhji kā Var\d{s}otsav} (RV)
anthology contains approximately two thousand four hundred songs, so
the one hundred and eight songs that the present author has collected
and recorded might be considered an insignificant specimen.  However,
the songs included in this study represent the principal songs that
have been repeatedly performed on the specific holidays, the songs
that are the best known by the public congregations. Yet several of
the songs included here are rarely performed, sometimes only once in
an entire year on the respective holiday.  Following the first edition
of RV, the complete breakdown of songs in the anthology, with
pagination, is as follows:

\begin{description}

\item[Voume I] —

\begin{description}

\item[Basant] 1-76, 164 songs

\item[Holi] 81-253, 156 songs

\item[Holi Rasiya] 254-266, 50 songs

\item[Holi Dol] 269-277, 22 songs

\item[Gulāb Phul Dol] 282-287, 28 songs

\item[Caitra] 288-340, 130 songs

\item[Śrī Hitotsav kī Ma\.ngal Badhāi] 341-504,   244 songs

\end{description}

\item[Volume II] —

\begin{description}

\item[Phul Racana] 10-24, 72 songs

\item[Candan] 26-35, 9 songs

\item[Van Vihār] 35-44, 31 songs

\item[Usir Ku\~nja] 44-53, 32 songs

\item[Grī\d{s}ma Ritu] 53-56, 1 song

\item[Jal Vihār] 56-59, 3 songs

\item[Naukā Jal Vihār] 59-74, 49 songs

\item[Genda Khel] 74-76, 3 songs

\item[Rath Yātrā] 76-78, 1 song

\item[Pāvas Ritu] 78-116, 170 songs

\item[Braj Parikram] 116-121, 23 songs

\item[Luhar] 121-127,  7 songs

\item[Mehandi Singhār] 128-133, 18 songs

\item[Jhulan Utsav] 135-193, 137 songs

\item[Pavitra Utsav] 194-197, 14 songs

\item[Rakhi Utsav] 198-200, 13 songs

\item[Śrī Sevaka Janma Ma\.ngal Badhāi] 201-253, 100 songs

\item[Śrī Lāl J\=u kī Janma Badhāi] 254-346, 137 songs

\item[Śrī Priya J\=u kī Janma Badhāi] 347-463, 180 songs

\item[Śrī Ladili J\=u kī Pālana ke Pad] 464-470, 7 songs

\item[Dāna Kelī ke Pad]   471-478, 13 songs

\item[Sā\~njhī Utsav] 479-522, 50 songs

\end{description}

\item[Volume III] —

\begin{description}

\item[Dasahara ke Pad] 1-4,  

\item[Rās ke Pad] 109-155, 252 songs

\item[Dīp Malika Hatari ke Pad] 156-158, 6 songs

\item[Caupar ke Pad] 158-162, 15 songs

\item[Annak\=u\d{t}] 162-164, 1 song

\item[Vyahula Utsav] 164-167, 3 songs

\item[Gaucarana ke Pad] 168-169, 4 songs

\item[Rādhāvallabha ke Patotsav] 170-175, 11 songs

\item[Himaritu Men Phargula ke Pad] 176-180, 16 songs

\item[Khicari Utsav] 181-189, 32 songs 

\item[Ma\.ngal ārati ke Pad] 189-206, 9 songs

\item[Ma\.ngal Jugala-Vinod Beli] 207-213, 21 songs

\item[Phutkar Pad] 213-218, 49 songs

\item[Svāminī Singār A\d{s}\d{t}aka] 219-220, 1 song

\item[Sain ke Pad] 221-232, 45 songs

\item[Śrī Bayalis Līlā] 233-253, 42 songs

\item[Pada Dhruva] 253-254, 4 songs

\end{description}

\end{description}

Several of the festivals on the Rādhāvallabha calendar are
actually extended over a fixed number of days.  Thus the musicians may
perform a variety of {\it padas} over the time period, as there are so
many contained in the songbooks appropriate to the occasion.
According to Rādhāvallabha singer Śrī Rajendra Prasad
Sharma, the Spring season of Basant lasts for ten days, during which
time any song from the chapter labeled “Basant” may be sung, normally
in the {\it rāga} Basant which may be sung any time during Basant
season.  This is followed by the Holi season during which songs from
the Holi section may be sung for thirty days until the full moon in
March.  Many of these songs, sung in a variety of {\it rāgas}
(classical musical modes), but especially in the {\it rāga} Kafi,
are called Dhamār, often in Dhamār {\it tāla} of fourteen {\it
mātrās} (beats) but not necessarily.  After that, miscellaneous
{\it padas} may be sung until the celebrations of Śrī Hita
Harivaṃśa's Appearance begin.  This period of Badhāi songs
lasts for twenty-five days, from Vaishakh P\=ur\d{n}imā (April) to
the {\it ekādaśī} of the second fortnight of the next month.

Then the Phul {\it padas} start, with beautiful flower decorations in
the temples (called Phulbanglas) for a month.  Following this, the
Rainy season (Sāvan, or Pāvas Ritu) begins with many songs in
special {\it rāgas} like Megh Mālar and Gaur Mālar. Then the
Jhulan season starts around mid-July, with many unique songs to
accompany the deities of Rādhā and Krishna on their swings.  When
this is finished, there is preparation for the major festivals of late
Summer and Fall, like Krishna Janmā\d{s}\d{t}amī (Krishna's
birthday), Rādhā\d{s}\d{t}amī (Rādhā's birthday for one
month usually in September), and Sā\~njhī (special songs along
with beautiful sand paintings of Rādhā and Krishna).  

During Karttika (October-November), there is the Rāsa Līlā
for one and a half months, then Diwāli and Annak\=u\d{t}a, followed
by the wedding of Rādhā and Krishna with very special songs.
After the Full Moon of Diwāli, the Winter season begins, and for two
and a half months the Śrī Bayalis Līlā by Dhruva Dāsa
is sung in special tunes. Then we come full circle back to Basant
again.

Placing the Samāj-Gāyan songs in context, several of the major
festivals are listed below along with the titles of a few important
songs associated with each.  These songs figured prominently in the
recordings that I made from August 1992 through April 1993.  Their
location in the current hymnals is designated by “RV.” If they also
appeared in the {\it Caurāśī-Pad} (CP) or the {\it
  Sph\=u\d{t}a-Vā\d{n}ī} (SV), both works by Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa, those
pages are also given.

\begin{enumerate}

\item Basant (10 days in early Spring, February-March)

{\it madhu ritu vrindavana ananda na thora} (CP 27, RV 1.1)

\item Holi (30 days until full moon, March-April)

{\it prathama yathamati pranaun sri vrindavana ati ramya} (CP 57, RV 1.81) 

{\it aho ranga ho-ho-ho-hori khelain sakala kumvari barasane} ki (RV 1.117)

\item Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa Appearance (25 Days, April-May)

{\it jai jai sri hari vamsa vyasa kula mandana} (RV 1.341) 

\item Rainy Season; Sāvan or Pāvas Ritu (2 months, June-July, until mid-July).

{\it nayo neha nava ranga nayo rasa} (CP 54, RV 2.78, analyzed by Snell, 1983, 371-372) 

{\it dou jana bhinjata atake batana} (RV 2.78)

{\it savana prema sampada layo} (RV 2.97)

\item Krishna Janmā\d{s}\d{t}ami; Śrī Lālaj\=u kī Badhāi (August-Septem\-ber)

{\it ananda aju nanda ke dvara} (SV 11, RV 2.254)

\item Rādhāstami: Śrī Priyā j\=u kī Badhāi (30 days, Sept-Oct)

{\it calau vrishabhana gopa ke dvara} (SV 16, RV 2.347)

\item Rāsa Līlā (45 days, October-November)

{\it mohana madana tribhangi} (CP 63, RV 3.5). 

{\it lala ki rupa madhuri nainana nirakha neku sakhi} (SV 22, and RV 3.5)

{\it calahi radhike sujana} (RV 3.6, analyzed by Snell, 1983, 365)

{\it mohani madana gopala ki bamsuri} (CP 26, and RV 3.10, analyzed by Snell, 1983, 369)

\item Sain ke Pad (late evening all year)

{\it nagari nikunja aina kisalaya dala racita saina} (RV 3.221)    

\item Evening {\it ārati} song

{\it rajata nikunja mahala thakurani} (RV 3.223)

\end{enumerate}

\subsection*{Liturgical Day}
\addcontentsline{toc}{subsection}{Liturgical Day}

The daily temple schedule of the RVS revolves around the waking,
bathing, feeding, dressing, and retiring the deity of Rādhāvallabha, a
statue of Krishna playing the flute.  Rādhā is present but only as a
leaf on a seat ({\it gaddi-sevā}), signifying her presence as totally
divine and other-worldly.  The temple priests maintain a strict
regimen and must ensure that all worship activities are preceded with
the utmost cleanliness of all utensils as well as their own person and
dress.  Today there are seven daily services before the deities in the
Rādhāvallabha temple.

\begin{description}

\item[Ma\.ngal 6:00 A.M.]  The awakening of the deities [images] and
  the offering of sweets, including butter and a lump of sugar.
  Stanzas 3 (Rāga Vilaval, Tāla Dhamār) and 13 of the {\it
    Caurāśī-Pad} are sung. The {\it ārati}, or waving of lights in
  front of an image, is a feature of all hours of worship.

\item[Ś\d{r}\.ngār 10:00 A.M.]  The icon is bathed and adorned; various costumes are
prescribed according to the day and season.  Incense, curds, and
sweets are offered.  Stanzas 9 (Rāga Asavari, Tāla Tintāl) and 25
(Rāga Khammaj, Tāla Jhaptāl) of the {\it CP} are sung at this time.

\item[Rāj Bhog 12:00 Noon.]  The time of the main meal.  Food offered to the deities
consists of rice, curry, dal, vegetables, curd, and sweets.  Games such as {\it caupada}
are played.  From this time onward the songs sung at the hourly services are from works
other than the {\it CP}.

\item[Utthāpan 4:00 P.M.] The deities are awakened from their afternoon siesta with music
and bathing. The deities go for their evening stroll.

\item[Sandhyā 6:00 P.M.]  Various sweets are offered and there is singing, together with
the arati. The Rāsa Līlā sport begins at this time.

\item[Sāyan 8:00 P.M.]  The evening meal of fried foods, {\it puri}, {\it halva}, {\it
rahani}, and other dishes are taken.

\item[Saiya 10:00 P.M.] The time of retiring the deity for the evening.\footnote{Charles
S. J. White (1977), 32.}

\end{description}

Scholars looking for any of the above-mentioned songs in notated form,
whe\-ther in manuscript or published edition, will be disappointed in
their quest, as the music of the RVS is passed down only by oral
transmission.  A couple of songs have been transcribed using Indian
(Hindustani) notation in a few Hindi works, but the main corpus of
songs remains unwritten musically.  But despite the absence of musical
notation in the songbooks, native congregations follow a familiar and
established pattern of melody and rhythm that has become
near-habitual.  Without necessarily being able to lead a Samāj
session, most disciples and their families are familiar with a large
corpus of songs and can even recite many of the lyrics by heart.

Some of the songs in the hymnals contain, above the song itself, the
names of one of the familiar {\it rāgas} of current Hindustani
classical tradition, such as Sarang, Basant, Kafi, Dhanasri, Gauri,
and Malar.  Some also contain {\it tāla} indications. Yet these are
not prescriptions in a strict sense and thus are not a reliable guide
to the live performance tradition, which differs significantly by
exhibiting altogether separate, more specialized, or even unknown,
forms of these otherwise general categories of Hindustani {\it rāgas}.
And while some of the songs used throughout the liturgical year of
this sect can be readily identified with standard forms of classical
{\it rāgas}, there are several key songs which, though based on the
{\it rāga-rāginī} format, have their own individual character and are
generally not to be heard outside the tradition.  That is, although
bearing a certain {\it rāga}'s name above the text, the song in
performance betrays melody-lines that defy classification.  For
example, in the {\it Caurāśī-Pad} of Śrī Hita Harivaṃśa, the clues to
which {\it rāgas} the {\it padas} are to be sung are given above each
of the 84 poems.  The present performance tradition is mostly faithful
to his indications, but many of the melodies are not strictly in {\it
  rāgas}.  The frequency distribution in the {\it CP} may reveal
something about the more commonly preferred {\it rāgas} in the
tradition: Sarang 16, Gauri 9, Kanharau 9, Vilaval 7, Dev Gandhar 7,
Dhanasri 7, Kalyan 6, Vibhas 6, Malar 5, Kedar 4, Todi 4, Asavari 2,
and Basant 2.

The above distribution, however, cannot be squared with the {\it
rāgas} that are most frequently listed in the RV anthology, or heard
within the total living tradition.  For example, two songs of the RVS
are sung in very slow style, the first in R\=upak (7 {\it mātrās})
and the second in Dhamār (14 {\it mātrās}) on specific days of
every liturgical year.  The first, {\it prathama yathamati pranaun sri
vrindavana atiramya} (RV 1.81), from the first volume of the hymnal
(also found in CP 57) which inaugurates the Holi season in the Spring,
is listed as Gauri, yet cannot be reconciled with any possible form of
classical Gauri (flatted \underline{R} and \underline{D}).  It sounds
more like a modified Kafi.  And the second example, {\it lala ki rupa
madhuri} (RV 3.5), from the third volume of the hymnal and sung only
on the evening of Śārad P\=ur\d{n}imā in October, is listed as
Rāga Kalyan, but the notes that are performed do not conform
to any classical Kalyan, but rather a mixed {\it rāga}.  Thus,
instead of strict prescriptions, the {\it rāga} listings above the
poems in Rādhāvallabha Samāj-Gāyan appear to be general
guidelines or approximations, manuscript conventions, or simply
suggestions for the singers added by the scribes of the manuscripts or
the editors of the anthologies.  The songs, however, should not be
seen as deviations or imperfect renderings of earlier standardized
scales or {\it rāgas}, but might rather be seen as archaic forms of
the now classicized {\it rāgas}, or even survivals of extinct {\it
rāgas}.  This is based on observations regarding the extent to which
the purity and orthodoxy of their singing tradition is maintained
against tendencies for deviation and “popularization” found in other
traditions.

Selina Thielemann offers additional explanations for the differences
between the {\it rāgas} in RVS and the Hindustani tradition: 

\begin{quote}

“The requirement of textual clarity is regarded to be the main reason
for changes made to the conventional North Indian {\it rāga}
structures in the musical practice of the RVS.  {\it Rāga} melodies
that include difficult or uncommon melodic progressions, or scales in
which certain notes have to be rendered with specific embellishments,
have been simplified or mixed with other {\it rāgas} in order to
create a melodic structure that is easily sung without disturbing the
pronunciation of the words. The new {\it rāgas} thus created were
not re-named, but retained their original denominations, hence the
{\it rāgas} of Rādhāvallabhite Samāj-Gāyan do not
necessarily have the same musical features as their nominal
counterparts in North Indian classical music.”\footnote{Selina
Thielemann (1999), 305-306.}

\end{quote}

In light of the above statement, I will further comment that any
anticipation in the study and analysis of the Rādhāvallabha
Songbook with regard to “purity of {\it rāga}” is bound to be
disappointed.  The song repertoire of RVS is totally unique and
represents a valuable corpus that must be examined for its own melodic
worth.  In fact, many of the {\it rāgas} that are commonly heard in
Hindustani classical music today are less than a hundred years old in
their final standardized form.  Indian musicologists agree that {\it
rāgas} tend to evolve over time and become more refined with regard
to their grammar and rules of performance.  There is no original, pure
form of any current {\it rāga} that exists in an ancient musical
treatise or tradition.  While the Rādhāvallabha Songbook is a
glimpse into the remote past of devotional music, the RVS has kept and
protected its musical tradition from encroachment from outside so that
it may be preserved in its pristine form; but that form does not
depend on the purity of a {\it rāga}.  The tradition has its own
rules and guidelines that are separate from Hindustani musical
expectations.  For example, most of the songs in Dhāmar Tāla do
not fit into any {\it rāga} scheme, and so it is irrelevant to judge
the compositions, good or bad, according to the purity of {\it rāga}
or any other musicological standard other than the simple {\it bhakti
rasa}, the emotional content that is evoked upon careful and attentive
listening and understanding.  As an ethnomusicologist I could describe
the reactions I have seen within the community.  As a devotee-scholar,
I speak to my own experience.

The music of the Rādhāvallabha Sampradāya in the form of
Samāj-Gāyan may thus be studied, with some caution, in the context
of Hindustani classical music, particularly Dhrupad, yet may also be
viewed as an important predecessor of that as well as an influence
upon several other important forms of devotional music that were
sweeping the northern regions and extending East and West.  The
tradition of {\it padāvalī kīrtan} in Bengal can only be
properly understood in relation to the temple music traditions of
Vrindaban in the 16th century.  Many other varieties of devotional
music found in parts of North India can be stylistically traced back
to the {\it bhakti} musicians of the Braj area that especially include
the Rādhāvallabhites, the A\d{s}\d{t}acāp poets, and
Svāmī Haridāsa.  But as there is still a sizeable amount of
manuscript materials that remain to be critically edited, translated,
and analyzed, the bulk of scholarly determinations in the West have
yet to be formulated with regard to the direct and indirect influences
of Samāj-Gāyan on the entire network of devotional music in India.

On the accompanying eighteen CDs, most of the one hundred and eight
songs are in their complete form.  However, some, due to extreme
length, are represented only by the first few lines or stanzas.  Yet
the basic melodic and rhythmic patterns are established that prevail
throughout the duration of these songs.  On the two-CD sample set
available online there is a judicious selection of sample tracks from
the eighteen CD set that represent the various seasonal styles, tunes,
and rhythms of this fascinating yet largely unknown tradition of {\it
  bhakti} music.
