Tanti Saaj: The Stringed Instruments of Gurmat Sangeet

Course Overview

The phrase ਤੰਤੀ ਸਾਜ਼ (tanti saaj) means, quite simply, "stringed instruments." In Gurmat Sangeet — the singing of Gurbani in raag — these instruments are not decoration. For most of Sikh history they carried the melody and held the singer to the raag. This course is a calm, plain-English tour of the main ones: the plucked ਰਬਾਬ, the bowed ਸਰੰਦਾ, ਤਾਊਸ, and ਦਿਲਰੁਬਾ, and the rhythm-keeping ਜੋੜੀ.

Why study them? Because the sound of kirtan changed when these instruments faded and the harmonium took over. Knowing the tanti saaj helps us hear what was lost and understand what a revival is trying to recover. As scholars of Sikh music note, the instrument shapes the music as much as the singer does (Gurnam Singh 2001). We will describe rather than romanticize, and we will keep tradition and documented fact clearly apart.

How this course is built

Each lesson focuses on one instrument or theme. We look at how the instrument is built, how it is played, what role it has in kirtan, and how it fits the larger story of decline and revival. Where the tradition holds something dear — such as Bhai Mardana playing the rabab for Guru Nanak — we say so plainly and mark it as well-attested tradition rather than dated documentary record (Singh and Fenech 2014).

A first map of the instruments

Here is the whole family at a glance, so the later lessons have a frame to hang on.

Notice the pattern: most tanti saaj are melodic, and they hold the singer to the raag. The jori, though a drum, is grouped with this older ensemble because it is the rhythmic partner of these instruments in classical kirtan.

The Rabab and Bhai Mardana

The ਰਬਾਬ (rabab) is a plucked stringed instrument with a deep, waisted wooden body, a skin-covered soundboard, and gut strings. It produces a warm, slightly buzzing tone and is played with a pick. In the Sikh tradition it is the first instrument of kirtan, because it is the instrument tied to Bhai Mardana.

The well-attested tradition

It is well-attested tradition that Bhai Mardana, the lifelong Muslim companion of Guru Nanak, played the rabab while Guru Nanak sang Gurbani during their travels (Singh and Fenech 2014). The image of Guru Nanak singing with Mardana at the rabab is one of the most enduring in Sikh memory, and it sets the rabab apart as the founding instrument of the tradition's music. We present this as cherished, broadly accepted tradition rather than as a claim resting on a single dated document.

How it works and why it suited early kirtan

The rabab's plucked strings give a clear attack and a singing sustain that can follow a vocal line. Its tone sits well under an unamplified human voice in the open air or a small gathering — exactly the setting of the earliest kirtan. Because it is plucked rather than bowed, the player can mark phrases and rhythms while still tracing the melody of a raag.

For scholars, the rabab is also a reminder that Sikh music began as a shared, plural practice: a Muslim musician accompanying the Guru's hymns. Studying the instrument keeps that history audible (Gurnam Singh 2001).

The Bowed Voices — Saranda, Taus, and Dilruba

Where the rabab is plucked, three other tanti saaj are bowed: the player draws a bow across the strings to make a continuous, voice-like sound. This is why these instruments are so prized in kirtan — a bowed string can sustain a note and "sing" alongside the human voice, holding the raag steadily.

The saranda

The ਸਰੰਦਾ (saranda) is the largest and deepest of the three. It has a broad, carved wooden body and gut strings, and it produces a rich, dark, sustained tone. Its size gives it a grave, grounding voice well suited to slow, meditative kirtan.

The taus

The ਤਾਊਸ (taus) — the word means "peacock" — is built in the shape of a peacock, often with a carved head and a painted body. It has a fretted neck and many sympathetic strings that ring on their own when the main strings are played, giving it a shimmering, sweet sound. Because it is fretted, the player can place notes precisely, which lets the taus follow a vocal melody very closely (Gurnam Singh 2001).

The dilruba

The ਦਿਲਰੁਬਾ (dilruba) was developed as a lighter, more portable relative of the taus. It keeps the frets and sympathetic strings but has a smaller, simpler body, making it easier to carry and to learn. For this reason it became the most widespread of the bowed tanti saaj in modern times.

Together these three give kirtan a continuous melodic thread that a plucked instrument alone cannot. They are part of why the older ensemble sounds so different from the harmonium-led kirtan many hear today.

The Jori and the Rhythm of Kirtan

Melody needs rhythm, and in the classical kirtan ensemble that rhythm comes from the ਜੋੜੀ (jori). The word means "pair," and the instrument is a pair of hand drums: a larger drum that gives a deep bass and a smaller drum that gives a higher, sharper sound. The player strikes them with the hands and fingers to lay down the taal — the cycle of beats that organizes a composition.

Why a pair?

Having two drums lets the player move between low and high sounds, marking the strong and weak beats of a rhythmic cycle. This gives kirtan a clear pulse without overpowering the voice or the bowed strings. In the older ensemble the jori is the natural rhythmic partner of the rabab and the bowed tanti saaj.

The jori and the tabla

The familiar tabla of North Indian music is closely related to this older paired-drum idea, but in the Sikh tradition the jori has its own identity and its own repertoire of strokes suited to kirtan. Part of reviving classical kirtan has meant relearning the jori rather than defaulting to the tabla (Gurnam Singh 2001).

The jori reminds us that kirtan is a whole ensemble: melody from the strings, pulse from the drums, and the human voice at the center carrying Gurbani.

Decline and Revival

For centuries the tanti saaj carried kirtan. Then, over the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, they faded from many gurdwaras. Understanding why helps us understand the revival that followed.

Why they declined

The biggest single factor was the harmonium — a small, hand-pumped reed organ introduced during the colonial period. It was cheap, loud enough for large halls, easy to learn, and it did not need years of training or careful tuning the way a bowed string does (van der Linden 2013). As kirtan moved into larger congregations, the harmonium spread quickly and the demanding tanti saaj were set aside. Colonial-era disruption of patronage and of hereditary musician communities deepened the loss (Singh and Fenech 2014).

What was lost

When the strings fell silent, kirtan lost the continuous, voice-like melodic line of the bowed instruments and the plucked warmth of the rabab. The fixed-pitch harmonium also encouraged a looser relationship to raag, since it cannot bend or slide between notes the way a string can (Gurnam Singh 2001).

The revival

From the later twentieth century onward, musicians, scholars, and institutions worked to bring the tanti saaj back: rebuilding instruments, teaching the dilruba and taus, relearning the jori, and recovering classical compositions. This was not nostalgia alone but an argument that the instruments and the raag tradition belong together. Hereditary kirtan families were central to this recovery, because they had preserved compositions, tunings, and performance practice across generations — among them the lineage represented by Bhai Avtar Singh, whose family transmitted a large body of traditional kirtan (Singh and Fenech 2014).

Why the Tradition Values These Instruments

We can now answer the question that runs through the whole course: why does the Sikh tradition value the tanti saaj so highly? The reasons are partly historical, partly musical, and partly about identity.

A link to the source

First, the strings tie kirtan to its origin. The rabab carries the cherished, well-attested tradition of Bhai Mardana playing for Guru Nanak (Singh and Fenech 2014). To play the rabab today is to keep that founding image audible. This is a matter of devotion and memory, not merely of taste.

A better fit for raag

Second, the bowed and plucked strings serve the raag better than a fixed-pitch instrument can. They can slide and bend between notes, sustain a line, and "sing" with the voice. Gurbani is organized by raag, so an instrument that can fully express raag is musically and theologically apt (Gurnam Singh 2001; Pashaura Singh 2000).

An ensemble, not a crutch

Third, the tanti saaj invite an ensemble: melody from the strings, pulse from the jori, and the voice carrying Gurbani at the center. This shared music-making mirrors the communal spirit of sangat. The harmonium, by contrast, can let a single player do everything, which is convenient but flattens the texture.

The role of the heritage keepers

Finally, the tradition values these instruments because real people kept them alive. Hereditary kirtan families preserved compositions and performance practice when institutions had moved on, and the heritage transmitted through the lineage of Bhai Avtar Singh is a leading example of that preservation (Singh and Fenech 2014). The revival of the tanti saaj is, in large part, the fruit of their faithfulness.

Taken together, these are why a revived kirtan reaches for the rabab, saranda, taus, dilruba, and jori — not to look backward, but to let Gurbani sound in the music made for it.