The drone pair
Two of the four strings are not for melody at all. They are tuned to the same Sa and bowed along with everything you play, so the tonic never stops sounding. This is the sound of the instrument.
What the Gandharba were doing
A Gandharba walking between villages had no accompanist. There might be a madal if someone came along, but usually it was one person, one instrument and a voice. The sarangi had to be the melody, the accompaniment and the harmonic ground all at once.
The drone pair is how. Traditionally the player bowed the root note continuously underneath the notes of the song — so the bow is nearly always touching the middle strings, and the tune happens on top of a Sa that is already there. It does the job a tanpura does in Indian classical music, or a set of drone pipes on a bagpipe: it gives every melodic note something to be measured against.
Hear it both ways
The same phrase, with the drone and without. It is the same notes; it is not the same music.
Switch it on, then play the phrase. Then switch it off and play it again. Unlike the play buttons, this stays on until you turn it off — that is the point of a drone.
The practice bar at the foot of the page also has a Drone button. That one is a tanpura, standing in for an accompanist; this one is the sarangi's own two middle strings. They are two different Sas, so only one runs at a time — start either and the other stands down.
With the drone, the middle notes of the phrase acquire a flavour — Ga leans, Ma is unstable, Pa is restful. Without it they are just notes going up and coming back down. Nothing about the melody changed; what changed is that you can now hear where it is.
It is also your tuner
On a fretless instrument with no marks, the drone is how you know whether a note is right. A note that is truly in tune against a sounding Sa locks — the two together go still and consonant. A note a few cents out beats and shimmers against it, restlessly.
So you are not comparing your note to a memory of the right pitch. You are listening for a physical effect that happens or does not. This is why sarangi players tend to have very accurate ears: they practise against a reference every second they play.
Try it
Drone on. Then drag slowly and listen for the point where the restlessness stops.
Sa locks at one end. Pa locks near the other. Everywhere in between is unsettled, and a few places — Ga, Ma — are unsettled in interesting ways rather than just wrong.
Bowing two strings at once
Getting both middle strings to speak under one bow is a real skill and it will not happen on your first try. One string always sounds first.
- Rest the hair across both middle strings, close to the bridge.
- Draw slowly. Notice which string is louder.
- Roll the stick a few degrees toward the quiet one and try again.
- Keep adjusting until you hear one thick note rather than two thin ones. When it is right the two beat slowly against each other and the sound seems to breathe.
The single string is thinner and deader. The pair has the slow pulse that comes from two hand-tuned strings never quite agreeing — which is why you tune them almost to a unison and stop there. See Tuning.
When not to use it
The continuous drone belongs to solo playing. Once there are other instruments — and since bands like Kutumba put the sarangi on stage with guitars and bass, there usually are — a constant tonic fights the harmony underneath. Modern players do not bow the drone continuously when playing with others; they use the middle strings occasionally, for colour, or leave them alone.
Both are correct. Which one you use is a decision about what the music needs, and knowing that it is a decision is most of the point.