Swara and Solfa: How Music Has Shaped My Bicultural Identity

Every Wednesday, I stand in a brightly lit chorus studio, surrounded by dozens of other singers. Backpacks are lined against mirrored walls. Uniformly, we lift our binders to the right page of the sheet music as the pianist begins to play. We lock our eyes on the conductor as they direct our vocal technique. We keep our vowels tall, lift our soft palates for high notes, and ensure that our voices blend together neatly. Vibrations bounce off the walls and ceiling, overlapping until we harmonize as one unified sound. Our songs remain in my head as I leave the studio. 

Later that same week, my musical world shifts. During my Hindustani music classes, my bedroom fills with the hum of a tanpura and the rhythmic beats of a tala playing from an app on my phone as I begin to sing again. This time, I utilize a grounded chest voice to create a warm and slightly nasal sound. My soft palate is relaxed, and my voice is rounded and forward. I sing as a soloist rather than as one voice in a large ensemble. Although I’m not sitting cross-legged with a physical tabla and tanpura in front of me, and the bandishes I’m singing are written in unfamiliar languages, the music connects me to my heritage rooted across the world. In my head, the Western songs from my chorus rehearsals are replaced with Indian melodies, creating a cycle that repeats each week.

Music has given me a sense of belonging in two vastly different cultural environments. I attend Indian classical performances in New Jersey, where I’m surrounded by Indian-Americans like myself. The venues are filled with traditional food, beautiful Indian clothing, and a strong sense of cultural connection. I’ve also formed an amazing Western musical community. My knowledge of Western choral music has allowed me to perform at many prestigious and historical locations in the city with the rest of my ensemble, and I’ve made many friends through these experiences.

However, it’s easy to feel out of place in each of these environments, as if only half of me belongs. When I dress in a lehenga or a sharara to travel to my performances in New Jersey, I’ve received many lingering confused looks on the subway. Additionally, my American accent and way of life stand out when I travel to India to see my family. In American communities, I’m “too Indian”, and in Indian communities, I’m “too American”.

I’ve felt this cultural divide in my music, too; it’s difficult to hold two distinct cultures together in a single voice. While singing as a soloist in my Hindustani music classes, I frequently fight the urge to use head voice as I move into a higher range. Instead, I have to work in order to keep my tone rooted in chest voice. When singing Western choral music, I have to resist the improvisations I’ve developed through Indian classical music so that I don’t stand out from the other singers.

This is not to say that there are no similarities between the two styles; in fact, overlaps are always fascinating to find. The Western solfa are the same scale of notes as the Hindustani swara. Even though the Western scale begins with do while the Hindustani scale begins with sa, to the ear, they are the same sound. Both systems use patterns between notes as vocal practices and rely on complex rhythmic patterns. In both styles, the ultimate goals are storytelling, emotional connection, and expression. These fundamentals are what make music universal and allow it to transcend linguistic, cultural, and geographic boundaries. At their cores, the two styles of singing mirror each other; swara is the same as solfa, and sa is the same note as do. In a way, learning both styles at once has helped me see each of them in more depth.

Learning both Hindustani and Western styles has given me musical versatility. I’m able to blend my learnings from both practices, creating mixed tones and multifaceted performances. I’ve mastered both head and chest voice, blending in and standing out, and singing in diverse languages. I’ve begun to realize that my bicultural identity is not a social or personal inconvenience; it makes me unique and has given me access to multiple environments and experiences. I’ve learned to embrace both cultures that I carry within me. I find myself using Western breath control techniques while singing Hindustani songs with challenging, fast-paced taans. Hindustani vocal techniques prove extremely useful when I audition for solos within my chorus that require forward resonance and oscillation between notes. The cultural boundaries that I once saw as rigid have begun to blur. 

Being an Indian-American allows me to engage in these diverse environments while retaining my individuality. Instead of focusing on the divide between these two halves of myself, I have begun to realize that my cultural upbringing has made me well-rounded, both as a singer and as a person overall. I don’t have to choose between my cultures or give up a part of my identity to fit in. Whether it’s swara or solfa, do or sa, Indian or American, I can belong to either and both at the same time.