Kirtana (pronounced keer-ton-uh) is a Sanskrit word that means “praise” or “glory.” The more common Hindi pronunciation is “keer-ton,” dropping the final “a.” Simply understood, it is a form of song that centers on glorifying God, commonly performed in a “call and response” style of singing.

There is Nam-kirtan, which are songs composed of God’s sacred names, and Lila-kirtan, or songs that celebrate the esoteric activities of the Divine. There is Sankirtan, when the songs of praise are performed in a group setting, and Nagara-Sankirtan, when the group is taken into the streets. And there are numerous variations on these terms and themes. But kirtan, in any form, is ecstatic.

A closely related idiom is bhajan (bah-jon), prayerful song, which involves an internal, more meditative technique, usually in a sitting position. This is in contrast to kirtan, normally performed while standing, at least, if not dancing. Bhajan literally means “worship” and is often conceived as a more solitary practice, though it is also generally performed in a group, like kirtan. In addition, bhajan is generally softer, whereas kirtan can become quite strident. Various sects and regions in India will attribute different labels to different forms of prayerful song, sometimes defining bhajan as a subcategory of kirtan and vice versa.

Those particularly adept at such singing are called kirtaniyas (keer-ton-nee-uhs) or kirtan-wallahs (keer-ton-wahl-uhs), and it is wonderful to watch them as they chant God’s names. Usually, traditional, exotic instruments accompany their song and dance. In your average kirtan, you can expect to find a khol—also called a mridanga—which is a double-headed folk drum originating in northeast India. It has a body made of clay or fiberglass, with a small head on the right side (some four inches in diameter), and a larger one on the left (approximately ten inches). A pair of brass hand cymbals, known as kartals, is also a staple in any kirtan performance—the two cymbals, commonly two to five inches in diameter, are tied together by a piece of string or cloth and employed rhythmically, according to the beat of the chant.

Devotional singers often use harmoniums, too—especially in bhajan. Originally from France, the harmonium is a free-reed wind instrument with a keyboard somewhat akin to a piano or an organ. When it first made its way to India, kirtaniyas eschewed its use for devotional music; it was considered only suitable for low-caste street musicians. But in due course it found a home in the yoga of chant. The ektar—a single-stringed relative of the Western guitar—is also used in kirtan, though not as frequently as the other instruments just described. For those who know its tradition, this instrument brings to mind the paradigmatic female devotee, Mirabai, who, in sixteenth-century India, played the ektar while singing her now famous love-songs to Krishna. Bowed chordophones, such as the sarangi or the esraj—violin-like in nature—are sometimes used as well, as are flutes and tablas, and a background drone might be provided by a tamboura, too. But these are for more elaborate kirtans—the khol, kartals, and harmonium are the standard instruments, along with hand clapping. Contemporary kirtaniyas, it should be noted, tend to engage more modern instrumentation, too, because ideally any form of musical accompaniment can serve kirtan’s purposes.

In short, kirtan is an uncomplicated and effective way of communing with God. The Padma Purana tells us, “Because the holy name and the ‘holy named’ are nondifferent, the name is fully complete, pure, and eternally liberated. Indeed, it is Krishna Himself.” Philosophically, this idea can be summarized as follows: matter and spirit are opposites. Thus, since in the material world, all things are relative, and part of that relativity manifests in a thing and its name being different, in the spiritual realm, the opposite must be true: a thing and its name are one. This is the nature of the Absolute.

The implications here are tremendous. If God and His name are the same, by chanting one can get close to Him in every sense of the word. The chanter gets close to Him in terms of proximity, since the name is on his or her lips—and the name, remember, is God. The chanter gets purified by close association and becomes “godly,” cleansed, divinely inspired—thus becoming closer to God in nature. And the chanter gets close to God by achieving the goal of yoga, or linking with Him, through the intimacy of calling His name with love and devotion.

This is the ultimate effect of kirtan, even if, in the beginning stages, one usually remains blissfully unaware of it. Kirtan does not ask us to achieve the highest level. Instead, it dutifully takes us there, sometimes in spite of ourselves. And at any stage, it is joyfully performed, leading to higher and higher modes of spirituality. It gradually takes us beyond the physical, mental, and intellectual strata of existence and situates us in transcendence. Thus, whether we approach chanting as mere entertainment; as part of a yogic regimen; as a night out; or as a method for getting close to God—we benefit from the practice and move upward toward the Supreme.

Kirtan Origins

According to the sages of India, kirtan transcends history: It is “imported from the spiritual realm.” That is, in the highest heaven, one will find God—Krishna, Vishnu, El, Allah, He has innumerable names—glorified with blissful song and dance. Then, as kirtan makes its way to the material world, we find it in humanity’s earliest cultures and civilizations.

For example, the Vedas and the Upanishads, which are among the world’s oldest religious texts, describe the power of sound in minute detail, elaborating on how certain mantras, when properly recited, reveal Ultimate Reality. Kirtan, then, claims both divine origin and a history traceable to the world’s earliest scriptures.
Vaishnavism, whose chief manifestation in the West is known today as the Hare Krishna movement, developed kirtan into a methodical practice, some would say a science, leading to the goal of yoga. With the help of Vaishnava scriptures, such as the Bhagavata Purana and the Bhagavad Gita, adherents came to understand chanting as a highly technical—if also blissful—discipline through which they could expect definite results on the spiritual path.

Indeed, the scriptures state that for each world age, a specific method of God realization is particularly appropriate: In Satya-yuga, millions of years ago, one attained the Absolute through deep meditation; in Treta-yuga, through opulent sacrifices; in Dvapara-yuga, through Deity (iconic) worship; and in Kali, the current age, through chanting the holy name of the Lord.

Even the celestial beings mentioned in the Vedic literature want to take part in this celebration of sacred sound. Vishnu Himself, for example, sounds His conch as a call to spiritual awakening, and, in His original form as Krishna, bewitches all living beings with His silky smooth flute playing. Shiva, god of destruction, plays his threatening drum during the dance of cosmic dissolution. The Goddess Sarasvati, too, is always depicted with vina in hand; she is the divine patron of resonance and bestows blessings on all students of God-centered music. Lord Brahma, the husband of Sarasvati, creates musical scales with the mantras of the Sama-Veda, and uses the specific mantra “OM” to create the universe.