No film music composer has used Carnatic and Hindustani Ragas as extensively and beautifully as ILaiyaraaja.
I have tried to explain the classical elements and the nuances in his music in this Blog.
I am a person with varied interests.
Music is my breath and though I like all kinds of music, I am enamoured of the variety and the depth of Indian Classical music.As far as Film music is concerned, I love Old songs and ILaiyaraaja-whom I consider as one of the best composers in the world- is my favourite composer.
I love travelling and meeting new people . A lover of nature, I prefer those long walks.
Some of you I am sure, are aware that I conduct a non-commercial Event dedicated to the Maestro, called 'Geetanjali' in Chennai. This Event has been happening regularly since 2008 in the month of August. Special post reading in Tamizh and English, Presentations by participants on their most favourite song of Raaja, Analysis of his music by me, Quiz and a lot of discussions related to his music, are some of the features of Geetanjali. It is a day-long Event - from 9am to 4pm. Videos of the previous Geetanjali events are available in my YouTube channel. This year, it will happen on Sunday, the 31st of August.
Please note that it is a non-commercial Event and I do it out of passion. In the past, people have travelled from other parts of the country to participate in Geetanjali. I invite only a select few, but this time since it is being revived after 6 years, I thought of posting the announcement here so that genuine Raaja fans can be part of it. If you want to be part of it, please send me a reply here or through mail (mercuryraj2001).
Is it closing our eyes and
chanting something repeatedly?
Is it focussing on an object
with our eyes open?
Is it staring at the light?
Is it just focussing on our
breath?
Well, it is all these and
something much more. The fact of the matter is – Meditation or the state of
Meditation can only be experienced and can hardly be explained, however great
the person’s vocabulary is.
Suffice to say that people
experience inner calm and tranquility and at the same time feeling energetic.
Potential Energy and Kinetic Energy, in action at the same time.
There is something beyond
Meditation and this is called the Samadhi state. Not many can experience
this state and not many have experienced this state. Transcending the duality
of the matter and the mind, the body and the mind, the existence and
non-existence, it is an experience of oneness and the ultimate bliss. Some
rishis in the past and some saints in the present ( more recent, though this is
subjective!) have experienced this state. As far as I know, RamaNa Maharishi
experienced it, going by the writings about him and the kind of experience I
get when I visit his Ashram.
There was one more person, who
I feel must have definitely experienced this. And that is, AruNagirinathar.
How do I know?
Not an easy question to answer
and just like how one cannot define a Meditative state, this too cannot be
explained. But having read many of his verses under different works, it is just
my feeling and at times, I go by what I feel because of my percipience.
Let me quote just one of his
verses- though there are many- to tell you all why I feel what I feel:
I forgot my
relations, my mind, my speech, my knowledge and my ignorance the moment He
taught me the right way to meditate and this is pure bliss.
This is verse no.42.
If you are insightful, you will
make the connection between the two. If I were to describe it, I would just
stop with saying ‘Esoteric’.
AruNagiri experienced that bliss, that eternal light.
We mortals too, can experience
something close to it, depending on how wise we are. Take the song ‘AruNa
KiraNa Deepam’ from ‘Guru’ (1997). Whenever I listen to it, I
experience something different; something unique; something divine; something
esoteric.
The composition based on KeeravaNi
(or Harmonic minor) and is set in Mishram. These details are
not as important as the way these are applied. For a change, let me take up
each aspect and then go on to the main subject.
Laya:
I said it is set in Mishram
( 7 beat- cycle). But the prelude goes plainly in 4, with the brass
flute and the horns even playing 1 2 3 4 after a while. The percussion
which appear much later (0.58) play in 4. It is only when the
chorus starts (1.23) that it shifts to Mishram.
The percussion sounds 1,
4 and 6 (ta, ta, dhi) in the 7-beat cycle. After two
cycles, the strings join in and play 1 2 3 4 5 6/1 2 3 4/ 1 2 3 4(
ta ka dhi mi ta ka/ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi).
The Pallavi in the
voice of Yesudas too follows the same pattern – Aruna ( 1
2 3 ) KiraNa ( 1 2 3 ) Deepam ( 1 2 3
4) Paaba ( 1 2 3 4). Let it be understood that Mishram
in ‘mel kaalam’(faster mode) is 7x2.
The first interlude
follows the same pattern, though the percussion takes a break. The group
of violins that appears in between sounds ta ki ta/ta ki ta/ta ka dhi
mi/ta ka dhi mi, so obviously that one forgets if these are melodious
instruments or percussive instruments ( melodious percussive, probably). The
most beautiful part occurs towards the end of the interlude when an
instrument plays a sustained melody subtly for 2 cycles.
Meditative?
The percussion appears only
in the second part of the first interlude. It takes a break again for a
while when the chorus renders the wordings and appears again albeit
subtly and gradually after that.
It is the bells that sound the
taaLam in the first segment of the second interlude.
KeeravaNi/Harmonic
minor :
The western contours are felt
almost throughout with a host of instruments, but the Indian counterpart (though
this may not be an ideal term) is felt in the Pallavi, in the middle
part of the first interlude. The ‘akaaram’ of Yesudas in
the CharaNams, speaks for itself. But the O. Henry Raaja does it
again. The beginning of the first interlude goes to Saaranga TarangiNi,
a raga which has no connection or relation with KeeravaNi. This
continues for about 20 seconds until the horns take it back to Harmonic
minor(KeeravaNi).
It happens again in the second interlude but this time, it changes to
the Major scale (4.15) and continues in this scale with the brass
flute and horns in fullflow. The chorus too hums in the same
scale and just before it completes the humming (4.41), it goes back to the minor
scale.
Orchestration:
There is a kind of an eerie
beginning with a single instrument sounding like a clock and a host of instruments
sounding suddenly with a bang. But it is that silence (0.29- 0.33) which
makes a difference. After all, isn’t silence musical and meditative?
The strings sound soft
and soothing while the brass flute moves with a flourish. The oboe
which takes over is bewitching and when juxtaposed with the flute, the
experience is exhilarating. The strings then move with a purpose after
the chorus and this could be because of the backing of the rhythm in Mishram.
The brass flute after
the first few phrases are rendered by Yesudas, is alluring and at the
same time graceful. When Chitra renders the lines, the subtle strings
and double bass, back her voice while the horns sound with assiduity
when the chorus sings ‘Brahmma Naadam..’, which itself is like a
crescendo.
The tantalising melody of the oboe
is complemented by the supple strings. The oboe and flute vivify
the atmosphere before the leitmotif appears.
The lines in the CharaNams
are backed by the very subtle strings, in line with the mood.
If the bells sound with
a sense of uncanniness, the flute moves with finesse sketching something
in the process. Like a karma yogi, the two sets of strings move in
a linear way with the oboe just nodding its head. It is that flute
which plays along with the chorus, bending, meandering, and straddling
the octaves, which leads us to something.
Is it a diffused glow?
Is it the eternal light?
Is it that state of Samadhi?
AruNagiri and AruNa Kirana Deepam will probably give an
answer.
How relevant is this in the
age of even intelligence being artificial and people going gaga for such
intelligence?
More than being very relevant,
I would say it is very essential now as people are quickly losing their ability
to think on their own, with creativity itself is becoming just a word in the
dictionary and is in the danger of being wiped out even from the dictionary!
People being ‘influenced’ by some self-declared experts and by the machines, is
not a trend which can be called healthy.
This is where one is forced to
go back to our literature and arts where we find different works shimmering
with unique beauty and different poets and artistes laying new paths and
treading unchartered territories. AruNagirinaathar was one such poet.
With a questionable background
and a very questionable personal life, this gentleman transformed into a poet
who set the tone for a new format which throbbed with rhythms which were new
and until then were unthinkable. Author of many works that include Kandar
Anubhuti/Andaadi/Alankaraam, Vel/Mayil Viruththam and so on, he is mainly
known for ‘Thiruppugazh’. The last mentioned has 8 cantos (which itself
was not new in Indian literature with somebody by name Jayadeva already
having composed Ashtapadi at least 3 centuries before AruNagiri)
with each composition following a particular rhythm, most of which not being
part of the classical music taaLas.
The beauty does not stop just here.
Thiruppugazh also has layers of meanings, esoteric as well as mundane.
This rather long poem mentions
the numbers in the first 3 lines and these numbers when totalled give 96,
which are the 36 paratatvaas, 35 other tatvaas, 5 elements, 10 naadis, 10 karmaas,
5 ahankaaraas, 3 guNas, and 3 kinds of Vaak. Since these are too
deep, explaining these will take reams and most importantly, is out of scope of
our present discussion.
However, what he says in this
entire song can be summarised as – ‘He (Muruga) is the One who is beyond all
these and beyond description and when will I be able to reach that state of
silence and emptiness reining in my desires?’
He also goes on to mention His
annihilation of Surapadma and his armies and after describing Shiva
as the One adorned with different garlands, moon, the poisonous snake
and the ashes, he says ‘You are His Master’.
The choice of words and most
importantly the contrasts, make this a poetic beauty. But beyond all this, it
is the rhythmic metre – 2,2,2,2,3,3,2,2,3,3,4 - which sits like a
diamond on the gleaming crown, mesmerising us readers with an alluring glow!
Since readers who follow my
writings, by now would have guessed as to who I am going to bring in now, I am
not even going to mention the name now. You all also know as to the kind of
experiments he has done in film music, which in a way is beyond comprehension
for many.
This composition I am taking
up today is rather old. I say ‘old’ because it is a very popular hit and is known
to many unlike many compositions I normally write about. In fact, there have
been efforts to explain the technique in this composition on the internet, but
I am not sure as to how many have really succeeded in bringing out the
intricacies. In any case, let me try and explain the concept in my own way.
Any composition follows a
rhythmic pattern. Most film songs follow the 4-beat structure – called ‘chatushram’
in Carnatic Music and 4/8 in film music. Some follow the 3-beat
structure (Tisram), a few, the 7-beat structure (Mishram)
and a few, the 5-beat structure ( Khandam). There is also the 6-beat
structure (Rupakam) but since the number of beats is double that of Tisram,
most of the songs that follow this structure can also be classified under Tisram.
But ‘Aagaaya VeNNilaave’
(ArangetRa VeLai – 1990), is an exception.
Let us start from the
beginning. Yesudas renders the entire line with Uma Ramanan rendering
the following line. Note that the vocals do not have any percussion
support. However, if one were to count, both lines have 8 counts
exactly. So, is it going to follow the 8-beat cycle or simply the 4-beat
cycle?
The guitar follows but
now with the backing of the percussion. It is obvious that this entire
segment follows the 4-beat cycle. Simple, isn’t it?
But with O. Henry Raaja,
you must always expect the unexpected. Just towards the end, the melodic instrument
sounds ‘1 2 3 4’ thrice. Is it a prelude to something else?
We get an answer almost
instantly. Yesudas (and then Uma Ramanan) start singing and the vocals
do not seem to follow the ‘4-beat’ pattern. It clearly follows the 6-beat
pattern. But then, what does the percussion do? Rather than sounding the
6 beats, these sound the 4 beats.
How?
Take the first two phrases – Aagaaya
VeNNilaave. As I said, it is – 1 2 3 4 5 6. However, the
percussion sound 1 2 3 4 thrice during the same time.
Can 6 equal 12?
This is where the genius comes
into play. While the 6 beats are sounded in the slow tempo- called ‘Keezh
kaalam’- the three 4s are sounded in a tempo which is two times
faster than that of the vocals. And that is how 6 equals 12.
Here too, the Tabla plays
‘1 – 3 4/ - - 3 4/ 1 – 3 4’ leaving those gaps called ‘kaarvai’
to make the puzzle more interesting.
The interludes follow the 1
2 3 4 pattern like a disciplined army of soldiers. In the first
interlude, the solo-violin plays with a touch of poignancy with the
group of violins joining in playing a counter melody. A close observation
suggests two things. One, there is no percussion for a while. Two, the counter
melody of the group says, or rather sings – 1 2 3 4.
The strings move like
the breeze in the next segment with yet another set joining in and playing a
counter melody. The end of the interlude is interesting yet again with
the melodic instruments sounding 1 2 3 4 four times, with an ostentatious
smile!
Why have I not spoken about
the raga yet?
It is because a composition
goes beyond just the name of the raga- as I have said ad nauseam- and also
because the focus in this composition is on the rhythm.
But that does not mean that
melody has little role to play here. It is loosely based on Darbaari Kaanada scale with a dash of alien notes in the CharaNams.
The sudden surge of the higher-octave
notes – Sa Ri Ga Sa- in the second half of the Pallavi (Malar
soodum/ URavaadum) gives it an impetus. The beauty is that the same
melody is repeated in the last two lines of the CharaNams.
The sudden entry of the alien swara
(chatushruti dhaivatam) in the fifth and the sixth line, gives it a new
complexion. So does the ‘niRiSaRi’ prayoga towards the end of these
lines.
The melodic instrument in the
beginning of the second interlude sounds ‘1 2 3/ 1 2 3/ 1 2’
twice before the guitar and the tabla join. But as if it is under
a spell, it continues subtly in the background during the guitar
segment. The two sets of strings take over, each playing an independent
melody albeit in different octaves.
The strings sound ‘ 1
– 3 4/ 1 – 3 4 with the brass flute responding
with ‘1 2 3 4/ 1 – 3 4’.
Isn’t that the reason for many
poets describing the wind, using similes, keeping wind as a metaphor and even
symbolising wind as an ambassador?
Before I go to the second
element which finds a mention in the first line, let me briefly delve into the
first element. Tamizh grammar gives different names to the same wind depending
on the direction from which it blows. As per literature(and as per one’s
experience as well), the quality of the wind varies and is purely dependent on
the direction. Concomitantly, our feelings and emotions too vary. As an
example, the wind blowing from the south is ‘thendRal’ and is supposed to be
very pleasant. On the other hand, the one blowing from the north- vaadai- is
supposed to evoke the feeling of viraha (separation).
Would you believe me if I said
that an entire piece of work in literature revolves around the wind, the one
from the north to be precise? Viraha, which is the quality of vaadai, runs as
the undercurrent in Nedunalvaadai, which is part of the Sangam literature.
Composed by Nakkeerar, it is in praise of Thalaiyaalangaanaththu cheruvendRa
paaNdiyan Nedunchezhiyan. Unlike many other works, the hero appears only
towards the end and even this is brief as the verses here talk about his visit
to the camp to see the warriors who fought for him in the war. Pregnant with
descriptions about nature, the palace and the cot for most part, this work is
on the viraha feelings of the queen who misses her husband and leaning on the
ivory cot with tears in her eyes, listens to the prayers to Goddess KotRavai.
Did I not mention that viraha
runs as the undercurrent? It actually runs subtly even in the description of
nature. One has to read between the lines to comprehend, grasp, understand and
appreciate this fact. What I am giving below is just a sample and these three
lines appear almost towards the end of the work.
வடந்தைத் தண் வளி எறிதொறும் நுடங்கித்
தெற்கு ஏர்பு இறைஞ்சிய தலைய நன் பல
பாண்டில் விளக்கில் பரூஉச்சுடர்அழல.
The cold wind from the north
blew and whenever it blew, the thick flame in the round lamps, swayed and
tilted towards the south.
Pretty simple, right? North to
south. It is logical, scientific and natural. What is great about this?
Anyone who loves just the
surface and wants to stay only there, is bound to ask this.
But people who hate the word
‘superficial’, will say these:
But scratch the surface; go
beyond that.
Don’t read just the lines;
read between the lines as well.
Always aim to see the unseen.
If we follow the latter, we
can discover a gold mine. The Queen’s location(no GPS those days!) is to the
south of the place of war. By saying that the vaadai was blowing, the poet
first touches upon the viraha. He goes a step further and rather than saying
that the lamps went off(which is what happens when the wind blows), he says the
flame just tilted towards the south, indicating that there is a happy ending
and that the king will return to his palace after emerging victorious in the
war. The flame can also be considered as a symbol for the queen, with the
vaadai being the emotion.
This is what the wind does to
the imagination and creativity of poets.
Doesn’t the same happen in
case of music and therefore with musicians as well?
That we cannot hear music in
the absence of wind, is too well known a fact to be even mentioned. But the
fact that some geniuses have used the different types of wind, musically is
something which is known and yet has to be mentioned.
Here is a naayika, besotted
completely with her lover and finds music as a form of expressing her desire
and yes, viraha. The genius that he is, ILaiyaraaja uses a classical raga known
more to invoke the feeling of devotion and certainly not associated with
romance, unlike pentatonic ragas or even complete ragas like KalyaNi.
The raga Simhendramadhyamam is
deep and unlike its Shuddha Madhyama counterpart KiravaNi, is not universal. It
does take a lot of gumption to use this raga in a romantic set up. He has done
this before as well in ‘Aananda Ragam’, a song I discussed here four years ago
(ILaiyaraaja – The Prudent Musican- 14th April 2019) . But this one is different, in fact it is a study in contrast.
If ‘Ananda Ragam’ is racy like
the wind from the north, ‘Thaalaattum PoongaatRu Naanallava’ (Gopura Vaasalile-
1991) is like the wind from sea, soothing and yet deep with a degree of heat
present innately.
The initial humming of Janaki is
like the Kacchaan(wind from the west), soft, quiet and mild. In a matter of
seconds, one sees the sketch of the raga. With the santoor interjecting with
grace, the small flute moves elegantly. Two other flutes take over and play
simultaneously with panache, one in higher-octave and the other in lower-octave,
thus showing the contrasting emotions- joy and viraha. Like the wind which go
up and down during the rain, the keys sound the ascending and the descending
notes of the raga.
The Pallavi (vocals: Janaki)
too has the ascending(rigamapa) and the descending swaras (magarisani.) in the
first two phrases of the last two lines(oh nenjame/en nenjame).The third
line (varuvaayo/ vaarayo) exudes with viraha with some closely packed
swaras (padhamapagamapaga) in vaayo and raayo.
The strings in the beginning
of the first interlude, move with ferocity like the KundRavaadai (wind from the
North- East). Meanwhile, the flute moves with vibrancy like the
Karunkondal (South-East) with the guitar passing like the cross wind, in
between. One sees the two layers of the wind in the two sets of strings. While
one is boisterous and vivacious, the other is delicate and subtle. The santoor
and the keys sway like the branches of the trees.
The flute continues its wave
of enthusiasm in the CharaNams as well, showing up between the lines again in
ascending and descending fashion alternately. One also sees the sudden upward
movement of the wind towards the end of the CharaNam with the penultimate line
showing a steady climb to start with (sariga), a descent(risasa), a sudden
jump(from the lower sa straight to the upper Sa), a slight descent(SaniniSa)
and then an intense descent in the higher-octave (GaRisa). The last line is a
mix of ascent and descent just like the wind blowing in the mountains.
Vaadaikachchaan (South-East)
meets Kacchankodai (South-West) in the first half of the second interlude. This
is how one can describe the flute melody and the santoor melody. If the former
is plaintive and deep, the latter is jubilant and gentle. So captivating is
this spectacle which is full of contrasts that even the percussion stops
playing, absorbing itself in the beauty. Two sets of strings go in tandem, one
in lower-octave and the other in higher-octave and this seems like the meeting
of Vaadai and ThendRal.
It should pierce the heart
straight, prise it open, go further deep, search for the soul and stir it!
To a certain extent, this can
be called subjective as appreciation- and therefore the experience- varies from
person to person. But beyond a point subjectivity and objectivity merge and
this depends purely on the conditioning, the upbringing and the exposure to
great works, which help the person separate the wheat from the chaff.
As an example, look at the
following verse:
தலை மேல தாள்- இணைகள் தாமரைக் கண் என் அம்மான்
நிலைபேரான் என் நெஞ்சத்து, எப்பொழுதும் எம்
பெருமான்,
மலை மாட த்து அரவு-அணைமேல் வாட்டாற்றான்,
மதமிக்க
கொலை யானை மருப்பு ஒசித்தான், குரை கழல்கள்
குறுகினமே.
The great poet Nammaazhwar
describes the Lord at a place called Thiruvattaru. Considered to be the longest
Vishnu idol in the country, with a length of 22 feet, the idol also follows the
katu-sarakara-yogam, an ancient method of idol-making following very strict
norms, in terms of the material, the admixture of river sands, the paste and so
on. Most importantly, the idol at that temple is made of 16,008 shAligrAmas, a
feat which is monumental. Just for information, a shAligraama is found on the
banks of Gandaki river in Nepal and supposedly bears symbols associated with
Vishnu naturally without any human intervention.
The great poet who was an
erudite scholar. composed the verse(in fact, there are 11 verses composed on
this deity and these are part of ThiruvAimozhi which in turn is part of the
Naalayira Divya Prabandham!) in keeping with the esoteric elements in the idol.
The meaning of the verse goes
something like this:
The lotus feet are on my head;
the lotus-eyed one will never leave my heart. He is the One who reclines on the
snake at this place which has huge buildings like mountains, the One who broke
the tusk of the elephant which had gone mad. I worship his feat.
On the face of it, this looks
like a normal verse which extols the virtues of the Lord. But scratch the
surface and you will experience a scimitar breaking open your heart.
First and foremost, it talks
about strength by talking about the fight with the elephant. Recall that the
idol is made of 16,008 small stones bound by thick pastes.
Next, it talks about the lotus
feet and the lotus eyes. Beautiful contrast- strength and softness!
Now, lotus is also the mind,
symbolically. Mad elephant is the symbol of bad thoughts. Contrasts of course,
but it suggests that to take bad thoughts away from your mind, you need to
meditate. But the clincher is the connection between the first and the last
line- His feet on my head and I surrender to His feet.
Life cycle- Starts with feet
and ends with feet.
Visishtasdwaita philosophy in
a nut shell!
Read the verse again and you
will know why I said it will pierce one’s heart. Perhaps you might end up
discovering more too in the process. After all, experience is subjective- or is
it?
One gets a similar experience
while listening to music in general and ILaiyaraaja’s music in particular.
Raaga Deepam YetRum Neram from PayaNangaL Mudivathillai(1982) is a classic
example.
In fact, it is a classical
example too as it is purely based on a classical raga called Hamsaanandi. This popular raga is a shaadava raga with 6 swaras in the arohaNa and
avarohaNa. The reason for my saying that this pierces the heart has to do not
only with the tune and the orchestration but also with a hidden magic. This
magic is too subtle and yet very powerful. We shall see this as we go along.
One should also understand the
background. As per the sequence in the movie, an aspiring singer gets an
opportunity to sing in a temple and as he starts singing, clouds gather and the
crowd disperse. He does not give up and continues singing and the clouds relent
by moving away. The crowd is back and that is the beginning. A beginning in
terms of his career as a singer.
The composition starts with
the akaaram of SPB. What starts as a free flowing akaaram starts following the
chatushram pattern as the percussion joins. The akaaram itself is vibrant and
vivacious, drawing the sketch of Hamsaanandi in a matter of seconds. The
strings move in higher-octave with a ferocity matching the intensity of the
rain.
The first line is conceived
meaningfully. It starts with the descending notes and then goes to the
ascending notes, indicating the travails of the aspiring singer in particular
and also of any human in general. In fact, it defines Life itself.
The lines that follow touches
the higher-octave swaras like the upper Sa, Ri and Ga, making it a plaintive
cry.
The jalatarangam and the tabla tarang move with a sprightly gait in the beginning of the first interlude,
perhaps to show the momentum- the rain and the fluttering of the singer’s heart
– contrasting elements. The strings play a flood of melody in Hamsaanandi while
the flute depicts the angst of the singer by sliding and gliding. The sitar
which responds to the flute initially, moves independently after a while,
playing a litany of swaras with ebullience.
The first CharaNam is
structured beautifully and like the Pallavi, this too shows the genius of the
composer. The first two lines touch the higher-octave swaras, with the second
line even touching the upper ‘Ma’, a rarity even in normal classical concerts.
The sound of the bell in the background makes it auspicious. It is clairvoyant
too, a fact we will see in a bit!
The last two lines have the
mid-octave swaras going up and down, with the last line ending with the
ascending notes- the mark of a genius yet again!
The second interlude conveys
myriad expressions. The strings bellow out feelings with impeccable precision.
Suddenly, there is magic. The solo-violin plays rather happily. What makes us
feel the happiness is the raga, whose name is Mohanam.
How did the raga change?
Hamsaanandi is one of the
ragas from where the pentatonic ragas like Suddha Dhanyasi, Suddha Saveri,
Hindolam, Madhyamavati and Mohanam can be obtained by keeping one of the swaras
as the base. This technique is called Gruha Bhedam, a fact known to people who
follow my posts here.
The Master keeps the swara
‘dha’ as the base here and it shifts to Mohanam. The reason for this has to do
more with the sequence and less to show one’s capability. The rain stops and
gradually the crowd starts gathering again. Mohanam is considered to be a happy
raga and is there any better way of showing emotions and feelings?
The backing of the keys carries
meaning too as it symbolises the rain drops!
The sitar plays Hamsaanandi
now and the feeling of joy is ineluctable.
The second CharaNam is
structured differently with the third and fourth line touching the lower-octave
ni, the line that follows showing the arohana(ascent) and the following line
reaching a crescendo with the dominant upper Sa.
Piercingly beautiful..
As beautiful as the little
stones found on the banks of the Gandaki river and as magnificent as the 22
feet idol which reclines with inherent meaning!!
Though this might sound absurd
to some, it is this coexistence which gives that beauty to Nature and Life.
When I say Nature and Life, does this not mean Poetry and Music or for that
matter, any art form? Doesn’t this factor known better as ‘contrast’ give that
sense of aesthetics? Doesn’t it give us feelings so profound that we search for
words or even fall quiet, with this state itself elevating us to a level which
at best can be called ‘spiritual’?
One of the classic example is
this verse:
புள்ளது ஆகி வேதம் நான்கும் ஓதினாய், அது
அன்றியும்
புள்ளின் வாய் பிளந்து புட்கொடிப் பிடித்த
பின்னரும்,
புள்ளை ஊர்தி; ஆதலால் அது என் கொல் மின் கொள்
நேமியாய்
Taken from a work called ‘Thirucchanda
Viruttam’ which is part of the Magnum Opus -Naalaayira Divya Prabandham-, this
verse composed by Thirumazhisai Aazhwar talks about birds.
Just birds?
Let us get deeper. Addressed
to Vishnu, the poet says – You took the form of a bird (swan) and recited the 4
vedas. You tore open the beak of a bird(crane) and killed a demon. You made a
bird (Eagle/Garuda) to be part of Your flag and also made him Your Vaahana. But
how is it that You are lying down quietly on a snake(Adisesha), a sworn enemy
of the bird (Garuda) which is Your vahana?
We get to see three different
species of birds- swan, crane, eagle- with each one being part of a single or
multiple acts. The bird as an entity takes three different forms and indulges
in positive and negative acts. Here we have similarities and dissimilarities.
But the clincher is the last line which makes a mention of two sworn enemies.
What does this indicate?
Same, but different?
Same, same, different?
Different, Different?
Keep thinking and you will
find an answer, well not the same answer but different answers!
Take this composition – Sangatamizh
kaviye from Manadil UrudiVeNdum(1987). It is a composition in three different
ragas. Is that the only attribute of the composition?
The veena sounds once. The bells
respond. The veena sounds again. The subtle bells respond yet again. It seems
like the lighting of the lamp with the spark gleaming and glittering. The veena
continues its journey weaving simple and intricate patterns in Abheri. The
melody from the flute which follows the veena, floats around and surrounds us
like a gentle breeze.
In between, just before the
journey of the veena begins, the tabla sounds ‘ta ka dhi mi/ta ki ta/ ta ki ta’-a
count of 10. However, the composition is set in Tisram, which has a cycle of 3
counts. Is there a fallacy here?
Not really. There are 2 micro- beats before ‘ta ka dhi mi’, which are left as kaarvai, giving a total of 12
micro-beats which is divisible by 3.
The Pallavi starts in the
voice of Yesudass, giving clear shades of Abheri. While the sketch of the raga
is shown in just one line with descending and ascending notes, the brilliance
and the aesthetic sense of the composer is revealed in the sudden appearance of
lower-octave swaras -pa.ni.- in daagam, which in a way also reflects the thirst
of the composer and in the interjection of flute between the lines -sung first
by Yesudass and then by Chitra.
The violins move softly in the
beginning of the first interlude, but there is a catch here. These play in
Bageshri, a different raga, but using the same swaras. Let me explain a bit.
Ragas in the Indian system of
music are formed by different sets of swaras which follow some set patterns
while ascending and descending. The swaras may be the same but the way these
are used are different. For example, the structure of Abheri is -sa ga2 ma1 pa
ni2 Sa/Sa ni2 dha2 pa ma1 ga2 ri2 sa, the first one being the ascending notes
and the second half being the descending notes. The structure of Bageshri is –
sa ga2 ma1 dha2 ni2 Sa/ Sa ni2 dha2 ma1 pa dha2 ga2 ma1 ga2 ri2 Sa. The numbers
against each swara denotes the variant and as you can see the variants of the
swaras in both the ragas are the same, as both are derived from the same parent
raga. Yet,these sound different from
each other!
Going back to the interlude,
the veena sways as it responds to the violins and then moves majestically after
the stream-like melody from violins. The flute which is reposeful as if
responds to the veena after each line, gathers momentum when the energetic
strings appear. The strings, flute and the flute combine together with
pulsating vibrancy and play the tisram beats – ta ki ta/ta ki ta/taam- thrice,
a la Carnatic concert.
The CharaNam continues in
Bageshri with the lines encapsulating the beauty of the raga. What is of
specific interest is the line ‘oru puram naan aNaikka’ for varied reasons, the
foremost being the sangati after that line in the voice of Yesudass which lasts
for 12 tisram cycles. The melodic charm, the sweetness and the softness, elevate
us to reach vertiginous heights. As if this is not enough, the phrases in the
lines that follow touch higher-octave swaras-even going up to ‘Ma’- which is a
rarity.
When the Pallavi is rendered
again, it is in Bageshri with the lower-octave swaras dha. and ni. Commingling
with the mid-octave swaras giving that contrasting shades again!
The tabla sounds ‘ta tai tai
taa’ thrice and the mrudangam responds with ‘ta ri ki ta taam taam’ thrice.
With depth and crispness, the strings play Madhukauns, a totally different
sounding raag which has the same ga and ni as Abheri and Bageshri but a
different ‘ma’(prati madhyamam). This one swara makes a huge difference to the
sound, the emotions and the feelings. The veena and the flute move sprightly in
the same raag sketching some unforgettable musical images. These alternate. It
is vibrant, vivacious and at the same time pensive.
The sounds coalesce finally
spreading radiance.
The CharaNam continues in
Madhukauns with the flute appearing between the lines oozing musical droplets
and the higher- octave swaras making it a heavenly experience.
Three ragas, two with same
swaras, one with almost the same swaras and with a different swara.
Not an easy question to
answer. In fact the question itself is ambiguous and the difficulty in
answering lies as much in that ambiguity. There are certain things which are
beyond beauty and even the concept of beauty. Surely, Light is beyond
everything.
Everything begins with light.
Everything began with light. But everything does not end with light, because
there is no end to light.
It is not surprising at all
that scholars who understood the divine nature of light, have composed verses
which show the different dimensions of light. AruNagirinathar was one of
those.
He starts one of the verses
saying ‘Standing at the peak of the mountain of Wisdom which was formed by
the effulgent light’. Imagine a huge mountain formed from the light! He
continues- ‘You made me realise the absolute bliss, a state of non-existence
in that boundless open space’.
ஒளியில் விளைந்த உயர் ஞான பூதரத்து உச்சியின்
மேல்
அளியில் விளைந்த து ஓர் ஆன ந்தத் தேனை அனாதியிலே
வெளியில் விளைந்த வெறும் பாழைப் பெற்ற வெறும்
தனியைத்
தெளிய விளம்பியவா! முகம் ஆறுடைத் தேசிகனே!!
Light has value. Light has no
value. It is beyond value. It is infinite.
This applies as much to music;
Music composed by great people; people for whom music is not a way of life; for
whom music is life itself.
‘Malaikovil vaasalil
‘ from ‘Veera’(1994) is an example of thousands of compositions which
glow like light. So powerful is the effulgence that one even forgets that it is
a romantic duet. All one feels is that divinity and needless to say, it is
because of the way the entire composition has been composed.
It starts with the percussion
alone. ‘ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka dhi mi’ plays the percussion, with an
additional stress on the ‘dhi’ in the second half and this itself is
enough to give that special feeling. In fact, this pattern continues in the Pallavi
and the ChraraNam and therefore is the leitmotif of the
composition itself.
But apart from this, what runs
as the undercurrent is that primordial sound -AUM- a sound which is full
of vibrations, a sound which gives vibrations, a sound which has no religion,
caste, class and creed.
We first hear the sound in the
higher-octave from the chorus after five cycles of ‘ta ka dhi mi/ta
ka dhi mi’ by the percussion. Another set of chorus sings in the lower-octave
and by now if you do not feel the divine fragrance, you may have to get tested
for anosmia.
There is a sudden shift. The tanpura
which enters with grace plays in a different shruti. The bells sound in that
shruti and the Pallavi continues in the new shruti.
There are songs which changes shruti
in between but I cannot think of any song which changes shruti in the Pallavi
itself. So seamless is the change that one does not even notice it.
Imperceptibly perceptible or perceptibly imperceptible!
Does the first line which
takes the ascending swaras (sa ri ga ma pa) of Nata Bhairavi, indicate the climb
up the hill?
Does the special instrument
which follows the vocals signify the sparks?
Does the resonant folk
percussion which plays ‘ta’, ‘ta dhi’ ‘ta’ for every alternate
line symbolise the heart?
Does the harmony of the
chorus- with one set singing in mid-octave and the other set singing in
the higher-octave, show us Life itself?
As if to make us find an
answer-or the futility in finding answers- the chorus sings the primordial
sound again in the lower-octave. With the resonant percussion sounding ‘ta’
‘dhi’ ‘ta’ in its inimitable style, the bamboo flute
tantalises, while a special sounding instrument moves with relentless
assiduity. Playing in two different octaves, the two sets of strings trot
up and down showing the lambent light. The leitmotif (percussion)
returns now backing a new set of strings which plays in the higher-octave,
even as it is dappled in flickering light.
If the ending of the first two
lines in the lower- octave swaras, shows us the descent, the bevy of swaras
in the second half of the CharaNams, shows us our life can be complex as
well. The wispy sound of the small flute towards the end, along with the
vocals, show us the incandescent light.
Veda mantras in veena and guitar.. Primordial sound
in chorus ..Graceful and beguiling stream of music from the flute..
How beautiful is the light?
Light has value. Light has no
value. It is beyond value. It is infinite…
What makes anything
everlasting, perpetual, immortal and even beyond time? Do these have some
special powers or have these been granted boons? Or is it that ‘it just
happens’ without any reason?
By now many are aware that the
Tamizh Changam poetry is more than 2500 years old and yet these
are alive and kicking(in the tongues of scholars and in the minds of the
literati) despite so many things having changed in two millennium. How and Why?
Allow me to quote a poem from
one of these works, before I attempt to answer that question:
My bangles are
slipping; My arms are getting leaner by the second.
Do I still have
any modesty left(to lose)?
The bees spread
the fragrance of the Malabar Blue lilies
That resemble the
gems spat by the snake
Oh! My man who
rules the mountain surrounded by the thorny bamboo fence.
What does this convey to you?
The angst of the girl who pines for his man? Her ecstatic reminiscence on the
time spent together? Her helplessness?
Forget all these for the time
being and look at the way the poem is structured with focus on simile and
contrasts. The little bees and the pollen here indicate the union while the
snake and the gems(contrasts) depict the separation.
Bees spread the fragrance.
Likewise, her man spread good things about her. Or put simply, fragrance here
symbolises Love.
‘Bangles are coming off the
hands’ – shows her angst.
‘I have no modesty even to
lose’- does this need any elaboration at all?
Coming to think of it, each
line is a small poem by itself and doesn’t this explain the reason for its
immortality? By the way, this poem written by Aasiriyar PerunkaNNanaar,
is part of KuRunthogai, which is part of Ettuththogai which is
part Tamizh Changam literature, which, as per history and research dates
back to BC 500.
Talking about immortality,
this composer’s works too will fall under that category though sceptics would
jump and comment that it is too early to say and ask ‘where is 2500 and
where is48’? Though they are partly correct, I have my own reasons
for my presumption and the collection of posts here would list out that reasons
though not in a specific order. But more than anything else, the fact that the
compositions sound fresh even after decades at a time when what is considered a
‘hit’, disappears even before one bats an eyelid, is proof enough to suggest
that the presumption might turn out to be a reality.
Today, I am taking up ‘EnnuLLe
EnnuLLe’ from VaLLi(1993) as one of the examples. A song
well-known to many, it is also packed with intricacies, not known to many.
First and foremost, it would
disappoint people who look for ragas in each and every song, it I said
that the composition cannot be classified under a particular raga. It
just follows the minor scale of Western Classical Music. More on this,
in a while.
Secondly, there is not a
single percussion instrument in the song throughout the Pallavi, interludes
and the CharaNams. There is a rider here. The composition starts with
the percussion ruling the roost for 1 minute and 45 seconds, but
the moment the melodic instruments start playing, the percussion retires. In
fact, this segment (percussion) is not part of the normal audio one gets to
listen, though it is part of the OST of the movie.
Let us get going and
experience the Laya from the Raaja to start with:
Dheem - - ta/dheem
- - ta
ta ki ta ta ki ta dheem
-/- ta ka ta ki ta dheem (twice)
Dheem dheem ta -(twicw)/ ta
ki ta ta ki ta dheem -/- ta ka ta ki ta dheem
Ta ka dhi mi/ta ka
jhanu(8 times)
Dheem dheem ta ka
ta ka/ki ta ta ka ta ka ta ri ki ta ta ka
Dheem dheem dheem
dheem/ ta ka ta ri ki ta ta ka
Ta ka dhi mi/ta ka
jhunu(3 times)/ ta ka dhi taangida ta ka ta ri ki ta ta ka
Ta ka dhi mi/ta ka
jhunu/ ta ka dhi taangida ta ka ta ri ki ta ta ka (mel kaalam) – twice
Ta- ta – dheem/ ta
ki ta dheem/ta ka dhi mi dheem/ ta dhinginnaththom/ta dhinginnaththom/ta
dhinginnaththom
Ta – dhi -/ta
taangu/ ta – dhi /ta taangu/ta – dhi/ta taangu
Ta-dhi – ta
Ta- ta – dheem/ ta
ki ta dheem/ta ka dhi mi dheem/ ta dhinginnaththom/ta dhinginnaththom/ta
dhinginnaththom
Ta – dhi -/ta
taangu/ ta – dhi /ta taangu/ta – dhi/ta taangu
Ta-dhi – ta
Ta ka dhi mi/ ta
ka jhunu(12 times)
Ta - ki ta ta
ka/dhi- ki ta ta ka/ta - ki ta ka/dhi – ki ta ka
Ta - - -/ta - - -.
After these labyrinthine
alleys, what we see and hear is something totally different.
There are three layers- one
with the lead guitar, second with the rhythm guitar and third
with the bass guitar. If the third layer shows the first layer in a
different form, the second layer just backs the two layers. If you are confused
and even bewildered by this line, let me try and explain.
The lead guitar plays a
melody (which very soon we learn, is the melody of the Pallavi) in the minor
scale. Interpreted in Carnatic language, this is Nata Bhairavi
scale, but there is a catch here too. The entire bit eschews the note ‘ni’,
the variant of which differentiates this scale with that of the Gowrimanohari
scale, with the former being known by the name Diatonic minor and
the latter going by the name Melodic minor.
Now, the bass guitar
just plays the notes played by the lead guitar in the lower-octave.
This is somewhat strange because generally in his compositions, the bass
guitar plays a totally different sets of notes either while backing the
lead instruments or while playing along with the vocals. Next, the rhythm
guitar keeps playing ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi throughout. Hope the
layers are understood now.
The chorus joins and
hums the melody of the lead guitar even as the instruments continue to
play. Can we call this a fourth layer?
More layers are seen in the Pallavi
when the lead singer-Swarnalatha- takes over. The chorus sings in
a different octave(lower) giving that effect of Harmony.
But what is amazing is that the three different guitars continue in the
background, albeit in a subdued tone.
Once layered, will it be
possible for these to disappear on their own? Surely not especially if the
layering is done by a master composer. We have three layers again the first
segment of the first interlude. One set of strings is beguiling.
The second set is enticing and the third set, soft and supple.
The double bass joins
the set now and there is the fourth layer again. The brass flute
interjects vivifying the atmosphere and one sees the different dimensions of
the minor scale. The strings play sustained melody now and then even as
the flute trots up and down assiduously. It is time for harmony
again and as the chorus sings in harmony, the rhythm guitar
backs it with continuous 1 2 3 4 with grace.
The layering continues in the CharaNams
with the alluring flute and the translucent strings charting their own
course with unique melodies, playing along and in between, to make it
grandiloquent.
As mentioned, the lines in the
CharaNams straddle between the Diatonic minor (Nata Bhairavi)
and Melodicminor (Gowrimanohari) with the last two lines
following the latter and the first two lines following the former.
The strings play a
movement twice. Does it sound pensive? Or does it sound mystical?
If this occurrence in the
beginning of the second interlude, what follows leaves us spell bound.
The strings go in higher-octave; another set just backs it with
sustained melody; the double bass plays with a touch of nonchalance; the
chorus sings in harmony with the strings in the background; the cello
just follows up with a very subtle touch.