ILaiyaraaja – The Colourful Musician

 

How romantic is romance?

Though the question seems tricky and even weird, a smart answer would be ‘as romantic as romance’.

Supposing the question was ‘how romantic is devotion?’, even smart people would start blinking. Some ‘right’ people (though invariably they are always wrong), would even take offence and start a vituperative campaign against the person who ask such questions. It would be still worse if the question was ‘how erotic is devotion?’.

But the fact of the matter is that people who take exception to such questions are either ignorant or ‘prefer’ to be ignorant. Like an ostrich, they refuse to look up. After all, reality sucks!

Leaving aside the fact that there is no ancient temple in India without sculptures in erotic postures, it must be understood and accepted that the Bhakti poets used romance and eroticism as a form of devotion, a form called ‘Madhura Bhakti’. Their poems exude with eroticism and romance. One of the classic examples is Jeyadeva’s Geeta Govindam, in Radha and Krishna are depicted as human lovers.

Almost all Bhakti poets in Tamizh literature (and this predates Geeta Govindam which was composed in the 12^th century), assumed the ‘nayaki bhava’, with the Divine being the Nayaka. I am not getting into the inner meaning which is esoteric and therefore beyond the scope of this post. But what I am going to do is to look at one poem as a sample.

Kulasekhara Azhwar, one of the 12 Vaishnavite saints whose collection of verses, goes by the name ‘Naalayira Divya Prabhandam’ (4,000 sacred verses) assumes the role of a Gopika. As per mythology, Gopikas were cowherd women who were in awe of Krishna, and danced with Krishna. Yet again, I refrain from getting into the inner meanings. Going back to the Azhwar, his 10 verses as one of the Gopikas, ooze with romance and eroticism. As I said, I am quoting just one such poem:

கருமலர்க் கூந்தல் ஒருத்தி தன்னைக் கடைக்கணித்து, ஆங்கே ஒருத்திதன் பால்

மருவி மனம் வைத்து, மற்றொருத்திக்கு உரைத்து, ஒரு பேதைக்குப் பொய் குறித்துப்

புரிகுழல் மங்கை ஒருத்தி தன்னைப் புணர்தி: அவளுக்கும் மெய்யன் அல்லை;

மருதி இறுத்தாய்!உன் வளர்த்தியூடே வளர்கின்றதால் உந்தன் மாயை தானே.

Rajendra Kumar · Kulasekhara Azhwar

“You gave a sidelong glance at a woman whose dark hair was adorned with flowers, at the same time letting your heart to another woman, told another woman that ‘I am yours’, misled another woman by giving a false promise of meeting at a place which is non-existent and finally embraced another woman. But you were not loyal even to her. Oh, the one who broke the Maruda trees! Your deceit and trickery grow along with You!”

While the humour cannot be missed, so is the poetic beauty.

It is this aspect that makes Bhakti literature shimmer like the full moon.

And that invariably brings us to music. What make a composition shimmer are the tune, and the rhythm. But, is that all? Aren’t there hidden meanings in the tune and the rhythm? Well, this time rather than calling these ‘esoteric’ and taking an escape route, I am going to focus on those inner meanings, aka nuances and intricacies.

If I say that Raasa Leela VeLa from Aditya- 369 (1991) is a classic song, will I not be stating the obvious? At times, stating the obvious is never tiring even if it is stated ad nauseam. For starters, it is based on the Hindustani raag Madhukauns, which is the prati madhyama counterpart of Shuddha Dhanyasi. To make the terminology clearer, Shuddha Dhanyasi has one variant of ‘ma’, while this one has the other variant, with the rest of the swaras being the same. More on what these swaras are, in a bit.

I wouldn’t call it pure Madhukans as there are traces of the other ma and even a couple of alien swaras, albeit sparingly. Anyway, this is beside the point.

Let me first go to the beginning. The differently sounding guitar plays ta ka dhi mi/ ta – first and then ta – dhi mi/ ta –. People who are regular followers of this blog, will be able to decipher this as the micro-beats of Tisram. For the benefit of others, let me tell you that Tisram is the 3-beat cycle – ta ki ta – and when it is expanded, the micro-beats are generally ta ka dhi mi ta ka, that is 6. In this particular instance, not all the micro-beats are played and therefore the gaps are called ‘karvai’.

Going back to the rhythm, the same pattern is repeated twice. Then there is that magic. The guitar now sounds ta ka dhi mi, which is the 4 - beat cycle, called Chatushram. A manual count indicates that it is sounded 15 times, which makes it 15x4, which is equal to 60, which is divisible by both 3 and 4!

In between, during the 7^th ta ka dhi mi, the strings enter and play in higher-octave. It is like a sudden downpour from the heavens. Yet another guitar responds to the strings now and then. Note that there is no percussion until now, though the taaLa pattern is as clear as the crystal.

The percussion enters and plays ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka dhi mi/ - - - -. Wait ! Ta ka dhi mi is four. But did I not say the composition is in tisram (3)?

Is it confusing again? While discussing compositions like this (remember ‘esoteric’), I will not do full justice if I leave out such aspects. So, let me explain. What is 4x3? 12? Does it not have both ‘4’ and ‘3’? Therefore, it is 4 tisrams, played as 3 chatushrams!

This particular pattern appears throughout the Pallavi and the CharaNams.

Let me now take you through the raga aspect. The prelude is a mix of Shuddha Dhanyasi and Madhukauns, but enter the Pallavi (Vocals : SPB) and it is pure Madhukauns. Wait for a few seconds before I unveil the structure and along with it, something else.

Beguiling and Bewitching! This is how I can call the sound of a very different flute in the beginning of the first interlude. Even as it plays sans percussion, the feeling of poignancy cannot be missed. The percussion- in the same pattern described sometime ago- enters and along with it enters the strings vivifying the atmosphere. The flute continues its journey for a while and when it retires, the strings take over and now that ‘something else’ appears.

The structure of Madhukauns is – sa ga2 ma2 pa ni2 Sa. If that ‘pa’ is taken as ‘sa’, it becomes Chadrakauns, another raag known to evoke very deep emotions. And yes, its structure is – sa ga2 ma1 dha2 ni3 Sa.

The technique quoted above is called Gruha Bhedam and let me repeat – people familiar with this blog and the posts here, should be familiar with this term.

This happens when the strings sound the second time. The flute - this time, it is the most familiar one- coos like a bird in Chadrakauns and gives a plaintive cry when Janaki takes over the CharaNam.

The lines in the CharaNam(s) move with grace in that beautiful raga called Chadrakauns until it goes back to Madhukauns just towards the end.

It is flute’s day out in the first half of the second interlude as it bespatters different hues of Madhukauns. Mesmerised by this, the guitar starts dancing like the Gopika. The strings take over in the higher-octave and in the blink of an eye, shifts to Chandrakauns. Finally, the keys sound ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi twice in Chandrakauns.

Isn’t this musical leela? Kulasekhara Azhwar will vouch for this/, wherever he is now!

 

 

ILaiyaraaja – The Polymath

 How do we define genius?

Can we say unusually brilliant?

It is rather tough to determine if it is natural or if is it acquired over a period of time. There are some born geniuses. There are also people who by virtue of their sheer hard work and dedication, become experts. We see their genius in their works much later.

In some cases, there is a divine intervention and all of a sudden, a very normal person becomes a genius. This is what happened in the case of KaaLidasa, who was an illiterate and with the blessings of KaaLi, became a poet composing some immortal works in Sanskrit. How far the story of him being a dumb is true, nobody knows.

There is also the story of AruNagirinthar, who after leading a nauseas life attempted to take his life, and just at that moment, was blessed by Muruga. He went on to compose many verses (‘many’ is an understatement) and created a niche for himself in Tamizh literature (and in music as far as the taaLas are concerned).

While KaaLidasa is believed to have lived around the 4^th and the 5^th century, AruNagirinthar lived in the 14^th century. But more recently too, there have been some geniuses in whose life the Divine played an indirect role. A person who was born Muthiah, who had little formal education and who was an atheist because of the influence of an ideology, read the works of AaNdaaL one night, became KaNNadasan and changed the paradigm of tamizh film songs.

Then there was somebody by name Rangarajan who went to Madras with the dream of becoming a lyricist, faced rejection and dejection which led him to the brink of life. With thoughts of ending his life lingering in his mind, a song came floating in the air, and this turned around his life. This gentleman who is better known by the name Vaali, went on to pen many songs, songs that still float in the air if one happens to tune in to the Radio/TV or even the other music related applications in the digital gadgets.

Guess whose song changed his life?

Yes, it was one of the songs of KaNNadasan.

Apart from film songs, Vaali ( like KaNNadasan) also authored some books, that include ‘PaaNdavar Bhoomi’ (Mahabharata) and ‘Avataara Purushan’ (RamayaNa) in the Pudukkavitai format.

Needless to say, Vaali was inspired by KaNNadasan who in turn was inspired by AaNdaaL.

Let me just produce a couple of lines written by KaNNadasan first and Vaali next, and you will know the reason after a while.

KaNNadasan once wrote – உண்டென்று சொல்வதுந்தன் கண்ணல்லவா/ இல்லையென்று சொல்வதுந்தன் இடையல்லவா.

Loosely translated (in fact, it is next to impossible to translate this), it would mean -Your eyes make one believe that ‘it is there’, while your waist makes on feel that ‘it is not there’. Going a little deep, one can interpret this as ‘huge eyes’ and ‘slim waist’. Well, there is more to it than meets the eye!

Generally, a sculptor draws a sketch of the sculpture he plans to sculp. When he goes to the eyes, he puts tick marks on both sides and when he goes to the waist, he puts cross marks. So, a ‘Yes’ for ‘eyes’ and a ‘No’ for the waist!

Now you can see the meaning of genius.

Vaali, the protégé , takes a different take. While describing the beauty of Kunti in PaaNdavar Bhoomi, he says the waist is like the Divine. Why? Don’t some people believe the existence of God, and don’t some deny the same? So, her waist is ‘there’ and ‘not there’!

Meaning of genius yet again?

Let us look at that verse:

நடைக்கு உவமை – நதி;

சடைக்கு உவமை – சாரை;

துடைக்கு உவமை – தூண்;

இடைக்கு உவமை – இறை!

ஏனெனில் ..

இதைப் பற்றித்தான்

‘இலது’ ‘உளது’

என-

இரைகிறது உலகு!

Gait like a river/ Hair like a snake/Thighs like a pillar/Waist like the Divine.

Rajendra Kumar · KaNNadasan and Vaali

I spoke about the genius of some masters. How can I leave out the genius who was born in a village in a remote corner, and rose to not just compose tunes that sounded fresh and different then (and now and forever), but also brought in a totally different perspective to the orchestration and the background score.

The song we are going to see today is no doubt a classic composition in terms of the melody, but I am going to focus more on the TaaLa part. Isn’t Laya Raaja, my favourite?

KaaLidasan KaNNadasan Kavitai Nee from Soorkkottai Singakkutti (1983) is set in Mishram (7/8).

It starts with the akaaram and for two cycles, goes without the backing of the percussion. The percussion joins at the third cycle and plays ta ki ta/ ta ka dhi mi (1 2 3/ 1 2 3 4) with precision. In the next cycle, it is ta ki ta when the male sings and ta ka dhi mi when the female chorus sings. After 2 cycles, it is ta ki ta/ ta ka dhi mi in the male akaaram followed by the female chorus for the entire cycle, while the male continues the akaaram even during the chorus segment. After 2 cycles, the instruments take over.

The dazzling strings play ta ki ta/ ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka dhi mi. Is it not 10 then? Not really. The first ta ki ta is played in the normal speed while the two ta ka dhi mi-s are played in the faster mode. So here, 8 = 4.

After two cycles, the violins play ta ka dhi mi/ta ka/ ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi.

What is this? Should it not be just 7 (ta ki ta/ ta ka dhi mi)? And yet again, arithmetic plays a role. 7 is further broken into 14 and is played in the faster mode. These 14 beats are the micro-beats.

This goes on for 3 cycles until the ebullient violins decide to give way to the sedate santoor for one cycle with the latter playing just ta ki ta/ta ka dhi mi in the normal speed. The violins join in and as if influenced by the santoor, plays the mishram with sobriety along with the santoor.

I am sure it is understood that the percussion keeps playing all the seven beats of mishram in the background throughout and that I have focussed on the melodic instruments playing the beats – not common in others’ compositions, while not uncommon in many of his compositions.

The lines in the Pallavi (vocals- Jayachandran and Suseela) shimmer with beauty. For academic interest, the composition is loosely based on Abheri, with a dash of alien notes creeping in later. There are 3 sets of percussion and all the 3 play ta - -/ ta – dhi -. The ‘-‘ are gaps where the percussion keeps quiet and some of you familiar with my posts here know that this is called kaarvai.

The beginning of the first interlude glistens with the sound of the santoor, which plays ‘ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka/ ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi’ followed by the ineluctable flute which plays the same but in its own way.

After two cycles, the violins play ‘ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka’ with the santoor completing ‘ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka dhi mi’ exquisitely. The doughty violins are in full swing then and continue to play the same pattern for 3 cycles. Just towards the end of the third cycle, the flute joins in and plays along. Note that the percussion takes a break during the first cycle, adding that effect of silence.

The special effect continues in a different way when the violins play ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka/ ta ka dhi mi and stop, giving space to the flute which plays just two syllables and pauses. The percussion keeps quiet yet again when the flute plays.

The violins then continue with the santoor pitching in. The chorus continues ta ki ta/ ta ka dhi mi in akaaram with the backing of the bass guitar. Finally, the violins play ta ki ta/ ta ka with the santoor playing ta ka dhi mi in faster mode, which in effect is 2 and not 4.

The lines in the CharaNam are graceful with alien notes peeping in rather liberally. In the first half, the tabla plays mishram giving kaarvai now and then while in the second half, the mrudangam plays all the 7 beats.

Ta - dhi mi /ta ka/ ta – dhi mi /ta – dhi mi says the acoustic guitar twice, appearing out of the blue, along with the rhythm guitar. The violins play mishram in higher-octave with kaarvai ( ta – ta / ta – dhi mi) twice.

It takes a folksy turn with the male voice which appeared in the prelude humming tantaane ta ne in mishram leaving gaps for a cycle now and then and the female chorus joining in in the second half. The flute follows and plays ta ka dhi mi / ta ka/ ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi twice with the backing of bass guitar. Finally, the enticing santoor plays ta ki ta in the normal speed with the ebullient violins playing ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka dhi mi in the faster mode.

‘It is there’ and ‘It is not there’.

‘Yes’ and ‘No’.

Isn’t this the meaning of Genius?

ILaiyaraaja – The Sempiternal Musician

 

Time stood still.

Time froze.

It is timeless.

Time rolls on.

Time moves.

Long time ago.

These are just some of the statements about Time. Do you see a paradox between the first three and the last three? It typifies Time. After all, Time itself is a paradox.

Rather than analysing this and questioning this, let us move on and focus on the topic. For, Time never waits for anyone!

Here is a lady who has not heard from her man for quite a while. Rather than call Time on her Love, she waits. Her friend spots the pallor and is worried. But the lady is unperturbed.

She says, “Do not worry about my pallor. It is surely not because of him, that man from that country where peacocks squawk even as they sway their long plumes, on the banks of the forest river which swells because of the heavy rains”.

கலி மழை கெழீஇய கான் யாற்று இகுகரை

ஒலி நெடும் பீலி துயல்வர இயலி,

ஆடு மயில் அகவும் நாடன் நம்மொடு

நயந்தனன் கொண்ட கேண்மை

பயந்தக்காலும் பயப்பு ஒல்லாதே.

(KuRunthogai – 264- Kapilar)

 

Rajendra Kumar · Kurunthogai 264

While the fact that she compares herself to the happily dancing peacocks cannot be missed, what should not be missed is her firm conviction – Whatever happens, my love for him will be the same!

Whether it is the 2500-year-old KuRunthogai or a 40-year-old musical piece, certain things remain the same.

Take this composition Kaalam Maaralaam from Vaazhkkai (1984). Does it not sound as fresh as a daisy after so many years and does it not make us yearn for more?

Is the reason the melody or is there something else as well? Well, it could be both.

Sounding as soft as possible, the guitar plays ‘ta ka dhi mi’ four times and one clearly hears a few swaras of Hamsadhwani. Just as the fourth ‘ta ka dhi mi’ starts, SPB enters and sings the akaaram. After one cycle, we see the entry of VaNi Jayaram, who sings the akaaram, but a melody different from that of SPB’s. Both move together and it is a counter-point in Hamsadwani. The lilting akaarams keep going around us in two concentric circles.

After a while, SPB just hums in Hamsadhwani and VaNi Jayaram responds with the same humming. What is sandwiched in between is that sound of the veeNa, subtle and nuanced! It sounds again after the humming of VaNi Jayaram, and then we are in for a surprise!

Did I say ‘surprise’? Well, can anything be a surprise if one knows this composer well?

The electric guitar plays in Hamsadhwani, but don’t we hear an alien note?

Hamsadhwani has sa ri2 ga3 pa ni3, both in ascending and descending, but there is a clear sound of the dhaivatam (dha1) too. Raga texts define this scale/raga as ‘TaraLam’, derived from the 27^th meLa, Sarasangi. Has any other composer used it? I am not sure. But this composer had used it before. Keep thinking about that song, which some people still think is based on Latangi.

In a way, TaraLam sounds like Latangi but the absence of the swara ‘ma’, gives it a uniqueness. The fact that the dhaivatam gives it a poignant flavour cannot be denied.

What cannot be denied is also the fact that there is a kind of freshness in this raga/scale.

The prelude ends with the guitar playing ‘ta ka dhi mi’ four times again in Hamsadhwani, making it a circle.

Isn’t life itself a circle?

SPB starts the Pallavi. The Master of varieties, whose other name is ILaiyaraaja, gives rest to the percussion and makes rhythm guitar the backing instrument when the first line is rendered the first time. And he also starts the composition with the descending notes (Sa ni pa ga) and then goes to the ascending notes (sa ri ga pa). If the mandra staayi (lower- octave notes) in the beginning of the next two lines, is not a surprise, the last line (after which the Pallavi starts again) is not a surprise at all. It goes ri ga pa ni (ini varum) and then Sa ni ni pa ga- ascending and descending.

Circle of life again!

Note that the entire Pallavi is in pure Hamsadhwani.

So is the first half of the first interlude. The strings sound ta ka dhi mi in mid-octave Hamsadhwani thrice with a new set of strings joining in during the third ta ka dhi mi and sounding the same in higher-octave. The last part is sounded by the keys. Vivifying the atmosphere, a set of different keys moves with agility and the veeNa responds in its own style. The electric guitar enters now and brings in the dhaivatam, transforming Hamsadhwani to TaraLam.

Gracefully transiting to the western classical style, the strings play in the higher-octave intercepted now and then by a couple of instruments that play different sets of notes (mainly descending). But it is the flute that steals the show by showing a sudden flash of light, towards the end, aided by the stringed instrument.

Don’t we see such sudden flashes of light in our life as well?

TaraLam is in full flow in the first half of the CharaNams in which the tabla sounds just the first and the third syllables (ta, dhi) with intensity and with a very subtle percussion sounding just the first syllable in the next half. It goes thus – ta – dhi - / ta - - -.

Hamsadhwani returns in the second half and a close observation suggests that the lines are the same as that of the second and third lines of the Pallavi, except that these are in the next octave.

Laya Raaja does it again in the second interlude. The Pallavi is sung again first by Vani Jayaram and then by SPB. When he finishes ‘MaaRuma’, the taLa cycle is on the third beat. The bass strings take over and play ‘ta ki ta’ for each beat and this happens seven times. The eighth time is the samam and it plays just ‘ta ki ta’ and moves away. Note that 3x8 = 24, which is divisible both by 3 and 4.

With finesse the flute goes on, interjected now and then by the electric guitar. The banter between the two is tantalisingly beautiful. The strings take over and like a clear stream, move on..

Time rolls on.

Time stands still.

Paradox? There lies the beauty of Life!

P.S. This post is written on the occasion of the 11th anniversary of the Group, 'ILaiyaraaja - The Master' on Facebook.

ILaiyaraaja – The Refulgent Musician

 

What gives us happiness?

What gives us a sense of joy?

What gives us bliss?

I know this is subjective as each one has his/her own list of things, but not many things can equal this.

What is this ‘this’?

It is the sense of gratitude; the sense of being thankful to others and things; the sense of being grateful.

There may be hundred reasons for us to complain. But there are thousand reasons for us to be grateful. When we are thankful for what we have, what we do not have, disappear and become what we have.

Here is an example. The poet says he never had the sense to even worship. His heart was as hard as steel. Yet, he says his heart melted the moment he saw the One which is as sweet as the sugar cane, the One who resides in the place which is surrounded by the bee-humming groves, the place which goes by the name Thiru Arangam. He goes on to say that his eyes rejoice seeing Him and that the bliss can not be described.

 

விரும்பி நின்று ஏத்த மாட்டேன், விதி இலேன் மதி ஒன்று இல்லை

இரும்பு போல் வலிய நெஞ்சம் இறை- இறை உருகும் வண்ணம்

சுரும்பு அமர் சோலை சூழ்ந்த அரங்கமா கோயில் கொண்ட,

கரும்பினைக் கண்டு கொண்டு, என் கண்ணினைக் களிக்குமாறே!

 

If this ThoNdaradippodiyaazhwar finds it difficult to control his extreme amazement, the child prodigy who goes by the name Thirugnasambandhar, goes a step further and says that that ‘gentleman’ whose matted hair has both the river and the crescent moon and who lives in this eternal place called Brahmmapuram, simply stole my heart and I realised it when the beautiful bangles became loose and fell down.

 

நீர் பரந்த நிமிர் புன்சடை மேல் ஓர் நிலா வெண்மதி சூடி

ஏர் பரந்த இன வெள் வரை சோர, என் உள்ளம் கவர் கள்வன்

ஊர் பரந்த “உலகின் முதல் ஆகிய ஓர் ஊர் இது” என்னப்

பேர் பரந்த பிரமாபுரம் மேவிய பெம்மான் இவன் அன்றே.

 

The Lords the two poets address may be different; the wordings may be different; the expression may be different; the mood may be different. But what are common between the two verses are amazement and gratitude.

Amazement gives Gratitude. Gratitude leads to Amazement. And this is a continuous process.

It is an undeniable and ineluctable fact that great music gives us amazement and this in turn leads to gratitude.

Let us take the special song of this special day. When one listens to the composition, one is amazed by the way it sounds. But this is just at the surface level. When one goes deeper, one finds layers after layers and the simple amazement leads to great amazement which leads to the sense of gratitude which in turn gives that bliss.

What is special about ‘NandRi solla veNdum nalla naaLile’ from the movie ‘Chittiraiyil Nila Choru’?

It is based on a raga called Hamsadhwani. Can this fact alone make it special? It is used in its pure and pristine form. So what? Can this make it special?

Rather than answering these directly, let me choose to peel the layers and showcase each layer. Pudding, Eating and Proof. Do I need to say more?

Bubbling with energy and buoyant with joy, two flutes play together. Do they play the same notes? No. Do they play in a similar way? No. Notes from one flute goes in a spiral while the ones from the other flute moves horizontally. If the first mentioned is like a bumble bee, the second mentioned is like a sparrow. If the first one is a trill in western classical music parlance, the second one plays a sustained melody. Even as this is on, the synth guitar sounds the notes of Hamsadhwani with poise and the strings follow with finesse. All these combine together towards the end, to make us visualise a rainbow.

Well, this is just the beginning; that is, surface level.

What then is the next layer?

With the backing of the synth guitar, the female voice renders the Pallavi in Hamsadhwani, a raga with just five swaras- sa ri ga pa ni. We see the different permutations and combinations of this pentatonic raga in the Pallavi itself, which finally ends with the avarohaNa swaras- Sa ni pa/ Sa ni pa.

What is the next layer?

The twin-flute now plays in tandem, defining the two words- soft and supple. The tabla follows. The flutes appear again, but this time playing a different set of notes, that is, different from the previous melody, though both play together. After the sound of the tabla again, the flutes give way to two sets of strings, with one set playing a dominant role and the other set playing second fiddle, literally. With relentless assiduity and incontrovertible melodic power, the guitar continues the interlude backed by synth instruments. The strings and the flute combine again and take us to the CharaNam, not before playing that signature ‘Sa ni pa’.

As if to indicate for the nth time that listening between the lines is always preferable to reading between the lines, the flute appears between the lines rendered by Karthik and Priydarshini in the first segment of the CharaNams. And as if to show that apart from listening between the lines, listening along the lines is good as well, the strings play along the lines in the next segment. The signature ‘Sa ni pa’ appears at the end again even as the percussion takes a break.

Can a pure Carnatic raga have western flavours as well? This indeed is the next layer. The flutes play Hamsadhwani in western classical style with bewitching charm with the cello moving with an unearthly elegance. The strings follow and allure us with their grace and elegance. The guitar plays with sobriety. The strings enter again, but this time blending the East and the West, moving like a clear stream. The notes descend towards the end like the water falls.

Are these the only layers?

Well, we saw only the melodic layers so far. Isn’t it time to see the rhythmic layers?

Before I get into these layers, let me briefly explain the basic rhythmic structures.

Ta ki ta – Three – Tisram.

Ta ka dhi mi – Four – Chatushram.

Ta ka/ ta ki ta – Five – Khandam.

Ta ki ta/ ta ka dhi mi – Seven- Mishram.

Ta ka dhi mi/ Ta ka ta ki ta – Nine – SankeerNam.

The beats in a song are further sub-divided into micro-beats. For example, a composition set in 4-beats or 8-beats can be subdivided into 16 or 32 or even 64 micro-beats.

This song is set in the simple 8-beat aadi taaLam. Generally, composers divide this as just 4 and 4. But not this Master. He has used different combinations in various songs. But what he has done in this composition is something uncommon, something unique and something extraordinary.

He has divided 16 as – 4/3/5/4.

Now, the first half can be called Mishram but it is the reverse of Mishram and is called vilomam- Ta ka dhi mi/ta ki ta instead of ta ki ta/ta ka dhi mi. The second half is SankeerNam but this is again in the reverse pattern. Though there is vilomam in Mishram, there is no vilomam in SankeerNam as far as I know.

This is not the only layer, though.

The prelude has no percussion absolutely. Nor does the Pallavi when the first line is rendered. The magic starts after this.

The pattern – ta ka dhi mi/ ta ki ta/ ta ka ta ki ta/ ta ka dhi mi- is sounded by the percussion. But there is magic here as well. Only the first, third, fifth, eighth, tenth, thirteenth, fourteenth, fifteenth and the sixteenth are sounded leaving other beats blank. The blanks are called ‘ kaaravais’ in Carnatic music parlance.

In the first interlude, there is no percussion when the first melody is played. It is only the percussion then and this time it sounds ‘ta ki ta/ ta ka ta ki ta/ ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi’, and not the pattern played in the Pallavi. This happens twice after which the melodic instruments and the percussion join together.

However, when the guitar plays, the percussion sounds ta ka dhi mi four times, another variation.

The CharaNams follow the unique pattern again.

But again, the first part of the second interlude which sees the western contours, has no percussion. The second segment has the percussion but it is again plain ‘ta ka dhi mi’. For a change, it is played by the western percussion and not the Tabla.

The variation in the pattern is not in percussion alone. It is seen in the lines in the CharaNams as well. One sees – Ta ki ta/Ta ki ta/ Ta ki ta/Ta ka dhi mi- in the middle part of the CharaNams.

How many layers did you count?

Well, even I have lost count.

Amazement and Gratitude- Are these Countable or Uncountable?

Ask ThoNdaradippodiyaazhwar.. Ask Gnanasambandhar.. Ask Gnanadesikan..

If none of this is possible, just listen to the song!

PS: This post and the previous one in Tamizh were written exclusively for Geetanjali - 2025 and were read out to an invited audience in Chennai on the 31st of August, 2025.

இளையராஜா - கனிந்த, கணித, கணித்த, இசை வல்லுனர்

 

ஒன்றவன் தானே இரண்டவன் இன்னருள்

நின்றனன் மூன்றினுள் நான்கு உணர்ந்தான் ஐந்து

வென்றனன் ஆறு விரிந்தனன் ஏழும்பர்ச்

சென்றனன் தான் இருந்தான் உணர்ந்தெட்டே.

 

பத்தினோடு பத்துமாய் ஓர் ஏழினோடு ஒன்பதாய்,

பத்து நால் திசைக்கண் நின்ற நாடு பெற்ற நன்மையாய்,

பத்தின் ஆய தோற்றமோடு ஓர் ஆற்றல் மிக்க ஆதிபால்,

பத்தராம் அவர்க்கு அலாது, முத்தி முற்றல் ஆகுமே?

இது என்ன?

ஒன்று, இரண்டு, மூன்று… என்று எண்ண சொல்லித் தரும் கணக்கு வகுப்பா? இதற்கும் இசைக்கும் என்ன தொடர்பு? விளக்கம் கூறுவதற்கு முன், இந்தப் பாடல்கள் தெரிவிக்கும் செய்தி என்ன என்பதைப் பார்ப்போம்.

இறைவன் ஒருவனே. அசையா சக்தியாகிய அவனிடமிருந்து அசையும் சக்தியாகிய அருள் வெளிப்படுகிறது. அவனே, படைத்தல், காத்தல், அழித்தல் என்ற மூன்று செய்கைகளையும் செய்கின்றான். நான் கு வேதங்களிலும் அவனே நிற்கின்றான். ஐந்து பூதங்களும் அவனே. மூலாதாரம், ஸ்வாதிஷ்டானம், மணிபூரகம், அனாகதம், விஷுத்தம், ஆஞ்ஞை ஆகிய ஆறு சக்கரங்களாக மனித உடலில் இருக்கின்றான். யோக சக்தியின் மூலம் குண்டலினியை எழுப்பி, ஏழாவது சக்கரமாகிய சஹஸ்ரார சக்கரத்தையும் தாண்டி, சூனியத்தில் நிலைத்திருக்கின்றான். ஐம்பூதங்கள், ஆதவன், நிலவு மற்றும் உயிர், என எட்டிலும் நிறைந்துள்ளான். இவற்றை உணர்ந்து, அவனை எட்டுவதே வாழ்வின் நோக்கம்.

இது முதலாவது செய்யுளின் பொருள்.

பத்து திசைகளுக்கும், பத்து திசைகளைக் காவல் காப்பவர்களுக்கும், அவனே தலைவன். ஏழு ஸ்வரங்கள், ஒன்பது ரசங்கள், இவற்றுக்கு அடிப்படையானவன். பதினான்கு உலகத்தார் காண, பத்து அவதாரங்களை எடுத்தான். அவன் மீது முழு நம்பிக்கை வைத்திருப்பவர்கள் அல்லாத மற்றவர்களுக்கு மோக்ஷம் என்பது கிடைக்கவும் சாத்தியமா?

இது இரண்டாவது செய்யுளின் பொருள்.

தனது ஞானத்தின் மூலம் மூலத்தை அறிந்து, மூலப்பொருளைத் தனது தமிழ்ப் புலமை மூலம் உலகிற்குக் காட்டிய திருமூலரும், எத்திக்கும் தித்திக்கும் தமிழ் என்னும் அமுதை, தாள லயத்துடன்  பாடல்களில் குழைத்து, இன்னும் தித்திக்க வைத்து திருமழிசை என்னும் ஊரில் வாழ்ந்த திருமழிசையாழ்வாரும், எண்களை வைத்து  நமது எண்ணங்களை ஆட்கொண்டதன் நோக்கம்?

எண்கள் நமது வாழ்வின் அடிப்படை என்பதை உணர்த்துவதற்காகத் தான். எண்கள், நமது வாழ்வில் பின்னிப் பிணைந்திருப்பதை நாம் அறிய வேண்டும் என்பதற்காகத்தான். எண்களும் , பரம்பொருளும் வேறு வேறு இல்லை என்ற உண்மையை நாம் உணர வேண்டும் என்பதற்காகத்தான்.

எண்கள் இல்லாமல் இசை இல்லை, பாடல்களின் பின்புலமாக இயங்கும் ஸ்வரங்கள் ஏழு. இவையே இசையின் அடிப்படை. என்றாலும், நேரிடையாகவும், மறைமுகமாகவும் எண்கள் தோன்றுவது தாளம் என்ற அமைப்பில்தான்.

கட்டுக்கோப்பான இந்த எண்களை தனது கட்டுப்பாட்டில் கொண்டு வந்து, அந்தக் கட்டுக்கோப்பை உடைப்பது போல் உடைத்து, பின்னர் உடனே கட்டுக்கோப்பாக க் கொண்டு வருபவர்கள் வித்தகர்கள். இளையராஜா என்னும் மாபெரும் கலைஞர், இந்த வித்தகர் வரிசையில் முதல் வரிசையில் இருப்பவர். பல்லாயிரக் கணக்கான பாடல்களில், தனது விளையாட்டை அவர் காட்டியிருந்தாலும், இன்று நாம் காண இருக்கும் பாடலில் அவர் செய்திருக்கும் கை வண்ணம், உயர்வண்ணம்; நமது கால்களையும் கட்டிப் போடும் கால் வண்ணம்.

இந்த வண்ணத்தின் அழகை ரசிப்பதற்கு முன்பாக, அடிப்படை தாளங்களைப் பற்றி மிகவும் சுருக்கமாகக் கவனிப்போம்.

த க – என்பது இரண்டு.

த கி ட – என்பது மூன்று. இது திஸ்ரம் என்ற பெயரில் அறியப்படுகிறது.

த க தி மி – நான் கு- இது சதுரஷ்ரம் அல்லது சதுஷ்ரம்.

த க த கி ட -ஐந்து – கண்டம்.

த கி ட த க தி மி – ஏழு – மிஷ்ரம்.

த க தி மி த க த கி ட – சங்கீர்ணம்.

பாடல்களில் இதனை இன்னும் சுருக்கி, பெருக்கலாம். அதாவது, தாளம் போடும் இசைக்கருவியின் வேகத்தை அதிகமாக்கினால், எண்ணிக்கையும் அதிகமாகும். நான்கு, எட்டாகலாம், பதினாறாகலாம், முப்பத்து இரண்டாகலாம்.

இப்பொழுது பாடலுக்குச் செல்வோம்.

2011 ஆம் ஆண்டு வெளியான ‘சித்திரையில் நிலாச் சோறு’ என்ற திரைப்படத்தில் இடம் பெற்ற ‘நன்றி சொல்ல வேண்டும் நல்ல நாளிலே’ என்ற பாடலே இன்றைய சிறப்புப் பாடல். கைவண்ணத்தையும் , கால்வண்ணத்தையும் சேர்த்து நமது எண்ணத்தை வண்ணமாக்கும் பாடல்.

எட்டு துடிப்புகளைக் கொண்ட ஆதி தாளம் என்னும் மிக அடிப்படையான தாளத்தில் அமைந்துள்ளது இப்பாடல். தாள வாத்தியம் எதுவும் இல்லாமல், இன்னிசை வாத்தியங்கள் மட்டுமே ஒலிக்கின்றன முகப்பு இசையில்.

மூன்று சுழற்சிகளுக்குப் பிறகு பெண் குரலில் தொடங்குகிறது பல்லவி. முதல் சுழற்சியிலும் தாள வாத்தியம் எதுவும் இல்லை. பிறகு நடக்கிறது மாயாஜாலம். சற்று முன் கூறியபடி, எட்டு பதினாறாக உடைக்கப்படுகிறது. பொதுவாக மற்றவர்கள், இந்தப் பதினாறையும் நமக்கு ஏன் வம்பு என நான்கு நான்காகவே பிரித்து விடுவார்கள். ஆனால், எதையும் வித்தியாசமாகச் செய்ய வேண்டும் என்ற குறிக்கோளுடன் செயல்படும், இந்த லய ராஜா, பெரும்பாலான பாடல்களில் வெவ்வேறு வகையாகப் பிரிப்பார். எனினும், இந்தப் பாடலில் அவர் செய்திருப்பது வியப்புக்குறிய வித்தியாசம்.

தாள வாத்தியத்தை  த க தி மி/த கி ட/ த க த கி ட/ த க தி மி – அதாவது 1 2 3 4/ 1 2 3/ 1 2 3 4 5/ 1 2 3 4- என்று பிரிக்கிறார். இதில் முதலாவது பாதியினை மிஷ்ரம் என்று கொள்ளலாம், இரண்டாவது பாதியினை சங்கீர்ணம் என்று கொள்ளலாம். இதிலும், ஒரு விஷயம் அடங்கியிருக்கிறது. மிஷ்ரம் என்பது த கி ட/ த க தி மி என்று முன்பே குறிப்பிட்டேன். இதனை த க தி மி /த கி ட என்று மாற்றினால், அதற்கு விலோமம் என்று பெயர். எனினும் சங்கீர்ணத்தில் விலோமம் என்பது எனக்குத் தெரிந்த வரையில் இல்லை. புதுமை எனது பதுமை என்று இயங்குபவர்களுக்கு எதுவும் சாத்தியமே.

முதலாவது இடையிசையில் இந்த அமைப்பை த கி ட / த க த கி ட/ த க தி மி/ த க தி மி, என்று மாற்றுவதையும், இரண்டாவது இடையிசையில் பெரும்பாலான பகுதியில் தாள வாத்தியமே இல்லாமல் செய்வதையும், பிறகு மேற்கத்திய தாள வாத்தியமாகிய ட்ரம்ஸ் த க தி மி என்று நான்கு நான் காகச் செல்வதையும் , அழகுணர்ச்சியுடன் விவரிக்க கம்பனோ, கண்ணதாசனோ வேண்டும். நான் வெறும் இசை தாசன் மட்டும் தானே?

தாள கதியினைப் பற்றி மட்டும் விலாவாரியாகப் பேசியதால், இதில் ராகம் இல்லை என்று கருத வேண்டாம். மங்களகரமான ராகம் என்று போற்றப்படும் ஹம்சத்வனி என்ற ராகத்தில் அமைந்துள்ளது இந்தப் பாடல்.

இரண்டு குழல்கள் தனித்தனி இசைக்கோர்ப்பை சேர்ந்து இசைக்க, இணைப்பாக்கி எனப்படும் சிந்தசைசர் கிடார் ஒலியினையும், தொடர்ந்து வயலின் குழு ஒலியினையும் கொடுக்க, குழல்களும் தொடர்ந்து இசைக்க, ப்ரியதர்ஷினியின் குரலில் தொடங்குகிறது பல்லவி.இணைப்பாகிகள் அவ்வப்பொழுது குரலுடன் இணைய, பல்லவி தொடர்கிறது.

குழல்களும் ஜால்ராவும் , வயலின்களும் புடை சூழ, கிடார், ஹம்சத்வனியை அள்ளித் தருகிறது.

‘ நானும் வள்ளல்தான், இசை வள்ளல்தான் ’ என குழல், குரல்களுக்கு இடையில் கூவுகின்றது சரணத்தில்.

அதே வேகத்தில் இரண்டாவது இடையிசையில் குழல் குழு சற்றே வித்தியாசமாக தொடர்ந்து இசைக்க, செல்லோ என்னும் இசைக்கருவி சேர்ந்து கொள்ள, ஹம்சத்வனி மேற்கத்திய ஆடை அணிந்து நடனமாடுகிறது. இணைப்பாக்கி கிடாரும், வயலின்களும் தொடர்ந்து, ஹம்சத்வனியின் வேறு பரிமாணங்களைக் காட்டுகின்றன. இறுதியாக வயலின் கள் ‘ஸா நி ப ம க’ என்ற அவரோஹணத்தை இசைக்கின்றன.

அவரோஹணம்/ஆரோஹணம், திஸ்ரம், சதுஷ்ரம்,கண்டம், மிஷ்ரம், சங்கீர்ணம், விலோமம்..

ஒன்று, இரண்டு, மூன்று, நான்கு, ஐந்து..

இவை எண்களா? எண்ணங்களா? வண்ணங்களா?

எண்ணும் எழுத்தும் கண்ணெனத் தகும்.

பி.கு : இந்தப் பதிவு 'கீதாஞ்சலி' என்னும் நிகழ்வை ஒட்டி எழுதப்பட்டு, நிகழ்வின் பொழுது, ப்ரத்தியேகமாக அழைக்கப்பட்ட சில ராஜா ரசிகர்களுக்காக வாசிக்கப்பட்டது. நிகழ்வு நடந்தா நாள் - ஆகஸ்ட் 31. 

 

ILaiyaraaja – The Seraphic Musician

What is Meditation?

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:

 

ஆனா அமுதே! அயில் வேல் அரசே!

ஞானாகரனே! நவிலத் தகுமோ

யானாகிய என்னை விழுங்கி வெறும்

தானாய் நிலை நின்றது தற்பரமே?

Raja4376 · Aana amude

In short, he says – Oh the one who is holding the Vel! The one who is the nectar!! Explain that state where I forget the ‘I’ and be one with You.

This is verse no.28 in that work called ‘Kandar Anuboodhi’.

Does he stop with this?

See this now:

குறியைக் குறியாது குறித்து அறியும்

நெறியைத் தனி வேலை நிகழ்த்திடலும்

செறிவற்று உலகோடு உரை சிந்தையும் அற்று

அறிவற்று அறியாமையும் அற்றதுவே!

Raja4376 · KuRiyai KuRiyadu

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 full flow. 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.