ILaiyaraaja - The 'Heartiste'

 
What drives some people?

I said ‘people’ because at times categorising becomes tough. For example, what would you call a person who is creative and aesthetic and poetic? A poet?

If yes, what about a person who is creative, aesthetic and musical? A musician?

What about a person who is creative, aesthetic and artistic? An artist?

Does it mean that a poet is not musical and artistic, that a musician is not poetic, that an artist is not musical and poetic?

That is why, I detest labelling and frown at people the moment they start labelling things or people.

So, rather than answering – or trying to answer – the question asked in the beginning, let me take up some examples. Rest assured, it will be done by the end of this post.

I am a poet and I am beyond Time

I give life to things

I create, I give and I destroy- Like Him

I do not give in to adulation; nor do I give in to insults

‘Change’ is my philosophy

Take it if you agree; Bark if you don’t – It does not affect me

I am the beginning, I am the end.

 

கவிஞன் யானோர் காலக் கணிதம்

கருப்படு பொருளை உருப்பட வைப்போன்

ஆக்கல், அளித்தல், அழித்தல் – இம்மூன்றும் அவனும் யானுமே அறிந்தவை

புகழ்ந்தால் என்னுடல் புல்லரிக்காது, இகழ்ந்தால் என் மனம் இறந்து விடாது

கொள்வோர் கொள்க, குரைப்போர் குறைக்க

நானே தொடக்கம், நானே முடிவு.

These are part of a poem written by KaNNadasan and though there is no reference to what keeps him going, the words are powerful enough for us to understand and interpret the meaning.

People like him who cannot be ‘boxed’ or ‘labelled’ keep going because of their clarity on what their purpose in life is.

Needless to say, ILaiyaraaja is also part of such ‘people’.

What we are going to see today is a song whose first line says – This is the melody directly from the heart and it will not stop even if anybody tries their best to stop it.

A song which would not have been heard by many outside the states that speak Telugu-  Oka Hrudayamu palukina sa ri ga ma swaramu idhi from Kunti Putrudu (1993) - shimmers in Gowri Manohari in the voice of Yesudas.

Traversing the different octaves in a single sweep, the akaaram in the beginning shows the sketch of the raga in a matter of seconds. The Pallavi adds more shades to the sketch with two different sets of strings. Majestic and alluring! The sound of the bells between the lines makes it subtly colourful.

With its unique soft and resonant tonality, the sitar gives a diffused glow in the beginning of the first interlude. Amidst that light, the flute appears, moves around, floats in the air and fills the atmosphere with Gowri Manohari sporting a bewitching smile.

The pleasing demeanour continues in the CharaNams, dancing and prancing, with the second half of the first CharaNam seeing a flurry of swaras. The graceful response of the flute is subtle and nuanced with the Raga Laya Natana Raaja holding sway over Gowri Manohari and Chatushram.

..And he continues this in the second interlude. First, the sitar and the percussion play

 ta ki ta/ ta ki ta/ ta ki ta/ta ka dhi mi.

The flute responds in kind. The sitar plays again along with the percussion and this time, it is the strings that respond.

The sitar then plays – ta ki ta/ta ki ta/ ta ka- and the strings reflect it in its inimitable style. The pattern repeats. The sitar, flute and the strings join hands together, put their feet together and sing and dance together - with glee.

The flurry of swaras continues in the second half of the second Charanam, the pattern and the combination being different from that of the first one.

Does it answer the question asked in the beginning?

What drives some people?

Can I say it is the drive that drives some people?

If yes, where is it coming from?

See the caption and you might get the answer.

 

ILaiyaraaja - The Empath

 

Being compassionate is one of the virtues of poets and artistes. Only if one is compassionate can he/she understand real emotions and feelings. Concomitantly, this gets reflected in their works. A genuine poet/artiste imagines himself/herself to be the character/thing. In other words, they get into the skin of the character and the output is for all of us to see.

This poet, who loved Krishna from the bottom of his heart imagines himself to be His mother and sings a lullaby. Now, see what happens.

 

கான் ஆர் நறுந்துழாய் கை செய்த கண்ணியும்

வான் ஆர் செழுஞ்சோலைக் கற்பகத்தின் வாசிகையும்

தேன் ஆர் மலர் மேல் திருமங்கை போத்தந்தாள்

கோனே! அழேல் அழேல், தாலேலோ! குடந்தைக் கிடந்தானே! தாலேலோ!

Rajendra Kumar · Periyaazhwar - Kaan aar

 

Lakshmi- the One who is seated on the lotus flower- has sent you a garland of Tulasi and a bouquet of flowers from the Karpaga tree. Oh my dear Emperor, please do not cry! Wear these and sleep peacefully.

 

The poetic beauty in this verse composed by VishNu cittar-better known as Periyaazhwar- cannot be missed; nor can the compassion and care. If the Tulasi and Karpaga Vriksha (considered to be a tree which can grant the boon one wishes for) are aesthetically beautiful, the line that says ‘Lakshmi has sent it’, is imagination at its best. After all, as per legend isn’t Lakshmi, Vishnu’s consort? Wife sending flowers to her husband who is in the form of a child, is unthinkable and yet shows the power of ‘decorative imagination’. But beyond all this is that ‘assuming the role of His mother’. Stroke of a Genius!

In the song of the day, the female character assumes the role of a mother. But what stands out is the way the it has been composed making one say that the composer has assumed the role of a mother. Yes, the wordings of the song are pregnant with meanings and feelings, but it is the tune and the orchestration that make it complete; that provide the soul.

For starters, Naan Undhan Thaayaaga VeNdum (Ullasa ParavaigaL), is based purely on that classical raga called Mohanam. As I have often been saying, a raga is just a tool and it is in the hands of the composer to make it beautiful. This composer is known to embellish any raga with his creativity making one see different shades and colours. In this song too, Mohanam shimmers with beauty even as it is heard from different instruments- some known and some unknown.

But there is also another aspect which is special like most of his compositions and we shall see this first.

The composition is set in the 6-beat cycle Rupakam(some may say it is in Tisram, but I feel Rupakam is more appropriate, though both are related, in terms of the count). The prelude goes without a percussion, but it absolutely fits in Rupakam. After a sustained sound for two cycles, one hears the bell sound for the next eight cycles. A very different instrument sounding like the violin takes over and goes on for the next six cycles until yet another differently sounding instrument – like the sympathetic strings one finds in stringed instruments- sounds for two cycles taking us to the Pallavi.

Starting without a percussion first with the rhythm guitar joining soon and sounding ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi constantly, the Pallavi sounds like a riddle-especially the second half- to many. But the fact is – Aanadhellam/ Aagattume/Aaruthale/Serattume/Aanandame/Vaaaaa- follows the 6-beat cycle with 3 rupakams (or 6 tisrams).

Let us now get on with the melodic part.

If the sustained sound in the beginning is sober, the sound of the bell is alluring. It quietly plays the notes of Mohanam and ends with the descending notes. The special instrument – sounding like the violin – is genuinely special as it oozes compassion. The sympathetic instrument that follows seems to say, ‘Forget your worries, I am there as your mother’.

Starting with gaandharam (ga), the Pallavi in the voice of Janaki gives a sketch of Mohanam in no time, at the same time giving that ‘motherly’ feel.

With finesse, the keys start sketching Mohanam in the first interlude and the strings reply with flourish. The flute now continues the sketch in its inimitable style. It is then left to that special instrument we saw in the prelude to complete the sketch with rounded mellowness. Not satisfied yet, the flute and the strings give some splendorous touches to the sketch.

The five swaras of Mohanam take a meandering stroll in the CharaNams. The appearance of the upper ‘Sa’ in the penultimate line, gives the impetus while the podi sangatis in the last line, warm the cockles of one’s heart.

The special instrument does it again in the second interlude. It is intense and at the same time abloom with brilliant colours. The flute sounds now and then and it seems like a mother-son interaction. With unobtrusive energy, the strings move in higher-octave after this and the conversations between different instruments suggest something.

What is that?

Read the first paragraph again and you will fin

ILaiyaraaja – The Adoring Musician

 

Looking at that figure, he cried ‘Ayyo!’

Who? What figure? Was it so scary and horrific to look at?

Before I attempt to answer these questions, I want to ask a series of questions:

What happens to us when we are in awe of something? What happens to us when we are filled with joy? What happens to us when we are ecstatic?

The answer is simple – We forget totally forget ourselves and utter something which others might consider offensive.

This is what happened to that gentleman. Yet, there is a difference between ordinary (us) and extraordinary (geniuses). While we would just stop with meaningless sounds or words (at times even expletives), the latter give an aesthetic form to it.

Here, the name of the genius is ThiruppaaNaazhwar. He looks at the magnificent figure of Ranganatha in Srirangam and his thoughts veer to one of His earlier forms – Krishna as an infant just before the end of the Dwaapara yuga. It may be noted that as per mythology, it is believed that before any Yuga ended, there would be a cataclysmic event. I do not want to expand this now as it is out of syllabus. But what I am going to tell you is the gist of the entire verse where that expression quoted in the beginning appears.

He swallowed the seven worlds and lay on a small fig leaf. Now, He is lying on the gigantic snake, wearing a garland of gems, and a pearl necklace. Oh! My heart is full now.

 

 

ஆல மா மரத்தின் இலைமேல் ஒரு பாலகனாய்

ஞாலம் ஏழும் உண்டான் அரங்கத்து அரவின் அணையான்

கோல மா மணி ஆரமும் முத்துத் தாமமும் முடிவு இல்லது ஓர் எழில்

நீல மேனி, ஐயோ! நிறை கொண்டது என் நெஞ்சினையே!

Rajendra Kumar · ThiruppaaNazhwar

Can one even define or explain that ecstatic ‘ayyo’?

On the other hand, awe-stuck by the poetic beauty, we exclaim – Ayyo! We cannot go beyond that. But geniuses are different. They are aesthetic in their approach and in their expressions.

After having seen that Azhwar and his expressions, let us see a Raaja and his expressions.

The composition is about a couple who discover that they have fallen in love just then. Isn’t this a normal sequence in an Indian movie? But geniuses make ordinary seem extraordinary with their approach. And at the surface level, it looks pretty simple. Scratch the surface and you will find many layers.

Om Namaha from Geetanjali (1989) is a composition based on a raga called Hamsanaadam- a pentatonic raga, which once upon a time had six swaras, but that again is out of syllabus here. It is a very pleasing melody without a doubt, set in the 7-beat cycle, Mishram. But, is that all?

The percussion- rhythm pads- mimics our heartbeats. Love from the point of view of a connoisseur. But what is amazing and astonishing is the fact that one hears these heart beats throughout the song, a rarity for a composer known for changing the patterns in a jiffy. Again, that is not all.

Mishram is – ta ki ta/ ta ka dhi mi (1 2 3/ 1 2 3 4). Rather than playing all the seven beats, the percussion plays just the first, second, fourth and fifth with another melodic instrument playing the sixth and the seventh. Time now to scratch the surface.

One hears the sound of the rhythm guitar in the background and this plays all the seven beats. This is subtle while the other one is prominent. Doesn’t this convey the philosophy of life itself? The heart is at the superficial level but depends totally on the soul.

Heart – Rhythm pads.

Soul – Rhythm guitar.

Possible only by geniuses who are also connoisseurs of life!

There is yet another ‘ayyo’ moment which we shall see at the end. But before that, let us look at the interludes which too showcases the connoisseur of music.

With a haunting charm, the mandolin unfolds the beauty of the raga. The strings glide in quietly and spread the fragrance. The keys coo like a bird with the guitar giving that touch of mellowness.

With musical elegance the lines in the CharaNams, show us the unique melody of the raga, with that mandra staayei nishadam giving that Raaja muttirai!

We shall see the CharaNam again in a bit.

Beginning with the sound of the bells, the second interlude sways gently and makes us sway as well. With winsome variations, the flute shows different hues of the raga with the strings making the glow of the raga enter our consciousness.

And now for that moment. Just before the 5^th line, the Master keeps the panchamam (pa) of the raga as the base Shadja (sa) and shifts it to Gambhira naattai. It returns to Hamsanaadam in the next line.

Is it done to show the majestic quality of love?

Or is it just the connoisseur in action?

We don’t know. All we know is to say ‘Ayyo!’

 

ILaiyaraaja – The Extemporaneous Musician

 

Have you all seen the white clouds in the sky? Have you noticed some beautiful patterns that keep changing now and then, and also reminding us of some figures familiar to us?

Have you seen a flock of birds fly? Have you noticed the different formations?

Have you seen the waves in the sea? Have you noticed the undulating motif?

Have you seen different flowers in a garden? Have you noticed the floral design?

How do these happen? Is it that the clouds think and form patterns? Is it that the birds talk to each other and make the formations? Is it that the waves plan and follow the motif? Is it that the flowers draw a design on a paper and then bloom?

The answer is simple – It just happens. And when it ‘just happens’, it is naturally beautiful. Not just beautiful but meaningful as well.

This applies as much to poetry and music.

That child was just around 3 when it started composing verses. Not just simple verses but ones pregnant with meaning with layers and layers of hidden beauty.

His very first verse was this:

தோடுடைய செவியன் விடை ஏறி ஓர் தூவெண் மதி சூடிக்

காடுடைய சுடலைப் பொடி பூசி என் உள்ளம் கவர் கள்வன்

ஏடுடைய மலரான் முனை நாட்பணிந்து ஏத்த அருள் செய்த

பீடுடைய பிரமாபுரம் மேவிய பெம்மான் இவனன்றே.

 

Rajendra Kumar · Todudaiya Seviyan

This what is its meaning at the surface level:

The One who has an ear stud; The One who rides on a Bull; The One who wears the pure white crescent moon on His head; The One whose body is smeared with the ashes from the crematorium; The One who stole my heart; The One who blessed Brahma- who is seated on a lotus.

Scratch the surface and you will find the layers.

As per Shaiva Siddhanta, there are 5 deeds of Shiva – Creation, Protection, Destruction, Hiding and Blessing.

Here, the first two phrases – Ear stud and the Bull -define the Creation, the second one- Crescent Moon- defines Protection, the third one – Ashes- defines Destruction, the fourth one – stealing the heart – Hiding- and the last one – blessing Brahma – Blessing.

Would that 3-year old child -who went by the name Thirugnanasambhandar- have thought all these before composing? ‘These’ include the description and the inner meaning? Would he have thought that he was giving the ‘Shaiva Siddhanta’ in a capsule form?

Not really.

At the same time, did he not know all these?

Yes, he did. But the difference is – the thought and the output overlapped. In other words – It just happened.

What we are going to see now is another case of things ‘just happening’ and falling in place. In fact, it just not ‘falls into place’ but makes it extraordinary.

‘Unai thedum neram idhu’ from ‘Ponmekalai’(2005) is a composition based on a very classical raga. This raga which goes by the name Naattai, is considered a ghana raga (meaning ‘heavy’). It finds a place in Tamizh paN as Nattapaadai. Note that Tamizh music has been in existence for more than 2,000 years. Most importantly, the verse I quoted sometime ago was also set in this paN (is it a coincidence or did it ‘just happen’?).

Even a causal hearing would suggest that the sequence involves a music teacher and a student. But what is to be noted is something else. Let us go step-by-step.

It starts with an exquisite akaaram (Bombay Jayashri) which impacts our full sensorium. The student (no idea about the name of this singer!) repeats the akaaram. The akaaram continues, touches the higher-octave, and gives a sketch of the ragam in a matter of seconds, giving way to the Pallavi. But there is magic just before this.

Towards the end of the akaaram, the mrudangam starts playing. Before I go further, let me mention certain things briefly.

As is well-known, a composition in general follows a time signature called ‘taaLa’ in the Indian classical system. There are many taaLaas but let me confine myself to this composition and say things that are pertinent to this.

This composition follows the 8-beat taaLa, known as ‘Adi taaLa’. This 8 can be subdivided into many multiples. Here, it is subdivided into 16. This 16 can be played in different ways.

Composers who are different, think differently, a fact known to many. Here, the Master divides that 16 as –

1/ 3/ 3/5/4.

But it does not end there. He gives ‘kaarvai’, which can be called a gap or just ‘silence’.

Therefore, it goes like this-

-/ 1 - - / 1 - - /- 2 3 4 5/ - - - -.

If represented in the language of Carnatic music, it is

(ta)/taangu/taangu/(ta) te e ta a/ (ta ka dhi mi).

The ones in the brackets are the kaaravai(s).

This is just during the akaaram.

The Master that he is, he changes the pattern in the Pallavi:

3/3/2/3/5.

And yes, there is kaarvai here too:
1 - -/ 1 - -/1 -/ 1 - -/ 1 - - - -.

t(aangu)/t(aangu)/dhi -/ta - -/ ta - - - -.

The enticing bass flute and the graceful violin combine together in the first interlude giving a soothing experience. But what adds to the beauty is the mrudangam which follows the first pattern.

The CharaNam follows a normal pattern, playing all the syllables. Suddenly, the pattern shifts to the one in the Pallavi until the swara segment.

The twin-violins move assiduously giving the essence of the raga in the second interlude. Needless to say, the rhythmic pattern is the first pattern.

The different structures in the two charaNams cannot be missed. Nor the fact that it ends with the saahityam and the mrudangam following – ta ka dhi mi/ta ka/ ta ka dhi mi/ta ka/ ta ka dhi mi.

It just happens!

If you do not believe it, ask the One who wears the stud, the moon, sits on the bull, smears the ash on His body and gives His blessings.

If you do not believe in Him, it is perfectly understandable.

Just listen to the song multiple times, and you will agree with me and say ‘Oh, yes! It just happens!!’.

 

 

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.