Why is Kamban considered as a genius?
After all, he ‘retold’ what was already written centuries ago in Sanskrit. Moreover, it is just a mythology about a form of God who is believed to have taken an incarnation as a human. And did the poet not indulge in eroticism too?
Well, I am not going to get into these and many other points put forth by the so called rationalists to ‘prove’ that Kamban was just an ordinary poet. But what I can do it to quote just one of his verses and try and explain it. One can draw their own conclusions after that.
This sequence is well known. Soorpanaka, the sister of RavaNa sees that handsome man called Rama in the forest. Well aware and conscious of her (non- existent) beauty, she decides to take a form of a beautiful woman.
This is how the poet describes her:
பஞ்சிஒளிர் விஞ்சுகுளிர் பல்லவம் அனுங்க
செஞ்செவிய கஞ்சம் நிகர் சீறடியள் ஆகி
அஞ்சொலிள மஞ்சை என அன்னம் என மின்னும்
வஞ்சி என நஞ்சம் என வஞ்ச மகள் வந்தாள்.
Glossy hands in lustrous red, feet like the dark coloured lotus, body like a cool creeper, uttering words like a sweet-talking peacock, moving like a swan, here she comes, that loathly lady full of venom.
This is just the literal meaning. However, there is more to this poem than meets the eye and I am not talking just about the mention of the artificial red and the ‘sweet-talking peacock’.
People familiar with the language of Tamizh must have noticed the ubiquitous occurrence of the letter ‘ஞ்’ (pronounced as ‘inj’). For the benefit of non-tamizh people(and of course tamizh people too), I am rendering the poem now:
Hope you have all noticed as to how that particular letter gives that nasal tone. Now, people who know the story of RamayaNa know that LakshmaNa cut off Surpanaka’s nose after her ‘proposal’ first to Rama and then to him. The brilliant poet suggests this even as she walks towards them. Moreover, ‘nasal tone’ is generally considered to be artificial. So, he symbolically shows her artificiality using that letter, which is part of the mellinam group in mei ezhuththukaL.
Isn’t this why Kamban is considered as a genius?
Time and again ILaiyaraaja too has hidden such intricacies in his music. His use of ragas is well known and one gets to see too many lists (sorry to say, many are wrong) of the ragas used by him. But as I have repeatedly been saying in many forums, the name of the raga is not as important as the way it has been used. In any case, my focus today is not on this, but on his brilliant use of a very rare raga in a romantic song.
By definition, the word ‘rare’ is too deceptive. The reason is because of the subjectivity factor. For example, recently while I was watching a live performance of a carnatic singer on You Tube, there was a volley of comments-not unexpectedly- and somebody mentioned about a particular ‘Javali’ being very rare. But this ‘javali’ is often performed in a Bharatanatyam recital. Therefore, ‘rarity’ depends on the context and the level of exposure of a particular person.
However, at the same time, ragas/pieces which are generally not heard or which are heard for the first time by a majority should definitely be classified under ‘rare’. ILaiyaraaja has used the most number of such rare ragas as far as I know in film music. Many examples have been quoted in this blog itself.
What makes the song ‘Nilladha VeNNila’ from ‘AaNazhagan’(1995) unique is not just that the raga is very rare but also the fact that it is a vivaadi raga. The concept of vivaadi has been discussed in the past in this blog and therefore I am not going to explain in detail again, at least in this post. Suffice to say that vivaadi means dissonance(as opposed to vaadi, which means consonance) and the use of vivaadi notes gives a kind of intriguing and even a mystical feeling.
The song under reference follows a pattern whose arohaNam and avarohaNam are – sa ri3 ga3 ma1 dha1 ni2 Sa/Sa ni2 dha1 ma1 ga3 ri3 sa. As per the raga text, this raga is called as ‘Swara Vardhini’ and is derived from the 32nd Mela Ragavardhani. In fact, this is Ragavardhani sans the panchamam(pa). I am not aware of any other musician (classical and films) having used this raga.
To use such a vivaadi raga in a purely romantic situation calls for gumption, courage of conviction, and a firm grip over classical music. And yes, a genius mind!
This genius mind is seen not just in the use of the very rare raga but also in the use of percussion and we shall see this soon.
The prelude looks like a shirred fabric. The guitar rustles. One set of strings plays softly while the second set responds with intensity. Even as the second set responds, the third set plays delicately. Now, all the three join together playing different set of notes without in anyway sounding cacophonic. And yes, the vivaadi note ‘ri3’ is perceptible too but there is no dissonance here!
The Pallavi in the magnetic voice of the Maestro moves with poise and dignity showing some beauteous light and shades of the seldom heard raga. Swarnalatha follows and repeats the line in her own style. What makes the Pallavi more attractive is the use of the guitar-like instruments which sound off-beat literally and figuratively.
The purity of the first interlude is striking. It starts with the lucid long flute whose melody goes deep into our heart. The carnatic flute responds and it is like a luminous spiritual arc. The Shehnai pours its heart out with the melody moving with fluidity. The brilliant aspect here is that the vivaadi notes is totally avoided by the Shehnai giving a feel of Malkauns(hindolam)in the uttaraanga(ma dha ni Sa). The backing of bass guitar and a couple of very subtle instruments gives a totally different feel. So does the melody from the strings-first in the mid-octave and then in the higher octave. Doesn’t this give a WCM effect?
The short flute smirks and leads us to the first CharaNam.
Sometime back, I mentioned about one more speciality. It is time to reveal that now. Right from the prelude, through the Pallavi and the first interlude, the percussion is totally absent though the composition follows the tisram pattern!
I can hardly think of any other composition in this format.
Now, as if to compensate for the absence, there are two sets of percussion with one set playing the 6th beat with ebullience and then splitting the first beat of the next cycle into 2 and playing the following beats with passion. This pattern is repeated alternately.
Both the sets play all the three beats in the last line.
The lines in the CharaNams also bring the creative instincts to the surface with the judicious use of the vivaadi note gelling so well with the other notes resulting in a heady mix of intrigue and sobriety.
Creativity and innovation are seen yet again towards the end of the first CharaNam when the Pallavi is rendered again. The percussion takes a break and the vocals are backed by the pizzicato and the bowing sound and thus touching ecstatic realms of music.
The pizzicato continues in the second interlude and is joined by the bass guitar even as another group of strings plays with power and majesty showing some varied hues of the raga. The brass flute enters at the end of the piece changing the complexion. The strings then move in western classical style with another piercing instrument intruding and playing a different melody parallely. It is a kind of maze even as the two melodies scintillate and sparkle. A sudden stroke from a very different instrument towards the end says it all..
Isn’t it like the letter tamizh letter ‘ஞ்’?
Why is Kamban a genius?
Why is ILaiyaraaja a genius?
Answers lie within us!
