How beautiful is this world?
Is this an easy question to answer? Like most of the
things in our life, the answer to this question too will be subjective. As the
popular adage goes- Beauty lies in the
eyes of the beholder. One can even keep expanding this saying, Beauty lies
in the heart, in the ears, in the mind and so on..
But how does this statement sound to you- Everything in this world is beautiful.
Isn’t this statement profound and deep?
Rather than choosing to agree or disagree with the
statement, let us look at a poem:
இவ்வுலகம் இனியது.
இதிலுள்ள வான் இனிமையுடைத்து.
காற்றும் இனிது.
தீ இனிது.நீர் இனிது.நிலம் இனிது.
ஞாயிறு நன்று;
திங்களும் நன்று.
வானத்துச் சுடர்களெல்லாம்
மிக இனியன.
மழை இனிது,
மின்னல் இனிது, இடி இனிது.
கடல் இனிது, மலை
இனிது, காடு நன்று
ஆறுகள் இனியன.
உலோகமும், மரமும்
செடியும், கொடியும்,
மலரும் காயும்,
கனியும் இனியன.
பறவைகள்
இனியவை.ஊர்வனவும் நல்லன.
விலங்குகளெல்லாம்
இனியவை.
நீர் வாழ்வனவும்
நல்லன.
மனிதர் மிகவும்
இனியர். ஆண் நன்று.பெண் இனிது.
குழந்தை இன்பம்.
இளமை இனிது.முதுமை நன்று.
உயிர் நன்று.
சாதல் இனிது.
It is one thing to say ‘The world is beautiful’, but quite another to quote each and every
element, each and every being, each and everything in this world and say it is
beautiful. Here, the poet even goes to the extent of saying ‘Life is good. Dying is sweet.’ Leave
alone writing, it is impossible to imagine like this unless the person has
seen, felt and experienced the philosophy of life. Is he not the same one who
also wrote, தீக்குள் விரலை வைத்தால் நந்தலாலா, நின்னை தீண்டும் இன்பம் தோன்றுதடா,
நந்தலாலா- if I place my finger in the fire, I feel the
pleasure of touching you!
It is not for nothing that this poet is called as
the Mahakavi. He saw the Divine in everything, and that is why
the world and everything in the world looked beautiful to him. And this made
him explore the world more. If something is so beautiful, is there not a reason
for that? Or do certain things exist beyond reason?
Bharati
explored the world of poetry by not only composing poems in a multitude of
subjects, but also in different forms. The poem quoted first was the first ‘vachana kavithai’-that is, poetry in the
form of prose- in Tamizh. This
evolved as ‘Pudhu Kavithai’ in the
latter half of the 20th
century.
Why do people explore? Is it because of the
adventurous streak in them? Or is it because of the fact that they love
something so much that they explore it more?
If in Bharati’s
case, it was poetry, in the case of ILaiyaraaja,
it is music. But again, isn’t it a fact that poetry and music are closely
related? Bharati’s poems are
poetically musical while ILaiyaraaja’s music
is musically poetic. This in a way is not different from a statement made by a
very famous dancer and a scholar long ago which went something like this- ‘I listen to dance and I see music’!
Getting back to ILaiyaraaja, his proclivity for music and his propensity for
exploring and experimenting with its different forms are not unknown to people
who follow him and his music arduously. However, how this gets reflected in his
works is not known to many.
With his firm grounding in classical music, he has used and in fact continues to use many ragas. But this is a natural occurrence
and unlike what is believed by a section, he does not ‘choose’ a raga. On the other hand, the raga chooses him. This may appear to be
far-fetched on the face of it, but people who have seen him work will vouch for
this statement.
As mentioned in many of my posts, no other film
music composer has used ragas as prolifically and differently. Some of his
compositions follow ragas hitherto
not used by any musician. In the past Events,
we have seen at least 2 very rare ragas. The special song of the day too follows a very rare raga.
The Carnatic
System of music is one of the most organized systems in the world and if I
may draw a parallel, I can compare it with the Periodic Table system devised by Mendeleev, though the systems are totally different. There are
essentially 72 meLa ragas, called as
parent ragas, and other ragas are born from these. While it is
necessary and even mandatory for the parents to have all the seven swaras, the same rule does not apply to
the children. There are of course 3
variants of four swaras, 2 variants
of one swara and no variants of two swaras. The permutation and combination
of each of these swara variants give
us the parent ragas.
The intention of giving such basic details is
surely not to confound you, but only to make you understand the basics which
would help in understanding and appreciating other technical details.
Let us just take two parent ragas –KiravaNi and Gowrimanohari. It is the variant of the swara ‘dha’ which distinguishes the two.
Now what happens if that ‘dha’ is
totally dropped? It of course becomes a raga with 6 swaras, but how will it sound? Like KiravaNi or like Gowrimanohari?
Whether this thought occurred to ILaiyaraaja or not, is tough to say. But
surely the child in him would have wanted to experiment with this and explore
it further.
And thus was born the raga and concomitantly, the tune. This raga which goes by the name ‘Rishipriya’
sounds as beautiful as its name itself. Though there is no carnatic composition in this raga,
long ago I read somewhere that the Carnatic
music legend Madurai Somu had
indeed composed and sung in this raga
though little is known about the composition now.
ILaiyaraaja
might or might not have been aware of this, but this is not as relevant as what
he has done with this raga.
Needless to say the special song of the 12th version of Geetanjali follows this raga. The beauty in ‘Udayam
Neeye’ from the film ‘En Arugil
Nee Irundhaal ( 1991) lies not just in the raga, but in the way it is used. It has no prelude.
Did I say ‘No’?
No, I must correct myself. It has no instrumental prelude. But when there is a voice
which is more beautiful than any known or unknown instrument, does one need an
instrument at all?
If I said the prelude
is the quintessence of melody, I wouldn’t be exaggerating. The ‘akaaram’ which reminds one of Gowrimanohari or probably even its
Hindustani counterpart Patdeep, has
space and width and yet flows like a stream. It is simple and powerful without
crossing into the realms of flamboyance.
The Pallavi
in the anaagada eduppu- that is, vocals
starting after the beginning of the taaLa
cycle- is unpretentious and unobtrusive. The keys give a subtle melody following the vocals and this is enough
to warm the cockles of our hearts. The percussion, which joins only after a
while, sounds pristinely beautiful too.
This composition has more than one speciality. The
composer is well-known for his orchestration, arrangement and for his penchant
for giving some unique sounds with many instruments. But in this composition,
the number of instruments can be counted with just one hand. Didn’t somebody
say ‘Simple things are also the most
extraordinary things’?
What is extraordinary in this composition is the flute. This wind instrument sounds a
simple melody to start with in the first
interlude, giving contours of Hindustani
form with the pair of tablas
backing it with gusto. It is then virtuosic even as it touches a slew of mid-octave notes. It then whorls, giving
a convoluted pattern and this does not fail to pierce our hearts and stir our
souls.
One cannot not expect sudden twists and turns if
he/she follows this composer. The gentleman known for his predilection for
variety and for exploration of beauty, stops the percussion here and gives a
totally different complexion to the raga
by bringing in a couple of guitars
and the keys. The vivacity is mind
blowing. The flute enters again
towards the end and gives a saintly smile with adoration writ on its
countenance.
The flute
peeps in again but this time very briefly at the end of every alternate line in
the first half of the CharaNams,
which is woven with melodic threads. All the lines in the CharaNams are laced with clarity, eloquence and classism showing us
some different dimensions of this rarely heard raga.
The exploration of beauty continues in the second interlude. The flute swirls. It is plaintive. The flute spirals. It is poignant. The flute pirouettes. It is euphoric. The
flute flows. It is ecstatic.
Pain and Pleasure- Isn’t the world beautiful?
PS: This post was written exclusively for 'Geetanjali', an Event dedicated to ILaiyaraaja and his music held annually since the year 2008, and was read to an invited audience on the 1st of September in Chennai. The Tamizh post about the same song but giving a different perspective is also available in the previous post in this blog.
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