ILaiyaraaja – The Simple Labyrinthine

 

Things which appear easy, tend to become complex. Things which seem to be complex, turn out to be uncomplicated.

Are things really simple? Or are they seriously complex?

How do we then define anything? Are things definite or indefinite?

As if to give an answer to these complex questions, a poet composed this verse nearly 13 centuries ago:

  நின்றனர் இருந்தனர் கிடந்தனர் திரிந்தனர்,

நின்றிலர் இருந்திலர் கிடந்திலர் திரிந்திலர்,

என்றும் ஓர் இயல்வினர் என நினைவு அரியவர்;

என்றும் ஓர் இயல்வொடு நின்ற எம் திடரே.

 

He stood; He sat; He lay down; He wandered.

He does not stand; He does not sit; He does not lie down; He does not roam around.

Forever unstable; Forever stable.

 

Confusing? Contradictory?

Probably, yes; Probably, no. ‘Yes’ because it does sound complex. ‘No’, because this is how the Divine is.

Composed by Nammaazhwar, the four-lines define Life itself. Does this mean that Life cannot be defined? While I would prefer to answer this a little later, say towards the end, at the same time I would like to say that all great things have that duality and that once we see the duality, decipher it, comprehend it and assimilate it, Life gets beautiful. In fact, to put it the other way, we see the beauty in Life. After all, it is the way we see which matters.

These thoughts came to me while listening to ‘Nannu Nannuga’ from his most recent ‘Rangamarthaanda’.

For starters, it is based on a raga called Hamsanandi, a raga known for its classical contours. Secondly, it is fast paced, a quality not usually associated with that raga. Thirdly, the orchestration is totally in western style. There is a fourth factor too, but it is better that we see this a little later, not without a reason.

With bass guitar starting the proceedings, the akaaram in the voice of Gayathri starts on the third beat of the chatushram cycle. Generally akaaram does not follow time signature, but there are exceptions, this one being a perfect example. There is a touch of nonchalance in the way the bass guitar sounds and it adds to the experience. The drums join now and then even as the colours in Hamsanandi glow in the akaaram like a luminous light brightening as it charts a path.

With melody wrapped by the alluring swaras that are woven with silken threads, the Pallavi starts after 16 cycles of Chatushram. Rather unusually long, it sails like a ship on azure blue waters with the waves moving like the cradle and the silvery reflection of the full moon glistening on them. The ‘nidhamagari’ phrase in the end gives the quintessence of Hamsanandi, proving the fact that complexities are after all simple.

The enticing bass guitar takes over in the first interlude. It is beguilingly beautiful as the drums sound intensely and with an intent. The synth instruments enter even as the bass guitar sounds in the background and plays a tantalising melody. The bass guitar and the drums interject and does it seem tenebrous? Well, not at all. It seems like a bright light passing through a tunnel. Like a sudden lightning, the electric guitars glimmer and disappear. The keys play a soft melody. But there is more to this than meets the eye.

Remember the fourth factor mentioned in the beginning?

The keys play in Mohanam, a raga not usually related to/with Hamsanandi, but the key word here is ‘usually’.

The concept of Gruha Bhedam is complex. If one takes a raga like Hamsanandi, considers just the swaras- ni ri ga ma dha- and keep each swara as the ‘sa’, one gets the five popular pentatonic ragas- Madhyamavati, Hindolam, Suddha Saveri, Suddha Dhanyasi and Mohanam respectively.

So here the Master takes the ‘dha’ of Hamsanandi as the base and the raga gets transformed to Mohanam in a jiffy. The keys sound in Mohanam and this continues in the CharaNam. The third line reverts to Hamsanandi and this happens when the ‘ga’ of Mohanam is kept as the base. It is Hamsanandi all around till the end of the CharaNam even as the phrases follow the ‘ta ki ta/ta ki ta/ ta ka’ pattern.

Subtle and powerful. This is how one can define the electric guitar in the beginning of the second interlude. Covering the entire gamut of the raga, it bespatters nectar in its inimitable way. But here too, the fourth factor comes into play. Keeping the ‘ri’ of Hamsanandi as the base, the raga shifts to Hindolam- when its sounds the melody the second time. The synth guitar gets back to Hamsanandi and skitters through with a flourish.

With the Gruha bhedam just before the end of the second interlude, the second CharaNam straddles between Mohanam and Hamsanandi, the former in the first four lines and the latter in the second-half, but there is more to come..

Drenching us in a quick shower, the synth instrument plays a melody in Hamsanandi ending it in the swara ‘ri’. Keeping this as the base, Gayathri sings the swaras, and needless to say, it is in Hindolam. The swaras swing and rock touching the ecstatic realms of music. Just towards the end, it gets back to Hamsanandi, but this time without the swara ‘ri’, which as per Carnatic music, is a raga called Sunaadavinodini.

Hamsanandi, Mohanam, Hindolam, Sunadavinodini..

Same swaras, but different ragas..

Same colours, but different complexions..

Complex?

Nammaazhwar gives the answer!