Can somebody or something go beyond what is generally seen or believed? If this happens, will it happen in real or only in imagination?
While coming across certain
works, one can’t help wondering at the beauty of the works and the genius mind
behind the creation of the works. ‘Are such things possible?’, we wonder.
One such work is Kamba
RamayaNam. Though there are just 4 lines in each verse, it is impossible not to
be enamoured of the use of the words and the way these are arrayed to convey
not just meanings but something beyond meanings.
Take this particular verse
which appears almost in the beginning of the work even before Rama is born. The
poet extols Dasharatha, the father of Rama.
People familiar with the
story, know that this gentleman was an Emperor respected by one equally for his
compassion as for his valour.
The poet wants to show both
the qualities in one verse and begins by saying 'Since there is no need for him
to use the arrows’. Now, the reader keeps wondering the reason. In no time
he/she gets the answer- ‘because he has no enemies’. Why no enemies? It is
because he has conquered the world. Fine then. ‘He must have become lazy now
and therefore must have lost his strength as there is nobody’, the cynic inside
us says this with a tinge of sarcasm. The mind reader that he is, the Emperor
of poetry describes Dasharatha immediately be saying ‘ the one with the
strongest shoulders’. We are zapped! So now that he does not have to prove
himself as a warrior, does he rest on his laurels and whiles away his time in
all vices?
The poet continues- Like a
farmer whose only asset is a piece of land, and who works very hard to make
that land the best, this Emperor too protects his land (his kingdom) and
protects his people with utmost care and compassion.
எய்யென எழுபகை எங்கும் இன்மையால்,
மெய்பொரு தினவுறு முழவுத் தோளினான்
வையக முழுவதும் வரிஞன் ஓம்பும் ஓர்
செய்யெனக் காத்து இனிது அரசு செய்கின்றான்.
Not only was the mythological character
called Dasharatha was great, but also the poet who uses his imagination to
enthral the aesthetes, the connoisseurs, the cognoscenti, and the common man,
great. Needless to say, no word can do justice to his greatness.
Coming to think of it, such
geniuses do not ‘think’ and it just happens to them.
How this applies to the
composer who has been ruling the roost for the last 47 years, is known to many.
The fact that his compositions appeal to the erudite as much to the layman,
speaks volumes of his greatness, which for all practical purposes cannot be put
in words.
Take ‘Koottattile Kovil PuRa’(Idaya
Kovil- 1985) as one of the examples. At the surface, it is just a song sung by
an untrained singer with a mellifluous voice in a village. But what has the
composer done here which has made the song sound as fresh as a daisy after so
many decades?
For starters, it is based on a
raga called ‘Karnataka Khamas’, which strangely enough has not been used by any
classical composer despite being a very simple raga and despite being very
close to some very popular ragas-Khamas and Harikambhoji being some examples.
Take out the swara ‘ri’ from both arohana(ascending) and the
avarohana(descending) from the latter and we get this raga. Likewise, instead
of the devious ‘sa ma ga ma pa dha ni Sa’, make it straight- sa ga ma pa dha ni
Sa-in the arohaNa and have the same sets of swaras in the avarohaNa instead of
all the seven swaras, and you can make out how different it is from Khamas.
Surprisingly enough,
ILaiyaraaja has composed many songs in this raga while many others have not even
gone near that.
Well, the beauty of/in ‘Koottattila..’
does not stop just with this.
The drone of the Tanpura
followed by the sound of the ankle bells, create an electable divine atmosphere
in the beginning itself. The fact that the first few phrases of the Pallavi are rendered without percussion and the silence after the first couple of phrases,
spread a unique fragrance making the experience mystical.
With just the mid-octave
swaras(except for the odd upper Sa in the first line) in the Pallavi, the raga
is sketched on the canvas with a dark pencil. The continuous stream of the
lower ‘sa’ in the second and the third line(towards the end), makes one see the
canvas fluttering in the air with remarkable assiduity.
The wind blows with musical
grace. The percussion sounds in Tisram with zeal. Backed by very subtle
instruments, the chorus hums. Dappled with the flickers of light, the flute
responds. Don’t we see a rustic atmosphere here?
That is why, I choose to call
the first interlude bewitchingly beautiful!
A series of mid-octave swaras
move with finesse in the first two lines of the CharaNams, but with the sudden
entry of the higher-octave swaras like the 'Ga’ and ‘Ma’ in the third line, the
complexion changes. The accidental note ‘Ri’ too enters in a flash and
disappears like a lightning. But what follows is more than interesting.
First, it is the sangati in
the line that follows in the inimitable voice of SPB, which shows us the beauty
of Karnataka Khamas in a trice. Next, is Laya Raaja.
As mentioned earlier, the
composition is set in Tisram, the 3-beat cycle. The last line goes in sets of
four-
ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi/ta
ka dhi mi/ ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka dhi mi/ ta - - -.
That is, 7 sets of 4 with the ‘-‘
in the last segment denoting the ‘kaarvai’ or gap.
7x4 = 28.
Is this divisible by 3?
I shall park this for a while
and see the number of tisrams. The number comes to 3 tisrams in keezh
kaalam(slower speed). But the ‘ta ka dhi mi’ stops just after one syllable
count in the third tisram, resulting in a count of 7. As the ‘ta ka dhi mi’s
move in ati mel kaalam(super fast speed), it is 4 times the tisram count. So,
now we get that answer to the puzzle but only partially.
What happens to the two
remaining count- ki ta?
The song as such starts in
ateeta eduppu - that is the Pallavi starting before the taaLam cycle. So the
balance 2 accounts for this. Now, 2x4 = 8 and 28+8= 36 which is 9x4.
If all this is confusing, it
is perfectly fine. Read it again, do the calculation and if you don’t get it,
ask me. Or otherwise, just leave it. I shall come to this again towards the
end.
The second interlude has a
bevy of jatis in the beginning. Woven around this, the flute and the clarinet
move alluringly and shimmer like a lambent of light. The humming of the chorus
and the brief swara segment, are subtle, nuanced, and enticing.
Can somebody or something go
beyond what is generally seen or believed? If this happens, will it happen in
real or only in imagination?
The last line of the CharaNams,
answers the question. Well, even if it doesn’t seem to answer, remember this-
Certain class of people and
therefore their works are beyond greatness.
Do we then need answers?
