Monday, 30 September 2024

ILaiyaraaja – The Breezy Musician

 

Wind is poetic. Wind is musical.

Isn’t that the reason for many poets describing the wind, using similes, keeping wind as a metaphor and even symbolising wind as an ambassador?

Before I go to the second element which finds a mention in the first line, let me briefly delve into the first element. Tamizh grammar gives different names to the same wind depending on the direction from which it blows. As per literature(and as per one’s experience as well), the quality of the wind varies and is purely dependent on the direction. Concomitantly, our feelings and emotions too vary. As an example, the wind blowing from the south is ‘thendRal’ and is supposed to be very pleasant. On the other hand, the one blowing from the north- vaadai- is supposed to evoke the feeling of viraha (separation).

Would you believe me if I said that an entire piece of work in literature revolves around the wind, the one from the north to be precise? Viraha, which is the quality of vaadai, runs as the undercurrent in Nedunalvaadai, which is part of the Sangam literature. Composed by Nakkeerar, it is in praise of Thalaiyaalangaanaththu cheruvendRa paaNdiyan Nedunchezhiyan. Unlike many other works, the hero appears only towards the end and even this is brief as the verses here talk about his visit to the camp to see the warriors who fought for him in the war. Pregnant with descriptions about nature, the palace and the cot for most part, this work is on the viraha feelings of the queen who misses her husband and leaning on the ivory cot with tears in her eyes, listens to the prayers to Goddess KotRavai.

Did I not mention that viraha runs as the undercurrent? It actually runs subtly even in the description of nature. One has to read between the lines to comprehend, grasp, understand and appreciate this fact. What I am giving below is just a sample and these three lines appear almost towards the end of the work.

வடந்தைத் தண் வளி எறிதொறும் நுடங்கித்

தெற்கு ஏர்பு இறைஞ்சிய தலைய நன் பல

பாண்டில் விளக்கில் பரூஉச்சுடர்  அழல.

The cold wind from the north blew and whenever it blew, the thick flame in the round lamps, swayed and tilted towards the south.

Pretty simple, right? North to south. It is logical, scientific and natural. What is great about this?

Anyone who loves just the surface and wants to stay only there, is bound to ask this.

But people who hate the word ‘superficial’, will say these:

But scratch the surface; go beyond that.

Don’t read just the lines; read between the lines as well.

Always aim to see the unseen.

If we follow the latter, we can discover a gold mine. The Queen’s location(no GPS those days!) is to the south of the place of war. By saying that the vaadai was blowing, the poet first touches upon the viraha. He goes a step further and rather than saying that the lamps went off(which is what happens when the wind blows), he says the flame just tilted towards the south, indicating that there is a happy ending and that the king will return to his palace after emerging victorious in the war. The flame can also be considered as a symbol for the queen, with the vaadai being the emotion.

This is what the wind does to the imagination and creativity of poets.

Doesn’t the same happen in case of music and therefore with musicians as well?

That we cannot hear music in the absence of wind, is too well known a fact to be even mentioned. But the fact that some geniuses have used the different types of wind, musically is something which is known and yet has to be mentioned.

Here is a naayika, besotted completely with her lover and finds music as a form of expressing her desire and yes, viraha. The genius that he is, ILaiyaraaja uses a classical raga known more to invoke the feeling of devotion and certainly not associated with romance, unlike pentatonic ragas or even complete ragas like KalyaNi.

The raga Simhendramadhyamam is deep and unlike its Shuddha Madhyama counterpart KiravaNi, is not universal. It does take a lot of gumption to use this raga in a romantic set up. He has done this before as well in ‘Aananda Ragam’, a song I discussed here four years ago (ILaiyaraaja – The Prudent Musican- 14th April 2019) . But this one is different, in fact it is a study in contrast.

If ‘Ananda Ragam’ is racy like the wind from the north, ‘Thaalaattum PoongaatRu Naanallava’ (Gopura Vaasalile- 1991) is like the wind from sea, soothing and yet deep with a degree of heat present innately.

The initial humming of Janaki is like the Kacchaan(wind from the west), soft, quiet and mild. In a matter of seconds, one sees the sketch of the raga. With the santoor interjecting with grace, the small flute moves elegantly. Two other flutes take over and play simultaneously with panache, one in higher-octave and the other in lower-octave, thus showing the contrasting emotions- joy and viraha. Like the wind which go up and down during the rain, the keys sound the ascending and the descending notes of the raga.

The Pallavi (vocals: Janaki) too has the ascending(rigamapa) and the descending swaras (magarisani.) in the first two phrases of the last two lines(oh nenjame/en nenjame).The third line (varuvaayo/ vaarayo) exudes with viraha with some closely packed swaras (padhamapagamapaga) in vaayo and raayo.

The strings in the beginning of the first interlude, move with ferocity like the KundRavaadai (wind from the North- East). Meanwhile, the flute moves with vibrancy like the Karunkondal (South-East) with the guitar passing like the cross wind, in between. One sees the two layers of the wind in the two sets of strings. While one is boisterous and vivacious, the other is delicate and subtle. The santoor and the keys sway like the branches of the trees.

The flute continues its wave of enthusiasm in the CharaNams as well, showing up between the lines again in ascending and descending fashion alternately. One also sees the sudden upward movement of the wind towards the end of the CharaNam with the penultimate line showing a steady climb to start with (sariga), a descent(risasa), a sudden jump(from the lower sa straight to the upper Sa), a slight descent(SaniniSa) and then an intense descent in the higher-octave (GaRisa). The last line is a mix of ascent and descent just like the wind blowing in the mountains.

Vaadaikachchaan (South-East) meets Kacchankodai (South-West) in the first half of the second interlude. This is how one can describe the flute melody and the santoor melody. If the former is plaintive and deep, the latter is jubilant and gentle. So captivating is this spectacle which is full of contrasts that even the percussion stops playing, absorbing itself in the beauty. Two sets of strings go in tandem, one in lower-octave and the other in higher-octave and this seems like the meeting of Vaadai and ThendRal.

Wind is poetic; Wind is musical..

..just like Life!  


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