ILaiyaraaja – The Sempiternal Musician

 

Time stood still.

Time froze.

It is timeless.

Time rolls on.

Time moves.

Long time ago.

These are just some of the statements about Time. Do you see a paradox between the first three and the last three? It typifies Time. After all, Time itself is a paradox.

Rather than analysing this and questioning this, let us move on and focus on the topic. For, Time never waits for anyone!

Here is a lady who has not heard from her man for quite a while. Rather than call Time on her Love, she waits. Her friend spots the pallor and is worried. But the lady is unperturbed.

She says, “Do not worry about my pallor. It is surely not because of him, that man from that country where peacocks squawk even as they sway their long plumes, on the banks of the forest river which swells because of the heavy rains”.

கலி மழை கெழீஇய கான் யாற்று இகுகரை

ஒலி நெடும் பீலி துயல்வர இயலி,

ஆடு மயில் அகவும் நாடன் நம்மொடு

நயந்தனன் கொண்ட கேண்மை

பயந்தக்காலும் பயப்பு ஒல்லாதே.

(KuRunthogai – 264- Kapilar)

 

Rajendra Kumar · Kurunthogai 264

While the fact that she compares herself to the happily dancing peacocks cannot be missed, what should not be missed is her firm conviction – Whatever happens, my love for him will be the same!

Whether it is the 2500-year-old KuRunthogai or a 40-year-old musical piece, certain things remain the same.

Take this composition Kaalam Maaralaam from Vaazhkkai (1984). Does it not sound as fresh as a daisy after so many years and does it not make us yearn for more?

Is the reason the melody or is there something else as well? Well, it could be both.

Sounding as soft as possible, the guitar plays ‘ta ka dhi mi’ four times and one clearly hears a few swaras of Hamsadhwani. Just as the fourth ‘ta ka dhi mi’ starts, SPB enters and sings the akaaram. After one cycle, we see the entry of VaNi Jayaram, who sings the akaaram, but a melody different from that of SPB’s. Both move together and it is a counter-point in Hamsadwani. The lilting akaarams keep going around us in two concentric circles.

After a while, SPB just hums in Hamsadhwani and VaNi Jayaram responds with the same humming. What is sandwiched in between is that sound of the veeNa, subtle and nuanced! It sounds again after the humming of VaNi Jayaram, and then we are in for a surprise!

Did I say ‘surprise’? Well, can anything be a surprise if one knows this composer well?

The electric guitar plays in Hamsadhwani, but don’t we hear an alien note?

Hamsadhwani has sa ri2 ga3 pa ni3, both in ascending and descending, but there is a clear sound of the dhaivatam (dha1) too. Raga texts define this scale/raga as ‘TaraLam’, derived from the 27^th meLa, Sarasangi. Has any other composer used it? I am not sure. But this composer had used it before. Keep thinking about that song, which some people still think is based on Latangi.

In a way, TaraLam sounds like Latangi but the absence of the swara ‘ma’, gives it a uniqueness. The fact that the dhaivatam gives it a poignant flavour cannot be denied.

What cannot be denied is also the fact that there is a kind of freshness in this raga/scale.

The prelude ends with the guitar playing ‘ta ka dhi mi’ four times again in Hamsadhwani, making it a circle.

Isn’t life itself a circle?

SPB starts the Pallavi. The Master of varieties, whose other name is ILaiyaraaja, gives rest to the percussion and makes rhythm guitar the backing instrument when the first line is rendered the first time. And he also starts the composition with the descending notes (Sa ni pa ga) and then goes to the ascending notes (sa ri ga pa). If the mandra staayi (lower- octave notes) in the beginning of the next two lines, is not a surprise, the last line (after which the Pallavi starts again) is not a surprise at all. It goes ri ga pa ni (ini varum) and then Sa ni ni pa ga- ascending and descending.

Circle of life again!

Note that the entire Pallavi is in pure Hamsadhwani.

So is the first half of the first interlude. The strings sound ta ka dhi mi in mid-octave Hamsadhwani thrice with a new set of strings joining in during the third ta ka dhi mi and sounding the same in higher-octave. The last part is sounded by the keys. Vivifying the atmosphere, a set of different keys moves with agility and the veeNa responds in its own style. The electric guitar enters now and brings in the dhaivatam, transforming Hamsadhwani to TaraLam.

Gracefully transiting to the western classical style, the strings play in the higher-octave intercepted now and then by a couple of instruments that play different sets of notes (mainly descending). But it is the flute that steals the show by showing a sudden flash of light, towards the end, aided by the stringed instrument.

Don’t we see such sudden flashes of light in our life as well?

TaraLam is in full flow in the first half of the CharaNams in which the tabla sounds just the first and the third syllables (ta, dhi) with intensity and with a very subtle percussion sounding just the first syllable in the next half. It goes thus – ta – dhi - / ta - - -.

Hamsadhwani returns in the second half and a close observation suggests that the lines are the same as that of the second and third lines of the Pallavi, except that these are in the next octave.

Laya Raaja does it again in the second interlude. The Pallavi is sung again first by Vani Jayaram and then by SPB. When he finishes ‘MaaRuma’, the taLa cycle is on the third beat. The bass strings take over and play ‘ta ki ta’ for each beat and this happens seven times. The eighth time is the samam and it plays just ‘ta ki ta’ and moves away. Note that 3x8 = 24, which is divisible both by 3 and 4.

With finesse the flute goes on, interjected now and then by the electric guitar. The banter between the two is tantalisingly beautiful. The strings take over and like a clear stream, move on..

Time rolls on.

Time stands still.

Paradox? There lies the beauty of Life!

P.S. This post is written on the occasion of the 11th anniversary of the Group, 'ILaiyaraaja - The Master' on Facebook.