ILaiyaraaja – The Colourful Musician

 

How romantic is romance?

Though the question seems tricky and even weird, a smart answer would be ‘as romantic as romance’.

Supposing the question was ‘how romantic is devotion?’, even smart people would start blinking. Some ‘right’ people (though invariably they are always wrong), would even take offence and start a vituperative campaign against the person who ask such questions. It would be still worse if the question was ‘how erotic is devotion?’.

But the fact of the matter is that people who take exception to such questions are either ignorant or ‘prefer’ to be ignorant. Like an ostrich, they refuse to look up. After all, reality sucks!

Leaving aside the fact that there is no ancient temple in India without sculptures in erotic postures, it must be understood and accepted that the Bhakti poets used romance and eroticism as a form of devotion, a form called ‘Madhura Bhakti’. Their poems exude with eroticism and romance. One of the classic examples is Jeyadeva’s Geeta Govindam, in Radha and Krishna are depicted as human lovers.

Almost all Bhakti poets in Tamizh literature (and this predates Geeta Govindam which was composed in the 12^th century), assumed the ‘nayaki bhava’, with the Divine being the Nayaka. I am not getting into the inner meaning which is esoteric and therefore beyond the scope of this post. But what I am going to do is to look at one poem as a sample.

Kulasekhara Azhwar, one of the 12 Vaishnavite saints whose collection of verses, goes by the name ‘Naalayira Divya Prabhandam’ (4,000 sacred verses) assumes the role of a Gopika. As per mythology, Gopikas were cowherd women who were in awe of Krishna, and danced with Krishna. Yet again, I refrain from getting into the inner meanings. Going back to the Azhwar, his 10 verses as one of the Gopikas, ooze with romance and eroticism. As I said, I am quoting just one such poem:

கருமலர்க் கூந்தல் ஒருத்தி தன்னைக் கடைக்கணித்து, ஆங்கே ஒருத்திதன் பால்

மருவி மனம் வைத்து, மற்றொருத்திக்கு உரைத்து, ஒரு பேதைக்குப் பொய் குறித்துப்

புரிகுழல் மங்கை ஒருத்தி தன்னைப் புணர்தி: அவளுக்கும் மெய்யன் அல்லை;

மருதி இறுத்தாய்!உன் வளர்த்தியூடே வளர்கின்றதால் உந்தன் மாயை தானே.

Rajendra Kumar · Kulasekhara Azhwar

“You gave a sidelong glance at a woman whose dark hair was adorned with flowers, at the same time letting your heart to another woman, told another woman that ‘I am yours’, misled another woman by giving a false promise of meeting at a place which is non-existent and finally embraced another woman. But you were not loyal even to her. Oh, the one who broke the Maruda trees! Your deceit and trickery grow along with You!”

While the humour cannot be missed, so is the poetic beauty.

It is this aspect that makes Bhakti literature shimmer like the full moon.

And that invariably brings us to music. What make a composition shimmer are the tune, and the rhythm. But, is that all? Aren’t there hidden meanings in the tune and the rhythm? Well, this time rather than calling these ‘esoteric’ and taking an escape route, I am going to focus on those inner meanings, aka nuances and intricacies.

If I say that Raasa Leela VeLa from Aditya- 369 (1991) is a classic song, will I not be stating the obvious? At times, stating the obvious is never tiring even if it is stated ad nauseam. For starters, it is based on the Hindustani raag Madhukauns, which is the prati madhyama counterpart of Shuddha Dhanyasi. To make the terminology clearer, Shuddha Dhanyasi has one variant of ‘ma’, while this one has the other variant, with the rest of the swaras being the same. More on what these swaras are, in a bit.

I wouldn’t call it pure Madhukans as there are traces of the other ma and even a couple of alien swaras, albeit sparingly. Anyway, this is beside the point.

Let me first go to the beginning. The differently sounding guitar plays ta ka dhi mi/ ta – first and then ta – dhi mi/ ta –. People who are regular followers of this blog, will be able to decipher this as the micro-beats of Tisram. For the benefit of others, let me tell you that Tisram is the 3-beat cycle – ta ki ta – and when it is expanded, the micro-beats are generally ta ka dhi mi ta ka, that is 6. In this particular instance, not all the micro-beats are played and therefore the gaps are called ‘karvai’.

Going back to the rhythm, the same pattern is repeated twice. Then there is that magic. The guitar now sounds ta ka dhi mi, which is the 4 - beat cycle, called Chatushram. A manual count indicates that it is sounded 15 times, which makes it 15x4, which is equal to 60, which is divisible by both 3 and 4!

In between, during the 7^th ta ka dhi mi, the strings enter and play in higher-octave. It is like a sudden downpour from the heavens. Yet another guitar responds to the strings now and then. Note that there is no percussion until now, though the taaLa pattern is as clear as the crystal.

The percussion enters and plays ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka dhi mi/ - - - -. Wait ! Ta ka dhi mi is four. But did I not say the composition is in tisram (3)?

Is it confusing again? While discussing compositions like this (remember ‘esoteric’), I will not do full justice if I leave out such aspects. So, let me explain. What is 4x3? 12? Does it not have both ‘4’ and ‘3’? Therefore, it is 4 tisrams, played as 3 chatushrams!

This particular pattern appears throughout the Pallavi and the CharaNams.

Let me now take you through the raga aspect. The prelude is a mix of Shuddha Dhanyasi and Madhukauns, but enter the Pallavi (Vocals : SPB) and it is pure Madhukauns. Wait for a few seconds before I unveil the structure and along with it, something else.

Beguiling and Bewitching! This is how I can call the sound of a very different flute in the beginning of the first interlude. Even as it plays sans percussion, the feeling of poignancy cannot be missed. The percussion- in the same pattern described sometime ago- enters and along with it enters the strings vivifying the atmosphere. The flute continues its journey for a while and when it retires, the strings take over and now that ‘something else’ appears.

The structure of Madhukauns is – sa ga2 ma2 pa ni2 Sa. If that ‘pa’ is taken as ‘sa’, it becomes Chadrakauns, another raag known to evoke very deep emotions. And yes, its structure is – sa ga2 ma1 dha2 ni3 Sa.

The technique quoted above is called Gruha Bhedam and let me repeat – people familiar with this blog and the posts here, should be familiar with this term.

This happens when the strings sound the second time. The flute - this time, it is the most familiar one- coos like a bird in Chadrakauns and gives a plaintive cry when Janaki takes over the CharaNam.

The lines in the CharaNam(s) move with grace in that beautiful raga called Chadrakauns until it goes back to Madhukauns just towards the end.

It is flute’s day out in the first half of the second interlude as it bespatters different hues of Madhukauns. Mesmerised by this, the guitar starts dancing like the Gopika. The strings take over in the higher-octave and in the blink of an eye, shifts to Chandrakauns. Finally, the keys sound ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi twice in Chandrakauns.

Isn’t this musical leela? Kulasekhara Azhwar will vouch for this/, wherever he is now!