ILaiyaraaja – The Extemporaneous Musician

 

Have you all seen the white clouds in the sky? Have you noticed some beautiful patterns that keep changing now and then, and also reminding us of some figures familiar to us?

Have you seen a flock of birds fly? Have you noticed the different formations?

Have you seen the waves in the sea? Have you noticed the undulating motif?

Have you seen different flowers in a garden? Have you noticed the floral design?

How do these happen? Is it that the clouds think and form patterns? Is it that the birds talk to each other and make the formations? Is it that the waves plan and follow the motif? Is it that the flowers draw a design on a paper and then bloom?

The answer is simple – It just happens. And when it ‘just happens’, it is naturally beautiful. Not just beautiful but meaningful as well.

This applies as much to poetry and music.

That child was just around 3 when it started composing verses. Not just simple verses but ones pregnant with meaning with layers and layers of hidden beauty.

His very first verse was this:

தோடுடைய செவியன் விடை ஏறி ஓர் தூவெண் மதி சூடிக்

காடுடைய சுடலைப் பொடி பூசி என் உள்ளம் கவர் கள்வன்

ஏடுடைய மலரான் முனை நாட்பணிந்து ஏத்த அருள் செய்த

பீடுடைய பிரமாபுரம் மேவிய பெம்மான் இவனன்றே.

 

Rajendra Kumar · Todudaiya Seviyan

This what is its meaning at the surface level:

The One who has an ear stud; The One who rides on a Bull; The One who wears the pure white crescent moon on His head; The One whose body is smeared with the ashes from the crematorium; The One who stole my heart; The One who blessed Brahma- who is seated on a lotus.

Scratch the surface and you will find the layers.

As per Shaiva Siddhanta, there are 5 deeds of Shiva – Creation, Protection, Destruction, Hiding and Blessing.

Here, the first two phrases – Ear stud and the Bull -define the Creation, the second one- Crescent Moon- defines Protection, the third one – Ashes- defines Destruction, the fourth one – stealing the heart – Hiding- and the last one – blessing Brahma – Blessing.

Would that 3-year old child -who went by the name Thirugnanasambhandar- have thought all these before composing? ‘These’ include the description and the inner meaning? Would he have thought that he was giving the ‘Shaiva Siddhanta’ in a capsule form?

Not really.

At the same time, did he not know all these?

Yes, he did. But the difference is – the thought and the output overlapped. In other words – It just happened.

What we are going to see now is another case of things ‘just happening’ and falling in place. In fact, it just not ‘falls into place’ but makes it extraordinary.

‘Unai thedum neram idhu’ from ‘Ponmekalai’(2005) is a composition based on a very classical raga. This raga which goes by the name Naattai, is considered a ghana raga (meaning ‘heavy’). It finds a place in Tamizh paN as Nattapaadai. Note that Tamizh music has been in existence for more than 2,000 years ago. Most importantly, the verse I quoted sometime ago was also set in this paN (is it a coincidence or did it ‘just happen’?).

Even a causal hearing would suggest that the sequence involves a music teacher and a student. But what is to be noted is something else. Let us go step-by-step.

It starts with an exquisite akaaram (Bombay Jayashri) which impacts our full sensorium. The student (no idea about the name of this singer!) repeats the akaaram. The akaaram continues, touches the higher-octave, and gives a sketch of the ragam in a matter of seconds, giving way to the Pallavi. But there is magic just before this.

Towards the end of the akaaram, the mrudangam starts playing. Before I go further, let me mention certain things briefly.

As is well-known, a composition in general follows a time signature called ‘taaLa’ in the Indian classical system. There are many taaLaas but let me confine myself to this composition and say things that are pertinent to this.

This composition follows the 8-beat taaLa, known as ‘Adi taaLa’. This 8 can be subdivided into many multiples. Here, it is subdivided into 16. This 16 can be played in different ways.

Composers who are different, think differently, a fact known to many. Here, the Master divides that 16 as –

1/ 3/ 3/5/4.

But it does not end there. He gives ‘kaarvai’, which can be called a gap or just ‘silence’.

Therefore, it goes like this-

-/ 1 - - / 1 - - /- 2 3 4 5/ - - - -.

If represented in the language of Carnatic music, it is

(ta)/taangu/taangu/(ta) te e ta a/ (ta ka dhi mi).

The ones in the brackets are the kaaravai(s).

This is just during the akaaram.

The Master that he is, he changes the pattern in the Pallavi:

3/3/2/3/5.

And yes, there is kaarvai here too:
1 - -/ 1 - -/1 -/ 1 - -/ 1 - - - -.

t(aangu)/t(aangu)/dhi -/ta - -/ ta - - - -.

The enticing bass flute and the graceful violin combine together in the first interlude giving a soothing experience. But what adds to the beauty is the mrudangam which follows the first pattern.

The CharaNam follows a normal pattern, playing all the syllables. Suddenly, the pattern shifts to the one in the Pallavi until the swara segment.

The twin-violins move assiduously giving the essence of the raga in the second interlude. Needless to say, the rhythmic pattern is the first pattern.

The different structures in the two charaNams cannot be missed. Nor the fact that it ends with the saahityam and the mrudangam following – ta ka dhi mi/ta ka/ ta ka dhi mi/ta ka/ ta ka dhi mi.

It just happens!

If you do not believe it, ask the One who wears the stud, the moon, sits on the bull, smears the ash on His body and gives His blessings.

If you do not believe in Him, it is perfectly understandable.

Just listen to the song multiple times, and you will agree with me and say ‘Oh, yes! It just happens!!’.