ILaiyaraaja – Musician with a Desire

 

Is longing for something bad?

If we long for something or yearn for somebody, we become obsessed with that thought and we set aside everything in life focussing only on one thing, which seriously impacts our life itself.

So, is it good or bad?

Before we sit on the Judge’s seat, let us look at something.

Here is a girl who pines for a man and in the process goes to an extreme. Who that man is and what that extreme is, will be known in a bit. First, the verse:

 

மச்சு அணி மாட மதிள் அரங்கர் வாமனனார்,

பச்சைப் பசுந்தேவர் தாம் பண்டு நீர் ஏற்ற

பிச்சைக் குறையா ஆகி, என்னுடைய பெய்வளை மேல்

இச்சை உடையரேல் இத்தெருவே போதாரே?

 

The one who lives in the place called Srirangam- which is full of decorated walls- once took the form of a dwarf , went to an Emperor and asked for alms. Even after getting the entire Universe as a ‘gift’, He was probably not happy. But wouldn’t his longing be fulfilled if he looks at my bangles and therefore wouldn’t He just pass through this street(where I am standing right now)?

If by now you haven’t guessed who that ‘she’ is, let me tell you that her name is AandaaL and that this is from her immortal work called ‘Naacchiyaar Thirumozhi’.

At the surface, the verse may not convey much except for the rhyming words. But scratch the surface and meanings- esoteric, poetic and philosophical- will gush out just like water let out from a dam.

First- the contrasts.

He is rich as the place where He lives is surrounded by huge and beautiful walls. At the same time, He went for ‘begging’ as a dwarf. Here too there is a contrast- High walls/Dwarf/

Second- psychology.

It is she who longs for Him and yet she imagines and believes that it is He who longs for her.

Third- Poetic imagination.

This requires no explanation. Nor do other elements because of reasons that are obvious.

So, is longing good or bad?

A true artiste (by ‘artiste’, I mean one who looks at the world with an artistic eye) longs for beauty. Beauty in whatever he or she does; beauty in the world; beauty in thoughts.

Example : AandaaL

Example : AandaaL’s Ranganatha

Example : ILaiyaraaja.

While I have already given explanation for the first two, I would refrain from doing it for the third because I have done it innumerable times here. Therefore, let me straightaway go to explaining yet another composition of his.

What strikes one the moment one listens to ‘KaNNa Varuvaaya’ (Manadhil Urudhi VeNdum – 1987) is the hidden silence. If silence itself is beautiful, imagine how beautiful hidden silence could be. There is that sense of poignancy too which in a way is intrinsic in the raga called Gowrimanohari.

This raga is sandwiched between Kharaharapriya and KiravaNi-two ragas with contrasting emotions- but is unique and has a charm of its own. By the way, some classify ‘KaNNa Varuvaaya’ under Patdeep- supposedly the Hindustani counterpart of Gowrimanohari- but I feel it is wrong because the former has only 5 swaras in the aroh while the latter has all the seven both in the aroh and avaroh and the fact that this composition too has the ‘ri’ and ‘dha’ in the aroh(and yes, in the avaroh), rules out the Hindustani raag.

I was talking about the ‘silence’ and ‘poignancy’. The composition starts with the humming of the chorus which can be called tenebrous. One gets to see the lambent light when the keys enter and play ‘ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka’. But the mystic feeling is accentuated by the single- stringed instrument which follows and the subtle flute which ‘sings’ along with the chorus. The tabla trots up and down in tisram playing ‘ta ki ta’ eight times and the Pallavi begins.

The Pallavi in the voice of Chitra is marked by the mid-octave swaras to start with, but suddenly there is a surge. In the second line, the higher-octave ‘Ri’ and the upper ‘Sa’( twice ) appear in the second phrase- mannan- showing the creative genius of the composer. But even this is nothing when compared to the last line in which the lower ‘ni’ follows the mid-octave ‘ri’ (maalai malarcholai) and when the upper ‘Ri’ appears immediately after the mid-octave ‘ri’(nadhiyoram) which is followed by the upper ‘Ma’ and a slide-Ga Ri Sa ni dha pa ma- and this in my view, is simply magical.

What is also magical is the first interlude. If the bell sound being followed by the strings-which give the contours of WCM- shows one kind of contrast, the veena and the strings beguile us with a different kind of contrast. The strings play in higher-octave with flourish with two different sets playing ‘second fiddle’ in different octaves. Layers?

The percussion stops now letting the flute vivify the atmosphere with the strings providing the contrast yet again.

The voice of Yesudas starts the first CharaNam which yet again has different permutations and combinations of the swaras in Gowrimanohari, with the higher-octave swaras being juxtaposed with that of the mid-octave swaras and finally ending with the signature ‘Ga Ri Sa ni dha pa’. But this is just theory and is of academic interest. The entire CharaNam conveys love, separation, longing, and yearning.

As I keep saying, raga and swaras are just tools to convey and invoke the emotions. A composition goes much beyond these, a fact proved yet again here.

The solo-violin pines. The group of strings responds. The solo-violin pines again. The group of strings responds again. This interplay of emotions happens in the beginning of the second interlude and this segment goes sans percussion, adding to the feelings.

The chorus continues and is backed only by the single-stringed instrument making it tantalisingly beautiful. The percussion says ‘I can wait no longer’ and backs the veena and the metallic western instrument which alternate between each other even as the chorus continues its journey. There is brief silence yet again with the veena scything through the silence in its inimitable style and the strings responding in kind.

The second CharaNam is different from that of the first CharaNam in terms of the gait and in terms of the combination of swaras. It goes in the next speed and each line is divided into three 4s-ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi. The first two lines go ascending while the next two lines go descending. If one sees the contrast again here between the first two lines and the next two lines, one can see yet another contrast in the structure of the second set(third and fourth lines) with the first half sliding from the upper Sa and the second half sliding from the upper Ga. It reaches a crescendo in the end.

Is longing full of contrasts?

Then, is it good or bad?

AaNdaaL, ILaiyaraaja and Ranganatha might give an answer.

Maybe, they may not…

ILaiyaraaja – The Articulate Musician

Expressing oneself is an art.

This said, it is not as easy it seems to be. First of all, why should anybody express themselves? Is it to make others understand what is it that which is in their mind? Or is it to counter others’ arguments and show their dominance? Or is it even a part of self-awareness, so that only after they talk do they even understand what is in their own mind?

One can go on exploring this and I am sure one will get hundreds of answers and possibilities, but rather than getting into mundane levels, let us look at a slightly higher or an exalted level.

When it comes to expressing oneself, the first thing which comes to my mind is ‘fine arts’. The very reason for my using the word ‘art’ in the first line is because of this. I feel poetry too is a form of fine arts and therefore would include this. Don’t we feel the expression of the poet-despite not knowing his/her face- in a poem? It is an expression which one would find difficult to express.

Let us look at a poem in which the poet describes a lover’s state and condition after seeing his lady love. Rather, he makes the lover describe it in his own words to his friend who seems baffled at his behaviour.

‘The pure- white water flows down the sky-high mountains,

roars even as it passes through the caves meeting many beautiful flowers on the way,

 The beauty of the girl with the broad shoulders, who hails from a village near the flowering slopes, is as gentle as that pure white water

And alas, it has weakened my strength -which was as powerful as fire.’

மால் வரை இழிதரும் தூ வெள் அருவி,

கல் முகைத் ததும்பும் பல் மலற் சாரல்

சிறுகுடிக் குறவன் பெருந்தோள் குறமகள்

நீர் ஓரன்ன சாயல்,

தீ ஓரன்ன என் உரன் அவித்தன்றே.

This poem is from KuRunthogai which is part of the 2,500 year old Sangam literature and was composed by a poet called Kapilar.

What is amazing is the fact that the poet has used similes and contrasts brilliantly and beautifully and in effect made us all feel the state of mind of the lover and his expressions.

Now, see this- Pure white water is compared with her beauty, while fire is his strength. Roaring sound of the water falls is the roaring sound in the mind of the love struck hero while the flowers depict her beauty. Broad shoulders of the girl match with that of his and in my opinion also depict the valour of the girl.

Can love be expressed in a better way?

That is the beauty of our poetry- sangam poetry in particular.

That is the beauty of our music too.

Oh, yes, I am probably jumping the gun but there is beauty and poetry in jumping the gun, at times.

How ILaiyaraaja’s music depicts love making us fall in love again and again, is a fact known to all of us. But what is extraordinary is the way he expresses love, or rather makes the hero or the heroine of the movie express love.

‘Oru Kunguma Chengamalam’ from ‘Aaradhanai’(1981) is an example.

Generally, a love duet in an Indian film will have the male and female exchange a truck load of adjectives with the music complementing the exchange. Not many composers have thought out of the box to make this expression of love sound differently. Needles to say, ILaiyaraaja is one of the few who think differently. Since this is not the time to list out, I leave it at that and move on to the composition, or rather the speciality in the composition.

First and foremost, only the male voice renders the lyrics and the role of the female voice is limited to humming. But it is this limited role which gives unlimited joy. Secondly, the humming is neither repetitive nor is it formal. On the other hand, it is variegated and even poly chromatic. Thirdly, there is interplay between the humming and the rhythm. The third point alone is enough to show the out of box thinking, but let us see the whole picture and then the details as we move on.

For the record, the composition is based on Gowrimanohari, but as I keep saying ad nauseam, it is not the raga which is important as much as the way it is used.

The composition has a rather eerie beginning. One hears the bird calls –one responding to the other- albeit musically in the swaras of Gowrimanohari. The flute wafts us along through quietude even as the bird calls sound in the background and the percussion sounding the first and the third syllables. The keys follow to the subtle backing of the strings.

The Pallavi has some chiselled phrases in Gowrimanohari and sounds scintillating in the voice of SPB. The last line takes an unexpected and at the same time unobtrusive turn, showing us a different dimension of the raga itself.

The humming of Janaki starts in the beginning of the first interlude. This short humming lasts for just two chatushram cycles with only the bass guitar sounding now and then in the background. The brevity is striking. The luminescent flute follows and it is then a play of light and shade with the eerie bird calls following too. The bass guitar follows too with that insouciant grace it is known for.

The strings which take over now, glissade. The pizzicato (plucking of the violin strings with the fingers and without using the bow) is the icing on the cake. The flute joins in between. Can a slide and a glide be more beautiful and enjoyable than this?

The first two lines of the CharaNams have a cherubic charm. The following two lines are vivacious not least because of the humming of Janaki which appears towards the end, sounding different each time.

The humming appears again in the next segment of the CharaNams, but this time it is different as it is in mid octave the first time and in the higher octave the second time. The imaginatively conceived last line makes us visualise some beautiful images.

Probably, the last line of the first CharaNam is a kind of precursor to what is to follow in the next interlude. Janaki starts humming the tune of the first half of the Pallavi and the percussion falls silent. This goes on for 3 aavartanams and the tabla suddenly appears and plays for 1 aavartanam. Janaki continues the humming in the next aavartanam(after the first beat) and the tabla continues. It looks as if the humming is free - flowing and yet it follows the chatushram beats. The humming gushes forth as a deluge roaring like a lion but sounding as melodious as a cuckoo. 

Mesmerised by this, the flute chips in with the melody it is known for.

After this spectacle, the flute draws some ornate images to the accompaniment of the keys and the bass guitar with the tabla taking a break. The strings which respond with sobriety takes over and repeats the melody of the flute in higher octave with yet another set of strings echoing it in mid-octave.

Expression of Love!

Expression of Music!

Waterfalls and Mountain!

Water and Fire!

Isn’t poetry beautiful?

Isn’t music beautiful?

Isn’t life more beautiful with such expressions?

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ILaiyaraaja- The Passionate Musician

The word ‘Romance’ is very interesting. It is said that it is a feeling of mystery combined with excitement. If this is the case with the noun, what does one say of the adjective- Romantic? One of the definitions is ‘one who has an idealised view of reality.

In fact, in the West, there was something called Romantic Movement, which was an artistic, literary and musical movement during which Nature was glorified with clear emphasis on emotions. This happened in the 19^th century and is celebrated as ‘one of the golden eras’ in the west. What baffles me is the fact that despite such a movement existing in the Land of Tamizh more than 2000 years ago, no westerner (with some exceptions) is aware of either the Movement or the works related to the Movement.

The Sangam era in the Tamizh Land has given us many great works which is to be cherished not just by the Tamizh people but by all folks across the globe. What make the work great are the description of Nature and the way this is connected to different human emotions.

Let me give a very small sample:

விரிதிரைப் பெருங்கடல் வளைஇய உலகமும்

அரிது பெறு சிறப்பின் புத்தேள் நாடும்,

இரண்டும் தூக்கின், சீர் சாலாவே

பூப்போல் உண்கண், பொன் போல் மேனி,

மாண் வரி அல்குல், குறுமகள்

தோள் மாறுபடூஉம் வைகலொடு எமக்கே.

Enraptured in the embrace of his Lady Love, the man says ‘There is nothing to equal this; not even the beauty of the world which is surrounded by the vast oceans; nor the heavenly celestial world.The joy and pleasure I get from the embrace of this girl whose soft eyes are lined with kohl and whose loin has some beautiful lines are unmatched.’

This is just a loose translation and it cannot bring out the true emotion of this poem. For the benefit of non-tamizh people, I have recited the poem here:

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See how the poet ‘drags’ Nature in this and how beautifully he describes it. The moment we read the first line, the azure blue ocean appears in our mind’s eye. This poem was written by a poet called ‘Paroovu Movai Padumanaar’ and is part of ‘KuRunthogai’.

True Romanticism almost 2000 years before that Movement started in the West!

When it comes to Romanticism, it is impossible not to mention about ILaiyaraaja and a majority of his works. A romantic is one who gives an idealized view of reality and whose works have a strong effect on others’ emotions. Most importantly, he/she is a connoisseur.  Taken in this context, Raaja sir is a true romantic.

Now, see this song-Adhikaalai Nilave from Urudhi Mozhi( 1990)- and see how romance runs as the undercurrent. What makes this composition great is not just the raga Gowrimanohari but also the taaLa. It is set in Khandam which is unusual and rare in a filmy composition. Having said that, it is this 5-beat cycle which gives a new dimension to the composition..

The beginning of the composition can be said to be both ‘unusual’ and ‘usual’-the former because not many film songs start just with the sound of the bells playing the taaLa, and the latter because Raaja sir is known for such innovations.

The bell which sounds ta -/ta – ta , gives an aura of serenity. The humming of Janaki which follows the Bell, is haunting with an unmistakable touch of poignancy. Who said poignancy is alien to romance? The fact is, both go hand-in-hand!

The strings go up like waves, back the vocals and then keep quiet even as the Tabla takes over. The keys give a beautiful sketch of Gowrimanohari playing the ascending and descending notes in the blink of an eye. The shrill flute plays a lilting melody, gives a pause, and the keys move downwards to signal the beginning of the Pallavi.

The beginning of the Pallavi is again interesting. As many of you know, ‘pa’ is the middle-note and ‘Sa’ is the highest note in a particular octave. The Master composer combines the two giving an amazing effect. ‘pa pa Sa Sa’ –adhikaalai- brings us the vision of the dawn in a matter of seconds. Having done this, he goes to the lower octave note ‘ni.’ in the next line and bringing a higher octave note ‘Ri’ just before the end. Still not satisfied with this, he adds a sangati after the last phrase of the Pallavi.

Beautifully Musical and Musically Beautiful!

‘And that was just a beginning’, this is what we are forced to say when we listen to the first interlude. To start with, the guitar plays with palpable buoyancy and exuberance and moves with a regal splendour. The flute permeates an exclusive fragrance and what is stunning here is the transition from ‘no percussion’ to ‘percussion’. So seamless is it that one can be excused for not noticing this. The guitar melody continues in the background as the strings repeat the melody of the flute with fervour. The flute appears again, this time with a flourish, and then romances with the strings. The two play in perfect unison indicating a sense of balance and going into a state of blissful harmony. The keys yet again end with a smile.

Tender! This is how one can define the CharaNams. Smeared with a plenitude of podi sangatis, the lines move with a distinct flavour. Here too, the lower octave ‘ni.’ appears. So does the higher octave ‘Ri’. But the jewel in the crown is the last line in which the first two phrases-namai vaazhththa- and the last phrase-thalai kuniyum- have the same set of swaras but in two different octaves, -Ga Ri/ Sa Ri Sa ni- and ga ri/sa ri sa ni..

Can any of the description of his compositions be complete without my bringing that term ‘Laya Raaja’? Here too, he enters with full energy in the second interlude. First, he makes the tabla sound sharp. Then he makes the tabla play all the syllables of khandam-ta ka/ta ki ta. Does he stop there?

He breaks the khandam syllables into micro-beats – in the second half of the even cycle. To elaborate this further, the tabla plays ta ka/ta ki ta during every odd cycle and ta ka/ta ka dhi mi ta ka for every even cycle. So, it alternates between the two for 18 full cycles. The icing on the cake (or should it be icing on the tabla) is the very different sound-probably from bamboo- made in between two cycles!

Meanwhile, the flute hovers around with inspirational flashes and the strings play with vivacity in higher octave after the 18^th cycle, giving a sense of tranquility. After 8 cycles, the sharp-tabla and the flute reappear, playing that leitmotif for 4 cycles.

Can the Azure-blue ocean or the Heaven give so much joy?

One has to ask the sangam poet again.

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ILaiyaraaja - Musician with a Poise

What makes a work of art immortal?

It should be attractive, catchy, beautiful, graceful, elegant and have a sense of balance and purpose. It should give us an aesthetic experience. It should pierce our heart and touch the soul.

Let us look at this Poem:

குவளை நாறும் குவை இரும் கூந்தல்
ஆம்பல் நாறும் தேம் பொதி துவர் வாய்க்
குண்டு நீர்த் தாமரைக் கொங்கின் அன்ன
நுண் பல் தித்தி மாஅயோயே
நீயே அஞ்சல் என்ற என் சொல் அஞ்சலையே
யானே குறுங்கால் அன்னம் குவவு மணல் சேக்கும்
கடல் சூழ் மண்டிலம் பெறினும்
விடல் சூழல் நான் நின்னுடை நட்பே.

This is addressed by a man to his beloved. Sensing her fear that he might desert her, he says,
‘Oh dear, do not fear!’

But how does he say this?

He first starts with describing her beauty- ‘Oh the dark girl whose hair smells of blue water lily blossoms, whose honey filled mouth has the fragrance of white water lilies and whose face has some beautiful tiny spots like the pollens of lotus flowers which grows in deep ponds!’

Next, ‘Even when I say don’t fear, you are scared’.

Finally he assures her,. ‘Even if this land which is surrounded by the big ponds and the ocean on whose shores the short-legged swans live, is offered to me, I will not abandon you’.

Note that there are three parts in the poem.

Describing and praising the woman for her beauty (isn’t this what men do to impress a woman first?).

Lest she feels he is flattering her just to escape from the situation, he makes the next statement.

But still this can be considered to be a false promise and perhaps not too convincing. So he says, ‘Let the world be offered to me. I won’t leave you’.

Psychology at its best!

The similes are used with a purpose. A swan is supposed to possess the quality of separating milk from water. Lotus is a flower with a sense of balance.
By using these two, the poet conveys that the Lover (man) is genuine.

Isn’t it a beautiful poem about true love?

This poem-written by a poet called ‘SiRaikkudu Aandhiyaar’ is taken from ‘KuRunthogai’, which is part of the 2500 year old Sangam Literature. If we quote and discuss about this after so many centuries it is because of the inherent grace, elegance and a sense of balance.

I am sure the works of ILaiyaraaja will continue to be discussed like this for the same reason.

The song of the day is special.

The fascination of his compositions is contained not so much in the way he sheds light on its beauty as on how aesthetic beauty evolves in his hands. This fact is fully evident in this song.

‘Muththamizh Kaviye Varuga’ from ‘Dharmaththin Thalaivan’(1988) in my opinion is one of the greatest love duets in Tamizh Film Music. It is soft and yet goes deep into our system kindling all subtle emotions hidden inside us. This composition is also an example of how he strikes a balance between classical and light and how he improvises his deep knowledge of the ragas/taaLas.

For starters, this composition is based on Gowrimanohari and is set to Chatushra Eka taaLam.

The Maestro touches some of the niceties of the ragam, and adds an alien note very sparingly to give it a different complexion. But two things make the composition unique and beautiful:

1. Chatushram beats used as the leitmotif
2. Silence.   
  
Please recall that in ‘Solaippovil maalai thendRal’(incidentally based on the same raga), a pattern where the taaLa was divided into 16-maatras appeared as the leitmotif. Let us see what happens in ‘Muththamizh Kaviye’.

The composition starts with the stringed instrument playing with a unique suppleness for two Aavartanaas(cycles) of chatushram sans percussion. The Chorus starts the humming in Gowrimanohari with the percussion playing ‘ta – dhi -/ta ka dhi mi’- stress on the first and the third syllables the first time and all the four syllables the next time. It is sedate and classy.

This continues for four cycles after which the Chorus sings only for one beat during the samam (beginning of the taaLa) sounding ‘ta- dhi –‘ in melodic form. The keys respond for the next 3 beats of the TaaLam. This happens for four full cycles.

This pattern is the leitmotif and in fact defines the entire composition.

To start with, the first two lines in the Pallavi- in the beautiful voice of Chitra- go plain without any backing of percussion with the drums sounding only at the beginning of the cycle. After 2 cycles, the TaaLa pattern appears and backs the vocals till the last line of the Pallavi.

The Pallavi starts with the ‘sa’, touches the mandara ‘ni’and goes on the ascending in the first two lines. The alien swara ‘ni2’ peeps in very briefly in the following two lines. The second part of the last line goes descending (Sa ni dha pa ma) and ends with a beautiful podi sangati (maga marisa). Yesudass’ voice is as soft as ever.

The Composition starts in samam. The first two lines have the vocals only in the first 3 beats of the TaaLa with the last beat being played only by the percussion. While the gap is for 4 maatras before the second line, it is for 6 maatras before the third line as the line ‘Kaadalenum’ starts after the samam. Isn’t silence beautiful?

The first interlude is replete with reposeful ingredients. Yesudass’ voice from the Pallavi merges with the flute in the beginning. The Flute-backed by the folksy string- goes on its own trip. It is joyous; it is tantalizing; it is magical. The entire piece which runs for 8 cycles, becomes more meaningful with the absence of the percussion. The drums sound once at the end of odd cycle and twice at the end of even cycle.

The wondrous piece ends, the leitmotif appears for two cycles and guides to the CharaNam. Here again, the third rendering merges with the beginning of the CharaNam.

The CharaNams reveal the musical sensitivity and the sensibility of the composer. If the  recurring ‘ma pa pa’ phrase is exquisite, the use of upper ‘Sa’ and ‘Ri’ in the following lines are emotive.

The penultimate line and the last line are classically brilliant. The penultimate line goes on the descending first and then cheekily adds the alien swara ‘ni2’ while the last line has the ‘podi’ sangatis and finally the akaaram that first ascends (ri ga ma pa dha ni Sa Ri), then sandwiches ‘ni’ between the two upper ‘Sa’s and finally descends (pa ga ri).

The second interlude has a stupendous appeal. Peppered by the stringed instrument, the Flute which plays with an unmatched passion is interlaced with two more flutes playing in different octaves. The leitmotif appears again for the next six cycles.

Elegant..Graceful..Balanced..
..like the Lotus Flower and the Swan!

ILaiyaraaja's Music - Pleasant, Beautiful and Brilliant

Sometime back, I had written in one of the posts that certain words in Indian languages cannot be translated into English. Even if one manages to translate, the charm and the real meaning of that word will be absent.

Take the word ‘manoharam’ for example. Can we translate it as ‘being pleasant’? If so, will it do justice to the original word? ‘Manoharam’ is something pleasant and beautiful. Is there an equivalent word in English?

Works of geniuses always have this manoharam.

In my previous post on ‘Koththamalli Poove’, I quoted a verse from Kamban. Here is a verse on somewhat similar lines but with a more spiritual and mystic content and meaning:

தேமாங்கனி கடுவன் கொள விடு கொம்பொடு தீண்டித்

தூ மாமழை துறுகல் மிசை சிறு நுண் துளி சிதற

ஆ மாம் பிணை அணையும் பொழில் அண்ணாமலை அண்ணல்

பூமாங்கழல் புனைசேவடி நினைவார் வினை இலரே.

‘The male monkey plucks the mango from the branch and the droplets of rain water scatter and fall on the rock. Assuming it to be the real rain, the cows run towards the garden to take shelter. People who think of the feet of ANNamalaiyaan-which is decorated with the flower-like anklet, will be free from all karmas. ‘

As I said in the beginning, the English translation may not exactly convey the beauty of the poem which is ‘manoharam’ personified. It has very deep inner meanings too with the male monkey symbolizing our mind full of impurities, the droplets being all our misdeeds, the cows symbolizing good and noble thoughts.

‘A noble soul can recognise bad karmas and misdeeds and attain divinity by moving away from these’.

I feel this is the crux of the poem. One cannot help feeling very pleasant after reading the poem because of the way the poet has described the scene.

This verse is part of Thevaram written by the child prodigy Thirugnanasambhandar, whose verses I have already quoted in many of my posts in this blog.

The music of ILaiyaraaja has that manoharam because it is beautiful and divine. His compositions also carry the stamp of brilliance because of the way he conceives the ideas-albeit spontaneously- and embellishes the compositions with his innovativeness. This is also because of his deep knowledge of classical music. It is therefore not surprising that each and every composition of his has a uniqueness which is unmatched.

The speciality of the song of the day is that it is based on a raga which incidentally has the word Manoharam. Did I say ‘speciality’? No, it should be ‘specialities’ because the song is special for more than one reason.

The raga is Gowrimanohari, which is the 23rd mela ragam.True to its name, the raga has that pleasantness which is as soft as an evening breeze.

Is it just a coincidence that Solaippoovil maalai thendRal from VeLLai Roja (1983) is based on this raga?

Let us get into that ‘specialities’ I mentioned.

Firstly, it is purely in this raga without any deviation whatsoever.

Secondly, the rhythmic pattern of the percussion.

It is a fact that he lays a lot of stress on Laya and is a Master in this. In this composition, the laya pattern itself is the leitmotif.

Let us see that first.

The composition is based on Chatushra Ekam- 1 2 3 4. As already explained in all my Laya Raaja posts, the beats are subdivided as ‘maatras’ and obviously will have to be the multiples of the base taaLam. Here, the Master first subdivides it into 16. He then gives the syllables as :

Ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka dhi mi/ta ka ta ki ta ta ki ta.

Then he assigns the instruments to play these and how to play these.

The percussion instrument to play the first four syllables, another percussion to play just the third syllable in the second part, a sharp sounding melodic instrument to play only the third and the sixth syllables in the second part. The Bass guitar will of course back it from time and time and the other melodic instruments will be simultaneously played. And of course, there shall also be phrases where I will stop the percussion.

This is how his mind must have worked while composing.

So, how do the syllables look now?

Ta ka dhi mi/- - dhi-/- - ta - - ta - - - - -

As already mentioned, this runs as the leitmotif almost throughout the song giving it a very special colour.

Let us now look at the composition as a whole.

Clothed in mellifluous warmth, the keys -backed by the sympathetic strings, subtle drums and the Bass Guitar- move at a steady pace. After 3 aavartanaas, the strings join and move with a splendour. This goes on for the next 4 aavartanaas after which the magic starts. Here too, the brilliant composer gives variations. The flute and the stringed instrument(santoor?) alternately play during each aavratana of the leit motif. Finally, the stringed instrument plays the aarohaNa of Gowrimanohari leading us to the Pallavi.

We hear only the upper Sa during the first four phrases in the first two lines. In the last line, we see pa and ma, ma and ga, ga and ri pairing together to draw a beautiful sketch of the raga.

The Flute in the beginning of the first interlude plays with an aesthetic solicitude. That the echo and fading effect is not given using any sound technology but is still ‘sound’ shows the genius of the composer yet again. The Bass Guitar in the background and the drums at the end of this Flute- section add to the glory. The leitmotif starts now and the guitar plays with a sense of poignancy. The strings reply rather soberly too. After 6 aavartanaas, the strings take over with exuberance with the Flute giving the ‘jawabs’ to the ‘savaals’ posed by them. It is lilting and graceful. The keys produce the bells sound and the strings nod their heads in appreciation.

The first 2 lines of the CharaNams have the avarohaNa swaras only. The following 4 lines too almost have the avarohaNa pattern except for the two phrases in the end of each line. The higher octave notes -Sa Ri Ga - appear in the next two lines even as these lines go on the ascent. The last ‘la la la la’ is a masterstroke with Janaki singing the higher octave notes Ri Ma Ga Ri Sa Ga Ri Sa and SPB completing it with ri ga ma pa dha ni Sa Ri-the beautiful arohaNa of the raga.

The Flute and the strings interspersed between the lines in the CharNams are subtle as well as sumptuous.

The second interlude has varied sequences. First we have the strings playing what in WCM is called as March Music. After three aavartanaas, the prominent solo violin plays with suave even as the set of strings continue their journey. The keys then go with a bewitching fragrance backed by the leitmotif with the special music of the prelude(in the very beginning of the song) appearing at the end of each melodic line. The conspicuously thrilling strings join with other instruments and touch the higher octave.

The ‘pa pa’ in the end when the Pallavi is rendered and the postlude with strings and the bells are mysteriously charming.

Manoharam..