ILaiyaraaja – The Quick-witted Musician

 

What defines a great piece of work?

It should pierce the heart straight, prise it open, go further deep, search for the soul and stir it!

To a certain extent, this can be called subjective as appreciation- and therefore the experience- varies from person to person. But beyond a point subjectivity and objectivity merge and this depends purely on the conditioning, the upbringing and the exposure to great works, which help the person separate the wheat from the chaff.

As an example, look at the following verse:

தலை மேல தாள்- இணைகள் தாமரைக் கண் என் அம்மான்

நிலைபேரான் என் நெஞ்சத்து, எப்பொழுதும் எம் பெருமான்,

மலை மாட த்து அரவு-அணைமேல் வாட்டாற்றான், மதமிக்க

கொலை யானை மருப்பு ஒசித்தான், குரை கழல்கள் குறுகினமே.

 

The great poet Nammaazhwar describes the Lord at a place called Thiruvattaru. Considered to be the longest Vishnu idol in the country, with a length of 22 feet, the idol also follows the katu-sarakara-yogam, an ancient method of idol-making following very strict norms, in terms of the material, the admixture of river sands, the paste and so on. Most importantly, the idol at that temple is made of 16,008 shAligrAmas, a feat which is monumental. Just for information, a shAligraama is found on the banks of Gandaki river in Nepal and supposedly bears symbols associated with Vishnu naturally without any human intervention.

The great poet who was an erudite scholar. composed the verse(in fact, there are 11 verses composed on this deity and these are part of ThiruvAimozhi which in turn is part of the Naalayira Divya Prabandham!) in keeping with the esoteric elements in the idol.

The meaning of the verse goes something like this:

The lotus feet are on my head; the lotus-eyed one will never leave my heart. He is the One who reclines on the snake at this place which has huge buildings like mountains, the One who broke the tusk of the elephant which had gone mad. I worship his feat.

On the face of it, this looks like a normal verse which extols the virtues of the Lord. But scratch the surface and you will experience a scimitar breaking open your heart.

First and foremost, it talks about strength by talking about the fight with the elephant. Recall that the idol is made of 16,008 small stones bound by thick pastes.

Next, it talks about the lotus feet and the lotus eyes. Beautiful contrast- strength and softness!

Now, lotus is also the mind, symbolically. Mad elephant is the symbol of bad thoughts. Contrasts of course, but it suggests that to take bad thoughts away from your mind, you need to meditate. But the clincher is the connection between the first and the last line- His feet on my head and I surrender to His feet.

Life cycle- Starts with feet and ends with feet.

Visishtasdwaita philosophy in a nut shell!

Read the verse again and you will know why I said it will pierce one’s heart. Perhaps you might end up discovering more too in the process. After all, experience is subjective- or is it?

One gets a similar experience while listening to music in general and ILaiyaraaja’s music in particular. Raaga Deepam YetRum Neram from PayaNangaL Mudivathillai(1982) is a classic example.

In fact, it is a classical example too as it is purely based on a classical raga called Hamsaanandi. This popular raga is a shaadava raga with 6 swaras in the arohaNa and avarohaNa. The reason for my saying that this pierces the heart has to do not only with the tune and the orchestration but also with a hidden magic. This magic is too subtle and yet very powerful. We shall see this as we go along.

One should also understand the background. As per the sequence in the movie, an aspiring singer gets an opportunity to sing in a temple and as he starts singing, clouds gather and the crowd disperse. He does not give up and continues singing and the clouds relent by moving away. The crowd is back and that is the beginning. A beginning in terms of his career as a singer.

The composition starts with the akaaram of SPB. What starts as a free flowing akaaram starts following the chatushram pattern as the percussion joins. The akaaram itself is vibrant and vivacious, drawing the sketch of Hamsaanandi in a matter of seconds. The strings move in higher-octave with a ferocity matching the intensity of the rain.

The first line is conceived meaningfully. It starts with the descending notes and then goes to the ascending notes, indicating the travails of the aspiring singer in particular and also of any human in general. In fact, it defines Life itself.

The lines that follow touches the higher-octave swaras like the upper Sa, Ri and Ga, making it a plaintive cry.

The jalatarangam and the tabla tarang move with a sprightly gait in the beginning of the first interlude, perhaps to show the momentum- the rain and the fluttering of the singer’s heart – contrasting elements. The strings play a flood of melody in Hamsaanandi while the flute depicts the angst of the singer by sliding and gliding. The sitar which responds to the flute initially, moves independently after a while, playing a litany of swaras with ebullience.

The first CharaNam is structured beautifully and like the Pallavi, this too shows the genius of the composer. The first two lines touch the higher-octave swaras, with the second line even touching the upper ‘Ma’, a rarity even in normal classical concerts. The sound of the bell in the background makes it auspicious. It is clairvoyant too, a fact we will see in a bit!

The last two lines have the mid-octave swaras going up and down, with the last line ending with the ascending notes- the mark of a genius yet again!

The second interlude conveys myriad expressions. The strings bellow out feelings with impeccable precision. Suddenly, there is magic. The solo-violin plays rather happily. What makes us feel the happiness is the raga, whose name is Mohanam.

How did the raga change?

Hamsaanandi is one of the ragas from where the pentatonic ragas like Suddha Dhanyasi, Suddha Saveri, Hindolam, Madhyamavati and Mohanam can be obtained by keeping one of the swaras as the base. This technique is called Gruha Bhedam, a fact known to people who follow my posts here.

The Master keeps the swara ‘dha’ as the base here and it shifts to Mohanam. The reason for this has to do more with the sequence and less to show one’s capability. The rain stops and gradually the crowd starts gathering again. Mohanam is considered to be a happy raga and is there any better way of showing emotions and feelings?

The backing of the keys carries meaning too as it symbolises the rain drops!

The sitar plays Hamsaanandi now and the feeling of joy is ineluctable.

The second CharaNam is structured differently with the third and fourth line touching the lower-octave ni, the line that follows showing the arohana(ascent) and the following line reaching a crescendo with the dominant upper Sa.

Piercingly beautiful..

As beautiful as the little stones found on the banks of the Gandaki river and as magnificent as the 22 feet idol which reclines with inherent meaning!!

 

 

ILaiyaraaja – The Contrarian

 

How appropriate is appropriateness in Life?

But isn’t appropriateness itself subjective? Or is it?

At the same time, aren’t there norms and rules and doesn’t one have to strictly follow these and wouldn’t failure to follow these make one ‘appropriately inappropriate’?

Take music, Indian music, in particular. Each raga has ascending and descending notes and if an alien note enters the raga, it is against grammar rules.

For that matter, any work of art(and this includes poems) should follow the grammar without which it becomes meaningless and also cannot be termed as a work of art. But if one goes strictly by the rule book, the work also seems staid, mechanical, monotonous and even unenterprising, thus defeating the very purpose of art.

Any work of art attains a status not only if it is as per rules but also when it breaks certain rules.

Does this sound conflicting and paradoxical?

At the face of it, yes. But scratch the surface and you will see the real meaning; in fact, layers of meanings.

There is something called innovation; there is something called improvisation. Both these are offshoots of creativity. When the artform is kept as the base and new ideas are added to it by stretching the boundary without in anyway crossing the border, it acquires a special beauty. But here too, there should be a broad rule: the thin line distinguishing the border from the boundary should be very clear and not confusing.

And therein lies the hallmark of a genius.

Here is a sample of work from one of the geniuses who preferred to call himself as a ‘servant of the servants’(thoNdaradi podi), and yet was exalted to the status of an aazhwar.

Describing the beauty of the Universe is not uncommon in a poem, even if it is a verse dedicated to the Divine. However here, the poet looks at it in a different way. Let us see the verse first:

 

கதிரவன் குணதிசைச் சிகரம் வந்து அணைந்தான்;

கன இருள் அகன்றது காலை அம்பொழுதாய்;

மது விரிந்து ஒழுகின மா மலர் எல்லாம்;

வானவர்கள் அரசர்கள் வந்து வந்து ஈண்டி,

எதிர்திசை நிறைந்தனர்;இவரொடும் புகுந்த

இருள் களிற்று ஈட்டமும் பிடியொடு முரசும்

அதிர்தலில் அலைகடல் போன்றுளது எங்கும்;

அரங்கத்தம்மா! பள்ளி எழுந்தருளாயே!

 

Raja4376 · Paasuram

The sun has come to the east; No more darkness and it is the dawn; Honey oozes out from the flowers; Devas, Kings, male elephants, female elephants- have lined up; The drums sound with resonance; It seems like the sound of the ocean. Oh! Ranganatha!! Please wake up.

What is different here?

It is believed that it is the Divine which is responsible for the Universe, the actions, the activities and the beauty. Here, the poet describes the beauty to the One who is responsible for that and most importantly, has the audacity to ask that ‘One’ to wake up as if the Divine sleeps.

Is this appropriate or inappropriate?

Rather than trying to figure out an appropriate answer, let us all understand that at times there is beauty in inappropriateness and that it is this beauty which makes any work aesthetic and immortal.

And yes, this does not exclude musical works.

Take this particular song – Paadu Nilaave from Udaya Geetam(1985). For starters, it is based on a raga called Mohanam. Note the word –‘based’. As I have mentioned in many of my posts, it is not the raga alone which matters.

Now, Mohanam has just 5 swaras- sa ri2 ga3 pa dha2- with the numbers below each note referring to the variant of that note. ILaiyaraaja as such has composed many songs in this raga, with some being in its ‘purest’ form and others with a mix of alien notes. Generally, the alien notes would be the notes non-existent in the raga, say – the swaras, ma and ni. At times, it would also be the other variant of the 3 notes – ri, ga, dha-, but these would be sparingly used.

‘Paadu Nilaave’ is different and in more than one way.

The composition starts with the akaaram of Janaki which is graceful and bewitching at the same time. The strings reply with equal grace and with a sense of awe. As soon as the akaaram gets over, the strings take over and how? There are three sets with one set playing a tantalising melody and the other two sets playing a repeat melody alternating with each other. Even as this is on, the feeling of poignancy is ineluctable. This itself is somewhat unusual because Mohanam is a raga known for creating a happy mood. Now, read my line on ‘raga’ in one of the paragraphs!

The bells sound softly leading to the Pallavi which again has that sense of melancholy, not least because of the entry of the other variants of ‘ga’ and ‘dha’ with the former going on a procession along with its brother(ga3) and the latter combining once with its brother(dha2) in the end, giving that chromatic effect.

The procession continues in the first interlude with the strings sounding gingerly in the beginning. The next set of strings continue like a chain-link along with the subtle guitar. The chain-link is maintained by the piped instruments even as the strings back them like the wispy thread. As if not to be shown to be someone who is left behind, the flute enters and plays plaintively even as the two sets of strings back it, with one being dominant and the other, subtle. All these join together towards the end, making pensive glides and evoking a mélange of feelings.

The musical procession continues in the CharaNams with the first line alone in Mohanam and the following lines filled with the other ga. The other dha too appears now and then towards the end. This of course is just the technical side. But the feelings and emotions evoked by the lines and the flute ‘between the lines’ which billows a lugubrious and yet sweet melody, take us to empyrean heights.

The entry of SPB after the first CharaNam, vivifies the atmosphere and makes us expect more.

Our expectations are not belied. In fact, what happens is even beyond one’s expectations.

The second interlude is vivacious to start with. The strings and a phalanx of instruments play in Mohanam with vibrancy and catapults us to a sea of happiness. It is a flood of melody with the electric guitar trotting up and down with the strings backing it assiduously and different sounds ( 4 to be precise) going up like the Diwali crackers.

And then something happens…

A group of strings play in higher-octave with precision. Another set of strings supports it like a balustrade. Keys sound the notes like an incantation. But all these in a totally different raga called Pantuvarali.

Let me now touch upon something technical. Ragas like Pantuvarali are so flexible that if one takes out ‘sa’ and ‘pa’ and does gruha bhedam, one can get the popular pentatonic ragas like Mohanam, Hindolam, Suddha Dhanyasi, Suddha Saaveri and Madhyamavati. So, if the swara ‘ga’ of Pantuvarali is kept as the ‘sa’, it gives Mohanam. ILaiyaraaja has done this in the ‘Violin concerto’ in ‘Rajapaarvai’. But what he has done here is something unthinkable. He has done what can be called a ‘reverse gruha bhedam’. Honestly how he did it remains a mystery at least to me. He shifts from Mohanam to Pantuvarali in a jiffy and gets back to Mohanam towards the end of the interlude, which of course can be deciphered rather easily, as the ‘ga’ of Pantuvarali is kept as the ‘sa’.

So, how appropriate is the prolific use of the other variants in Mohanam?

How appropriate is the reverse gruha bhedam leading to a totally different raga?

Do we need answers or do we just need to see the beauty in being ‘inappropriate’ like ThoNdaradipodiyaazhwar who had the audacity to describe the beauty to the Creator and asked him to ‘open his eyes’?

Being inappropriate is appropriate, at times.

Being inappropriate is aesthetic, at times.

Being inappropriate makes our life beautiful, at times.

Do you agree?

 

 

ILaiyaraaja – The Simple Labyrinthine

 

Things which appear easy, tend to become complex. Things which seem to be complex, turn out to be uncomplicated.

Are things really simple? Or are they seriously complex?

How do we then define anything? Are things definite or indefinite?

As if to give an answer to these complex questions, a poet composed this verse nearly 13 centuries ago:

  நின்றனர் இருந்தனர் கிடந்தனர் திரிந்தனர்,

நின்றிலர் இருந்திலர் கிடந்திலர் திரிந்திலர்,

என்றும் ஓர் இயல்வினர் என நினைவு அரியவர்;

என்றும் ஓர் இயல்வொடு நின்ற எம் திடரே.

 

He stood; He sat; He lay down; He wandered.

He does not stand; He does not sit; He does not lie down; He does not roam around.

Forever unstable; Forever stable.

 

Confusing? Contradictory?

Probably, yes; Probably, no. ‘Yes’ because it does sound complex. ‘No’, because this is how the Divine is.

Composed by Nammaazhwar, the four-lines define Life itself. Does this mean that Life cannot be defined? While I would prefer to answer this a little later, say towards the end, at the same time I would like to say that all great things have that duality and that once we see the duality, decipher it, comprehend it and assimilate it, Life gets beautiful. In fact, to put it the other way, we see the beauty in Life. After all, it is the way we see which matters.

These thoughts came to me while listening to ‘Nannu Nannuga’ from his most recent ‘Rangamarthaanda’.

For starters, it is based on a raga called Hamsanandi, a raga known for its classical contours. Secondly, it is fast paced, a quality not usually associated with that raga. Thirdly, the orchestration is totally in western style. There is a fourth factor too, but it is better that we see this a little later, not without a reason.

With bass guitar starting the proceedings, the akaaram in the voice of Gayathri starts on the third beat of the chatushram cycle. Generally akaaram does not follow time signature, but there are exceptions, this one being a perfect example. There is a touch of nonchalance in the way the bass guitar sounds and it adds to the experience. The drums join now and then even as the colours in Hamsanandi glow in the akaaram like a luminous light brightening as it charts a path.

With melody wrapped by the alluring swaras that are woven with silken threads, the Pallavi starts after 16 cycles of Chatushram. Rather unusually long, it sails like a ship on azure blue waters with the waves moving like the cradle and the silvery reflection of the full moon glistening on them. The ‘nidhamagari’ phrase in the end gives the quintessence of Hamsanandi, proving the fact that complexities are after all simple.

The enticing bass guitar takes over in the first interlude. It is beguilingly beautiful as the drums sound intensely and with an intent. The synth instruments enter even as the bass guitar sounds in the background and plays a tantalising melody. The bass guitar and the drums interject and does it seem tenebrous? Well, not at all. It seems like a bright light passing through a tunnel. Like a sudden lightning, the electric guitars glimmer and disappear. The keys play a soft melody. But there is more to this than meets the eye.

Remember the fourth factor mentioned in the beginning?

The keys play in Mohanam, a raga not usually related to/with Hamsanandi, but the key word here is ‘usually’.

The concept of Gruha Bhedam is complex. If one takes a raga like Hamsanandi, considers just the swaras- ni ri ga ma dha- and keep each swara as the ‘sa’, one gets the five popular pentatonic ragas- Madhyamavati, Hindolam, Suddha Saveri, Suddha Dhanyasi and Mohanam respectively.

So here the Master takes the ‘dha’ of Hamsanandi as the base and the raga gets transformed to Mohanam in a jiffy. The keys sound in Mohanam and this continues in the CharaNam. The third line reverts to Hamsanandi and this happens when the ‘ga’ of Mohanam is kept as the base. It is Hamsanandi all around till the end of the CharaNam even as the phrases follow the ‘ta ki ta/ta ki ta/ ta ka’ pattern.

Subtle and powerful. This is how one can define the electric guitar in the beginning of the second interlude. Covering the entire gamut of the raga, it bespatters nectar in its inimitable way. But here too, the fourth factor comes into play. Keeping the ‘ri’ of Hamsanandi as the base, the raga shifts to Hindolam- when its sounds the melody the second time. The synth guitar gets back to Hamsanandi and skitters through with a flourish.

With the Gruha bhedam just before the end of the second interlude, the second CharaNam straddles between Mohanam and Hamsanandi, the former in the first four lines and the latter in the second-half, but there is more to come..

Drenching us in a quick shower, the synth instrument plays a melody in Hamsanandi ending it in the swara ‘ri’. Keeping this as the base, Gayathri sings the swaras, and needless to say, it is in Hindolam. The swaras swing and rock touching the ecstatic realms of music. Just towards the end, it gets back to Hamsanandi, but this time without the swara ‘ri’, which as per Carnatic music, is a raga called Sunaadavinodini.

Hamsanandi, Mohanam, Hindolam, Sunadavinodini..

Same swaras, but different ragas..

Same colours, but different complexions..

Complex?

Nammaazhwar gives the answer!

ILaiyaraaja – The nonconformist

Questioning the status quo..

Is it good or is it bad?
Is it right or is it wrong?
Is it sacrilegious or is it sacramental?

Well, it is next to impossible to pass any judgement on this as many things in this world are subjective. Even things which have to be dealt with objectively have now become subjective with the social media playing no small role in this. With the space for free thinking and taking a neutral view shrinking by the second, the line between good and bad, between right and wrong and sacrilege and sacred is blurred now. A blur which even a very powerful lens cannot set right. The incapacitation of free thinking individuals would surely make George Orwell turn in his grave.

I write this not just because I am dismayed by the happenings around me of late, but also because of something specific which happened around one and half months ago in the Tamizh land. It all started with a Group questioning a set of devotionals hymns in praise of one particular God. Though I haven’t watched the video(nor do I intend to watch it anytime in the future), I have an idea of the gist of what the Group said. Unsurprisingly, the right wing reacted and this triggered a slanging match. Now, a third Group emerged and it said the God under reference was always a tamizh and that it was the ‘Aryans’ who imposed their beliefs and thoughts on the Tamizh people.

Sadly enough, all the three groups are wrong.

First and foremost it baffles me to find a language colour being given to God. Isn’t the Divine Force above everything? Secondly, what an individual or a set of people believe should be considered as faith as long as it does not affect or hurt others’ sentiments. Thirdly, and most importantly, in the absence of historical documentation, it is literature which acts as the barometer of culture and beliefs prevailing during those days and what is mentioned in literature should be respected by one and all. As a person who has studied Tamizh literature – Sangam literature in particular- let me tell you that Muruga was part of people’s life in the Tamizh land even 3000 years ago. He was the Lord of the Kurinji land, one of the five lands. He was worshipped no doubt, but tamizh people also considered him not just as a God but as somebody in flesh and blood like us.

One of the earliest works in Sangam Literature , ‘Pari paadal’, written somewhere around 500 BC, describes as to how his two consorts –VaLLi and Devasena- quarrelled with him out of sheer possessiveness and here is a sample:

இகலின் இகந்தாளை அவ்வேள் தலைக் கண்ணி
திருந்து அடித்தோயத் திறை கொடுப்பானை
வருந்தால் என, அவற்கு மார்பு அளிப்பாளை
குறுகல் என்று ஒள்ளிழை கோதை கோலாக
இறுகிறுக யாத்துப் புடைப்ப
ஒருவர் மயில் ஒருவர் ஒண் மயிலோடு ஏல
இருவர் வான் கிளி ஏற்பில் மழலை
செறி கொண்டைமேல் வண்டு சென்று பாய்ந்தன்றே
வெறி கொண்டான் குன்றத்து வண்டு.

Devasena first chides him for ignoring her. Muruga goes after her and falls at her feet. Pacified by this act, Devasena offers her breasts to him. Suddenly VaLLi emerges and unable to bear this sight, ties Muruga’s hands, and hits him with her garland. Now, the peacocks take sides with one set attacking the other with rage. The bees perched on the flowers adorning VaLLi’s hair aggressively attack the ones sitting on Devasena’s hair. This is how a poet by name KuRumbhootanaar describes the scene.

An objective (underline this word) interpretation of this verse suggests the following:

1.Muruga ‘existed’ in the Tamizh land more than 2500 years ago.

2.He was considered as a man with flaws and not the one who was infallible. But he was also God and this means that people did not have any qualms in taking liberties with him and that it was not blasphemous to consider Gods as humans.

3.Devasena was not somebody who was a ‘creation’ of a particular clan and she existed as Muruga’s consort in Tamizh literature.

4.Eroticism was part of poetry and therefore culture in the Tamizh land and people were comfortable with this without attaching any taboo to this.

Let me clarify that I have placed things as they are and my bias or faith play no role in this. Finally, the verse I quoted says it all, in terms of aggression and instigation and let it be understood that this verse was chosen intentionally. And the verse has relevance to the song of the day as well. But before that, I must also explain the relevance of this episode in this forum.

While questioning the status quo has to be encouraged, what should be put down is the objective and also doing it just for the sake of doing. As a musician, ILaiyaraaja has time and again questioned the status quo for all the right reasons, albeit through his works. People who follow the posts here regularly know that he has used ragas considered to be sad in happy situations and vice versa. He has done many more but what is amazing is that though he has redefined the boundaries, he never crossed the border. The output is there to see and it fully justifies the act. What one gets to see are not just some unknown dimensions in music but also some beauteous shades of music.

‘Yaari Gaagi’ from the Kannada film ‘Bharjaari Bete’(1981) is a disco club song. As per the sequence that is. But what the Maestro did here would make Edward de Bono proud. First, he used a pure classical raga called PantuvaraLi for this sequence. Secondly, he used classical percussion instruments like the mrudangam in one of the interludes. Thirdly, he did the unthinkable. What that ‘unthinkable’ is, will be explained soon.

Before that, let us see the composition from the beginning.

With rumbling blustery, the drums move in chatushram as ta ka dhi mi ( 1 2 3 4). After six 4’s, the bass guitar enters and plays with equal ferocity. After a while, the magic is unravelled. The bass guitar plays to a cycle of three 4’s making it rupakam in the slow speed, while the drums continue in 4’s. The electric guitar prickles while the distortion guitar glides. The saxophone moves with sprightly variations. Isn’t this a labyrinth?

The labyrinthine pattern slowly organizes itself with the chorus showing some simple images in Pantuvarali which gradually becomes ornate with the keys backing the chorus in a unique style. The fact that the chorus too hums in ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi cannot be missed. So is the fact that the lead guitar doing the same, adding that mystical charm. The seamless transition to the Pallavi , what with Janaki joining even as the guitar completes the last ta ka dhi mi, is amazing. The vocals move with musical awareness maintaining the cardinal aspects of PantuvaraLi, at the same time being flamboyant. The guitar backing is the icing on the cake.

The call and response between the electric guitar and the bass guitar in the first segment of the first interlude is a delightful treat. If the electric guitar is laced with clarity, the bass guitar replies with buoyancy. The saxophone plays with a sense of angst and realising this, the bass guitar too goes with this flow. The latter sounding only the ‘ta ka dhi mi’ leaving the next two syllables blank, makes it all the more exciting. The lead guitar enters again and in its inimitable style plays the three 4’s- the leitmotif – twice. The CharaNams are intriguing to say the least.

If you recall my introductory lines about this song, there was a third point which I said would be elaborated later. This of course calls for some technical explanation. In many of my previous posts and also in my presentations (in person during Geetanjali and through virtual medium during Raaja Deepam), I have explained the concept of Gruha Bhedam. Put simply, it is the shifting of tone, keeping one of the swaras in a raga as the base sa. This tonal shift gives another raga. There are also some conditions and rules. The raga after this shift should be a valid raga. But one has the liberty to play around too. One can drop a swara and make it a valid raga. One can add a swara or two and make it a valid raga. It all depends on the innovativeness and the brilliance of the musician/composer. Needless to say, ILaiyaraaja has done wonders in this aspect carving a niche in for himself.

As per theory, only one valid raga can emerge if Gruha Bhedam is done on PantuvaraLi. If the ‘ni’ is taken as the base, one gets Kanakangi. However, in the Hindustani system, if the Moorchana(Gruha Bhedam is known by this term in this system) is done on the swara ‘pa’ on Puriyadhanashiri-the equivalent of PantuvaraLi, it gives – sa ri1 ga3 ma1 ma2 pa dha2 ni3 Sa- which is raag Lalit. The carnatic system generally does not allow two ‘ma’s. Raaja sir has even done this shift from Lalit to Puriyadhanashri and vice versa in two different songs. What these two songs are, have been described in my sessions and therefore need no explanation or even a mention now. But in ‘Yaari Gaagi’, Raaja sir does the unthinkable. He does Gruha Bhedam on ‘pa’ and drops the second ‘ma’(ma2) and ‘pa’. But he also drops the ‘ri’ in the arohaNam. Thus, we get Vasanta, a well known raga. This happens in the second segment of the CharaNams.

It goes back to PantuvaraLi in the last line.

Innovative improvisation conceived and executed with a touch of brilliance and with a dash of aesthetics!

It is the tani aavartanam between the drums and the mrudangam which steals the show in the second interlude. The thunderous sound from the western instrument is complemented by the resonating sound of the percussion instrument from the southern part of India. The long flute and the bass guitar which follow the rhythmic fireworks, make it intriguing with their effervescent melody.

Being a rebel is not bad.
Being a revolutionary is fully justified.
Questioning the status quo is not sacrilegious.

But do it wherever needed and whenever needed with sensibility and sensitivity. Hope the three Groups are listening!


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