ILaiyaraaja - The Empath

 

Being compassionate is one of the virtues of poets and artistes. Only if one is compassionate can he/she understand real emotions and feelings. Concomitantly, this gets reflected in their works. A genuine poet/artiste imagines himself/herself to be the character/thing. In other words, they get into the skin of the character and the output is for all of us to see.

This poet, who loved Krishna from the bottom of his heart imagines himself to be His mother and sings a lullaby. Now, see what happens.

 

கான் ஆர் நறுந்துழாய் கை செய்த கண்ணியும்

வான் ஆர் செழுஞ்சோலைக் கற்பகத்தின் வாசிகையும்

தேன் ஆர் மலர் மேல் திருமங்கை போத்தந்தாள்

கோனே! அழேல் அழேல், தாலேலோ! குடந்தைக் கிடந்தானே! தாலேலோ!

Rajendra Kumar · Periyaazhwar - Kaan aar

 

Lakshmi- the One who is seated on the lotus flower- has sent you a garland of Tulasi and a bouquet of flowers from the Karpaga tree. Oh my dear Emperor, please do not cry! Wear these and sleep peacefully.

 

The poetic beauty in this verse composed by VishNu cittar-better known as Periyaazhwar- cannot be missed; nor can the compassion and care. If the Tulasi and Karpaga Vriksha (considered to be a tree which can grant the boon one wishes for) are aesthetically beautiful, the line that says ‘Lakshmi has sent it’, is imagination at its best. After all, as per legend isn’t Lakshmi, Vishnu’s consort? Wife sending flowers to her husband who is in the form of a child, is unthinkable and yet shows the power of ‘decorative imagination’. But beyond all this is that ‘assuming the role of His mother’. Stroke of a Genius!

In the song of the day, the female character assumes the role of a mother. But what stands out is the way the it has been composed making one say that the composer has assumed the role of a mother. Yes, the wordings of the song are pregnant with meanings and feelings, but it is the tune and the orchestration that make it complete; that provide the soul.

For starters, Naan Undhan Thaayaaga VeNdum (Ullasa ParavaigaL), is based purely on that classical raga called Mohanam. As I have often been saying, a raga is just a tool and it is in the hands of the composer to make it beautiful. This composer is known to embellish any raga with his creativity making one see different shades and colours. In this song too, Mohanam shimmers with beauty even as it is heard from different instruments- some known and some unknown.

But there is also another aspect which is special like most of his compositions and we shall see this first.

The composition is set in the 6-beat cycle Rupakam(some may say it is in Tisram, but I feel Rupakam is more appropriate, though both are related, in terms of the count). The prelude goes without a percussion, but it absolutely fits in Rupakam. After a sustained sound for two cycles, one hears the bell sound for the next eight cycles. A very different instrument sounding like the violin takes over and goes on for the next six cycles until yet another differently sounding instrument – like the sympathetic strings one finds in stringed instruments- sounds for two cycles taking us to the Pallavi.

Starting without a percussion first with the rhythm guitar joining soon and sounding ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi constantly, the Pallavi sounds like a riddle-especially the second half- to many. But the fact is – Aanadhellam/ Aagattume/Aaruthale/Serattume/Aanandame/Vaaaaa- follows the 6-beat cycle with 3 rupakams (or 6 tisrams).

Let us now get on with the melodic part.

If the sustained sound in the beginning is sober, the sound of the bell is alluring. It quietly plays the notes of Mohanam and ends with the descending notes. The special instrument – sounding like the violin – is genuinely special as it oozes compassion. The sympathetic instrument that follows seems to say, ‘Forget your worries, I am there as your mother’.

Starting with gaandharam (ga), the Pallavi in the voice of Janaki gives a sketch of Mohanam in no time, at the same time giving that ‘motherly’ feel.

With finesse, the keys start sketching Mohanam in the first interlude and the strings reply with flourish. The flute now continues the sketch in its inimitable style. It is then left to that special instrument we saw in the prelude to complete the sketch with rounded mellowness. Not satisfied yet, the flute and the strings give some splendorous touches to the sketch.

The five swaras of Mohanam take a meandering stroll in the CharaNams. The appearance of the upper ‘Sa’ in the penultimate line, gives the impetus while the podi sangatis in the last line, warm the cockles of one’s heart.

The special instrument does it again in the second interlude. It is intense and at the same time abloom with brilliant colours. The flute sounds now and then and it seems like a mother-son interaction. With unobtrusive energy, the strings move in higher-octave after this and the conversations between different instruments suggest something.

What is that?

Read the first paragraph again and you will fin

ILaiyaraaja – The Adoring Musician

 

Looking at that figure, he cried ‘Ayyo!’

Who? What figure? Was it so scary and horrific to look at?

Before I attempt to answer these questions, I want to ask a series of questions:

What happens to us when we are in awe of something? What happens to us when we are filled with joy? What happens to us when we are ecstatic?

The answer is simple – We forget totally forget ourselves and utter something which others might consider offensive.

This is what happened to that gentleman. Yet, there is a difference between ordinary (us) and extraordinary (geniuses). While we would just stop with meaningless sounds or words (at times even expletives), the latter give an aesthetic form to it.

Here, the name of the genius is ThiruppaaNaazhwar. He looks at the magnificent figure of Ranganatha in Srirangam and his thoughts veer to one of His earlier forms – Krishna as an infant just before the end of the Dwaapara yuga. It may be noted that as per mythology, it is believed that before any Yuga ended, there would be a cataclysmic event. I do not want to expand this now as it is out of syllabus. But what I am going to tell you is the gist of the entire verse where that expression quoted in the beginning appears.

He swallowed the seven worlds and lay on a small fig leaf. Now, He is lying on the gigantic snake, wearing a garland of gems, and a pearl necklace. Oh! My heart is full now.

 

 

ஆல மா மரத்தின் இலைமேல் ஒரு பாலகனாய்

ஞாலம் ஏழும் உண்டான் அரங்கத்து அரவின் அணையான்

கோல மா மணி ஆரமும் முத்துத் தாமமும் முடிவு இல்லது ஓர் எழில்

நீல மேனி, ஐயோ! நிறை கொண்டது என் நெஞ்சினையே!

Rajendra Kumar · ThiruppaaNazhwar

Can one even define or explain that ecstatic ‘ayyo’?

On the other hand, awe-stuck by the poetic beauty, we exclaim – Ayyo! We cannot go beyond that. But geniuses are different. They are aesthetic in their approach and in their expressions.

After having seen that Azhwar and his expressions, let us see a Raaja and his expressions.

The composition is about a couple who discover that they have fallen in love just then. Isn’t this a normal sequence in an Indian movie? But geniuses make ordinary seem extraordinary with their approach. And at the surface level, it looks pretty simple. Scratch the surface and you will find many layers.

Om Namaha from Geetanjali (1989) is a composition based on a raga called Hamsanaadam- a pentatonic raga, which once upon a time had six swaras, but that again is out of syllabus here. It is a very pleasing melody without a doubt, set in the 7-beat cycle, Mishram. But, is that all?

The percussion- rhythm pads- mimics our heartbeats. Love from the point of view of a connoisseur. But what is amazing and astonishing is the fact that one hears these heart beats throughout the song, a rarity for a composer known for changing the patterns in a jiffy. Again, that is not all.

Mishram is – ta ki ta/ ta ka dhi mi (1 2 3/ 1 2 3 4). Rather than playing all the seven beats, the percussion plays just the first, second, fourth and fifth with another melodic instrument playing the sixth and the seventh. Time now to scratch the surface.

One hears the sound of the rhythm guitar in the background and this plays all the seven beats. This is subtle while the other one is prominent. Doesn’t this convey the philosophy of life itself? The heart is at the superficial level but depends totally on the soul.

Heart – Rhythm pads.

Soul – Rhythm guitar.

Possible only by geniuses who are also connoisseurs of life!

There is yet another ‘ayyo’ moment which we shall see at the end. But before that, let us look at the interludes which too showcases the connoisseur of music.

With a haunting charm, the mandolin unfolds the beauty of the raga. The strings glide in quietly and spread the fragrance. The keys coo like a bird with the guitar giving that touch of mellowness.

With musical elegance the lines in the CharaNams, show us the unique melody of the raga, with that mandra staayei nishadam giving that Raaja muttirai!

We shall see the CharaNam again in a bit.

Beginning with the sound of the bells, the second interlude sways gently and makes us sway as well. With winsome variations, the flute shows different hues of the raga with the strings making the glow of the raga enter our consciousness.

And now for that moment. Just before the 5^th line, the Master keeps the panchamam (pa) of the raga as the base Shadja (sa) and shifts it to Gambhira naattai. It returns to Hamsanaadam in the next line.

Is it done to show the majestic quality of love?

Or is it just the connoisseur in action?

We don’t know. All we know is to say ‘Ayyo!’

 

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!

 

 

ILaiyaraaja – The Breezy Musician

 

Wind is poetic. Wind is musical.

Isn’t that the reason for many poets describing the wind, using similes, keeping wind as a metaphor and even symbolising wind as an ambassador?

Before I go to the second element which finds a mention in the first line, let me briefly delve into the first element. Tamizh grammar gives different names to the same wind depending on the direction from which it blows. As per literature(and as per one’s experience as well), the quality of the wind varies and is purely dependent on the direction. Concomitantly, our feelings and emotions too vary. As an example, the wind blowing from the south is ‘thendRal’ and is supposed to be very pleasant. On the other hand, the one blowing from the north- vaadai- is supposed to evoke the feeling of viraha (separation).

Would you believe me if I said that an entire piece of work in literature revolves around the wind, the one from the north to be precise? Viraha, which is the quality of vaadai, runs as the undercurrent in Nedunalvaadai, which is part of the Sangam literature. Composed by Nakkeerar, it is in praise of Thalaiyaalangaanaththu cheruvendRa paaNdiyan Nedunchezhiyan. Unlike many other works, the hero appears only towards the end and even this is brief as the verses here talk about his visit to the camp to see the warriors who fought for him in the war. Pregnant with descriptions about nature, the palace and the cot for most part, this work is on the viraha feelings of the queen who misses her husband and leaning on the ivory cot with tears in her eyes, listens to the prayers to Goddess KotRavai.

Did I not mention that viraha runs as the undercurrent? It actually runs subtly even in the description of nature. One has to read between the lines to comprehend, grasp, understand and appreciate this fact. What I am giving below is just a sample and these three lines appear almost towards the end of the work.

வடந்தைத் தண் வளி எறிதொறும் நுடங்கித்

தெற்கு ஏர்பு இறைஞ்சிய தலைய நன் பல

பாண்டில் விளக்கில் பரூஉச்சுடர்  அழல.

The cold wind from the north blew and whenever it blew, the thick flame in the round lamps, swayed and tilted towards the south.

Pretty simple, right? North to south. It is logical, scientific and natural. What is great about this?

Anyone who loves just the surface and wants to stay only there, is bound to ask this.

But people who hate the word ‘superficial’, will say these:

But scratch the surface; go beyond that.

Don’t read just the lines; read between the lines as well.

Always aim to see the unseen.

If we follow the latter, we can discover a gold mine. The Queen’s location(no GPS those days!) is to the south of the place of war. By saying that the vaadai was blowing, the poet first touches upon the viraha. He goes a step further and rather than saying that the lamps went off(which is what happens when the wind blows), he says the flame just tilted towards the south, indicating that there is a happy ending and that the king will return to his palace after emerging victorious in the war. The flame can also be considered as a symbol for the queen, with the vaadai being the emotion.

This is what the wind does to the imagination and creativity of poets.

Doesn’t the same happen in case of music and therefore with musicians as well?

That we cannot hear music in the absence of wind, is too well known a fact to be even mentioned. But the fact that some geniuses have used the different types of wind, musically is something which is known and yet has to be mentioned.

Here is a naayika, besotted completely with her lover and finds music as a form of expressing her desire and yes, viraha. The genius that he is, ILaiyaraaja uses a classical raga known more to invoke the feeling of devotion and certainly not associated with romance, unlike pentatonic ragas or even complete ragas like KalyaNi.

The raga Simhendramadhyamam is deep and unlike its Shuddha Madhyama counterpart KiravaNi, is not universal. It does take a lot of gumption to use this raga in a romantic set up. He has done this before as well in ‘Aananda Ragam’, a song I discussed here four years ago (ILaiyaraaja – The Prudent Musican- 14^th April 2019) . But this one is different, in fact it is a study in contrast.

If ‘Ananda Ragam’ is racy like the wind from the north, ‘Thaalaattum PoongaatRu Naanallava’ (Gopura Vaasalile- 1991) is like the wind from sea, soothing and yet deep with a degree of heat present innately.

The initial humming of Janaki is like the Kacchaan(wind from the west), soft, quiet and mild. In a matter of seconds, one sees the sketch of the raga. With the santoor interjecting with grace, the small flute moves elegantly. Two other flutes take over and play simultaneously with panache, one in higher-octave and the other in lower-octave, thus showing the contrasting emotions- joy and viraha. Like the wind which go up and down during the rain, the keys sound the ascending and the descending notes of the raga.

The Pallavi (vocals: Janaki) too has the ascending(rigamapa) and the descending swaras (magarisani.) in the first two phrases of the last two lines(oh nenjame/en nenjame).The third line (varuvaayo/ vaarayo) exudes with viraha with some closely packed swaras (padhamapagamapaga) in vaayo and raayo.

The strings in the beginning of the first interlude, move with ferocity like the KundRavaadai (wind from the North- East). Meanwhile, the flute moves with vibrancy like the Karunkondal (South-East) with the guitar passing like the cross wind, in between. One sees the two layers of the wind in the two sets of strings. While one is boisterous and vivacious, the other is delicate and subtle. The santoor and the keys sway like the branches of the trees.

The flute continues its wave of enthusiasm in the CharaNams as well, showing up between the lines again in ascending and descending fashion alternately. One also sees the sudden upward movement of the wind towards the end of the CharaNam with the penultimate line showing a steady climb to start with (sariga), a descent(risasa), a sudden jump(from the lower sa straight to the upper Sa), a slight descent(SaniniSa) and then an intense descent in the higher-octave (GaRisa). The last line is a mix of ascent and descent just like the wind blowing in the mountains.

Vaadaikachchaan (South-East) meets Kacchankodai (South-West) in the first half of the second interlude. This is how one can describe the flute melody and the santoor melody. If the former is plaintive and deep, the latter is jubilant and gentle. So captivating is this spectacle which is full of contrasts that even the percussion stops playing, absorbing itself in the beauty. Two sets of strings go in tandem, one in lower-octave and the other in higher-octave and this seems like the meeting of Vaadai and ThendRal.

Wind is poetic; Wind is musical..

..just like Life!  

ILaiyaraaja – The Concordant Musician

 

There is rhythm in life. There is rhythm is nature. There is rhythm is every living being. There is rhythm in every art form. There is rhythm is poetry.

Yes, I have stated the obvious and surely not something which is not known to a connoisseur. But what is rhythm? Is it a pattern? Is it what is called ‘beats’? Is it the TaaLa?

Rhythm is all these and also much more than all these.

Look at this verse:

 

கண்ணொடு கண்ணிணை நோக்கொக்கின் வாய்ச்சொற்கள்

என்ன பயனும் இல.

 

It simply means – When two pairs of eyes meet in unison, is there any need for words?

What is rhythmic about this?

Let me try deciphering the syllables in music parlance:

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

Raja4376 · ThirukkuraL - recited by Raj(me)

Am I talking about this rhythm alone? Not really.

As mentioned in the beginning, rhythm is not just the beats or the count, though these too are part of it. It is the inner meaning, the subtler one.

One pair of eyes meets the other pair; Silence.

Visualise the above-mentioned line. You will feel the rhythm, the rhythm of love.

And this is what immortal works do for us- make us see the unknown through the known. And that is why, ThurkkuRaL is still popular even after 2000 years.

What I am going to discuss now is on yet another work, which though is not that old-compared to ThirukkuraL- will surely fall under the category of ‘immortal works’, a fact which will be known 2000 years from now. Needless to say, whose works are being referred to here and so let us move on and look at one of the compositions under this category.

Without a doubt, ‘Kalise prati sandhyalo’ from ‘Aalapana’(1985) is rhythmic in the literal sense because of the role played by the rhythm. But beyond the obvious rhythm, there is something subtle as well.

Based purely on Mayamalavagowla, the composition starts directly without a prelude. SPB sings the first phrase just at samam(the first beat of the taaLa cycle) and leaves a gap for 3 beats. What happens during the 3 beats?

The mridangam sounds the four syllables-ta ka dhi mi- during the second and the third beats subtly and sounds the first and the third micro-beats during the fourth beats. Alongside, the flute plays the ascending swaras of Mayamalavagowla with finesse. When the next phrase is rendered, one sees the same pattern, except that now the flute plays the descending swaras(Sa ni dha pa). The same pattern gets repeated during the next two cycles, but here one also gets to hear the subtle sound of the bell.

The next two phrases witness subtle overtones, first from the violin which plays along with the vocals ever so subtly and from the keys which give some special sound, making us also see some different shades of the raga.

The same pattern is seen when Janaki joins, but this time it is just half as she sings only the first four phrases.

The first interlude starts with a catena of rhythmic phrases in Chatushram with the tabla and the mridangam involved in a healthy competition. With flourish and buoyancy, the twin-veeNa gives some beautiful shades of Mayamalavagowla. The flute swirls with unobtrusive energy unmindful of the interjections of the sympathetic strings followed by the veeNa. The rhythm in the melody of the twin-veeNa and the flute, cannot be missed if one observes with perceptive ears and the heart.

What happens then is a cascading progression.

In Classical music, there is something called yati. Rather than delving into it, this being a deep subject and would require a lot of explanation, let me just say that it is an arrangement in a particular pattern. There are 5 different yatis. What we hear in this composition now is what is called a Srothovaka yati with the syllables moving in ascending numbers:

1 2

1 2 3

1 2 3 4

1 2 3 4 5

1 2 3 4 5 6

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

Once this is completed, there are three beats and this is followed by ta ka ta ki ta( 1 2 3 4 5) 6 times, to make the total count 60.

Note that the yati stops at 1 2 3 4 5 6 7.

The CharaNams have four segments. In the first segment, SPB sings for one and half avartanams(cycles) with the akaaram of Janaki occupying the next two beats. In the next segment, the flute sparkles for the two beats with the first six beats(one and half cycles) being sung by SPB. The third segment goes plain. Or does it? Don’t we hear the subtle strings and the bell along with the vocals?

The fourth segment is a rhapsody of sorts. Janaki sings the akaaram reminiscent of the janta varisai and SPB who joins in the next cycle sings along but in a different octave.

Harmony and rhythm flow like a bright stream in the second interlude. The veena plays a melody with the ankle bells backing it. Just after one cycle, the sitar interjects giving a quiet glow. With rounded mellowness, the flute plays the same melody as that of the veena even as this is on. The santoor takes a meandering stroll and plays the melody played by the sitar. This concatenation and the blending of delicate and sonorous sounds, seem like paradise on earth.

The group of veena and the flute glide through with deftly interwoven swaras in Mayamalavagowla. The veena plays the ascending swaras and as if to show that beautiful things never end, the veena and the flute weave a small ‘korvai’ a la Carnatic music concert.

There is rhythm in life. There is rhythm is nature. There is rhythm is every living being. There is rhythm in every art form. There is rhythm is poetry.

What is that rhythm?

 

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 Exotic Musician

 

Tender than the sprouts and having the fragrance of the white glory lily blossoms and water lilies is this young woman’s body. And isn’t it so enthralling to embrace her?

Awestruck by the beauty of the young woman, the man mutters these words to himself.

கோடல் எதிர் முகைப் பசு வீ முல்லை

நாறு இதழ்க் குவளையொடு இடையிடுபு விரைஇ

ஐது தொடை மாண்ட கோதை போல

நறிய நல்லோள் மேனி        

முறியினும் வாய்வது, முயங்கற்கும் இனிதே.

Written by a poet called SiRaikkudi Aandaiyaar, this is part of KuRunthogai, one of the works belonging to the Sangam Era. There is an inextricable link between literature and romance, and it is a known fact that poetry and love go together.

And yes, music and romance go together as well.

One can keep giving examples and this will fill reams and reams of pages. Due to lack of space, let me take up just one now.

Thaana Vandha Sandaname from Ooru Vittu Ooru Vanddhu(1990) is based on a very classical raga called Kharaharapriya. One of the most ancient ragas, this raga is also one of the basic PaNs in Tamizh music and is known by the name ‘Kodippaalai’.

The composition has an unusual start. The guitar sounds with exuberance and continues playing a short melody. The flute ambles and moves with poetic intensity. There is also a very different sound which even sounds eerie. The Jaalra and the very subtle bass guitar combine with all these and the experience is unmatchable.

SPB starts the Pallavi and one cannot miss the sangati even in the very first phrase which goes like nidhapadhaSa. The Master now makes a subtle variation of this sangati and makes the phrase that follows as – nidhapanidhapa.

Subtleties do matter when it comes to music, love and life!

The Master now shows the avarohaNam of the raga towards the end of the next line, but it is the third line which beautifully defines the raga with the typical phrase-rigamagari. The sudden entry of the lower - octave swaras- dha. ni. and sa.- in this line and in the line which follows this shows the classical Raaja at his best.

Sound of the thunder- This is how one can describe the beginning of the first interlude. If there is thunder, how can one stop the rain? It is a rain of melody. The brass instruments move vigorously and melodiously with the strings playing the second fiddle. It gathers momentum with the entry of the guitar and the keys which give a flowery musical expression. The two sets of strings take over now with one set roaring in the higher - octave and the second set moving with disciplined smoothness. What is to be noted is the fact that the two sets play two different melodies parallelly without sounding cacophonic.

The lines in the CharaNams show the classical Raaja yet again in the voices of SPB and Janaki. It starts with the avarohaNam in the beginning of the first line which even goes on to touches the upper Sa.Not stopping with this, it also touches the upper Ri and Ga. But there is more to come. The third and fourth lines see a sudden spurt with the upper Ri following the mid-ri and this goes upper and upper until it reaches the upper Ma, a rarity even in a normal classical composition.

It is the sound of the thunder yet again in the second interlude. But here, for a change the lightning appears after the thunder and most importantly, lasts longer. The keys illuminate the sky with the string of guitar backing it in tisram. The strings now brighten the sky more playing in the higher - octave with the flute moving like a group of twinkling stars now and then. The second set of strings play subtly with elegance. The flute moves up and down with the guitar looking at it with glee and this spectacle takes one to empyrean heights.

Exhilarating experience not dissimilar to the one experienced by that man who felt the fragrance of the lilies..

 

 

Check this out on Chirbit

 

ILaiyaraaja - The Lateral Thinker

 

‘Think Different’.

How does that statement sound? People who are fastidious would jump immediately saying it is grammatically incorrect and they are not way off the mark. It should be ‘Think Differently’ and not ‘Different’.

It would surprise many if I say that these two words were put up in hoardings across the US by a very popular company who also redefined many things which includes even the name of a delicious fruit.

Does it then mean that the company or the ad agency which handled the account did not know proper English? This probably is a logical question but there are times when logic takes a backseat in creativity.

In my opinion, that small ‘mistake’ made intentionally, conveys many things which a statement in Shakespearean English or even Tharooresque  English will fail to convey. When we think differently, all other things take a backseat and yet the output will be beautiful. This is what the ad says and the company proved this by bringing out products and services very different from the usual. Needless to say they were very successful and they continue to be successful with their creativity and innovation.

When we think differently, we discover new things. When we think differently, we feel the difference. When we think differently, the entire world comes to know that we are different.

Look at this poem from KuRunthogai, which is a part of the 2500 year old Sangam literature:

யான் நயந்து உறைவோள், தேம் பாய் கூந்தல்,

வளம் கெழு சோழர் உறந்தைப் பெருந்துறை

நுண்மணல் அறல் வளர்ந்தென்ன

நல்நெறியவ்வே நறுந்தண்ணியவே.

My Lady has fine, cool, fragrant and wavy hair which flows like the honey and is like the fine black sand found on the banks of the Cauvery river which flows in Uranthai, the flourishing town in the kingdom of the Chozhas.

This gentleman is fresh after meeting his lady love. Though many things happen during the meeting (and I leave that to your creativity and imagination), he thinks of and focuses on her beautiful hair. The most common comparison used by poets in general is that with the dark clouds. But this poet- ILankeeran-  is different. He makes his hero think of fine black sand on the banks of Cauvery river at Perundurai in URaiyur . The sand is black, fine, cool and even wavy!

Different thinking! Different expression!

Needless to say we find this in music as well. Take this song ‘Endhan Nenjil Neengadha’ from ‘Kalaignan’(1993).  It is just yet another romantic situation. Or this is how the director would have told ILaiyaraaja. But the genius that he is, he decided to use a classical raga (hitherto not used by any other composer in film music) which actually is not a very traditional raga.

Let me explain what that means. In Carnatic Music, there are some traditional and very old ragas. Some of the examples are ShankarabaraNam, Kambhoji, and Bhairavi. Then there are other ragas directly derived from the 72 melakaratas and these follow a straight pattern. And then there are ragas which are invented by musicologists and musicians which follow a devious structure. Some of the traditional ragas too follow a devious structure ( Ananda Bhairavi for example) but let us delve into this now.

NaLinakanti falls under the third category. It follows –sa ga3 ri2 ma1 pa ni3 Sa/Sa ni pa ma1 ga3 ri2 sa. On paper, this is derived from ShankarabharaNam, but look at the ascending pattern- sa ga ri and not sa ri ga- which makes the structure devious. In fact, this phrase is the defining phrase of the raga itself. Coming to think of it, the raga is Hamsadhwani plus ma, but hardly does one find a resemblance to Hamsadhwani and this has more to do with the devious structure. Whoever invented this raga surely thought out of the box.

We see this out of the box thinking in ILaiyaraaja as well not least because of using this raga in film music for a romantic duet.

Let us see as to how he has used this raga as a tool to depict the varied emotions.

The composition starts with the mellow stringed instruments playing the signature notes of the raga first ascending and then descending. The bass strings sway subtly giving that different complexion while the drums enter with a soft ferocity playing the chatushram beats. The keys take over and narrate the cardinal aspects of the raga with a majestic touch. The entire prelude and the different combinations of instruments enliven the atmosphere and give us a peek into ‘different thinking’.

With the strings backing the voice of Yesudass with élan, the Pallavi moves smoothly like the pebbles on a mosaic floor. The strings give way to the drums and the Pallavi continues giving a beautiful sketch of the raga in the process. Janaki continues the Pallavi and takes us to the first interlude.

The varied texture of the guitar is shown in the beginning of the first interlude. It moves languorously and glides meticulously producing some unimaginable sounds. There are more new sounds as well as we get to hear a kind of ‘whiplash’ during the fourth ‘ ta ka dhi mi’ of every cycle. The strings move with sobriety but rather briefly. It is left to the flute to prickle us softly even as the bass guitar backs it in its own inimitable style. A strange and different combination of keys, bass strings of veeNa and higher octave strings, and the euphony is incredible to say the least. The signature tune which appears in the beginning makes an appearance again and this seamlessly leads us to the first CharaNam.

The first segment of the CharaNam is elegant and gives musical images of romance. Touching the higher octave notes, the second segment is vertiginous while the third segment sizzles with classical fervour and flavour. Laya Raaja too is very active using four different sets of percussion with the first one sounding only the ‘ta’, the second one sounding all the syllables and the other two making a subtle appearance, one in the beginning and the other in the end.

The second interlude is different as well. It starts with the akaaram in the voice of Baalesh. Making an organic progression, it touches the corners of the raga and culminates in swara singing, swaras which are the jiva swaras of the raga. The two sets of strings move like a labyrinth, perceptibly and imperceptibly showing images which are indescribable.

Think different. Act different. Everything will be different and you will make a difference in others’ life.

https://chirb.it/BhB46d

  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGvjvhdx0q8