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 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 Dazzling Musician

 

What makes a poem beautiful?

Is it the words used? Is it the way these are used? Is it the description? Or is there anything beyond all these?

Here is a poem from Kalitthogai, which is part of the Cangam literature:

ஒரு குழை ஒருவன் போல், இணர் சேர்ந்த மராஅமும்

பருதி அம் செல்வன் போல், நனை ஊழ்த்த செருந்தியும்

மீன் ஏற்றுக் கொடியோன் போல், மிஞிறு ஆர்க்கும் காஞ்சியும்

ஏனோன் போல், நிறம் கிளர்பு கஞலிய ஞாழலும்

தீது தீர் சிறப்பின் ஐவர்கள் நிலை போல

போது அவிழ் மரத்தொடு பொருகரை கவின் பெற

நோ தக வந்தறால், இளவேனில்

Check this out on Chirbit

The Kadamba(Oak) tree with clusters of flowers resembles Balarama with a single ear ring, the Cherunthi (Golden blossom) tree with its red buds resembles the Sun, with the bees humming, the Kanchi(Portia) tree resembles the one with the fish flag(Manmatha), the gnaazhal tress resembles Saama, the brother of Manmatha, the ilavam (Silk cotton) resembles the one whose flag has the bull(Shiva). With these 5 trees resembling the faultless 5 Gods, the shore looks beautiful. But alas! The shore is attacked by the waves. Early summer has set in.

The heroine who is filled with love and therefore filled with thoughts about her man, describes the different trees and compares each tree with a God(note that Balarama and even Saama, who is little known and who is supposedly the brother of Kaama, are considered as Gods here!). But unable to bear the separation, she says that the summer has set in just to trouble her.

While the beauty of the trees reminds her of the days when she was with him, the waves and the summer show the reality, that is the separation. Moreover, Manmatha and his brother are soft while the other three are aggressive. Can contrasts get any better than this?

What makes the poem beautiful- words, their usage, the description, the similes or the contrasts?

The answer is - all of the above plus that ‘something’ which cannot be described but which can be felt by the reader.

It is this ‘something’ which makes a work exceptional and matchless.

On this special day, let us look at one such work which though is not a poem, has that remarkable beauty. After all, isn’t great music, poetic and great poem, musical?

Without a trace of doubt, ‘Meenkodi theril Manmatha raajan’ from ‘Karumbu Vil’(1980) is musically poetic. It is a romantic song of course, but the very mention of Kaama’s name gives it a special complexion and must have made the composer tune it in Mohanam, a raga which is happy, romantic and classical. It also has an hidden poignancy which can be felt only by people who are ultra-sensitive.

Mohanam has always attained a very special status in the hands of the Maestro and this song is no exception.

The very beginning of the song is different. It starts with a thunder like sound as if to welcome the Kaamadeva. The bass percussion sounds ‘ta ka dhi’ leaving the last syllable ‘mi’ out. The chorus starts with flourish with an humming which sounds like tribal folk. In fact, this humming itself is the leitmotif of the song. Even as the humming reaches a crescendo with the percussion sounding the pattern seen in the beginning, the shehnai takes over and imperceptibly gives a perceptible auspicious feeling. The percussion now sounds ‘ta – dhi mi’ giving kaarvai between the first and the third syllable. The santoor follows and gives the sketch of Mohanam in a trice.

The Pallavi in the voice of Yesudas sounds alluringly beautiful with only two swaras -ri and ga- appearing in the major part of the first line and the individual swaras repeating themselves- gagagagaga/papapapapa/dhadhadhadha/ giving it a special sheen. The last line shows the brilliance of the composer with three swaras joining together and going in a descent-Sadhapa/dhapaga/pagari/garisa.

The eclectic electric guitar gives some ornate images of Mohanam in the beginning of the first interlude. The chorus follows and sings the tribal humming which covers Mohanam exhaustively with the tapering at the end, making it more enticing.

It is the translucent melody from the flute which gives a kind of tantalising effect, in keeping with the quality of Manmatha. How this has mesmerised even the other instruments is obvious from the way the guitar sounds towards the end.

The lines in the CharaNams are beguilingly beautiful and what gives this quality is the way the swaras are aligned with the higher-octave Ri and Ga making their appearance. Added to this is the bewitching melody from the santoor after the first line. The fact that the first two phrases in the beginning(and this includes the Pallavi as well) go without percussion cannot be missed.

The shehnai is the beginning of the second interlude takes us to empyrean heights and this is not just because it plays in higher-octave but also because of the softness and suppleness in the sound. The long flute which appears for the first time, is coruscating and spreads a divine light. There is that subtle sense of poignancy too which shows the contrast of life.

The chorus continues the journey in higher-octave with the santoor sounding with a sense of aesthetics.

What makes a piece of music beautiful?

Swaras? The way these are used? The instruments? The way these are used? The raga? The way it is used?

Or is there anything beyond all these?

Perhaps the five different trees might give an answer. Perhaps, they may not.

Beauty has to be felt.

When words fail, there is feeling. When words fail, there is Music!

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ILaiyaraaja- The Adorable Musican

 

What makes certain people or certain things likable?

And what role does subjectivity play in this?

Let me park these questions for a while and take you all through something.

A young girl decorates the streets with fine white sand. She then lights a fire- literally and figuratively from a bundle of sticks shorn of thorns and invokes the God of Love- Kaamadeva a.k.a Manmatha and makes a request:

‘’Oh Manmatha. Brace your bow with honey-filled flowers, mentally writing the name ‘the ocean hued one’, and aim at me so that I unite with the One who killed the Demon in the form a bird, by tearing its beak’’.

 

வெள்ளை நுண்மணற்கொண்டு தெருவணிந்து வெள்வரைப் பதன்முன்னம் துறை படிந்து

முள்ளுமில்லாச் சுள்ளி எரிமடுத்து முயன்றுன்னை நோற்கின்றேன் காமதேவா

கள்ளவிழ் பூங்கணை தொடுத்துக் கொண்டு கடல் வண்ணன் என்பதோர் பேர் எழுதி

புள்ளினை வாய் பிளந்தான் என்பதோர் இலக்கினில் புக என்னை எய்கிற்றியே.

Here is a young girl just around 13, who after having decided that the Lord is her lover and that He will be her husband, invokes the God of Love to help her in her mission. Forgetting the mystical part, look at the way the poem sounds. White stands for purity. So does a thorn less faggot. So does fire. So do flowers. So does the ocean. Using all these in a single verse is called poetic beauty. But there is more too. Even if one has all the positives in a poem, it is the contrast which gives it that sheen. And this appears in the last line- ‘The One who tore the beaks of the Demon who was in the form of a bird’. See the line before that- Honeyed flowers- and you will know what kind of beauty this contrast offers!

This is precisely the reason for AaNdaaL, who incidentally composed 143 verses, is liked by many even after 1300 years!

Is this subjective or objective?

Before one breaks his/her head yet again in finding an answer, let us look at a gentleman who after composing 6000+ songs, is liked by many even after 46 years, which might sound too less compared to 1300 years but will sound huge when one takes into account many other factors, period being the major one.

Why don’t we look at yet another composition of his today and see how it sounds as likable as the poems of ‘Choodi Koduththa ChudaRkodi’?

‘Meenkodi Theril Manmatha Raajan’ from ‘Karumbu Vil’(1980) shimmers with exquisite beauty not least because of the raga it is based on.

Not many ragas evoke a sense of love and romance just by mentioning the name. In fact, the beauty of Mohanam lies as much in its name as in its sound. That is why, it is found in other forms of music, say, the South East Asian and Western Classical, Jazz and Blues as a scale. The five notes – sa ri2 ga3 pa dha2- give a special colour even when rendered plainly. One can then imagine the kind of feelings and emotions it would give if these notes were oscillated. It is not without any reason that Tyagaraja called Rama ‘Mohana Rama’ and that one of the names of Krishna happens to be ‘Mohanan’.

If I say that ILaiyaraaja has played around in this raga like no other film music composer has done, I will not be exaggerating. So much so that he has never hesitated to take many liberties with this raga by gently and brilliantly introducing some alien notes, enhancing the mood of the composition in the process.

However, in ‘Meenkodi Theril’, he chose not to do it. On the other hand, he used the appropriate swara combinations giving subtle oscillations of swaras wherever required, at the same time not making it sound too classical and most importantly used some beautiful instruments in the orchestration. What one gets to see and hear is Mohanam in its pristine beautiful form.

The song opens with a kind of mystical sound. Even as one is shaken up by this sound, the bass sound from yet another instrument appears like a rapier cut in chatushram and this alone is enough to give that spark. The spark becomes a huge musical fire, a kind of fire which is harmless and is a spectacle to watch.

What happen are many things. One, the chorus voice in pure Mohanam. Two, a kind of ‘kolaattam’ in the background. Three, the two sets of percussion which alternate with each other, with the first one playing only the first syllable-ta- and leaving the other 3 blank and the second one playing ‘ta – dhi mi’ and producing different kinds of sounds. Four, the humble and subtle bass guitar playing with a touch of nonchalance. Five, the sound of ankle bells which appears after every second beat.

As if to show the auspiciousness of the occasion, the Shehnai unfolds with great zeal and gives a sketch of Mohanam in its inimitable style. The santoor pitches in towards the end and guides us to the Pallavi.

The Pallavi starts in the voice of Yesudass. One cannot afford to miss the subtlety here as well. The first line has no percussion when it is rendered the first time, though the time signature remains the same. The percussion appears the moment the first line is rendered again and follows the same pattern as that of the Pallavi. The entire Pallavi gives a soothing touch not least because of the structure of the swaras and the rhythmic pattern. The descending swaras at the end- Sadhapa/dhapaga/pagari/garisa- shows the kind of grip the composer has on this raga.

The vivacity of the guitar in the beginning of the first interlude is striking. It just plays a few notes of Mohanam and that too without any oscillation and yet it makes us sway.  The chorus appears again and we continue to sway with the musical elegance. After a guitar melody which is full of grace, the flute enters with an ebullient swirl and goes around playfully enveloping us with a spiritual fragrance. It is left to the santoor again to complete the task and it does it effectively and efficiently, bespattering the swaras with a grin.

Without a trace of doubt, it is the rhythmic pattern- about which I have already written earlier- which is the leitmotif of this composition. In a way, it even defines this composition.

Now, the CharaNam starts sans percussion in the first line a la Pallavi, though there is that subtle bass guitar. The percussion-which of course follows the same rhythmic pattern- appears after the first few phrases, but it is the santoor which appears between the lines, that steals the show. The litany of swaras played with coherency and fluency, lights up the lines.

We are in for some abundant melodic phrases in the second interlude. The group of Shehnais play an amazing melody in higher-octave which is hauntingly charming. Suddenly and from nowhere appears that long Hindustani flute. Playing with alluring depth and with felicity, it goes deep inside the soul. The chorus takes over and sings in higher-octave showing us a beauteous bride.

A bride on a white sand who is as likable as the musician with the trademark Harmonium!

 

 

ILaiyaraaja and SPB- Musicians of the Millennium

One of the ubiquitously used terms in English is – Made for Each Other. This is more common in weddings where people use this even before the couple begin their journey. Is Made for Each Other real? Is it possible to one being made for the other? Is it fair? How can somebody made for the other? What happens to their individuality? Most importantly, is it not the contrast which makes life more beautiful?

Before commenting on that, let us see what Kavi Chakravarti says. 

 It is the ‘Sita Swayamvaram’ and Rama breaks the bow in a micro-second. The entire city of Mythila erupts with joy. A section of people make an effort to compare the beauty of the couple. 

 To see Him, she needs one thousand eyes. He needs one thousand eyes every time He sees her. 

 தம்பியைக் காண நங்கைக்கு ஆயிரம் நயனம் வேண்டும்;

 கொம்பினைக் காணுந்தோறும் குரிசிற்கும் அன்னதேயாம். 

தம்பியைக் காணீர் என்பார்; தவமுடைத்து உலகமென்பார்; 

இம்பர் இந்நகரில் தந்த முனிவனை இறைஞ்சுமென்பார். 

 At the face of it, the poem sounds very simple. But look at the second line closely and it will suggest one thousand meanings. If it was just ‘kaaNumpothum’(காணும்போதும்), it would have been just an ordinary line. But a subtle modification ‘kaaNumthoRum’(காணுந்தோறும்) changes the entire complexion. Every time He sees Her, He would need one thousand eyes! 

 And this is what is Poetic Beauty. 

 So, does Kamban suggest that Sita was more beautiful than Rama? Are they then not Made for Each Other? 

 Far from it. When somebody acquires one thousand eyes every time he looks at a particular person, who is greater? At the same time, if this is because of the other person, then who is greater?

 Kamaban makes us think and make us wonder in amazement.

 The relationship between ILaiyaraaja and SPB was like this, the only difference being that the role kept changing. At times, Raaja sir becomes Rama and SPB sir becomes Sita. And at times, the roles are reversed. Yet what this suggests is that one complements the other. If the composer knew what this singer is capable of, the latter knew what was in the mind of the former. The output is there for us to see. No other pair in the history of Indian Film Music has given the kind of compositions this pair has given. Needless to say, it is a matter of pride to all of us. With these words, let us look at one such composition.

 The film ‘Kaadal Oviyam’(1982) would have been a trend setter if only the story was good(that is if at all there was one) and the presentation was different. This did not happen. But each and every song is a gem and even after 4 decades the songs sound as if these were recorded yesterday.

 Take ‘Poovil VaNdu Koodum’ for example.

 Based purely on Mohanam, the composition is soft, sedate and subtle. It starts with the akaaram which has a catena of swaras. the facile movements combined with the tonal smoothness make and indelible impact. What follows is something incredible. The ankle bells sound the first line of the Pallavi, not in swaras but just in jatis. The two tarangs-Tabla and Jala- combine to create flowery musical expressions. The violin caresses us in Mohanam with the Laya Raaja nodding his head in appreciation and making the mrudangam sound only the ta and dhi of ta ka dhi mi and leaving the next ta ka dhi mi totally blank. Yes silence is musical! 

 With melodic finesse, the veeNa plays the first line of the Pallavi. 

 The finely etched Pallavi in the golden voice of the genius shows the glowing facets of that beautiful raga called Mohanam. The mandra stayi swaras towards the end shine like the reflection of the full moon on a river. It is a sawaal-jawaab between the mrudagam and the ankle bells-jalatarangam first and between the tabla and veena next which makes the first half of the first interlude scintillatingly brilliant. The aesthetic flourishes and the rhythmic nuggets give us images of a Goddess in a South Indian temple festooned with radiant jewellery and fragrant garlands. The flute which sparkles with brilliant patterns seems to adore the divine spectacle. The subtle change in the percussion- which first plays with kaarvais and then plays all the syllables- gives the spectacle a special aura. The veena plays briefly and leads us to the first CharaNam. 

 The plethora of different prayogas in the dulcet voice, make the elegant passages with tapering phrases look graceful. If the first segment has the spontaneous spirit, the second segment is exuberant. The third segment is rousing with the singer touching the higher octave with consummate ease. The second interlude is a distinct mix of colours. Yes swaras have colours and in the hands of a genius artist, the colours shimmer with an unmatched radiance and that is what happens here. 

The veena in combination with the bells sounds a set of swaras. The percussion responds in chatushram in melkaalam. This happens twice. After this, the veena sounds 4 times briefly and each time the percussion responds with ‘ta ri ki ta tham’. The tabla alone sounds now playing ta ka dhi mi four times. The violin enters and with the tabla in the background, moves with a calm demeanor. The veena interjects now and then. The serenity is ineluctable and it feels as if we are watching the flow of a river. Not only are we watching but we are also swimming. As if to drench us with this divine serenity, the twin-flute moves with poetic intensity. If one ambles across, the other skitters.

 It is transcendental rendering Time and Space meaningful and meaningless.

 One thousand eyes, one thousand ears and one thousand years- don’t we need all these to appreciate the two geniuses?

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ILaiyaraaja- The Sagacious Musician

Subtleties..

In this age of WhatsApp forwards, You Tubes, Instas and Tweets, the meaning of the aforementioned word is getting lost. How many of us have the time to listen to the early morning bird calls, to watch the sunrise and sunset, to watch the moon, to watch the stars or just to be quiet and listen to the silence?

It is not that we don’t have the time. It is just that we don’t want to. Blame it on the ‘life style’ and ‘changing times’. I do not want to delve into the reasons as this post is more on subtleties and less on our inability to appreciate and the decline in the aesthetic sense and values.

So, let us look first look at a poem. I call it a poem, despite its being a verse from ‘Bhakti literature’, because to me, a poem is a poem. Moreover, poems in Bhakti literature are no way inferior and stand out for their acuity and quality which can be appreciated by atheists and theists alike, provided they genuinely care for language and not for the source.

Here it is:

தொந்தி சரிய மயிரே வெளிற நிரை

தந்தம் அசைய முதுகே வளைய இதழ்

தொங்க ஒருகை தடி மேல் வர மகளிர்... நகையாடி

தொண்டு கிழவன் இவன் யார் என இருமல்

கிண் கிண் என முன் உரையே குழற

விழி துஞ்சு குருடு படவே செவிடுபடு.....செவியாகி

வந்த பிணியும் அதிலே மிடையும் ஒரு

பண்டிதனும் மெயுறு வேதனையும்

இளமைந்தர் உடைமை கடன் ஏது என முடுக...துயர் மேவி

மங்கை அழுது விழவே எமபடர்கள்

நின்று சருவ மலமே ஒழுக உயிர்

மங்கு பொழுது கடிதே மயிலின் மிசை....வரவேணும்

எந்தை வருக ரகுனாயகா வருக

மைந்தா வருக மகனே இனி வருக

என் கண் வருக எனதாருயிர் வருக.....அபிராம

இங்கு வருக அரசே வருக முலை

உண்க வருக மலர் சூடிட வருக

என்று பரிவினொடு கோசலை புகல....வருமாயன்

சிந்தை மகிழ மருகா குறவர் இள

வஞ்சி மருவும் அழகா அமரர் சிறை

சிந்த அசுரர் கிளை வேரொடு மடிய..... அடுதீரா

திங்கள் அரவு நதி சூடிய பரமர்

தந்த குமர அலை பொருத

செந்தி நகரில் இனிதே மருவி வளர்....பெருமாளே.

It is indeed a long verse. In fact, this is one of the longest verses from thiruppugazh, though it follows the structure and rule to tee ( 8 cantos/following a ‘chanda taaLa’). For the benefit of all readers, I am first reciting it and then giving a summary.

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In the first part (first 4 cantos), AruNagirinathar describes the ‘final moments’ in anybody’s life.

‘Sagging paunch, silver hair, shaking teeth, hunching back, drooping lips, walking stick(for support), whooping cough, incoherent speech, very poor eyesight, deaf ears, all diseases, intruding doctor, ‘curious sons’(to get details of assets and liability), crying wife, uncontrolled bowel movement, messengers of Yama (God of death as per Hindu mythology) and there I see Death approaching..And at that point please come in front of me Oh Muruga!’

Isn’t this a beautiful narration and description of a man’s final moments?

Logically, the poem should have ended here. But when there is logic, there is no poetry; when there is logic, there is no genius.

So, the poet continues,

‘‘Oh, the hero of Raghu dynasty! My father!! My Son, the apple of my eye, my soul, my king.Please come here, I want to feed you. Please come here, I want to you to be adorned with flowers’, sang Kausalya’,

says the second part( 2 cantos).

Now, what is happening? Did he not sing to Muruga in the first segment? Then why Rama now? Like the present day politicians, did AruNagiri switch sides? Isn’t there a disconnect anyway?

Well, not really. One just needs to be patient and wait for the next word in the poem. He ends that line with the word ‘nephew’; Rama’s nephew(Muruga). But this is not all. He makes Kausalya address Rama first as ‘father’, then as ‘maindhan’(மைந்தன்) and ‘magan’(மகன்). The first one is not uncommon. However, the second and third ones require a deeper understanding. ‘maindhan’ and ‘magan’ can be easily translated in English as ‘son’. But tamizh scholars know that there is a subtle difference in the meaning. ‘Maindhan’ is one who protects not just his parents but also the entire family(which would include his all other relatives as well). ‘Magan’is just a ‘son’. The former is strong;the latter is comparatively weak. The former is like an emperor; the latter, just a king. There are more meanings too, but let me stop here.

But look the lines closely and see how he says-or make Kausalya say- ‘Maindha’ first and ‘Magan’ next.

Subtlety?

Well, there is more too. The first half talks about ‘Death’ while the next segment talks about ‘childhood’. The following line talk about his romance (with one of his consorts-VaLLi) while the next line talks about his valour and finally, the last one talks about his father, Paramasivan(look at the description here-one who adorns the moon(thingaL), the snake(aravu), and the river(ganga).

Contrasts…Life Cycle..Relationships..

Read the verse again and you can find infinite inner meanings.

If the works of the tamizh poet from that great spiritual land called ‘ThiruvaNNamalai’ are full of subtleties, the works of the gentleman from that remote village called ‘PaNNaippuram’ too brim with subtleties. If the first one is musical poetry, the second one is poetic music.

Today, let me just take one example. And it is from one of his most recent works.

The beauty of ‘Kekkadha Vaathiyam Kekkudhu’ from ‘MeRku Thodarchi Malai’(2018) lies not just in the tune or in the raga used. There are so many other subtle elements in the composition which make it shine like a kohinoor diamond.

Can we see that one by one?

For starters, the composition is mainly based on Mohanam. Underline the word ‘mainly’. The fact that ILaiyaraaja is in awe of Mohanam , is known to people who have been following him right from his entry into the film music world. Also known is the fact that he takes a lot of liberties with the raga, just like how one takes liberties with the beloved. And this includes adding the non-existent note ‘ni’ or the other ‘ga’ or the other ‘dha’. But what he has done in ‘Kekkadha..’ is something unique.

Let us see the composition from the beginning.

The prelude starts from nowhere. This is what one can say about this rather unusual start in which it seems as if the melody is a continuity of an existing melody or that is an extension of a previous melody, which of course one has not heard before and yet has been in existence since eons. Coming to think of it, this is how rivers are born, right? Who can get to the source of a river?

And yes, it does flow like a river. Two synth instruments are superimposed on one another and these move with an intuitive perception, giving us the fragrance of Mohanam, with two sets of percussion playing ‘ta ki ta’and a third one sounding ‘ta’ with resonance after 4 ‘ta ki ta’ s. The melody is filigreed by the dulcet flute. One gets to see musical images in different colours with more synth instruments joining in and with the melody played from the beginning continuing like a leitmotif.

The Pallavi starts in the voice of the Maestro himself. It is tender with a unique melodic expression. What adds to the beauty is the sound of the bells in the background. In fact, throughout the Pallavi, one hears the sound of different synth instruments subtly sounding in the background. N.S.K.Ramya continues the Pallavi in pure Mohanam until the last line which changes to Hamsadhwani, albeit briefly. On paper, one just has to substitute the swara ‘dha’ with ‘ni’ to go to Hamsadhwani from Mohanam, but the transition here is very smooth. So smooth that one can even easily miss it.

The musical river continues to flow in the first interlude. It in fact seems like an unrestrained flow and yet is disciplined. There are sensitive overtones as well, with a couple of synth instruments in the background. After a quick dash of the non-existent swara ‘ni’, the melody continues in Mohanam but this time in the humming of the chorus. The imagistic brevity is bewitching.

The lines in the CharaNams have a cherubic charm with the flute-like instrument which appears between the lines(as usual, his music demands ‘reading between the lines’) shining with a divine luminescence. However, what defines the CharaNams is the scale change which appears in the penultimate line.

Mohanam can be said to be in major scale as it has ga3(E in Western Classical Music). Replacing this ‘E’ with ‘D#’will change the scale to minor as per western classical theory. Here, the Master does it with insouciance maintaining his sangfroid.

But is that all?

The second interlude says ‘No, there is more’. As connoisseurs who have trained our ears and the heart to listen to music with aesthetic sense and value, we too expect more and more from him, anyway.

However, what happens here is even beyond one’s expectations.

Since few words of music theory and techniques have to be given to help one understand and appreciate the nuances and niceties, I am going ahead here with some relevant details briefly.

Mohanam has sa ri2 ga3 pa dha2 while ascending and descending. Changing the swara ‘dha2’ to ‘dha1’makes it Vaasanti, another beautiful raga. The Master does this first. Then he keeps the swara ‘ga’ as the base ‘sa’ and changes the raga. Music aficionados and regular followers of this Group know that this is called as ‘Graha Bhedam’ in Carnatic Music parlance.

Now, if graha bhedam is done on ‘ga3’ of Vaasanti, it would give a raga with the following swaras:

sa ri3 ga3 ma1 ni2 Sa. This raga is not defined in any raga text. The Maestro adds a swara ‘dha1’ here to make it a six-note raga- which has sa ri3 ga3 ma1 dha1 ni2 sa. This raga is ‘Swara vardhini’and is derived from Ragavardhini, the 32^nd mela ragam. People who have attended Geetanjali-2018, I am sure will remember that this is a vivadi raga.

The second interlude(in Swaravardhini) moves with a suffused flow of pensiveness and with an elusive fascination. It wafts us through quiet currents.

It is this quietness which makes us feel the subtleties.

Can we define this feeling?

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