ILaiyaraaja – The Blissful Musician

“Oh! What shall I do!!”

Does this sound like a plaintive cry of a helpless creature?

Or does it sound like a statement of a confused man who is all at sea?

Or is it just an ordinary statement of a person caught in the throes of Life?

It will surprise many if I say that it is a line from a poem and that the poet utters it out of ecstasy.

Ecstasy sounding like helplessness and despondency?

Let us look at the entire verse and then see if we can find the answer.

‘Oh my Lord! My Pure leader! One who rules me!!

One who can take any form at will! One who is the handsome Bull!

One who is laying down with the lotus like eyes closed in that magnificent place called Thirukkudanthai, which itself is like the red lotus on the water!

Oh, what shall I do!!’

 

எம்மானே! என் வெள்ளை மூர்த்தி! என்னை ஆள்வானே,

எம்மா உருவும் வேண்டும் ஆற்றல் ஆவாய் எழில் ஏறே,

செம்மா கமலம் செழு  நீர் மிசைக் கண் மலரும் திருக்குடந்தை

அம்மா மலர்க் கண் வளர்கின்றானே! என் நான் செய்கேனே!

Is it clear now- at least to a certain extent- as to why the poet Nammaazhwar sounds so ecstatic?

I will not do full justice if I fail to explain certain things hidden in this verse, like the pollens hidden inside a flower.

In the first line, the Lord is addressed as ‘White leader’(it is ‘veLLai’ which is symbolic of purity and for a moment, let us keep the racist view and interpretation, aside!), while in the very next line he calls him ‘Handsome Bull’. Needless to say, Bull represents black. So, contrasts?

But the phrases just before the ‘black bull’ appears, also needs a close look. ‘Capable of taking any form’. What does this suggest? To me, it suggests Life itself. We encounter many things in Life and if we realise that everything-good, bad, ugly- is part of life, then Life becomes magical. Life and Divine are inseparable. The reference to Lotus here also suggests the ‘drops on a lotus leaf’.

These are just some of the esoteric meanings.

But I would like to go back to the original statement and ask a couple of questions.

Can ecstasy be a sign of helplessness?

If we become very happy and reach that state, is that a delusion?

Most importantly, why do we cry when we reach that state- is it because we find it hard to believe or is it because of something else?

We shall probably find answers towards the end.

Ecstasy is of course a divine feeling. But does it mean that only devout people feel it like how Nammaazhwar did? That one reaches that state irrespective of his/her scholarship or status, is a fact known to some. It could happen during any instance. But it is an irrefutable fact that one reaches that state while listening to music. I must hasten to add that the quality of music plays a huge role though ‘quality’ is a subjective term.

Subjectivity or objectivity is immaterial at times. ‘Aanandam Pongida’ from ‘Sirai Paravai’(1987) is a classic example of this.

Is it the raga which makes the composition great? Let us first look at the raga. Kharaharapriya is one of the most ancient ragas. Dating back to the Sangam era, during which it was called ‘Kodi paalai’. In fact, it happens to be one of the basic melodies as per Tamizh music. This raga , or rather the set of notes, exists as Kaafi in Hindustani music. It is also existing in Western classical music as a minor scale and is called Dorian in the original classical system in Greece. But what makes the raga great is not just its history or its universality. Rendered with some specials gamakams(oscillations), the raga shines like the moon radiating energy which can be called spiritual depending on how one sees it or even feels it.

As I keep saying ad nauseam, it is not the raga alone which makes a song beautiful and it is the way the composer uses it, fully understanding the spirit of the raga.

With the graceful swaras emanating from that classic instrument called the veena, and with the percussion and the subtle ankle bells sounding ta ki ta constantly, ‘Aanandam Pongida’ has a happy beginning. The strings in higher- octave infuse vigour and sail like a boat while the flute moves with flourish with the melody floating in the air which is redolent with spiritual fragrance. The guitar gives the signature notes of the raga in a flash.

The Pallavi (Yesudas and Sunanda) canters on and drenches us with happiness with the sympathetic strings appearing between the lines in the beginning. What makes it even more joyful is the ‘laali laali’ by the chorus which after singing in the mid-octave, switches over to the higher-octave.

Low, mid or high- happiness is eternal.

The guitar skitters. The strings scoot. As if enamoured by this spectacle, the veena enters and smiles with its swaras. The strings, meanwhile go on their own trip, somewhat different from the original trip. But it is the electric guitar, a rather unusual instrument for a classical raga, which steals the heart by playing a bewitching melody, even touching the descending notes of the raga with consummate ease. Just towards the end, the strings play in western classical style, proving for the n’th time that music is universal after all.

The lines in the CharaNams are soaked in classicism. The first two lines ooze the beauty of Kharaharapriya. However, the second line does require a special mention because of the glide from the higher notes to the lower notes in a jiffy. It is simply a definition of creative innovation.

The second half picks up momentum with the tisram beats in the next kaalam, taking us probably to the next level of happiness. Happiness anyway is a timeless experience.

As if to provide contrast, the entire second interlude has no percussion, though it follows the tisram pattern. The bells sound from the keys and the veena have a friendly banter to start with. What is unique about this banter is the way both play with relentless assiduity. What follows is tantalisingly beautiful. The strings play an alluring melody backed by another group of strings. The flute follows it up with a bewitching melody. This romance between the two sets of instruments makes us visualise flickers of light. Not to be left behind, the keys play the descending notes first and the signature notes next, lifting the spirits.The strings slow down, move like waves and the keys play the ascending notes in sets of 3- sa ri ga/ri ga ma/ ga ma pa.

And we cry- Oh what shall I do now?

Can ecstasy be a sign of helplessness?

If we become very happy and reach that state, is that a delusion?

Most importantly, why do we cry when we reach that state- is it because we find it hard to believe or is it because of something else?

 Don’t we see the divine smile of Nammaazhwar in the background?

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 Phenomenon

Of the 12 Vaishnavaite saints-known better by the name Azhwaars- Nammaazhwaar is considered to be a poet/saint nonpareil and not without any reason. He composed 1296 paasurams(verses) –the maximum by one Azhwaar-under four different categories-Thiruvassiriyam Thiruviruththam, Peiya Thiruvandadi and Thiruvaaimozhi, which in fact form the essence of Yajur, Rig, Atharva and Saama Vedas respectively. He is also the only Azhwaar on whom verses have been composed by another Azhwaar. In fact, these 11 verses sung by Madurakavi Azhwaar- are part of ‘Naalayira Divya Prabhandam’. Note that the other 3989 verses in the collection sung by the 12 Azhwaars (out of which 1296 are by Nammaazhwaar as mentioned earlier) are in praise of the Lord.

Apart from this unique distinction, Nammaazhwaar has many other distinctions too. ‘Dravida Vedopanishath Sangati’ and ‘Vedopanishath Thaathparyarath Naavali’ are the two books in Sanskrit talk about the greatness of Thiruvaaimozhi. Parimelazhagar, who is better known for his commentary on ThirukkuRal, has taken verses from Thiruvaaimozhi and used those. MaNavaaLa maamunigaL wrote a book called ‘Thiruvaaimozhi NootRandadi’ comprising of 100 verses with each verse starting with the first word from the first verse in the first pathigam(each pathigam has 10 verses) of Thiruvaaimozhi and ending with the first word of the first verse of the following pathigam. These 100 verses give the essence of Thiruvaaimozhi. Kavi Chakravarthi Kamban, one of the greatest Tamizh poets ever, has also authored Satakoparandadi , a collection of verses on Nammaazhwaar.

It is also said that Nammaazhwaar always resides on the feet of the Lord and that is why the ‘Sataari’ is kept on the heads of the devotees in VishNu temples with the Sataari being Satagopan, the original name of Nammaazhwaar.

But it is not for these reasons alone that he is considered as ‘Nam’ (our) Azhwaar. His poems are marked by beautiful use of the Tamizh language, and cover different dimensions of Bhakti. But what I find astounding in his poems are two major things- his conversations with the mind and the philosophical contours. In these two aspects, I am reminded of Saint Tyagaraaja.

As an example, let us see just one verse from his Thiruvaaimozhi:

உணர்ந்து உணர்ந்து இழிந்து அகன்று உயர்ந்து உரு  வியந்த இந் நிலைமை

உணர்ந்து உணர்ந்து உணரிலும் இறைநிலை  உணர்வு அரிது உயிர்காள்

உணர்ந்து உணர்ந்து உரைத்து உரைத்து அரி அயன் அரன் என்னும் இவரை

உணர்ந்து உணர்ந்து உரைத்து உரைத்து இறைஞ்சுமின் மனப்பட்டது ஒன்றே.

People who are familiar with the language of Tamizh can recite this aloud to understand how beautiful and musical it sounds. But there are other aspects too apart from this which makes it great.

He says, ‘Feel the inner soul –which is as small as the atom and which pervades the Universe in 10 different directions and yet resides in the mortal body- by feeling with the mind, with meditation and by studying. But even then it is not easy to understand that. So, feel, feel, constantly feel, study, study and constantly study. Finally, you will feel the Divine’.

In my opinion, this puts the concept of spirituality in a nutshell. And incontrovertibly, applies to all religions. I feel it applies to agnostics and atheists too.
  

In a matter of just 4 lines, Nammaazhwaar has succinctly given us the essence of Divinity in poetic Tamizh. This is what makes him peerless and inimitable. Though comparisons are odious, I find a lot of parallels between Nammaazhwaar and ILaiyaraaja. As I have written so many things about the latter, I do not want to say more now lest I fall into the category of repetitiveness.  His achievements, his talent and most importantly his works have been discussed at length and therefore the best way to pay tribute to him on this day as he completes 40 years as a  film music composer today(for people who do not know this fact, let me tell you that ‘AnnakkiLi’, his first film as a music composer was released on the 14^th of May 1976), is to take up his works one by one and share the nuances, intricacies and the techniques used, which itself is proof enough to show what kind of genius he is.

I have said this many times. His greatness lies not so much in the raagas used as in the way these have been used. Almost all Indian music composers and Music Directors have used raagas from our classical system without any exception. But what distinguishes the Maestro from the others are the choice of the raagas and the way he has used/been using the classical raagas.

Take Khamas for example. It is a raaga considered to be extremely pleasing and also the one which gives us mental calmness. In a way, it is not that easy to use this raaga in film music and I do not want to delve into the reason now. At the same time, I am sure I wouldn’t be wrong or sound biased if I said that no other film music composer has used this raga as beautifully and magnificently as ILaiyaraaja has done. People who want to dispute this statement are advised to listen to ‘Maargazhi maadam mun pani veLaiyile’ from ‘Panchami’(1980) and if possible read my post on this 

 http://rajamanjari.blogspot.in/2009/09/ilaiyaraaja-vibrant-musician.html
   (this in fact was the special post of Geetanjali-2009).

His next Khamas took about 8 years and it is different. I am convinced that ‘Pallaviye SaraNam’(Oruvar Vaazhum Aalayam) cannot and should not be compared with ‘Maargazhi maadam’. Each one has its unique beauty.

‘Pallaviye SaraNam’ has exhilarating akaaram and charming sangatis. The Master’s creativity and his proclivity to always be different come to the fore in the CharaNams with each one being structured differently.

The composition starts with a mesmerising akaaram by Janaki which gives a silhouette of Khamas with the drone of the tanpura adding to the divine experience.

The Pallavi is in anaagata eduppu starting after ½ ‘idam’. The core of the Pallavi is its simplicity.  Yet it is so powerful. It in fact typifies the raaga Khamas which sounds simple but gives powerful vibrations. The akaaram which lasts for one beat-rendered with consummate ease by both Janaki and SPB-  and the sangati after ‘geetam’ ooze with classicism and virtuosity.

The flute plays with clear musical perception in the beginning of the first interlude reminding one of the natural sound of a cuckoo. The backing of the guitar and the absence of the percussion enhance the beauty here. The violins take over after 2 aavartanaas with astonishing vigour. What makes this part more enticing is the appearance of other instruments like guitar, sitar and the keys which not only back the melody but also indulge in some brief conversations.

The first CharaNam is expressively shaped with the akaaram for one aavartanam after the first line showing the solid graces of the Khamas. The second and the third lines are innovative with Janaki rendering the words and SPB singing the swaras. The flute and sitar lend dignity and grace with their brief impromptu appearances. The lines that follow carry the Laya Raaja stamp with the line being structured as ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka ta ki ta/ta ki ta/ta ka dhi mi ( iru udal iNaindhapodhu inbam vandhu) and ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi(manamadhu magizhindhida kanavadhu malarndhadhu). In the first part, 16 is broken as 4/5/3/4 and in the second part it is equally divided as 4 sets.

The one who doesn’t like to repeat the same pattern and would always love to innovate changes the structure in the second part(manamadhu) when both SPB and Janaki render it together and makes it –

 ta ki ta/ta ki ta/ta ki ta/ta ki ta.

Chatushram changes to Tisram. This is called as Gati bedam and that is how 16 is 12 here.

Not content with this, he also makes the Pallavi sound slightly different now silencing the percussion and using only the sitar and the sympathetic strings. This lasts for 2 aavartanaas after which the percussion joins and we hear the Pallavi in its original form. Small things make a huge difference and subtle nuances speak volumes of a genius. Any proof needed?

The second interlude starts with the flute playing with tranquility and poise to the backing of the guitars (yes, no percussion again) for 2 aavartanaas. The composer then decides to go on a freewheeling trip with the violins twisting and turning and moving with an enticing spirit. The overall vividness is arresting indeed. After 2 and ½ aavartanaas, the sitar combines with keys, sparkles very briefly and leads us to the second CharaNam.

The first part of the second CharaNam(which is different from that of the first CharaNam) has sensitively visualised phrasings and gives the resplendent shades of Khamas-even touching the mandara stayi- in the honey-soaked voice of SPB. In the second half, the composer uses the classical dance jatis in lieu of the swaras and this itself is enough to change the complexion. The playing of mridangam in ati-mel kaalam when the Pallavi is rendered towards the end, conveys a lot about the musicality inherent in this genius.

It is for us to feel, study, study, feel and finally realise it.

Check this out on Chirbit

ILaiyaraaja-Musician with a Radiance..

Awestruck by the radiance of the Lord, Nammazhvar bombards him with questions.

He asks,

‘Is the radiance of Your Face because of the radiance of Your Crown (head) ?
Has the Lotus under You blossomed out of the radiance of Your Feet?
Has the radiance from your waist blended with the radiance of Your ornaments?
Oh Lord Please tell me!’


முடிச்சோதியாய் உனது முகச்சோதி மலந்ததுவோ?

அடிச்சோதி நீ நின்ற தாமரையாய் அலர்ந்ததுவோ?

படிச்சோதி ஆடையொடும் பல்கலனாய், நின் பைம்பொன்

கடிச்சோதி கலந்ததுவோ? திருமாலே! கட்டுரையே.

Though he raises these questions the great Nammazhvar knew the answer.
Put in very simple words, the Lord himself is radiance personified. But he saw different dimensions to the Divine Radiance and the poet in him wouldn’t stop.

Don’t we all feel the radiance in each and every word?

In a similar way, we see and feel the radiance in the compositions of the Master.

We start asking, ‘Is the radiance of your music because of the tune?
Is the radiance of the songs because of the orchestration?
Is the radiance of your compositions because of the usage of ragas and
other classical techniques?’

We know the answer and we don’t know the answer.

Let us look at the composition of the day-‘Maharaajanodu RaNi Vandu Serum..’ from the film ‘Sati Lilavati’(1995).

It is based on Sarasangi, the 27th melakarata.

Its structure is: sa ri2 ga3 ma1 pa dha1 ni3 Sa/Sa ni3 dha1 pa ma1 ga3 ri2 sa.

It is the Shuddha madhyama counterpart of Latangi-that is if we substitute ‘ma1’ with ‘ma2’, we get Latangi.

It is also very closely related to some of the most popular ragas.

Change the ‘ri2’ to ‘ri1’ and we get Mayamalavagowla.

Change the ‘ga3’ to ‘ga2’ and we get KiravaNi.

Apart from this, it is also in the graham bedam group of Dharmavati and Chakravagam.
More about this soon..

ILaiyaraaja has used this raga in some of the greatest compositions-one of these being ‘Endrendrum Aanandame’. Please read my post ‘Laya Raaja’ to know more.

‘Maharaajanodu..’ has a very soft beginning. The Keys and the Bells announce the arrival of the spring season (and of course the romance). The guitar wafts fragrance and the second guitar that enjoys it. The finely textured Sax enters with the passionate percussion playing the ‘ta ka dhi mi’ in its own style.

It is a rhapsody of sorts.

The Pallavi in the voices of Unnikrishnan and Chitra is lively with the resonant Bass guitar and the sweet electric guitar following them very closely. Even as the third and the fourth lines are rendered, the strings skate on thick ice.

Icing on the cake!

The Raga flows gently in the first interlude.

The synth violins move with poise with the Sax holding their hands, warming the cockles of our hearts. The Bass Guitar starts singing as if it is in a trance. The eloquent flute sketches the raga in style in its own inimitable way.

The CharaNams are very aesthetically structured.

The first two lines are followed by the exquisite flute taking short freewheeling flights.

The next line is feisty with a gap for the guitar for a whole avartanam(cycle).

The following two lines exude the beauty of the Raga while the last line has some leisurely oscillations.

The second interlude has innovative, inspirational and intelligent splashes.

Let us now go back to what I said about the Graha Bedam group earlier in the post.

I have already discussed about the technique of Graha Bedam in some of my posts here.

If any swara-apart from the ‘sa’- is kept as the base, it yields different ragas, some valid and some not valid.

As per the theory, if the ‘pa’ of Sarasangi is made as the ‘sa’, it becomes Chakravagam.

The Master does this first.

Now, please read this carefully.

The structure of Chakravagam is sa ri1 ga3 ma1 pa dha2 ni2 Sa/Sa ni2 dha2 pa ma1 ga3 ri1 sa.

Therefore the Raga should logically be Chakravagam..But the Master Innovator goes one step further.

He uses the same six swaras- sa ri1 ma1 pa dha2 ni2- but instead of ‘ga3’, he uses the vivadi swara ‘ga1’ and the raga we get to hear is Vanaspati, the 4th melakarta.

Doing the unthinkable- Is it not the Hallmark of a Genius.

The Keys and the guitar move with finesse in Vanaspati with the Sax providing the melodic charm in Sarasangi.

It is the romance between the Emperor and The Queen(Music). Raaja yoga for us in yugas to follow..

மஹாராஜனோடு இசை ராணி கை கோர்த்தால்,பலப்பல யுகங்களிலும் ராஜ யோகம்தான்!