ILaiyaraaja – The Music Messenger

How do we get connected?

This question might sound doltish, imprudent, witless and even thoughtless in this age of apps and browsers. It just needs a single click to get connected with others irrespective of the distance.

But the ‘connection’ I am referring to does not pertain to the ones we have on social media. A majority of these connections are superficial and the connection stops and ends with the keypads. Most of these are lifeless and exist just for the sake of existing.

However, it can also be not denied that some of these connections are indeed very deep. Going beyond the typical definitions of social media, these connections make us feel as if the person/s is/are known to us since many years even if we have not even seen them or do not get to see them often physically. What makes this possible?

I shall probably answer this in the end.

Now imagine those days when even communicating with each other was next to impossible. By ‘those days’, I mean days when neither ‘tech’ nor ‘logy’ existed in the lexicon of the world; days when even ‘posts’ or ‘offices’ did not exist; days when travel was by foot. Were people not connected those days? If they were not connected, how was it possible for somebody in Kanyakumari to know somebody in the Himalayas? And how was it possible to ‘be in touch’?

Our Literature is rich with poems in which birds acted as a ‘go-between’ and delivered messages. There are also instances of plants/ creepers, clouds and even non-living things like conch being requested to act as a via-media, but these were used more for poetic beauty and less for reality. I shall come to this in a while.

Let us look at a real story before that. This happened during the Sangam era. There was somebody called Kopperunchozhan, who as the name suggests ruled the Chozha kingdom. There was a poet called Pisiraanthaiyaar, not in Chozha naadu, but in PaaNdiya naadu. Those days-just like the present days- rivalry existed between fellow tamizh people despite living the same land and despite speaking the same language. The three major kingdoms – Chera, Chozha and Pandiya- were at loggerheads with each other. The intensity of the rivalry was more between the last two mentioned.

Therefore, it is more than a surprise that Pisiraanthaiyaar composed poems on Kopperunchozhan extolling his virtues and describing the beauty of his kingdom. The king too developed an affinity towards the poet and the reason was not just because the latter sang paeans on him. The two never met!

Things were hunky dory in the Chozha kingdom until the two sons of the Chozha decided to wage a war against their own father to annex the kingdom. Vexed with the developments, Kopperunchozhan decided to indulge in  ‘Vadakkiruththal’, the act of sitting in the northern direction and starving to death  which was common those days.

He did the unthinkable after this. He reserved a spot for his friend -Pisiraanthaiyaar- alongside! 

Pisiraanthaiyaar gets to know the developments (now don’t ask me how) but is helpless. Somehow, he reaches the spot but by then the king is dead. He sits at the same spot and gives up his life.

Here is a poem composed by him, which is part of PuRanaanooRu, which in turn is part of the Sangam literature:

 

அன்னச் சேவல் அன்னச் சேவல் ஆடுகொள் வென்றி அடுபோர் அண்ணல்

நாடுதலை அளிக்கும் ஒண்முகம் போலக் கோடுகூடு மதியம் முகில் நிலா  விளங்கும்

மையல் மால யாம் கையறுபு இனையக் குமரிஅம் பெருந்துறை அயிரை மாந்தி

வடமலைப் பெயர்குவை ஆயின் இடையது சோழன் நன்னாட்டுப்படினே கோழி

உயர்நிலை மாடத்துக் குறும்பறை அசைஇ வாயில் விடாது கோயில் புக்கு எம்

பெருங்கோக்கிள்ளி கேட்க இரும் பிசிர் ஆந்தை அடியுறை எனினே மாண்ட நின்

இன்புற பேடை அணியத் தன் அன்புறு நன் கலம் நல்குவன் நினக்கே.

‘Oh, my dear Swan!

Seeming as if two horns join together to make it a circle, the Moon shimmers. It reminds one of the glowing face of a king who emerges as a victor fighting for his land.

On this mesmersising evening when one even loses all his senses, I feel helpless.

If you, my dear swan, after feeding on ayirai fish in that Ocean called Kumari, decide to fly to the Himalayas in the North along with your beloved, and on the way stay at URaiyur and visit the beautiful palace without stopping at the gate and utter the words, ‘ I am Pisiraanthaiyaar’s servant’, the king ‘PerunkoRkiLLi’ will rush towards you and gift you with beautiful jewellery for your beloved to wear’.

(this is just a loose translation by yours truly done with the purpose of making you all understand the import of the poem, without bothering to sound poetic).

For the benefit of all, I have recited the poem and you can find it in the link.

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Though there is no record to show as to when this was composed, the words like ‘I am helpless’ and ‘two horns’ suggest that probably this was written after the poet came to know of the king’s decision. There are many things in this poem which demand a detailed explanation and analysis but I would refrain from doing that for the time being at least as the objective of quoting this poem is to show how people got connected those days and developed unfathomable affection even without seeing each other.

Goes to show that there is something in the Universe which connects people and what that something is, cannot be explained rationally.

Let us look at Music in general and ILaiyaraaja in particular. The latter connects with millions of people with his music. Though he would not have met the people (at least 99% of them) and the people would not have met him in real life, the affinity people have for him and vice versa cannot be measured. The same in fact applies to the connection people have between them with his music being the main reason.

On this day which is very special for me, I am looking at a song which never fails to give vibrations whenever I listen to it. The reasons could be many but let me try and explain the nuances and intricacies and see if these alone are the reasons or if there is something beyond these too.

The song Malligaiye Malligaiye from Periya Veettu PaNNaikkaran (1990) is based on a raga called Sarasaangi. Though the name sounds romantic or at least indicates romance, the raga evokes a mélange of feelings, say a mix of happiness and poignancy with a dose of nostalgia. As per the melakarata system, it is the 27^th mela ragam, just before ShankarabharaNam with just the variant of the swara dhaivatam separating the two. Yet, the two sound totally different. In fact, if one changes the variant of each of the swaras, it would lead to some very well- known ragas.

Change the variant of rishabham(ri) and it will give MayamalavagowLa. Change the variant of gaandharam(ga) and it will give KeeravaNi. Change the variant of madhyamam(ma) and it will give Latangi. Change the variant of nishadam(ni) and it will give Charukesi.

Except the last mentioned, the other ragas sound so different from Sarasangi. That indeed is the beauty of Music.

Curiously enough, this raga exists as a scale in Western Classical Music too where it goes by the name Harmonic major.

After that rather elaborate explanation about the raga, let us look at the composition.

The beginning itself is zestful. The frisky strings move as if these are suddenly released from exile. There are two sets with one sounding like a thunder and the other sounding like a murmur. But isn’t it a fact that a murmur too adds value? Here, it adds that musical value. The thunderous set quickly touches the higher-octave and makes us believe that the peak has already been conquered.

However, very soon we realise that it is just the summit. In fact, there lies the magic of the composer. The chorus hums in Sarasangi with the tabla sounding in Tisram and that reticently powerful instrument called Bass Guitar backing both -in Tisram.

The mellow flute sings like a bird with the rhythm pad accompanying it like the rustling leaves.

The Pallavi starts in the voice of Chitra. The beauty of this Pallavi not just lies in the fact that it is soft and supple and is well structured, but also in two more factors. First is the podi sangati in the lines which sounds unique. Next is the rhythmic pattern and the instruments which give it that special status. The reticent bass guitar is more vociferous here and it sounds ta – –  ka dhi mi along with the vocals. The 3-beat tisram is broken down into 6 micro beats- ta ka ta ka dhi mi- and is made to sound only the first, fourth, fifth and sixth leaving the second and third as blank(kaarvai). The fact that this gives the Pallavi a majestic look is as obvious as the fact that the rose is beautiful.

One sees the variegated nuggets of the raga in that western instrument called the guitar in the first half of the first interlude. The diffused glow of the strings which play a parallel melody in the background is not dissimilar to the beauty of the full moon which hides behind the dark clouds sometimes partially and sometimes fully. The moon does come out of the clouds a little later but not before the billow of clouds (guitar) touches the nook and corner of the sky called Sarasangi.

The euphonic flute continues the journey in its own style provoking a response from the strings which give a catena of swaras. This results in our witnessing ornate images of the raga.

The first segment of the CharaNams ( Yesudass in the first one and Chitra in the second one) is full of melodic intricacies. The second segment touches the upper registers while the last segment is plaintive. All these three typify the raga.

The second interlude has some amazing patterns.

First, the sticks(kolaattam) sound gracefully in tisram. The chorus takes over and continues the humming. The ever-smiling flute responds to the humming with pulsating vibrancy. The strings enter elegantly and in a matter of seconds elevate us to a higher plane. The guitar responds with a touch of sobriety.

As if taking a cue from the guitar, the strings move with an evocative grandeur making it a quintessential experience. With a flourish, the flute takes some silky glides connecting the earth with the heaven.

What has made this connection possible?

It can probably be answered by Pisiraanthaiyaar and Kopperunchozhan..

Ps: This is my 200th post in the Blog and I am very happy that this is happening on my special day- 29th of August. What give me energy are Music, His Music, Writing and Literature. Thank you all for the support. I am sure I will continue to write on his music and share whatever little knowledge I have with you all!!

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ILaiyaraaja - The Illusionist

Either Black or White?

Either Left of Right?

There is Something Called Grey

Which is the Middle Way.

This ‘poem’(that is if you can call it that way) was written by me some time ago. Whether one can call this a poem or not may not be relevant here, though what may be relevant is the thought I have tried to convey through this. In a world where binaries have become the norm, space for other numbers(read as ‘thoughts’ and ‘opinions’) is getting reduced by the day. The fact that there could be something ‘in between’is not understood or appreciated by many. But even for argument sake, if  we assume that there can only be ‘either this or that’, is not possible for ‘this’ to become ‘that’ and vice versa?

Far from making you confused, my intention is to make you think.

Now, look at this verse:

புகழ்வோம் பழிப்போம்; புகழோம் பழியோம்;

இகழ்வோம் மதிப்போம்; மதியோம், இகழோம்; மற்று

எங்கள் மால்! செங்கண் மால்! சீறல் நீ, தீவினையோம்

எங்கள் மால் கண்டாய் இவை.

Written by the great Tamizh poet Nammaazhwar, this verse is full of contradictions. Or is it?

Let us see what he says:

Addressing the Lord- who he calls as the One who loves us all- the Aazhawar first says – ‘I shall praise You’ and immediately follows it up with ‘I shall despise You’. In the same line, he says, ‘I shall not praise You, nor shall I despise You’. If this is not confounding enough, he continues in the next line- ‘I shall insult You, I shall respect You’ and ‘I shall not respect You nor shall I insult You’. Probably realizing that the Lord himself will be confused now, he says,’ Oh, don’t be angry now’ and finally says ‘All this because of the extreme affection I-who is a sinner- have for You’.

Note that the genius poet that he is, Nammazhwar says ‘You have extreme affection for me. So do I’. But let us see the inherent ‘contradictions’. If the first two phrases are contrasts, the phrases that follow are neutral. Same is the case with the second line. 

But why does he say ‘I won’t praise you’? It is because ‘if I praise You, it means I am praising the One who is beyond all praise and by doing this am I not insulting You? So if I don’t praise You, doesn’t it mean I am not despising You? But if I don’t praise you, wouldn’t it mean I am insulting You? And this duality is because of my extreme Love for you’.

Well, I know it is laced with spirituality with a dash of philosophy, but aren’t these two the sides of the same coin? Or are they different?

Even as we keep thinking about this, let us understand that there can be no life without the concept of duality. And that is the most beautiful aspect of life.

It is of course the beautiful aspect of music too. And without a doubt, this gets reflected in the works of genius music composers.

As I keep saying in my posts, there is poetry in everything. And what we see in ILaiyaraaja’s music is poetry at its best. Let us now see a classic example of duality in his music.

‘Vaanile Thaenila’ from ‘Kaakki Sattai’(1985) may not sound like a song based purely on a classical raga as it is a romantic duet in a tricky situation which is laced with the villain chasing the duo. But not only does the composer follow a classical raga to a T, but also he applies a classical technique in between. And he does this without not many noticing it and without not many being  even aware of it.

But isn’t it true that beauty lies in the unspoken?

The composition is based on Chakravaagam, a raga known for its melancholic touches. So, by saying that the composer used a technique, did I mean this- that is using a melancholic raga for a romantic duet?

Not at all, because if you know ILaiyaraaja well and if you have been following the posts here, you know that he is known for giving us such surprises without in anyway spoiling the grammar of the raga(s).

What then is that technique?

Let us see the composition from the beginning as the surprise happens somewhere in the middle.

The distortion guitar and the electric guitar vie with each other to produce a rather funny sound. If these smirk and then smile, the keys that follow with the guitar(s) in the background produce an impromptu sound which no doubt is pleasing and fragrant. It is then the turn of the saxophone and the strings to romance together by playing two separate melodies evoking some unknown emotions and feelings inside us. The bass guitar combines with the bells and how beautiful does it sound!

The Pallavi in the voices of SPB and Janaki, with the bass guitars in the background and the percussion sounding 4 ‘ta ki ta’s with the last ‘ta ki ta’ alone sounding sharp, is a compendium of melody to say the least.

The higher - octave strings sing like a cuckoo while the saxophone responds like a new unknown species of birds, in the first interlude. The second time this happens, the flute enters, slides and glides. The strings continue the journey with the dulcet flute following them with its unique sound. The guitar makes the atmosphere livelier with its resonance and the strings acknowledge this. The two different flutes- Indian and Western- show unity in diversity and prove that after all , it is music which can unite everyone.

Now, there is a twist. And if you recall my earlier introduction, this is the twist I was talking about. Keeping the swara ‘ma’ of Chakravaagam as the base (sa), the composer changes the raga to Sarasangi. People who follow the posts here closely , know that this technique is called as Graha Bhedam and that ILaiyaraaja is the only film music composer to have used this technique extensively and prolifically in film music.

So the first four lines follow Sarassangi while the last two lines revert to Chakravaagam. If this is not depicting Duality, what else is?

And the fact that this happens in a trice, speaks volumes of the genius of the composer.

The lines in the CharaNams have that touch of poignancy which makes it all the more enjoyable.

Poignant glides are seen in the second interlude as well when the strings move like a stream towards the end. But before this, we see the harmony between the male and the female voices with the former humming a melody in the mid-octave and the latter a different melody-albeit in the same raga- in the higher octave. And in the first segment of the interlude, we have the joyful saxophone combining with the grim faced bass guitar and the neutral bells with the drums playing in mel-kaalam.

Black, White, Grey..

Praise, Despise, Neutral..

Life…Music..

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ILaiyaraaja - The Intrepid Musician

Being fearless is an art.

It may be one of the traits or qualities of some people but the fact remains that it is an art for the simple reason that when people show no fear, there is that aesthetic element which is hidden and unseen..

However, this element is so obviously seen if the fearless person happens to be an artiste or a poet. Let me hasten to add that I am talking about the positive fearlessness and not about the negative fearlessness which leads to all kinds of crimes.

So, what happens when an artiste or a poet is fearless? Put in simple words, their works become immortal.

Take AruNagirinaathar for example. After having indulged in many acts (not necessarily positive), he became a completely transformed man when his attempt to commit suicide was thwarted by the Divine Force. He chose to chart a new path in composing verses. ‘Chandam’(loosely translated as the rhythm and rhyme) formed the fulcrum of his verses and rather than using the taaLaas in vogue as per the classical texts, he used his own taaLaas which had some unusual number of syllables.

The Thiruppugazh thus attained a form of its own- Eight lines, different chanda taaLaas, liberal use of words, adapting and incorporating many Sanskrit words..

The eight lines did not have any standard length (unlike the Ashtapadis) and varied from Thiruppugazh to Thiruppugazh. There are long Thiruppugazhs and short Thiruppugazhs though the eight-line standard was stuck to. The ‘liberal use of words’ described in detail about even things which not many Bhakti poets dared to talk about(‘Naaliyara Divya Prabhandam’ too has the erotic element but that is totally different. Probably, I shall explain the difference in one of the forthcoming posts).

Apart from the ‘Thiruppugazh’, AruNagiri composed many other works like ‘Kandar Anubhooti’, ‘Kandar Alankaaram’, ‘Kandar Andhadhi’(I have quoted verses from each one of these in my posts), but my favourite remains the ‘Mayil Viruththam’ which describes the aggression of peacock in a unique way. Here, words dance literally to the rhythm of the song and I enjoy reading these verses aloud because not only is it aesthetically and musically beautiful, but it also drives away one’s fear.

See this verse:

தீரப் பயோததி திக்கும் ஆகாயமும்
செகதலமும் நின்று சுழலத்

திகழ்கின்ற முடி மவுலி சிதறி விழ வெம் சிகைத்
தீக்கொப்புளிக்க வெருளும்

பாரப் பணாமுடி அநந்தன் முதல் அரவெலாம்
பதைபதைத்தே நடுங்கப்

படர் சக்ரவாளகிரி துகள் பட வையாளி வரு
பச்சை ப்ரவாள மயிலாம்

ஆர ப்ரதாப புளகித மதன பாடீர
அமிர்த கலசக் கொங்கையாள்

ஆடு மயில் நிகர் வல்லி அபிராம வல்லி பர
மாநந்த வல்லி சிறுவன்

கோர த்ரிசூல த்ரியம்பக ஜடாதார
குரு தரு திருத்தணி கைவேள்

கொடிய நிசிசரர் உதரம் எரி புகுத விபுதர் பதி
குடி புகுத நடவு மயிலே.

Ironically enough, this verse describes as to how the entire Universe trembles with fear when the peacock (vaahana of Lord Muruga) dances:

Seas and Oceans, Eight directions (Dishas), the sky, and the earth (bhoo loka) rotate with force; Thousand locks fall from the heavy, fire-spewing hot hoods of the fear stuck Adisesha and the other serpents as they tremble with fear; The huge ChakravaaLa mountain breaks into pieces; All these happen when the peacock-with the green and coral hued feathers- takes its beautiful flight and dances.

Only poets who are fearless can even imagine composing such verses.

Like AruNagiri, ILaiyaraaja is fearless. That he broke new grounds in orchestration and arrangement with courage of conviction, is known to many and does not need more elaboration at least now. But what I find more interesting and intriguing is the way he has used the ragas.

In film music, one has the liberty of breaking the rules of grammar, as mentioned by me time and again. All great composers in Indian Film Music have done this time and again. However, it is one thing to break the rules just to make it sound ‘light’; it is quite another to do it as an experiment to enhance the quality of the song. Most importantly, here classicism does not take a back seat. On the other hand, it sounds more classical.

Let me explain. The uniqueness of the Indian classical system is its ragas. As some of you know, each raga has a set of ascending and descending notes which when rendered correctly, gives the shade(s) of the respective raga(s). The raga changes its colour even if one note is changed.

It is not uncommon to add alien notes in a film music composition(this is done in some of the classical forms too, tumri in Hindustani music being a classic example). ILaiyaraaja has done this too. But changing the variant of one particular note in the midst of a composition, requires a lot of guts, gumption and most importantly, knowledge.

The song I am taking up today is one such composition.

The beautiful aspect in ‘Maanin iru kaNgaL koNda maane maane’  from ‘MaappiLai’ (1989) is not that it is based on a classical raga called MayamalavagowLa but in the way a variant of one of the swaras is changed to give a different raga. But the most beautiful aspect is that unless people listen with utmost concentration, the transition cannot be made out.

MayamalavagowLa is a unique raga and the basic lessons in carnatic music are taught in this raga. The swaras used in this raga are the shuddha rishabham(ri1),  antara gandharam(ga3), shuddha madhyamam(ma1), shuddha dhaivatam(dha1) and kaakali nishadam(ni3) apart from the shadjam(sa) and the panchamam(pa). Now, if one changes one of the variants of any swara, it leads to a different raga. This is what happens in ‘Maanin iru kaNgaL’. The variant of ‘ri’ is changed from ‘shuddha’(ri1) to ‘chatushruti’(ri2) in the CharaNams and it transforms to Sarasangi.

Let us see the composition fully to understand this better.

The song starts with a flourish with the higher octave violins moving with a sense of purpose rather ebulliently. A closer observation suggests that these play the chatushram syllables-ta ka dhi mi- in mel kaalam 16 times in the first cycle with the drums sounding just a couple of times. After having reached a crescendo, these give way to the bass guitar, which again sounds the chatushram beats in mel kaalam with the drums backing it. The chorus starts the different humming with a touch of tenderness even as the bass guitar and the drums continue to play. The strings and the flute appear briefly and alternately adding to the momentum. There are at least 3 sets of percussion and this makes the prelude robust.

There is serenity too when the chorus and the instruments pause three times. Isn’t silence very beautiful when observed at the right time?

The Pallavi has the Raaja Muththirai with the first line being rendered almost without percussion. The structure is innovative with the upper Sa being sandwiched between the mid octave swaras and the swaras descending towards the end. If this is the structure in the first and the second line, the lines that follow have some interesting prayogas like ‘dha ma ma dha’ and ‘ma ma ma ri ri ma ga’.

The voices of SPB and Janaki  add to the special aroma. So does the keys sound which appears towards the end of the Pallavi.

The enticing bass guitar sounds resonantly in the beginning of the first interlude to signal what is in store. An instrument sounding like the clarinet (or is it clarinet itself?) gives the resplendent shades of MayamalagowLa with the chorus humming different sets of notes simultaneously. How can harmony be complete without the flute? The flute appears now and then and plays with unique limpidness.

The harmony continues in the next segment with two sets of strings playing different sets of notes simultaneously- with one set playing the melody played by the clarinet in the previous segment and the other set playing the humming notes of the chorus.

Dynamically aesthetic!

The dynamism continues with the bass guitar entering briefly and leading to the first CharaNam.

That the CharaNams have attractive phrases is not the only highlight here. For most part of the first line, only two swaras ‘ni’ and ‘Sa’ are used. Just towards the end of the line, the O’Henry Raaja gives us a twist. As already mentioned before, the swara ‘Ri2(chatushruti rishabham) appears just once and the raga transforms to Sarasangi.

The swara appears again just once in the second line, which too has just two swaras –pa and dha- for most part with the ni  and Sa appearing later. The CharaNam continues in Sarasangi till the 6^th line. The following line does not have the rishabham and yet one starts feeling MayamalavagowLa here. The last line has the shuddha rishabham(ri1) just once.

 This is what is called as the Composer’s Brilliance and this proves yet again that it is not the swara alone which determines the raga.

The second interlude-as usual- sounds different and is marked by the percussion underpinnings. The percussion sounds ‘ta - dhi - /- - dhi mi’ giving kaarvai. The chorus hums in a folksy style without deviating from the raga and one does not fail to see the Arabic shades of the raga here. The strings swirl with elan and then go on to romance with the keys which sound with sweet exuberance. It is intense and at the same time sedate.

Isn’t fearlessness an art?

Let us ask the peacock of AruNagirinathar!

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ILaiyaraaja - The Revolutionary Musician

 If I say Subramaniya Bharati was a poet par excellence, it is like saying ‘Rose is beautiful’ or ‘Jasmine gives fragrance’. 

At the same time, certain things even when repeated infinite times do not lose their value. On the other hand, the more we repeat, the more the value goes up.

Why was  Bharati considered a revolutionary poet?

He simplified Tamizh poetry by using simple words so that it reached the common man.

At a time when the Tamizh society was soaked in casteism and oppression of women, he had the audacity to not only question these in his poems but also did his best for these evils to be eradicated from the society.

His poems on India and the freedom movement spread like forest fire igniting the minds of the people.

Though all his works were special, I consider ‘Paanchaali Sabatam’ as very special. The reason is simple. He wanted to write something very powerful against the British rule and wanted it to be symbolic. Taking just one very important episode from the Mahabharat, he expanded it. Bharat Maata was symbolised as Paanchaali (Draupadi). Needless to say that the Britishers were Kauravas and the people were PaaNdavas. At least to my knowledge, no poet in the world has taken one episode from any epic and used it as a symbol. It gives me Goosebumps even as I write this.

In ‘Paanchali Sabatam’, the angry Bharati dominates the aesthetic Bharati. So much so that in a work which has 559 stanzas, only 5 stanzas describe  nature’s beauty. And the placement is perfect. PaaNdavas travel to Hastinapuram to play the game of dice and on the way, Arjuna- who for all practical reasons is considered to be a connoisseur- describes the beauty of the sky during dusk to Draupadi:

பாரடியோ! வானத்திற் புதுமை எல்லாம்,

பண்மொழி!கணந்தோறும் மாறி மாறி

ஓரடி மற்றோரடியோடு ஒத்தலன்றி

உவகையுற நவநவமாத் தோன்றும் காட்சி,

யாரடி இங்கு இவை போலப் புவியின் மீதே

எண்ணரிய பொருள் கொடுத்தும் இயற்ற வல்லார்!

சீரடியால் பழவேத முனிவர் போற்றும்

செழும் சோதி வனப்பையெலாம் சேரக்காண்பாய்.

‘Oh the one whose speech is as melodious as music! Look at the sky and see how the colours change-each one so different from the other. How much one may have to spend if such a spectacle is organised on the Earth. The beauty of the sun-who is praised by all Vedas- is in full glory!’

(I have tried my best to translate this wonderful verse. But it is always better to read the original in Tamizh!).

Like Bharati, we have another revolutionary living in the current era. If the former revolutionised Tamizh Poetry, the latter revolutionised film music. Since a lot has been said about this, I would prefer to move on to the main topic.

When Bharati wanted to write about getting India free from the foreign rule, he used symbolism. When ILaiyaraaja wanted to compose a song in a particular raga, he used a technique. He wanted to compose a song in Sarasangi (by mistake, he mentions this as Latangi even as his hands play the swaras of Sarasangi. Just a slip which happens to all human beings and nothing needs to be read into this. I have heard some people say ‘he does not even know the name of the raga’. Absurd!).  

He goes on and explains what he did. He took the gandhara (the swara ga) of Sarasangi as the aadhara(base) sa and composed a song. This concept is called as the Graha Bedam and I have already explained about this concept in many posts in the Orkut community.

This graha bedam on ‘ga’ in Sarasangi is something very special and I am not sure even if any classical musician has ever tried this. Please note that graha bedam is guided by some rules. Though one can try graha bedam on all 6 swaras, it may not yield a valid raga. One can at the most get 2 or 3 ragas (the exceptions being Shankarabharanam, Kalyani, Hanumatodi, Kharaharapriya, Harikambhoji, Natabhairavi. I have already explained about this in my post on ‘Vaidehi Raman’).

Sarasangi is in the Graha bedam group of Dharmavati and Chakravagam. If the ‘ma’ of Sarasangi is taken as the base, it becomes Dharmavati and if ‘pa’ is taken as the base, it is Chakravagam. This being the case, what was the Maestro talking about?

If the ‘ga’ is taken as ‘sa’, we get ‘sa ri1 ga2 g3 pa dha1 ni2 Sa’ which is not a valid raga. This is where the genius comes to the fore.

Sindhu Bhairavi is one raga which strictly does not go by and structure and the bhava of the raga can be shown by experts in just one or two swaras. Almost all the swaras can be used in the raga and the raga sketch is shown not by arohana/avarohana but by the way the swaras are used. The Maestro who is well adept with all these nuances makes the ‘new raga’ sound like Sindhu Bhairavi. I think saying ‘like’ is wrong. It is Sindhu Bhairavi by all means.

So, what kind of thinking is this? Let psychiatrists say that -that is if they know music or at least can appreciate music- and we shall focus on the composition.

A subtle Guitar sound is followed by a zealous humming by Uma RamaNan. With a shapely finesse, the Bass Guitar responds to the humming and the Lead Guitar taps on the shoulder of its cousin-the Bass Guitar- with a monarchic dignity. Impeccable and Instinctive!

The Pallavi starts like a luminous halo and is amazingly ruminative with the Guitar and the Flute taking turns to back the vocals. The special ‘train like sound’ is worth mentioning. It sounds ‘ta ka dhi mi/ ta - - - in the ‘mel kaalam’- the ‘-‘ denoting silence. This happens only when Uma RamaNan sings with the percussion appearing when SPB renders the lines in the Pallavi.

Do not miss the predominant ‘Arabic flavour’ in the prelude and in the Pallavi. In fact, it runs as the undercurrent throughout the song.

The beginning of the first interlude is another master act. The Piano appears from nowhere rather unexpectedly. The sensitive eloquence with which it is sounded is amazing. It sounds for 10 maatras , there is silence for 2 maatras and the  guitar plays the balance 4. The guitar then continues its journey energetically with the Piano intricately following it. After showing us some beautiful shades of the Dusk, the two give way to the delectable strings. There are two different sets of strings as often playing the counter melody with the Piano too peeping in now and then. The melody is full of vigour and is yet sublime.

The lines in the CharaNams have some cosy patterns appearing sequentially. The lines are interspersed with Guitar playing different sets of notes each time. It varies from being resonant to being subtle teaching us lessons in music as well as in life.

The second interlude is a concoction of combinations. Backed by the Guitar, the Flute plays in higher octave. The Guitar plays some fluid phrases on its own. What follows is stupendous with the rhythm Guitar and the Drums playing ‘Ta ka dhi mi’ sketching a unique melody in the process and the Strings showing a kaleidoscope of melody. The Brass Flute plays with great solicitude.

We are frozen in the Transcendental.

He defies logic… and yet is logical.

He innovates…and yet is traditional.

He breaks rules…and yet follows rules.

……Just like the Sindhu Bhairavi ragam!