ILaiyaraaja – The Heterogeneous Musician

 

Similar and Dissimilar!

Similarly Dissimilar!!

Can opposites co-exist?

Though this might sound absurd to some, it is this coexistence which gives that beauty to Nature and Life. When I say Nature and Life, does this not mean Poetry and Music or for that matter, any art form? Doesn’t this factor known better as ‘contrast’ give that sense of aesthetics? Doesn’t it give us feelings so profound that we search for words or even fall quiet, with this state itself elevating us to a level which at best can be called ‘spiritual’?

One of the classic example is this verse:

புள்ளது ஆகி வேதம் நான்கும் ஓதினாய், அது அன்றியும்

புள்ளின் வாய் பிளந்து புட்கொடிப் பிடித்த பின்னரும்,

புள்ளை ஊர்தி; ஆதலால் அது என் கொல் மின் கொள் நேமியாய்

புள்ளின் மெய்ப் பகைக் கடல் கிட த்தல் காதலித்ததே?

Raja4376 · Thirucchanda Viruttham

Taken from a work called ‘Thirucchanda Viruttam’ which is part of the Magnum Opus -Naalaayira Divya Prabandham-, this verse composed by Thirumazhisai Aazhwar talks about birds.

Just birds?

Let us get deeper. Addressed to Vishnu, the poet says – You took the form of a bird (swan) and recited the 4 vedas. You tore open the beak of a bird(crane) and killed a demon. You made a bird (Eagle/Garuda) to be part of Your flag and also made him Your Vaahana. But how is it that You are lying down quietly on a snake(Adisesha), a sworn enemy of the bird (Garuda) which is Your vahana?

We get to see three different species of birds- swan, crane, eagle- with each one being part of a single or multiple acts. The bird as an entity takes three different forms and indulges in positive and negative acts. Here we have similarities and dissimilarities. But the clincher is the last line which makes a mention of two sworn enemies.

What does this indicate?

Same, but different?

Same, same, different?

Different, Different?

Keep thinking and you will find an answer, well not the same answer but different answers!

Take this composition – Sangatamizh kaviye from Manadil Urudi VeNdum(1987). It is a composition in three different ragas. Is that the only attribute of the composition?

The veena sounds once. The bells respond. The veena sounds again. The subtle bells respond yet again. It seems like the lighting of the lamp with the spark gleaming and glittering. The veena continues its journey weaving simple and intricate patterns in Abheri. The melody from the flute which follows the veena, floats around and surrounds us like a gentle breeze.

In between, just before the journey of the veena begins, the tabla sounds ‘ta ka dhi mi/ta ki ta/ ta ki ta’-a count of 10. However, the composition is set in Tisram, which has a cycle of 3 counts. Is there a fallacy here?

Not really. There are 2 micro- beats before ‘ta ka dhi mi’, which are left as kaarvai, giving a total of 12 micro-beats which is divisible by 3.

The Pallavi starts in the voice of Yesudass, giving clear shades of Abheri. While the sketch of the raga is shown in just one line with descending and ascending notes, the brilliance and the aesthetic sense of the composer is revealed in the sudden appearance of lower-octave swaras -pa.ni.- in daagam, which in a way also reflects the thirst of the composer and in the interjection of flute between the lines -sung first by Yesudass and then by Chitra.

The violins move softly in the beginning of the first interlude, but there is a catch here. These play in Bageshri, a different raga, but using the same swaras. Let me explain a bit.

Ragas in the Indian system of music are formed by different sets of swaras which follow some set patterns while ascending and descending. The swaras may be the same but the way these are used are different. For example, the structure of Abheri is -sa ga2 ma1 pa ni2 Sa/Sa ni2 dha2 pa ma1 ga2 ri2 sa, the first one being the ascending notes and the second half being the descending notes. The structure of Bageshri is – sa ga2 ma1 dha2 ni2 Sa/ Sa ni2 dha2 ma1 pa dha2 ga2 ma1 ga2 ri2 Sa. The numbers against each swara denotes the variant and as you can see the variants of the swaras in both the ragas are the same, as both are derived from the same parent raga. Yet,  these sound different from each other!

Going back to the interlude, the veena sways as it responds to the violins and then moves majestically after the stream-like melody from violins. The flute which is reposeful as if responds to the veena after each line, gathers momentum when the energetic strings appear. The strings, flute and the flute combine together with pulsating vibrancy and play the tisram beats – ta ki ta/ta ki ta/taam- thrice, a la Carnatic concert.

The CharaNam continues in Bageshri with the lines encapsulating the beauty of the raga. What is of specific interest is the line ‘oru puram naan aNaikka’ for varied reasons, the foremost being the sangati after that line in the voice of Yesudass which lasts for 12 tisram cycles. The melodic charm, the sweetness and the softness, elevate us to reach vertiginous heights. As if this is not enough, the phrases in the lines that follow touch higher-octave swaras-even going up to ‘Ma’- which is a rarity.

When the Pallavi is rendered again, it is in Bageshri with the lower-octave swaras dha. and ni. Commingling with the mid-octave swaras giving that contrasting shades again!

The tabla sounds ‘ta tai tai taa’ thrice and the mrudangam responds with ‘ta ri ki ta taam taam’ thrice. With depth and crispness, the strings play Madhukauns, a totally different sounding raag which has the same ga and ni as Abheri and Bageshri but a different ‘ma’(prati madhyamam). This one swara makes a huge difference to the sound, the emotions and the feelings. The veena and the flute move sprightly in the same raag sketching some unforgettable musical images. These alternate. It is vibrant, vivacious and at the same time pensive.

The sounds coalesce finally spreading radiance.

The CharaNam continues in Madhukauns with the flute appearing between the lines oozing musical droplets and the higher- octave swaras making it a heavenly experience.

Three ragas, two with same swaras, one with almost the same swaras and with a different swara.

Similar and Dissimilar...

Birds and Snake..

Poetry..Music..Life..Contrast!

 

 

 

 

 

 

ILaiyaraaja – Musician with a Desire

 

Is longing for something bad?

If we long for something or yearn for somebody, we become obsessed with that thought and we set aside everything in life focussing only on one thing, which seriously impacts our life itself.

So, is it good or bad?

Before we sit on the Judge’s seat, let us look at something.

Here is a girl who pines for a man and in the process goes to an extreme. Who that man is and what that extreme is, will be known in a bit. First, the verse:

 

மச்சு அணி மாட மதிள் அரங்கர் வாமனனார்,

பச்சைப் பசுந்தேவர் தாம் பண்டு நீர் ஏற்ற

பிச்சைக் குறையா ஆகி, என்னுடைய பெய்வளை மேல்

இச்சை உடையரேல் இத்தெருவே போதாரே?

 

The one who lives in the place called Srirangam- which is full of decorated walls- once took the form of a dwarf , went to an Emperor and asked for alms. Even after getting the entire Universe as a ‘gift’, He was probably not happy. But wouldn’t his longing be fulfilled if he looks at my bangles and therefore wouldn’t He just pass through this street(where I am standing right now)?

If by now you haven’t guessed who that ‘she’ is, let me tell you that her name is AandaaL and that this is from her immortal work called ‘Naacchiyaar Thirumozhi’.

At the surface, the verse may not convey much except for the rhyming words. But scratch the surface and meanings- esoteric, poetic and philosophical- will gush out just like water let out from a dam.

First- the contrasts.

He is rich as the place where He lives is surrounded by huge and beautiful walls. At the same time, He went for ‘begging’ as a dwarf. Here too there is a contrast- High walls/Dwarf/

Second- psychology.

It is she who longs for Him and yet she imagines and believes that it is He who longs for her.

Third- Poetic imagination.

This requires no explanation. Nor do other elements because of reasons that are obvious.

So, is longing good or bad?

A true artiste (by ‘artiste’, I mean one who looks at the world with an artistic eye) longs for beauty. Beauty in whatever he or she does; beauty in the world; beauty in thoughts.

Example : AandaaL

Example : AandaaL’s Ranganatha

Example : ILaiyaraaja.

While I have already given explanation for the first two, I would refrain from doing it for the third because I have done it innumerable times here. Therefore, let me straightaway go to explaining yet another composition of his.

What strikes one the moment one listens to ‘KaNNa Varuvaaya’ (Manadhil Urudhi VeNdum – 1987) is the hidden silence. If silence itself is beautiful, imagine how beautiful hidden silence could be. There is that sense of poignancy too which in a way is intrinsic in the raga called Gowrimanohari.

This raga is sandwiched between Kharaharapriya and KiravaNi-two ragas with contrasting emotions- but is unique and has a charm of its own. By the way, some classify ‘KaNNa Varuvaaya’ under Patdeep- supposedly the Hindustani counterpart of Gowrimanohari- but I feel it is wrong because the former has only 5 swaras in the aroh while the latter has all the seven both in the aroh and avaroh and the fact that this composition too has the ‘ri’ and ‘dha’ in the aroh(and yes, in the avaroh), rules out the Hindustani raag.

I was talking about the ‘silence’ and ‘poignancy’. The composition starts with the humming of the chorus which can be called tenebrous. One gets to see the lambent light when the keys enter and play ‘ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka’. But the mystic feeling is accentuated by the single- stringed instrument which follows and the subtle flute which ‘sings’ along with the chorus. The tabla trots up and down in tisram playing ‘ta ki ta’ eight times and the Pallavi begins.

The Pallavi in the voice of Chitra is marked by the mid-octave swaras to start with, but suddenly there is a surge. In the second line, the higher-octave ‘Ri’ and the upper ‘Sa’( twice ) appear in the second phrase- mannan- showing the creative genius of the composer. But even this is nothing when compared to the last line in which the lower ‘ni’ follows the mid-octave ‘ri’ (maalai malarcholai) and when the upper ‘Ri’ appears immediately after the mid-octave ‘ri’(nadhiyoram) which is followed by the upper ‘Ma’ and a slide-Ga Ri Sa ni dha pa ma- and this in my view, is simply magical.

What is also magical is the first interlude. If the bell sound being followed by the strings-which give the contours of WCM- shows one kind of contrast, the veena and the strings beguile us with a different kind of contrast. The strings play in higher-octave with flourish with two different sets playing ‘second fiddle’ in different octaves. Layers?

The percussion stops now letting the flute vivify the atmosphere with the strings providing the contrast yet again.

The voice of Yesudas starts the first CharaNam which yet again has different permutations and combinations of the swaras in Gowrimanohari, with the higher-octave swaras being juxtaposed with that of the mid-octave swaras and finally ending with the signature ‘Ga Ri Sa ni dha pa’. But this is just theory and is of academic interest. The entire CharaNam conveys love, separation, longing, and yearning.

As I keep saying, raga and swaras are just tools to convey and invoke the emotions. A composition goes much beyond these, a fact proved yet again here.

The solo-violin pines. The group of strings responds. The solo-violin pines again. The group of strings responds again. This interplay of emotions happens in the beginning of the second interlude and this segment goes sans percussion, adding to the feelings.

The chorus continues and is backed only by the single-stringed instrument making it tantalisingly beautiful. The percussion says ‘I can wait no longer’ and backs the veena and the metallic western instrument which alternate between each other even as the chorus continues its journey. There is brief silence yet again with the veena scything through the silence in its inimitable style and the strings responding in kind.

The second CharaNam is different from that of the first CharaNam in terms of the gait and in terms of the combination of swaras. It goes in the next speed and each line is divided into three 4s-ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi. The first two lines go ascending while the next two lines go descending. If one sees the contrast again here between the first two lines and the next two lines, one can see yet another contrast in the structure of the second set(third and fourth lines) with the first half sliding from the upper Sa and the second half sliding from the upper Ga. It reaches a crescendo in the end.

Is longing full of contrasts?

Then, is it good or bad?

AaNdaaL, ILaiyaraaja and Ranganatha might give an answer.

Maybe, they may not…

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 Ineffable Musician

 

Can somebody or something go beyond what is generally seen or believed? If this happens, will it happen in real or only in imagination?

While coming across certain works, one can’t help wondering at the beauty of the works and the genius mind behind the creation of the works. ‘Are such things possible?’, we wonder.

One such work is Kamba RamayaNam. Though there are just 4 lines in each verse, it is impossible not to be enamoured of the use of the words and the way these are arrayed to convey not just meanings but something beyond meanings.

Take this particular verse which appears almost in the beginning of the work even before Rama is born. The poet extols Dasharatha, the father of Rama.

People familiar with the story, know that this gentleman was an Emperor respected by one equally for his compassion as for his valour.

The poet wants to show both the qualities in one verse and begins by saying  'Since there is no need for him to use the arrows’. Now, the reader keeps wondering the reason. In no time he/she gets the answer- ‘because he has no enemies’. Why no enemies? It is because he has conquered the world. Fine then. ‘He must have become lazy now and therefore must have lost his strength as there is nobody’, the cynic inside us says this with a tinge of sarcasm. The mind reader that he is, the Emperor of poetry describes Dasharatha immediately be saying ‘ the one with the strongest shoulders’. We are zapped! So now that he does not have to prove himself as a warrior, does he rest on his laurels and whiles away his time in all vices?

The poet continues- Like a farmer whose only asset is a piece of land, and who works very hard to make that land the best, this Emperor too protects his land (his kingdom) and protects his people with utmost care and compassion.

எய்யென எழுபகை எங்கும் இன்மையால்,

மெய்பொரு தினவுறு முழவுத் தோளினான்

வையக முழுவதும் வரிஞன் ஓம்பும் ஓர்

செய்யெனக் காத்து இனிது அரசு செய்கின்றான்.

Not only was the mythological character called Dasharatha was great, but also the poet who uses his imagination to enthral the aesthetes, the connoisseurs, the cognoscenti, and the common man, great. Needless to say, no word can do justice to his greatness.

Coming to think of it, such geniuses do not ‘think’ and it just happens to them.

How this applies to the composer who has been ruling the roost for the last 47 years, is known to many. The fact that his compositions appeal to the erudite as much to the layman, speaks volumes of his greatness, which for all practical purposes cannot be put in words.

Take ‘Koottattile Kovil PuRa’(Idaya Kovil- 1985) as one of the examples. At the surface, it is just a song sung by an untrained singer with a mellifluous voice in a village. But what has the composer done here which has made the song sound as fresh as a daisy after so many decades?

For starters, it is based on a raga called ‘Karnataka Khamas’, which strangely enough has not been used by any classical composer despite being a very simple raga and despite being very close to some very popular ragas-Khamas and Harikambhoji being some examples. Take out the swara ‘ri’ from both arohana(ascending) and the avarohana(descending) from the latter and we get this raga. Likewise, instead of the devious ‘sa ma ga ma pa dha ni Sa’, make it straight- sa ga ma pa dha ni Sa-in the arohaNa and have the same sets of swaras in the avarohaNa instead of all the seven swaras, and you can make out how different it is from Khamas.

Surprisingly enough, ILaiyaraaja has composed many songs in this raga while many others have not even gone near that.

Well, the beauty of/in ‘Koottattila..’ does not stop just with this.

The drone of the Tanpura followed by the sound of the ankle bells, create an electable divine atmosphere in the beginning itself. The fact that the first few phrases of the Pallavi are rendered without percussion and the silence after the first couple of phrases, spread a unique fragrance making the experience mystical.

With just the mid-octave swaras(except for the odd upper Sa in the first line) in the Pallavi, the raga is sketched on the canvas with a dark pencil. The continuous stream of the lower ‘sa’ in the second and the third line(towards the end), makes one see the canvas fluttering in the air with remarkable assiduity.

The wind blows with musical grace. The percussion sounds in Tisram with zeal. Backed by very subtle instruments, the chorus hums. Dappled with the flickers of light, the flute responds. Don’t we see a rustic atmosphere here?

That is why, I choose to call the first interlude bewitchingly beautiful!

A series of mid-octave swaras move with finesse in the first two lines of the CharaNams, but with the sudden entry of the higher-octave swaras like the 'Ga’ and ‘Ma’ in the third line, the complexion changes. The accidental note ‘Ri’ too enters in a flash and disappears like a lightning. But what follows is more than interesting.

First, it is the sangati in the line that follows in the inimitable voice of SPB, which shows us the beauty of Karnataka Khamas in a trice. Next, is Laya Raaja.

As mentioned earlier, the composition is set in Tisram, the 3-beat cycle. The last line goes in sets of four-

ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka dhi mi/ ta - - -.

That is, 7 sets of 4 with the ‘-‘ in the last segment denoting the ‘kaarvai’ or gap.

7x4 = 28.

Is this divisible by 3?

I shall park this for a while and see the number of tisrams. The number comes to 3 tisrams in keezh kaalam(slower speed). But the ‘ta ka dhi mi’ stops just after one syllable count in the third tisram, resulting in a count of 7. As the ‘ta ka dhi mi’s move in ati mel kaalam(super fast speed), it is 4 times the tisram count. So, now we get that answer to the puzzle but only partially.

What happens to the two remaining count- ki ta?

The song as such starts in ateeta eduppu - that is the Pallavi starting before the taaLam cycle. So the balance 2 accounts for this. Now, 2x4 = 8 and 28+8= 36 which is 9x4.

If all this is confusing, it is perfectly fine. Read it again, do the calculation and if you don’t get it, ask me. Or otherwise, just leave it. I shall come to this again towards the end.

The second interlude has a bevy of jatis in the beginning. Woven around this, the flute and the clarinet move alluringly and shimmer like a lambent of light. The humming of the chorus and the brief swara segment, are subtle, nuanced, and enticing.

Can somebody or something go beyond what is generally seen or believed? If this happens, will it happen in real or only in imagination?

The last line of the CharaNams, answers the question. Well, even if it doesn’t seem to answer, remember this-

Certain class of people and therefore their works are beyond greatness.

Do we then need answers?

 

 

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=hVjgm5PB0Pc&list=MLPT

ILaiyaraaja- The Free-spirited Musician

 

What are conventions?

A set of beliefs? Things which are followed traditionally?

First of all, how do we know if the beliefs are true or false?

Rather than making you confounded with a flurry of questions, let me explain the context.

Traditionally, it is believed that those days women were confined to their homes and were immersed only in activities related to their families, were not educated and therefore did not have independent thinking, leave alone expressing themselves.

Nothing can be far from truth than this if we consider the tamizh sangam age. There were many women poets who not just had a flair for the language, who not just had a natural ability to compose poems, but were also not hesitant to express themselves using simile from nature. Most importantly, topics which even now are considered taboo were touched upon by these poets with consummate ease.

Here is an example.

The lady is awaiting the return of her beloved who had promised to be back by monsoon. She sees a stag(male deer) who keeps looking for his pair-a doe. In short, the pair is separated. Instantly, she fears if her beloved too will witness such a sequence. Then, as if to console herself, she tells her friend that he will not see this. On the other hand, he will see the signs of monsoon- by sighting a pair which is together- think of me and come back to me immediately.

 

சென்ற நாட்ட கொன்றை அம் பசு வீ

நம் போல் பசக்கும் காலை, தம் போல்

சிறு தலைப் பிணையின் தீர்த்த நெறி கோட்டு

இரலை மானையும் காண்பர்கொல் நமரே?

புல்லென் காயாப் பூக்கெழு பெருஞ்சினை

மென் மயில் எருத்தின் தோன்றும்

புன் புல வைப்பிற் கானத்தானே.

 

The kondrai flowers are as pale as the complexion of my body now. The place he has gone to now has the long branches of kaaya trees which are full of dry flowers resembling the delicate neck of a peacock. Will he also spot the stag with twisted antlers(horns) which keeps searching for the small headed-doe(which is his pair)? No, I don’t think so. He will look at the signs of the monsoon and come back to me immediately.

This poem was written by Avvaiyaar, one of the women poets in the sangam era. I am not getting into the myths surrounding this name as it is beyond the scope of the discussion now.

What makes this poem unique is that the state of the mind of a woman is described by a woman and not by a man, which usually is the case(even now). Secondly, the kind of symbolism in the poem, makes it even more special.

Kondrai flowers- the pallor because of separation.

Dried Kaaaya flowers- his state of mind again because of separation.

Deer and Doe- He and She.

Peacock- Monsoon.

More than anything else, one feels the emotions even as one reads the lines. It also shatters the assumptions about the state of women and also goes to show how iconoclastic women were during that era in the Tamizh land.

The lady in the song of the day is as independent and as unconventional as the heroine in that verse and the poet who wrote the verse.

While listening to ‘Maanada kodi’ from ‘Mudal Vasantam’(1986), what strikes us the most is the feeling of unbounded joy in the voice(Janaki). This is because of the way the entire composition has been conceived, structured and executed.

For starters, the composition is based on a raga called Suddha Saveri. This very fact itself is interesting and intriguing at the same time. Suddha Saveri is a pure classical raga not generally used in film music. I must hasten to add that ILaiyaraaja has used it more prolifically than anybody else, though a couple of composers have made an attempt to use this raga. Branding any particular raga as ‘classical’ does by no stretch of imagination means that other ragas are not classical. But the fact is some ragas are more classical and the reasons are many though I would refrain from touching upon these now considering the fact that this discussion revolves around other factors and that the relevance will get lost if I start drowning myself into serious technical aspects.

The composition starts with the akaaram which is backed by the very subtle sound of the bells. This piece itself is enough to impact our full sensorium. It in fact even goes beyond that and gives an illusion of floating in the air. As if to give a contrasting feeling, the keys enter with a bang, ably buttressed by the bass guitar and the percussion-which is resounding along with the ankle bells, sounding just the first syllable ‘ta’ of tisram. The flute takes over and playing with finesse, expands the melody with the strings sounding ‘ta ka dhi mi ta ka’ in pure Suddha Saveri. The keys bend gracefully and as if charmed by this sound, the birds chirp.

What makes the Pallavi stand out is the podi sangati in the third line(thottaththu pookkaL). It is bewitchingly beautiful. What is exquisite about the entire Pallavi is the melody from the keys between the lines. This melody can also be called the leitmotif, as it keeps occurring now and then.

The strings in the beginning of the first interlude seem as if they are climbing up a hill, albeit effortlessly. The santoor interjects briefly before that magical instrument called flute enters. An instrument which is already magical assumes greatness and reaches gargantuan proportions in the hands of a true magician. And this is what happens here. Straddling between pure classicism and folk, the flute moves tantalisingly close to our heart showing us the visions of nature in its pristine form. This indeed is a surreal experience, accentuated by the strings which play in the higher-octave and the call and response between the flute and the santoor towards the end.

Balance between subtlety and grandeur. This is how one can describe the lines in the CharaNams which move softly and with flourish, bespattering droplets of honey and revealing the beauty of the raga called Suddha Saveri, with the initial akaaram - 4 cycles of tisram- and the ending humming- 2 cycles of tisram- looking like the raisins on an Indian sweet.

The flute does it again in the second interlude. But as one would expect from this composer, this time it is different. First, it plays an alluring melody. The strings respond with sobriety. This happens twice and the third time when it plays, the guitar-which had been silent all along- shows up and what a moment it is!

Known for its beguile and its fluidity, the guitar gives an incredible smile which even makes the flute bow down in appreciation. The keys follow with reverence and the strings move with ardour, symbolising the entire theme. The flute enters again and plays with translucence. The strings follow, but what happens now towards the end, is something which is indescribable. The flute, which until then was playing in higher octave, plays in the lower- octave which almost sounds like a whisper.

A whisper which gives us the meaning of ‘unconventional’.

A whisper which makes us feel nature.

A whisper which shatters all myths..

…about music and about women!

ILaiyaraaja - The Harmonious Musician

What happens when all the five senses combine together? Is there a fallacy in this statement? Is it not a fact that all the senses operate all the time for all humans?

 Yes, but these operate independently doing their respective duties as and when required. But my question is different. When all these combine together at the same time, what one senses will be different and is a unique experience difficult to describe. In fact, one even loses the sense of each organ. This happens during deep meditation. 

 One of the great poets in Tamizh, Appar-a.k.a. Thirunaavukkarasar, says something about the senses and let us see how it makes sense: 

 ஓசை ஒலி எலாம் ஆனாய் நீயே 

உலகுக்கு ஒருவனாய் நின்றாய் நீயே 

வாச மலரெலாம் ஆனாய் நீயே 

மலையான் மருகனாய் நின்றாய் நீயே 

பேசப் பெரிதும் இனியாய் நீயே 

பிரானாய் அடி என்மேல் வைத்தாய் நீயே 

தேச விளக்கு எலாம் ஆனாய் நீயே 

திருவையாறு அகலாத செம்பொன் சோதீ. 

  You are the sound, You are the Only one. 

You are the fragrant flowers(or the fragrance in the flowers). 

You are the son-in-law of the King of the Mountains.

 You are the sweetest(uttering Your name makes the words sweet). 

And you kept Your feet on my head. 

You are the radiance in everything. You are the eternal flame at Thiruvaiyaaru.

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 What I have given is the literal translation. But there is more to this than meets the eye and I shall deal with just some aspects. The very first line says ‘Osai’ followed by ‘Oli’. Don’t both mean the same? Superficially speaking, yes. Scratch the surface and you will find something more. In Tamizh, there are just a few letters which give meanings as stand-alone letters. For example- Aa, Poo, Maa- the first one meaning the cow, the second one the flower and the third one the mango. All other letters don’t give meanings on their own. And this is what the king of tongue(Naavukkarasar) means when he says ‘Osai’. ‘Oli’ is produced when the letters combine together. The esoteric meaning is that any sound-meaningless noise or meaningful sound- is You. 

 Moreover, in the temple at Thiruvaiyaaru( Shiva whose name is Panchanadeeswara), the western side at the third praakaara is called the ‘Sabda oli praakaraa’ and there is a small hole at the north west corner. It is said that if one places his/her mouth into that small hole and say something, the sound echoes and reverberates. Moving on, it can be clearly seen that the verse talks about hearing, smell, taste, touch and seeing- the five senses in our body. I shall stop here as the verse is deeper requiring further elucidation which in a way is beyond the scope of this forum. The bottom line- Five senses join together in a spiritual experience.

 Needless to say, Music is a spiritual experience as well, especially in the hands of geniuses. One such spiritual experience is the composition ‘Shiva Pujaku’ from Swarna Kamalam (1988). 

 The drone of the tanpura fills the ears, the heart and surrounds us. The bells sound twice in Tisram. The mrudangam sounds 'ta ka dhi mi ta –' four times(3 broken into 6 with the kaarvai at the end). Isn’t this enough to cast a spell? SPB sings the first line, first without percussion and then with percussion. The raga called Valaji gets sketched in the hands of the artiste now. SPB sings a line and the chorus renders ‘Siri siri muvva’(the bell on the anklet). The percussion which backed SPB remains quiet during the chorus section as if to suggest that after all, the anklets are as spiritual as silence.

 It is the turn of Suseela now and in a trice the complexion changes. This has to do with two things. First, the percussion instruments change though the time signature and the pattern remain the same. There are two sets of percussion, one sounding ‘ta ka dhi –‘ and the other sounding ‘ta ka’. As Suseela renders each line, the sitar sounds two notes in the gap and this seems like the crescent of top of Shiva’s matted hair.

 The second thing is interesting and it has to do with the meaning of the lines and in fact even the theme of the song. People who have watched the movie know that the protagonist (a.k.a. Hero) spots the beautiful dancer in the lady(a.k.a. Heroine). However, the lady does not want to be confined to anything and wants to be a free bird. In the Pallavi, the male voice hails the anklet, which he says blossomed like a flower for ‘Shiva Puja’, the female voice talks about the ‘ship of imagination’ which should not bow its head to the waves.

 Same raga; same tune; yet the mood is different!

 The violin plays with grace. The sitar responds with finesse. The violin plays again, this time a more nuanced melody. The sitar responds again, exquisitely but with a slight change of notes. This exchange of melody in the first interlude, gives some ornate and yet simple images of Valaji. Like the Godavari, the group of violins moves with elegance. The river then flows with ebullience finally playing the descending notes of the raga in a flash. 

 The lines in the CharaNams talk about the stars in the west which twinkle in the night and the brightness in the east, imploring the dancer in the lady to mould her heartbeats to make it sound like the Omkara. 

 The complexion changes yet again with the instruments led by the Shehnai and buttressed by the violins, turning folksy. What is to be noted is that the crux of Valaji is retained despite the improvisation.

 Beguilingly beautiful! 

 The CharaNam continues in the same melody in the voice of Suseela and it explores the wonders of nature and therefore the beauty of freedom. 

 ‘With the breeze of happiness guiding you, keep sailing. Let a new song and a melody wake you up everyday and let the moonlight drift alongside’. 

 The mrudangam and the ankle bells weave intricate jati patterns in two cycles of Adi taaLam. Five senses combine together. 

 You are the Sound.. You are the Fragrance..You are the Taste..You are the Feeling.. You are the Vision..

 It is the blossoming of the thousand petalled Golden Lotus!

PS: This post was written as part of the 8th Anniversary celebrations of 'ILaiyaraaja- The Master' Group on Facebook.

 
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ILaiyaraaja – The Natural Spring

 

Certain things happen by itself. One doesn’t plan nor does one even think. Yet such things come out perfectly and are even more perfect and precise than things which are executed as per plan.

How do these happen?

Before answering this or even trying to answer this, let us see a 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. 

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This poem describes the dance of the peacock. Generally, the dance of the peacock is associated with grace, elegance and subtleness. But here it is the contrast.

Great Seas and Oceans, Eight directions (Dishas), the sky, and the earth (bhooloka) 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.

 

Peacock and aggression? Peacock and anger? Peacock and temper?

Well, why not? - says AruNagirinathar, the 15^th Century poet who lived in that divine place called ThiruvaNNamalai and whose works are as vast as the Indian Ocean.

Why does this peacock dance?

Is it to tell the world that at times aggression is needed? Is it to show the world that even gracefulness can turn into aggression when the need arises? Or is to just say that things happen by itself and one just needs to admire it rather than questioning it?

I would say-all the three- though I would go with the last mentioned because of my propensity to take and view things as they are.

Certain things just happen.

Poetry happened to AruNagirinathar. Music happened to ILaiyaraaja.

When we see a magnificent waterfalls, do we ask ‘Oh, why is this falling?’

When we see a bird fly, do we ask, ‘Oh, why is it flying?’

When we feel the breeze, do we wonder, ‘Oh, why is it blowing?’

Likewise, poetry happens; Art happens; Music happens.

Take this song –  Maanami idi idikka from Unnai Nenaicchen Paattu Padicchen (1992). Based purely on Mayamalavagowla, a raga known for its classicism and divinity, the composition flows like a river from the mountain.

The beginning itself suggests this. The violins gush in higher octave and move with vigour. Even the keys which interject the violins, seem to have been awe-struck by the force. It just gives a mystic smile and disappears. The percussion too moves with the same momentum in Tisram. After a while, the chorus hums in its own inimitable way with the flute entering like a lightning in between and disappearing before we bat our eyelids. The percussion plays Tisram in mel kalam and guides us to the Pallavi.

If we saw the lightning in the prelude, we see the thunder in the Pallavi. Only difference is that this thunder is melodious in the voice of SPB and Janaki. The bass guitar is as subtle as ever and at the same time is resonant. Can subtle and resonance go together? If thunder and lightning can go together, why not these two as well- says the flute towards the end of the Pallavi.

The flute continues its journey calling out like a cuckoo in the beginning of the first interlude. After a pause, it responds to its own call and then starts going around showing us some myriad hues of the great raga. The strings back the flute now and then, but this backing is a little different. It is done imperceptibly and with precision, sounding as if ‘Ok, I am here too, but I give major space to you’. The sound from the keys too seems to suggest appreciation for the camaraderie between the two.

The chorus continues in Mayamalavagowla and the strings decorate it, showing flashes of brilliance towards the end.

The first segment of the CharaNam sees a mix of higher-octave swaras and the mid-octave swaras while the second segment sees the ascending and the descending notes. The third segment moves with fluidity touching the corners of the raga with finesse.

With satin like smoothness, the bells sound the swaras of the raga in ‘ta ka dhi mi/ta ka, in the beginning of the second interlude. Even as it plays, the chorus sings the akaaram and it sounds like a lullaby. The akaaram continues with richness as the percussion joins now. It seems like an undulating terrain with the bells entering now and then. We reach the summit along with the strings and are enveloped by the quiet stillness.

Stillness after ebullience? How did it happen?

Certain things just happen.. like the dance of the peacock!

 

 

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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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