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 an aura

 
How beautiful is light?

Not an easy question to answer. In fact the question itself is ambiguous and the difficulty in answering lies as much in that ambiguity. There are certain things which are beyond beauty and even the concept of beauty. Surely, Light is beyond everything.

Everything begins with light. Everything began with light. But everything does not end with light, because there is no end to light.

It is not surprising at all that scholars who understood the divine nature of light, have composed verses which show the different dimensions of light. AruNagirinathar was one of those.

He starts one of the verses saying ‘Standing at the peak of the mountain of Wisdom which was formed by the effulgent light’. Imagine a huge mountain formed from the light! He continues- ‘You made me realise the absolute bliss, a state of non-existence in that boundless open space’.

 

ஒளியில் விளைந்த உயர் ஞான பூதரத்து உச்சியின் மேல்

அளியில் விளைந்த து ஓர் ஆன ந்தத் தேனை அனாதியிலே

வெளியில் விளைந்த வெறும் பாழைப் பெற்ற வெறும் தனியைத்

தெளிய விளம்பியவா! முகம் ஆறுடைத் தேசிகனே!!

Light has value. Light has no value. It is beyond value. It is infinite.

This applies as much to music; Music composed by great people; people for whom music is not a way of life; for whom music is life itself.

‘Malaikovil vaasalil ‘ from ‘Veera’(1994) is an example of thousands of compositions which glow like light. So powerful is the effulgence that one even forgets that it is a romantic duet. All one feels is that divinity and needless to say, it is because of the way the entire composition has been composed.

It starts with the percussion alone. ‘ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka dhi mi’ plays the percussion, with an additional stress on the ‘dhi’ in the second half and this itself is enough to give that special feeling. In fact, this pattern continues in the Pallavi and the ChraraNam and therefore is the leitmotif of the composition itself.

But apart from this, what runs as the undercurrent is that primordial sound -AUM- a sound which is full of vibrations, a sound which gives vibrations, a sound which has no religion, caste, class and creed.

We first hear the sound in the higher-octave from the chorus after five cycles of ‘ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi’ by the percussion. Another set of chorus sings in the lower-octave and by now if you do not feel the divine fragrance, you may have to get tested for anosmia.

There is a sudden shift. The tanpura which enters with grace plays in a different shruti. The bells sound in that shruti and the Pallavi continues in the new shruti.

There are songs which changes shruti in between but I cannot think of any song which changes shruti in the Pallavi itself. So seamless is the change that one does not even notice it. Imperceptibly perceptible or perceptibly imperceptible!

Does the first line which takes the ascending swaras (sa ri ga ma pa) of Nata Bhairavi, indicate the climb up the hill?

Does the special instrument which follows the vocals signify the sparks?

Does the resonant folk percussion which plays ‘ta’, ‘ta dhi’ ‘ta’ for every alternate line symbolise the heart?

Does the harmony of the chorus- with one set singing in mid-octave and the other set singing in the higher-octave, show us Life itself?

As if to make us find an answer-or the futility in finding answers- the chorus sings the primordial sound again in the lower-octave. With the resonant percussion sounding ‘ta’ ‘dhi’ ‘ta’ in its inimitable style, the bamboo flute tantalises, while a special sounding instrument moves with relentless assiduity. Playing in two different octaves, the two sets of strings trot up and down showing the lambent light. The leitmotif (percussion) returns now backing a new set of strings which plays in the higher-octave, even as it is dappled in flickering light.

If the ending of the first two lines in the lower- octave swaras, shows us the descent, the bevy of swaras in the second half of the CharaNams, shows us our life can be complex as well. The wispy sound of the small flute towards the end, along with the vocals, show us the incandescent light.

Veda mantras in veena and guitar.. Primordial sound in chorus ..Graceful and beguiling stream of music from the flute..

How beautiful is the light?

Light has value. Light has no value. It is beyond value. It is infinite…

 

 

 

ILaiyaraaja – The Ageless Musician

 

What makes anything everlasting, perpetual, immortal and even beyond time? Do these have some special powers or have these been granted boons? Or is it that ‘it just happens’ without any reason?

By now many are aware that the Tamizh Changam poetry is more than 2500 years old and yet these are alive and kicking(in the tongues of scholars and in the minds of the literati) despite so many things having changed in two millennium. How and Why?

Allow me to quote a poem from one of these works, before I attempt to answer that question:

 

தொடி நெகிழ்ந்தனவே, தோள் சாயினவே,

விடும் நாண் உண்டோ தோழி விடர் முகைச்

சிலம்புடன் கமழும் அலங்கு குலைக் காந்தள்

நறும் தாது ஊதும் குறுன்சிறைத் தும்பி

பாம்பு உமிழ் மணியின் தோன்றும்

முந்தூர் மேனிய மழைக் கிழவோற்கே.

Raja4376 · Kurunthogai - Recited By Raj

Says she:

My bangles are slipping; My arms are getting leaner by the second.

Do I still have any modesty left(to lose)?

The bees spread the fragrance of the Malabar Blue lilies

That resemble the gems spat by the snake

Oh! My man who rules the mountain surrounded by the thorny bamboo fence.

What does this convey to you? The angst of the girl who pines for his man? Her ecstatic reminiscence on the time spent together? Her helplessness?

Forget all these for the time being and look at the way the poem is structured with focus on simile and contrasts. The little bees and the pollen here indicate the union while the snake and the gems(contrasts) depict the separation.

Bees spread the fragrance. Likewise, her man spread good things about her. Or put simply, fragrance here symbolises Love.

‘Bangles are coming off the hands’ – shows her angst.

‘I have no modesty even to lose’- does this need any elaboration at all?

Coming to think of it, each line is a small poem by itself and doesn’t this explain the reason for its immortality? By the way, this poem written by Aasiriyar PerunkaNNanaar, is part of KuRunthogai, which is part of Ettuththogai which is part Tamizh Changam literature, which, as per history and research dates back to BC 500.

Talking about immortality, this composer’s works too will fall under that category though sceptics would jump and comment that it is too early to say and ask ‘where is 2500 and where is 48’? Though they are partly correct, I have my own reasons for my presumption and the collection of posts here would list out that reasons though not in a specific order. But more than anything else, the fact that the compositions sound fresh even after decades at a time when what is considered a ‘hit’, disappears even before one bats an eyelid, is proof enough to suggest that the presumption might turn out to be a reality.

Today, I am taking up ‘EnnuLLe EnnuLLe’ from VaLLi(1993) as one of the examples. A song well-known to many, it is also packed with intricacies, not known to many.

First and foremost, it would disappoint people who look for ragas in each and every song, it I said that the composition cannot be classified under a particular raga. It just follows the minor scale of Western Classical Music. More on this, in a while.

Secondly, there is not a single percussion instrument in the song throughout the Pallavi, interludes and the CharaNams. There is a rider here. The composition starts with the percussion ruling the roost for 1 minute and 45 seconds, but the moment the melodic instruments start playing, the percussion retires. In fact, this segment (percussion) is not part of the normal audio one gets to listen, though it is part of the OST of the movie.

Let us get going and experience the Laya from the Raaja to start with:

Dheem - - ta/dheem - - ta

ta ki ta ta ki ta dheem -/- ta ka ta ki ta dheem (twice)

Dheem dheem ta -(twicw)/ ta ki ta ta ki ta dheem -/- ta ka ta ki ta dheem

Ta ka dhi mi/ta ka jhanu(8 times)

Dheem dheem ta ka ta ka/ki ta ta ka ta ka ta ri ki ta ta ka

Dheem dheem dheem dheem/ ta ka ta ri ki ta ta ka

Ta ka dhi mi/ta ka jhunu(3 times)/ ta ka dhi taangida ta ka ta ri ki ta ta ka

Ta ka dhi mi/ta ka jhunu/ ta ka dhi taangida ta ka ta ri ki ta ta ka (mel kaalam) – twice

Ta- ta – dheem/ ta ki ta dheem/ta ka dhi mi dheem/ ta dhinginnaththom/ta dhinginnaththom/ta dhinginnaththom

Ta – dhi -/ta taangu/ ta – dhi /ta taangu/ta – dhi/ta taangu

Ta-dhi – ta

Ta- ta – dheem/ ta ki ta dheem/ta ka dhi mi dheem/ ta dhinginnaththom/ta dhinginnaththom/ta dhinginnaththom

Ta – dhi -/ta taangu/ ta – dhi /ta taangu/ta – dhi/ta taangu

Ta-dhi – ta

Ta ka dhi mi/ ta ka jhunu(12 times)

Ta - ki ta ta ka/dhi- ki ta ta ka/ta - ki ta ka/dhi – ki ta ka

Ta - - -/ta - - -.

 

After these labyrinthine alleys, what we see and hear is something totally different.

There are three layers- one with the lead guitar, second with the rhythm guitar and third with the bass guitar. If the third layer shows the first layer in a different form, the second layer just backs the two layers. If you are confused and even bewildered by this line, let me try and explain.

The lead guitar plays a melody (which very soon we learn, is the melody of the Pallavi) in the minor scale. Interpreted in Carnatic language, this is Nata Bhairavi scale, but there is a catch here too. The entire bit eschews the note ‘ni’, the variant of which differentiates this scale with that of the Gowrimanohari scale, with the former being known by the name Diatonic minor and the latter going by the name Melodic minor.

Now, the bass guitar just plays the notes played by the lead guitar in the lower-octave. This is somewhat strange because generally in his compositions, the bass guitar plays a totally different sets of notes either while backing the lead instruments or while playing along with the vocals. Next, the rhythm guitar keeps playing ta ka dhi mi/ta ka dhi mi throughout. Hope the layers are understood now.

The chorus joins and hums the melody of the lead guitar even as the instruments continue to play. Can we call this a fourth layer?

More layers are seen in the Pallavi when the lead singer-Swarnalatha- takes over. The chorus sings in a different octave(lower) giving that effect of Harmony. But what is amazing is that the three different guitars continue in the background, albeit in a subdued tone.

Once layered, will it be possible for these to disappear on their own? Surely not especially if the layering is done by a master composer. We have three layers again the first segment of the first interlude. One set of strings is beguiling. The second set is enticing and the third set, soft and supple.

The double bass joins the set now and there is the fourth layer again. The brass flute interjects vivifying the atmosphere and one sees the different dimensions of the minor scale. The strings play sustained melody now and then even as the flute trots up and down assiduously. It is time for harmony again and as the chorus sings in harmony, the rhythm guitar backs it with continuous 1 2 3 4 with grace.

The layering continues in the CharaNams with the alluring flute and the translucent strings charting their own course with unique melodies, playing along and in between, to make it grandiloquent.

As mentioned, the lines in the CharaNams straddle between the Diatonic minor (Nata Bhairavi) and Melodic minor (Gowrimanohari) with the last two lines following the latter and the first two lines following the former.

The strings play a movement twice. Does it sound pensive? Or does it sound mystical?

If this occurrence in the beginning of the second interlude, what follows leaves us spell bound. The strings go in higher-octave; another set just backs it with sustained melody; the double bass plays with a touch of nonchalance; the chorus sings in harmony with the strings in the background; the cello just follows up with a very subtle touch.

We see the light. Is it the Light of Eternity?

 

 

 

ILaiyaraaja – The Concordant Musician

 

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

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

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

Look at this verse:

 

கண்ணொடு கண்ணிணை நோக்கொக்கின் வாய்ச்சொற்கள்

என்ன பயனும் இல.

 

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

What is rhythmic about this?

Let me try deciphering the syllables in music parlance:

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

Raja4376 · ThirukkuraL - recited by Raj(me)

Am I talking about this rhythm alone? Not really.

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

One pair of eyes meets the other pair; Silence.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What happens then is a cascading progression.

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

1 2

1 2 3

1 2 3 4

1 2 3 4 5

1 2 3 4 5 6

1 2 3 4 5 6 7

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is that rhythm?

 

ILaiyaraaja – The Maayaavi

 

What is Magic?

Is it an art or is it science or is it esoteric?

Of all the definitions on Magic, this one – having a special quality that makes something seem wonderful – appeals to me the most not least because it completely ignores the second question. Magic is an experience and therefore the debate on what exactly it is – art, science, history, geography, maths- is unwarranted. We feel good when something magical happens and this is more than enough.

Now, imagine this scenario. The young prince along with his brother and a rishi, steps into a city. The moment he steps in, the creepers by the side of the road, get up and sway vigorously. It seems as if they extend their hands and welcome the prince with a smile and say ‘That great lady who was once sitting on the lotus, came here because of our penance. Come fast’.

On the face of it, this would seem like a normal poem because after all aren’t poets known for their imagination which mostly borders on exaggeration? Scratch the surface and you will see that M word.

First of all, the prince went by the name Rama. The city he entered went by the name Mythila. The lady is Sita. The last mentioned is supposedly an avatar of Lakshmi, the consort of VishNu, while the first mentioned is considered one of the avatars of VishNu, as per mythology. With this introduction, let us see the full poem in its original form:

மையறு மலரின் நீங்கி, யான் செய் மாதவத்தின் வந்து

செய்யவள் இருந்தாள்!’ என்று செழுமணிக் கொடிகள் என்னும்

கைகளை நீட்டி அந்தக் கடிநகர், கமலச் செங்கண்

ஐயனை ‘ஒல்லை வா!’ என்று அழைப்பது போன்றதம்மா!

 

Raja4376 · Verse of Kamban - Recited by me

Why, creepers and not trees? Creepers coil around something and this itself is a great sight. To me, this symbolises love. It also symbolises Time. It is just to ‘remind’ the man that there is somebody who has been waiting for you. But beyond all this, it is one word in the third line which adds that extra power to make this poem extraordinary. 

கமலச் செங்கண்  (kamala cheNgaN) – the one with the lotus eye.

Note that the verse starts by saying ‘the one who was sitting on the lotus flower’. By bringing in that lotus here again, doesn’t it say that she has always been part of you?

This is what we call magic. And yes, the magician here goes by the name Kamban.

 Time now to see magic in music.

Before I start describing the song, I must say a few things which might help in understanding some of the technicalities in classical music. It is a well-known fact that there are 7 notes in music, with each note, except the first one and the fifth one having two variants(and I am not going to talk about the third variant here for a reason!). Indian classical music has the concept of a raga which is defined as a set of notes which go ascending and descending(a raga is something more than a set of notes and yet again I am not getting into this now!).

It is not necessary to have all the 7 notes for a raga to be complete. There are ragas which have 6 notes, 5 notes and in different combinations. The swaras(Indian name for notes) are defined by the shruti. There are many techniques as well, and one of these is ‘Gruha bhedam’, which is the shifting of the tonic. Since I have elaborated on this in some of my earlier posts, I am not delving into this now. Suffice to say that if one of the swaras is made the ‘sa’, it becomes some other raga following the principle of Gruha Bhedam(‘Gruha’ – House; Bhedam – Shift). At times when a song is composed in a particular shruti, it becomes tough for a listener to exactly place the raga(which in a way is good!).

‘Vaa Vaa Anbe Anbe’ from ‘Agni Nakshatram’(1988) is one such song. Many say this song is based on Shivaranjani. But yours truly feels it is based on Sunaadavinodini. Is it an illusion? Or is it real? Is this the only magic in the song?

Let us strive to find answers..

The guitar sounds subtly. The piano responds with grace. The strings move like waves. The bass guitar, which generally is a silent participant, observes all this quietly and joins the celebration. Meanwhile, the drums enter as well making their presence felt now and then.

The guitar sounds the same melody repeatedly while the piano expands on its melody. The bass guitar goes around with its task unmindful of everything around it. The brass flute vivifies the atmosphere and trots up and down playing staccato notes even as the strings play in higher-octave, making a nuanced statement in the process.

How does this prelude sound?

Poignant? Romantic? Peppy?

And what scale does it follow?

At least I get an answer to the second question in the Pallavi itself. It starts with the lower octave kaakali nishadam and touches the antara gandharam, and though this does not suggest any specific raga, if one juxtaposes this with the prelude, the puzzle is solved because these swaras are non- existent in Shivaranjani. The last line in the Pallavi goes on the descent(Sa ni dha ma ga) confirming the fact that it is Sunaadavinodini. The last phrase probably has the rishabham but it occurs just once and can be called an accidental note.

Keeping all these technical details aside, taken as a musical piece the Pallavi excels in the voice of Yesudass and Chitra with the strings playing a melody along with the vocals, which is in the same scale but is different from that of the vocals in terms of the combination of notes.

With relentless assiduity, the guitar moves in the beginning of the first interlude bespattering droplets of melody. The piano gets drenched and gives a brief repartee with coy. The flute allures us with its melody which also has a tinge of poignancy. The strings continue from where they left(in the prelude) and draws a wavy pattern, which seems like the high tide.

The first two lines in the CharaNam move with sobriety as if to give us a hint about the magic that is likely to follow. And yes, it happens..

There is a sudden tonal shift and the scale suggests Shivaranjani. How did this happen?

As mentioned earlier, Sunaadavinodini and Shivaranjani are in the same Gruha Bhedam group. If the note ‘dha’ of Sunaadavinodini is kept as the ‘sa’, it transform to Shivaranjani and this is what happens here. It gets back to the original raga(scale) after two lines. Just for academic interest, if the ‘ga’ of Shivaranjani is kept as the base, it becomes Sunaadavinodini.

There is now a knock on the door. And it opens…Then there is a conversation. This is how one can describe the second interlude. The keys knock. The guitar responds. The drums move. The strings flow. The flute surrounds. It seems as if this conversation will never end. And we don’t want it to end as well.

It seems like the creepers, the lotus and the eyes converse with each other.

After all, it is a spell cast by a magician.. rather two magicians from two different eras.

ILaiyaraaja – The Contrarian

 

How appropriate is appropriateness in Life?

But isn’t appropriateness itself subjective? Or is it?

At the same time, aren’t there norms and rules and doesn’t one have to strictly follow these and wouldn’t failure to follow these make one ‘appropriately inappropriate’?

Take music, Indian music, in particular. Each raga has ascending and descending notes and if an alien note enters the raga, it is against grammar rules.

For that matter, any work of art(and this includes poems) should follow the grammar without which it becomes meaningless and also cannot be termed as a work of art. But if one goes strictly by the rule book, the work also seems staid, mechanical, monotonous and even unenterprising, thus defeating the very purpose of art.

Any work of art attains a status not only if it is as per rules but also when it breaks certain rules.

Does this sound conflicting and paradoxical?

At the face of it, yes. But scratch the surface and you will see the real meaning; in fact, layers of meanings.

There is something called innovation; there is something called improvisation. Both these are offshoots of creativity. When the artform is kept as the base and new ideas are added to it by stretching the boundary without in anyway crossing the border, it acquires a special beauty. But here too, there should be a broad rule: the thin line distinguishing the border from the boundary should be very clear and not confusing.

And therein lies the hallmark of a genius.

Here is a sample of work from one of the geniuses who preferred to call himself as a ‘servant of the servants’(thoNdaradi podi), and yet was exalted to the status of an aazhwar.

Describing the beauty of the Universe is not uncommon in a poem, even if it is a verse dedicated to the Divine. However here, the poet looks at it in a different way. Let us see the verse first:

 

கதிரவன் குணதிசைச் சிகரம் வந்து அணைந்தான்;

கன இருள் அகன்றது காலை அம்பொழுதாய்;

மது விரிந்து ஒழுகின மா மலர் எல்லாம்;

வானவர்கள் அரசர்கள் வந்து வந்து ஈண்டி,

எதிர்திசை நிறைந்தனர்;இவரொடும் புகுந்த

இருள் களிற்று ஈட்டமும் பிடியொடு முரசும்

அதிர்தலில் அலைகடல் போன்றுளது எங்கும்;

அரங்கத்தம்மா! பள்ளி எழுந்தருளாயே!

 

Raja4376 · Paasuram

The sun has come to the east; No more darkness and it is the dawn; Honey oozes out from the flowers; Devas, Kings, male elephants, female elephants- have lined up; The drums sound with resonance; It seems like the sound of the ocean. Oh! Ranganatha!! Please wake up.

What is different here?

It is believed that it is the Divine which is responsible for the Universe, the actions, the activities and the beauty. Here, the poet describes the beauty to the One who is responsible for that and most importantly, has the audacity to ask that ‘One’ to wake up as if the Divine sleeps.

Is this appropriate or inappropriate?

Rather than trying to figure out an appropriate answer, let us all understand that at times there is beauty in inappropriateness and that it is this beauty which makes any work aesthetic and immortal.

And yes, this does not exclude musical works.

Take this particular song – Paadu Nilaave from Udaya Geetam(1985). For starters, it is based on a raga called Mohanam. Note the word –‘based’. As I have mentioned in many of my posts, it is not the raga alone which matters.

Now, Mohanam has just 5 swaras- sa ri2 ga3 pa dha2- with the numbers below each note referring to the variant of that note. ILaiyaraaja as such has composed many songs in this raga, with some being in its ‘purest’ form and others with a mix of alien notes. Generally, the alien notes would be the notes non-existent in the raga, say – the swaras, ma and ni. At times, it would also be the other variant of the 3 notes – ri, ga, dha-, but these would be sparingly used.

‘Paadu Nilaave’ is different and in more than one way.

The composition starts with the akaaram of Janaki which is graceful and bewitching at the same time. The strings reply with equal grace and with a sense of awe. As soon as the akaaram gets over, the strings take over and how? There are three sets with one set playing a tantalising melody and the other two sets playing a repeat melody alternating with each other. Even as this is on, the feeling of poignancy is ineluctable. This itself is somewhat unusual because Mohanam is a raga known for creating a happy mood. Now, read my line on ‘raga’ in one of the paragraphs!

The bells sound softly leading to the Pallavi which again has that sense of melancholy, not least because of the entry of the other variants of ‘ga’ and ‘dha’ with the former going on a procession along with its brother(ga3) and the latter combining once with its brother(dha2) in the end, giving that chromatic effect.

The procession continues in the first interlude with the strings sounding gingerly in the beginning. The next set of strings continue like a chain-link along with the subtle guitar. The chain-link is maintained by the piped instruments even as the strings back them like the wispy thread. As if not to be shown to be someone who is left behind, the flute enters and plays plaintively even as the two sets of strings back it, with one being dominant and the other, subtle. All these join together towards the end, making pensive glides and evoking a mélange of feelings.

The musical procession continues in the CharaNams with the first line alone in Mohanam and the following lines filled with the other ga. The other dha too appears now and then towards the end. This of course is just the technical side. But the feelings and emotions evoked by the lines and the flute ‘between the lines’ which billows a lugubrious and yet sweet melody, take us to empyrean heights.

The entry of SPB after the first CharaNam, vivifies the atmosphere and makes us expect more.

Our expectations are not belied. In fact, what happens is even beyond one’s expectations.

The second interlude is vivacious to start with. The strings and a phalanx of instruments play in Mohanam with vibrancy and catapults us to a sea of happiness. It is a flood of melody with the electric guitar trotting up and down with the strings backing it assiduously and different sounds ( 4 to be precise) going up like the Diwali crackers.

And then something happens…

A group of strings play in higher-octave with precision. Another set of strings supports it like a balustrade. Keys sound the notes like an incantation. But all these in a totally different raga called Pantuvarali.

Let me now touch upon something technical. Ragas like Pantuvarali are so flexible that if one takes out ‘sa’ and ‘pa’ and does gruha bhedam, one can get the popular pentatonic ragas like Mohanam, Hindolam, Suddha Dhanyasi, Suddha Saaveri and Madhyamavati. So, if the swara ‘ga’ of Pantuvarali is kept as the ‘sa’, it gives Mohanam. ILaiyaraaja has done this in the ‘Violin concerto’ in ‘Rajapaarvai’. But what he has done here is something unthinkable. He has done what can be called a ‘reverse gruha bhedam’. Honestly how he did it remains a mystery at least to me. He shifts from Mohanam to Pantuvarali in a jiffy and gets back to Mohanam towards the end of the interlude, which of course can be deciphered rather easily, as the ‘ga’ of Pantuvarali is kept as the ‘sa’.

So, how appropriate is the prolific use of the other variants in Mohanam?

How appropriate is the reverse gruha bhedam leading to a totally different raga?

Do we need answers or do we just need to see the beauty in being ‘inappropriate’ like ThoNdaradipodiyaazhwar who had the audacity to describe the beauty to the Creator and asked him to ‘open his eyes’?

Being inappropriate is appropriate, at times.

Being inappropriate is aesthetic, at times.

Being inappropriate makes our life beautiful, at times.

Do you agree?

 

 

ILaiyaraaja – 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…