Raaja and KaNNa

‘He kept the pearl in the oyster and gave you’ – He.

‘She is a golden oyster’- She.

And who are they singing to? To their child as a lullaby.

These lines which appear in the third CharaNam, typify both the composer and the lyricist.

The flute in the beginning followed by the santoor and then the strings, set the mood for a different lullaby.

The santoor and the flute appear again but it is the sudden group of strings -which give shades of western classical- and the mandolin, which steal the show in the first interlude.

The second interlude takes us to a ‘neithal’ land with the humming, the single-stringed instrument and the santoor, singing with glee.

It is the santoor again in the third interlude, followed by the flute and see waves after waves.

Can the love in the family be depicted better than this just with music?

‘You are like the lamp in the temple, oh my dear with the plaited hair, the one who drinks milk lying on the cradle’- says mother.

‘Even if the catamaran disappears in the sea, a son’s face will always be etched in the father’s heart/ You, my dear wife, is the breeze while I am the boat’ – says the father.

Can a relationship between a husband and a wife and between a child and parents be described simpler than this?

That is why, they are the rare pearls found in deep ocean.

If you have not yet deciphered as to who those ‘two’ are, please read the fourth line. Or better still, listen to the third line in the Pallavi!

Dvaita or Advaita?

 My tryst with music started at a very young age without my being aware. Glued to that gadget called the radio- which would take around 2 minutes to ‘boot’, being a valve set-, I would be tuning in the stations standing on a stool as the radio was kept on a stand. I still have memories of this(I was around 4 years then). Though I did not know the ABC of music(it is a different issue that the word has none of these alphabets), something in it attracted me. That ‘it’ was film music.

My parents would regularly listen to the Carnatic music concerts every morning, but it failed to make a positive impact on me. My mind would whisper ‘how boring!’, though I did not have the guts to say this to them. I would wonder what was there in that music which made them nod their heads and express their appreciation with ‘aahaas’. I would wait for my turn in the evening when I would keep turning the knob on the gadget to listen to songs that attracted me.

My father being in government service was transferred to a city away from my home state and this brought in a change. Tamizh film music was restricted to just around 15 minutes every evening on a station called ‘Vividh Bharati’. Over a period of time, I discovered a station on ‘short wave’ with the broadcast being done from our neighbouring country called ‘Sri Lanka’. Here too, it happened only in the evenings, but for a slightly extended time.

Being exposed to a new culture and a new set of peers, made me listen more to Hindi songs and also to Telugu songs. There was also a programme in the night on Wednesdays, a programme dedicated to Hindi film songs, about which I had written here long ago.

Cut to the year 1976. Being a voracious reader of Tamizh magazines, I got to know about a new film and a new film director. Both were making waves and I was wondering what it was all about. Mind you, it was an era where people had to wait very patiently to listen to their favourite songs and I did not have the opportunity to listen to the songs from that movie, despite my curiosity being aroused after reading the reports/interviews.

My wait finally ended when one day the station played a song from that movie. My first reaction – What is so great about this? There is always a rebel sleeping inside me like and animal and would wake up whenever it feels the need to ‘hunt’. After a couple of other movies and songs of that ‘new’ music director, I started feeling ‘Oh, this seems and sounds different’.

After about 8 months or so, I was in Madras to spend my vacation. It was a Sunday evening and I was at one of my relatives’ houses. A song started playing and though I had listened to it before, I felt something, a feeling not easy- in fact next to impossible to describe. Even now, when I reminisce about that evening, I get goosebumps and I even become meditative.

From then on, there was no stopping. Music which I had been listening to from my childhood, seemed so different and beautiful. Not just beautiful, but also deep. Not just beautiful and deep, but also mesmerising. I felt as if I had discovered something new. I started listening to Carnatic music and realised why it was so beautiful. After a couple of years, I started listening to Hindustani music and realised why it was divine. After some more years, I started listening to Western Classical and realised why it was divine. But all along, I was listening to the songs of that ‘new music director’ even as he was churning out song after song, with each one sounding different and beautiful. My thirst continued and it continues till date with me discovering new in music every day; with me discovering new in that ‘new music director’s music’ every day.

The song I am going to talk about on this Music Day, is not the one which was a turning point in my life, but the one which talks about the beauty of music.

The initial humming of Sujata, takes me to a garden full of green trees with the birds fluttering their wings with glee. When the bass guitar enters along with the percussion and the violins following, I feel as if I have become a bird.

The Pallavi, which is the prelude in the vocalised form, makes me believe that ‘yes, I am indeed a bird’.

The violin in the beginning of the first interlude confirms this. But when the group of violins enter, I start questioning myself- ‘Am I not a human?’. When the flute interjects the violins, which by now have gathered momentum, the question continues.

The question deepens in the CharaNam.

Even as the piped instruments romance with the bass guitar in the beginning of the second interlude, I straddle between the avian and human life. The duality continues until the flute sounds something towards the end.

‘Is this real or is it a dream?’- I ask myself after that flute piece.

My question continues..

And my quest continues..

 

Unconventionally Conventional

 

It may sound odd (or even, even!) but the fact is that a majority of the women folk in our country, do not have a choice when it comes to certain things in life and this includes choosing a life partner. I can feel the quizzical expressions from some of you, but let it be understood that I am talking about ‘a majority’ and therefore it will be nice if the cosmopolitan cities are not taken into consideration, though there are still girls and women even in such places whose mouths are gagged.

That is why, this song, in which the girl dictates terms to her suitor by describing her ‘dream wedding’, impressed me way back in 1982 when this song was released, and continues to impress me even after nearly 43 years.

‘Do not even think of marrying me, because you will suffer for sure’ says she. Her ‘conditions’ include the groom himself playing the Nagaswaram, the wedding happening in a train with the mantras rendered by foreigners, ‘naiyyandi melam’ by a group from Nochhikuppam, the groom carrying the plate with milk and fruits and yes, the groom falling at the feet of the bride.

This description of ‘dream wedding’ starts with a humming followed by the Pallavi (Vocals- Jency) with the flute appearing along with the vocals.

After a banter between the guitar(bass strings) and the distortion guitar, the saxophone takes over moving with gay abandon.

The Nagaswaram goes in pure Suddha Dhanyasi in the first CharaNam, while it plays the ‘NaiyaaNdi meLam’ in the next CharaNam.

The ‘Vaarayo thozha vaarayo’ segment completes the celebration.

A celebration of the assertion of a woman!

Unique

 ‘How is that the one seen in the picture on the wall, resembles the one who is present here?’

This used to be a repeat question on my mind whenever I stepped into that saloon. That ‘whenever’ was ‘often’ as my hair grew faster than the grey cells inside the shell it covered, thereby entailing my jaunts to that saloon. If the last-mentioned word conjures up an image of a swanky place with a/c and plush chairs in your mind, I request you to erase (or should I say ‘delete’?) that image from your mind before I say ‘1 2 3’. The entire area would have been around 100 sq.feet and there was just one fan with a huge sphere at the centre nodding its head even as it moved probably teasing me saying ‘You are nicely caught’( ‘nalla mattikkitte’ in English). The reason for this ‘gesture’ will be known in a while.

The picture on the wall depicted Lord Muruga with a spear and the ‘hair-dresser’ was a carbon copy of that image, at least as far as my eyes could comprehend, though I couldn’t comprehend the reason for this co-incidence. After some months, I asked my father – Do you see the resemblance? My father in his trademark style, laughed out loud(no, the acronym for this was coined much much later, the only ‘Lol’ I knew then was the sound made by the ‘Bhairavars’) and said he had not noticed it and would do so the next time we visited. That he concurred with me the next time, and appreciated me for my observation and imagination, need not be mentioned as I believe in being modest and do not believe in blowing my own trumpet ( it is a different issue that I do not own a trumpet, leave alone play!).

With the assurance that this ‘resemblance’ story will continue in one of my future posts, let me move on to the main story. My frequent visits to the saloon were necessitated by two factors basically. One, the school where I studied was very strict when it came to enforcing discipline and one of their strongest beliefs was that the children should never sport long hair. The teacher would call the students randomly, ask him to turn sideways and then show the back to see if that hair growth needed a harvest. I remember some students being sent back home with a message to go to the saloon immediately, have the harvesting done and go back to the class. It is a different issue that some students found this a nice way to bunk the class!

Two, the growth of my hair. The rate of growth was inversely proportional to the rate of growth of the cells in my brain, a fact which should be obvious for people who see me now (no, as I said I believe in being modest and humble!).

What is of primary importance is that I would shiver in my shoes (though I used to wear only Hawaii chappals) whenever the day of my visit to that place arrived. And this was not without any reason. The ‘cutting process’ those days involved a hand-held machine which would just rummage through the forest on the head and bring down the ‘trees’ in a jiffy, an act that would make the present- day real tree-choppers proud. Before this, a pair of scissors would be used to first trim the region. So far, so good. But what happens next?

The hair-dresser would first apply water on the nape of the neck and then take a knife. He would trim the hair there with the knife so that it gives a great appearance. Whether it gave a great appearance or not, the moment he took the knife, I would have the urge to use the rest room. Something would churn in my stomach. My palms would sweat. My entire body would start shivering. All these because I was scared of the knife(in fact, there were not many things I was not scared of, those days!). I would imagine the knife piercing through my neck and the red fluid inside the body oozing out with force. The placing of the knife too would give me some weird sensations, difficult to explain. Whether the sensations were because of the knife or because of my imagination, was (is) difficult to say. But the fact is like Yudhistira in Mahabharata, I would see and experience hell for a while.

I would try my best to avoid this ordeal by coaxing my father. He even had a word with the hair-dresser- who became his good friend – to use the knife mildly on me. But I wanted ‘no-knife’ absolutely, which never happened in those 4-5 years as far as my memory goes.

The song of the day does not talk about the knife, but the fact that it revolves around a ‘hair-dresser’ makes it a song for the occasion- my story as well as the ‘day’.  

What strikes one in ‘Senorita, I love You’ from Jhonny (1980) the moment the prelude starts is the guitar that sounds differently. The different sound is because of the phaser connected to the guitar and as far as I know ILaiyaraaja is the only film music composer in India to have used this prolifically. The special sound moves on backed by the rhythm guitar. The strings join in and play in the higher-octave as if possessed by a spirit. The small flute coos like a cuckoo, as the celebration continues. The strings then move in circles, as if to wind up the prelude. But can a circle end at all?

SPB takes over to make it linear, with the instruments sounding in between, making it alluring.

That this composer is capable of producing different sounds – sounds not heard of hitherto in film music- is known to the passionate followers of his music. This song is no exception. A very funny sound creeps in after the initial sound from the strings of the guitar. What makes this sound even more exciting is the backing from the guitar strings-which play constantly, the bass guitar, the drums and the strings which take turns forming an exquisite pattern. Did not somebody say that change is the only constant? That ‘change’ happens here.

The composition starts in B-minor and goes in this scale until the second half of the first interlude. Once the funny sounds end, the strings take over and now it goes in G-major. A minor shift making a major difference!

Moreover, the rhythm in 4/4, which sounded peppy until now, sounds gentle once the strings enter. In fact, for a while there is no percussion at all, though the time signature remains the same.

The two sets of strings play two different sets of notes simultaneously in two different styles. The flute which enters after a while, makes the entire experience subtly exhilarating.

The CharaNam continues in the major scale with the funny sounds appearing after the first two lines and lasting for a count of 8 (two 4/4 cycles). The lines shift to the minor scale towards the end.

If it was the funny sound in the first interlude, there is a very different sound from a different instrument (which sounds a lot like the violin!) in the second interlude which steals the show and our hearts. I will not be exaggerating if I say that it sounds like a lullaby, with the bass guitar enhancing the feeling. Just before this special instrument, there is that brass flute which surrounds us like how chilly air surrounds us in a mountain.

The strings move in the higher-octave, sans the percussion, spreading joy.

Does it convey something, the ‘it’ meaning the special sounds and the arrangement?

To me, it says ‘Each and every experience in life is special, whether it is with the knife used for trimming the hair or the resemblance between the image of the God and the man who performs his duties’.

How about you?

 

Eighth Wonder

 I keep asking this question often: How it is possible for ILaiyaraaja to bring out so much of emotions in music. Does he undergo such feelings while composing or does it just happen. A question very difficult to answer! But the fact remains that his music sounds great always. Is it because of his ability to evoke the right kind of emotions or is it because of his propensity to use classical techniques?

In my opinion, it is a combination of both.

Listen to ‘Kaalai paniyil aadum malargaL’ from ‘Gayathri’(1977). Even if one does not watch the video (in fact I am used to ‘listening’ to the songs and not ‘watching’ the songs), one is able to understand that it is sung by a young lady just after her wedding. She is shy, yet happy.

A very different tune, a very different voice (14- year old Sujatha) and a simply beautiful orchestration.. But look at the melody and the varying patterns of percussion in the CharaNams. Doesn’t the humming at the end of each CharaNam sound different and unique? It is because of a technique.

People who follow my posts in my other blog (https://rajamanjari.blogspot.com/ ), I am sure, remember the term ‘usi’. It is a technique in Carnatic Music in which the stress is given on even beats of a TaaLam. For example, if it is 4-beat Chatushra eka taaLam, stress is given on the 2nd  and the 4th beat and if it is a 3-beat tisram, stress is given on the 2nd(the 4th and the 6th if the 3 beats are broken down as 6 micro-beats) and so on.. This is more common in a Bharatanatyam performance-especially during the ‘alarippu’ which is generally the first item. In film music, ILaiyaraaja is the only composer to have used it so prolifically. One has to be very careful (and of course knowledgeable) while using ‘usi’ as the taaLa tends to sound off beat. It is absolutely like walking between two high-rise buildings on a thin but tight rope (in tamizh, we call it as ‘karaNam thappinaal maraNam’).

In ‘Kaalaipaniyil’(I am sure he used ‘usi’ for the first time in this song)-which is based on ‘tisram’ in the chatushra ekam cycle, he first changes the 3 beats to 4 beats in the percussion (tabla). He then gives stress on the 2nd and the 4th beat even as Sujatha continues to hum.

And what a feeling it gives!!

I feel even more romantic every time after listening to this song.

How about you?

 

Rhapsody

If I say that ‘one of my most unforgettable days is the day my first child was born’, I am sure you all will agree with me- provided you are married and have a child. 

I still remember that evening very well when the nurse came out of the labour room and showed us the little baby. I cried with uncontrollable joy, the kind of joy I had not experienced before. It will be an understatement to say that we were on Cloud 9 for the next 2-3 years. Holding him and putting him to sleep on the lap (and later on the shoulders), changing the nappies, feeding him, smiling and laughing with him, playing with him were all things which became part of our life. Each and every day was different and unique. Life had never been so beautiful!

 The rare gem of the day too talks about the joy of fondling a child. Thenil Aadum Roja from Avar Enakke Sontham (1977) is as soft as the breeze and as sweet as the honey. The santoor in the beginning and the flute which follows that hundred-stringed instrument from Kashmir, are full of energy. These give way to the humming (Suseela) before entering again and leading us to the Pallavi. 

 The Pallavi personifies happiness and the flute- between the lines- and the santoor at the end, jump with joy giving us an image of a child jumping and dancing. 

 The duo dominates the first interlude as well before the veena takes over. The combination of  western percussion and veena is different and might even sound odd but that was the time when this composer started experimenting with different sounds, a fact known to people who grew up during those days and listened to his compositions sequentially in the order of their release. 

 One gets reminded of Darwin while listening to the flute piece just towards the end of the first interlude. Isn't this a musical definition of the Theory of Evolution? 

It is ‘listening between the lines’ yet again in the CharaNam with the flute and the veena playing two short melodies one after the other, at the end of the first line. 

The structure of the CharaNam too is simple and beautiful in keeping with the mood of the song. The melody in the beginning is played again in the second interlude but with the sound of the veena being a welcome addition, and this itself gives a rousing start to the interlude. The flute enters yet again playing as softly as ever and one sees the budding Laya Raaja here with the slap bass which backs the flute melody, playing in 4 while the composition is set in 3. The interlude ends with the flute melody yet again but before that something happens. The solo-violin plays a melody which scythes through one’s heart. 

Poignancy –isn’t it part of one’s life too? 

 Life Lessons!

Grey Cells

 

Generally, if a movie is remade in some other language, the tendency of the Music Directors is to use the same song tracks and the BGM tracks (I am not talking about a dubbed movie, but a movie remade either with the same cast or a different cast). But Raaja sir, who is known for his innovative thinking seldom does this. At times, out of compulsion ( by who else, but our ‘ignosent’ directors?) he would have had to compromise but even in such instances, he would have shown some variation-either in the tune or in the interludes.

I am reminded now of a news item in a Tamizh magazine in 1983 when the audio of Sadma was released, by none other than Amitabh Bacchan, who incidentally wanted to play  Kamal’s role in the Hindi version but was politely refused by Balu Mahendra). The news item said ‘ILaiyaraaja has simply recycled the tamizh tunes. Why? No creativity?’

I was put down by this comment and wanted to check out the veracity. Since ‘net’ those days meant only a fisherman’s net and since I was living in an island, I had no access to the album. Thankfully, during the vacation we went to Madras and Sadma had just then released. When I listened to the songs in the Cinema Hall, I was wondering if that reporter had plugged his ears with cotton. Anyway, media has always been like this, right? And yes, this role as now been taken over by Social Media and the number of ‘reporters’/’critics’ has increased manifold!!

Let us now look at a beautiful piece from a Telugu movie-which needless to say was remade from Tamizh. The Bharathiraja directed Pudiya vaarpugaL was remade as Kotta Jeevitalu with Suhasini and Hari Prasad in lead roles. This is the title track of the movie far as I remember, the title score of the Tamizh version had the tune of ‘tam tana nam tana’ being hummed.

Here the piece starts with the prelude of ‘ChoLam vidakkaiyile’! What follows is a beautiful piece in the Kharaharapriya scale with obvious shades of Andhra folk. The Flute brings serenity while the keys between 1.10 and 1.27 add a new colour. The guitar that joins the flute in the beginning and whenever the piece is repeated and the strings from 2.02 –that jump with ‘ta ka/ ta ka dhi mi’- give the western contours without any frills.

Wish the ‘pedants’ and charlatans listened to such pieces. But will they? Even then, does it matter?

Raja4376 · Kottha Jeevitalu title music

Law of Thermodynamics

 Why do we keep Kolu?

First of all, for the uninitiated, kolu is the arrangement of dolls on steps ( not staircase!) during Navaratri. While the number of steps could vary depending on the space and resources available, the number should always be odd- though this may sound odd! The period of Navaratri, which is nine days (and nights) after the new moon in the Tamizh month of PurattAsi, is considered to be very auspicious, as it is dedicated to Shakti and the three forms of Shakti- Durga, Lakshmi, Saraswati. Shakti is Energy and it is believed that the spiritual energy is at its peak during this period.

So, what is the significance of Kolu (a.k.a.Golu) which is kept essentially in South India and how is it related to spiritual energy?

It is a proven fact that one's energy levels go up while indulging in any form of art. This indulgence could be performing could be performing or watching or listening to others' performances. Secondly, when like-minded people gather for and with a purpose, the level of energy goes up. Therefore, keeping Kolu, inviting others to their homes and make them sing, make people more vibrant and positive. Thirdly, arranging the dolls itself is an art and is a form of expression. Fourthly, it is said that those days, clay was a by-product obtained while desilting the irrigation canals and dolls were made of this clay. These dolls became popular and the process continued. Note that the desilting of canals happened during the months of Aadi and AavaNi - the months preceding Purattaasi.

Whatever it is, Kolu has come to stay though with a lot of innovation. Let us celebrate Kolu and Navaratri, with a song.

Recently, my son and I were discussing the Raga Shree and the use of 'padhanipama' in the raga. Just to deviate slightly by getting a little technical, let me tell you that quite a few ragas in the Carnatic system of music, has what is called 'prayoga', which is the same group of swaras appearing ubiquitously in the raga. In fact, this is loosely and equivalent of leitmotif  and this gives a particular raga, its identity. As far as my knowledge goes, 'padhanipama' prayoga is a later addition. 

I told my son, "Even Tyagaraja did not use it" adding "because he did not like it". I went on to add "ILaiyaraaja does not like it too". When he asked how I knew this(the second one), I told him in jest that he himself mentioned it to me. 

My thoughts veered to this song based on Shree and my fingers clicked on the song stored in my system. I decided to write about that song instantly and the reason is obvious. In fact, I had elaborately written about this song in my other blog long ago (https://rajamanjari.blogspot.com/2008/11/ilaiyaraajas-music-is-rich.html). But revisiting a song and writing about it again, gives me pleasure, a kind of pleasure not easy to put in words.

Starting with the drone of the tanpura followed by a sloka on Vinayaka, the beginning of 'Devi Durga Devi' (Sankeerthana- 1986), is auspicious with the very brief dance jatis ( Madurai Srinivasan) enhancing the divine feeling.

Energy flows in the voice of SPB and Vani Jayaram. Backed by the mrudangam and the subtle sound of the ankle bells, the Pallavi brims with energy. Even before one bats an eyelid, one feels the raga.

Is this potential energy or kinetic energy?

The veeNa and veNu reverberate with powerful phrasings of the raga in the beginning of the first interlude. As if being challenged, the mrudangam, which dashed off syllables with pulsating weight in the Pallavi, enters again and plays with intensity. It is of course a friendly banter with the veeNa- veNu blowing like a gentle sea breeze.

It is beauty personified as the mrudangam reverberates with different patterns in chatushram in the CharaNams.

The second interlude has a volley of swaras rendered with lucidity and grace even as one gets to see the shimmering beauty of the raga(yes, without 'padhanipama'!). The mrudangam and the tabla alternate between the lines, the former being sounded when the female voice renders the swaras and the latter being played when the male voice renders the saahitya.

Creativity + Innovation = Energy.

Energy can neither be created nor destroyed, but can be transformed!

Does this answer the question asked in the beginning?

Rajghat

 

What does religion mean to me?

On the face of it, the question may sound inappropriate on Oct 2^nd but scratch the surface and you will agree that it is not more relevant than on this date. I say this not with a sense of triumphalism but with a sense of pain which is indescribable and to a great extent incomprehensible.

Rather than answering the question directly, let me quote what the gentleman who was born exactly 150 years ago at a place called Porbandar had to say:

‘’While I believe myself to be a Hindu, I know that I do not worship God in the same manner as any one or all of them’’.

If that statement sounds slightly complex, let me quote one more:

‘’The need of the moment is not one religion for the whole of human kind, but mutual respect, equal regard and tolerance of the devotees of different religions’’.

Not many statements can sound as candid as this one and not many statements are as relevant as this one in 2019.

Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi was a multi faceted personality- one which had varied dimensions. But personally speaking, it is his genuine belief in treating all religions and faith equally which appeals to me the most and this is not without any reason.

At the cost of sounding politically incorrect, I feel I should not hesitate to voice my opinion on the happenings in the country now. If lynching and questioning the other person’s right to eat what he/she feels is right have become a practice, forcing others to ‘chant’ the name of ‘our God’ has become the new norm.

If these can be called as pernicious, what can one say about the fight for a piece of land just to build a structure which is supposedly meant for worshipping ‘our god’. One wonders if God can be owned by somebody and if ‘your god’ can ever be inferior to ‘my god’. This is not as ludicrous as the venomous public statements by the so-called leaders who seem to have any qualms in talking ill of other religions and more importantly, people who follow those faiths. What that 'other' is, I am sure, is obvious to all.

If the Mahatma who said ‘ all worship the same God under different names’ and ‘to revile one another’s religion, to make reckless statements, to utter untruth, to break the heads of innocent men, to desecrate temples or mosques is a denial of God’ was alive today, I am not sure what he would have done looking at the way people fight in the name of God.

On this special day, I thought no song would be more appropriate than ‘Ram Ram’ from ‘ Hey Ram’(2000). But before that, I thought I must clarify one thing. ‘Ram’ to him was a more a symbol of universal love and less a religious deity. 

And now to the song..

Not many have the guts to chant Ram’s name in Salaat style. This composition starts with that. Is the call of the Muezzin for praying in the name of Ram a case of blasphemy or is it for communal harmony?

I shudder to think what would have happened if this song was released in 2019. Would there not have been a call to ‘ban’ the song as it ‘hurt the sentiments of the majority’? How dare can Ram be prayed that way? I cannot help recalling what happened sometime during last year when lumpen elements spread malicious information about carnatic singers singing ‘Christian songs in praise of Jesus in pure Carnatic ragas’ with a call to boycott such singers who were ‘involved in conversion’!!

Hats off to Raaja sir for composing those lines and to Kamal for singing those lines.

It is not that only the first line reminds one of Islamic prayers. The entire song, based on Sindhu Bhairavi has the contours of Arabic and Persian music and this has not been done without any purpose.

What is also amazing is the high-shruti on which the composition is based on. If high-shruti itself is not so easy to render, higher-octave in this is tougher. But the singers come out trumps.

The Salaat is followed by the percussion which plays ‘4/2/4/2/4’(ta ka dhi mi/ta -/ta ka dhi mi/ta -/ta - - mi). The ghatam , essentially a South Indian percussion instrument follows the western percussion. The piped instruments enter now and play Sindhu Bhairavi.

The seamless starting of the Pallavi is equally amazing.

The first interlude has the Arabic flavour first and then a Persian flavour. But the fact that it has the western classical shades cannot be denied.

Same is the case with the second interlude as well, though it must be said that there is more of Persian flavour which even makes one dance like a snake-that is if at all snakes can dance!

The call and response and the harmony in the CharaNams indicate just one thing to me.

‘Call’ your conscience whenever you are disturbed.

‘Respond’ to the atrocities without violence.

Spread ‘Harmony’ across the nation.

Conflux

 

‘How does a lady plait her hair? She takes three strands of hair, weaves the strands with the strands criss-crossing one another and at the end of it, what do we see- Three or two? This is how we should consider the river Saraswati too’.

This explanation was given by a speaker in Tamizh, during a religious discourse in Secunderabad during my formative years. Honestly, I don’t remember the name of the gentleman who said this, though I know he was a very popular figure as far as religious discourses are concerned. But his words remain firmly etched in my memory simply because of his ability to compare two similar and yet dissimilar things and connect the two so that the concept is easily understood by the audience. In a way, it was also a lesson for all aspiring teachers and most importantly trainers, a fact which I realise now after many years.

When I had to plait my little daughter’s hair for at least a month-when my wife travelled abroad- I was reminded of that speech again. Of course, it is a different issue that my wife wrote down each step on a piece of paper and that I kept referring it at least for a week before I managed to do that act successfully(how successful I was, only my daughter knows!).

No, this is not a post on plaiting hair and if at all you got the impression that I am going to talk about a song which describes the beauty of a woman’s hair, I would request you to not to jump to any conclusions and show patience.

The reason for my writing about that explanation has more to do with the river Saraswati and the place where it is supposed to be flowing and less with hair.

There are a lot of stories about the mythical river with major references in the Rig veda and in the Mahabharata. The origin of the river is supposedly in a place in the present day Afghanistan. But the place where the river Saraswati acquires significance is Allahabad, a city in U.P. Ganga and Yamuna meet at this place and it is believed that Saraswati is flowing underground and the place being called ‘Triveni Sangam’, meaning the meeting of three rivers. This in fact is the pride of Allahabad and leaving aside the mythology, the place where the rivers meet is a connoisseur’s delight and it is but natural for nature lovers to fall in love at first sight.

It is also natural for me to write about a song which describes that great city called Allahabad.

The beauty of ‘Shehar Hai Khoob Kya Hai’ from ‘Chal Chalein’(2009) lies in the way the city has been sketched poetically(lyrics:Piyush Mishra) and musically.

‘What a beautiful city!’ exclaims a group of students and then go on a trip across the city.

But before that the Master prepares them for the trip. And how?

The piano keys flutter and fly like butterflies, with the echo effect typifying the beautiful creatures going in different directions. The humming of Shreya backed by the various synth instruments show us the view of the ‘Sangam’ from the top.

‘What a Beautiful City!A place where the great Harivanshrai (Bachchan) lived. Feel the Ganga, Yamuna and the Swaying Saraswati’, sing the butterflies in the voices of Shreya Ghoshal, Shaan and Krishna Beaura.

The first CharaNam talks about the Big B, the Chaat, Intellectuals and Alfred Park where Chandrasekhar Azad laid down his life for the cause of Freedom while the second CharaNam talks about the home where our first PM was born, about the second PM who spent his childhood in the city, about the Hindi poet Mahadevi Varma who taught in the University there.

The pure whistle in the beginning of the first interlude followed by the synth instruments take us through the main roads, gullies, book shops, and to the Triveni again.

The percussion in the first segment of the second interlude reminds one of a boat journey on the river while the shifting of the scale from the major to minor and the S.E.Asian music towards the end symbolise change, at the same time indicating that certain things remain the same irrespective of the change and life flows..

..like the mythical river Saraswati!