Theology

 Certain things in our life are unforgettable.

And this applies more to things which happened during our childhood. What happens during this period remains firmly etched in our memory and even the loss of cells in the brain will not affect this memory. One of the reasons could be the freshness of the brain during our childhood, but most importantly it could also be because of our tendency and proclivity to enjoy nostalgia.

I am saying all this now not without a reason. When I was a child, I studied in a school which was part of an Institution known for respecting our culture. Every day during lunch hour, we were asked to repeat a small sloka. At the end of it, the teacher would sound the bell and only then were we allowed to open the lunch box.

Now, let me clarify a couple of things. By ‘respecting culture’, I do not mean any religion or ideology. The person who established the Institution, was known for her syncretic views. Though the sloka was in Sanskrit on a particular Hindu deity, it was recited by one and all-including the students from other faiths- without any reservations. During the assembly, representatives of 3 major religions would say the prayer on his/her God and all of us repeated it. I remember these prayers too just like how I remember the ‘Lunch Prayer’.

That Lunch Prayer was on a deity called AnnapoorNa, who is supposed to be the Goddess of Nourishment. It was composed by Adi Shankara as part of the ‘AnnapoorNa ashtakam’ ‘Anna’ in Sanskrit means ‘Food’ and ‘PoorNa’ is complete (or ‘whole’). The 2-line sloka, prays to Her for giving not just food but also knowledge, wisdom and will power. I would repeat that sloka during our dinner time at home and also imitate the sound of the bell before laying my hands on what was prepared by my mother.

After many years, I still remember the sloka with the intonation and the sound of the bell and whenever I recite it to myself (not necessarily during breakfast/lunch/dinner) it gives me nourishment spiritually, mentally and emotionally. In fact, the purpose of any recitation or even prayer to any icon is this- to make us feel better.

All these are symbolic and carry a lot of value. Unfortunately, we have (by ‘we’, I mean the people propagating certain ideologies and are bent on ‘constructing temples’) forgotten the purpose and objective behind each icon and have assumed that the purpose of a religion is to assert our superiority over people following other religions, hardly realising that the Divine is one and each has his/her own way of approaching it. And that is the reason for mindless ‘discourses’ done with an eye on the vote bank.

Going back to AnnapoorNa , what the icon-which has a golden ladle on the right hand and a pot full of porridge on the left hand- indicate are ‘Fullness’, ‘Nourishment’, ‘Wisdom’ ‘Truth’ and ‘Supreme Welfare’. It also symbolises ‘Shakti’ or the ‘Universal Energy’.

No other film song has depicted AnnapooraNi as majestic and melodic as ‘InnaruL Tharum AnnapooraNi’ (Athma- 1993) has done and reasons are not far to seek.

First and foremost, it is based on the Raag Durga. As many of you know, Durga is a form of Shakti and I am sure the composer tuned it in this raag not without a purpose (of course, he does not break his head on the tune or on the raga to be used and this too must have occurred to him spontaneously like ‘Lalita’ in Rudra VeeNa/Unnaal Mudiyum Thambi.

Secondly, it is rendered by a carnatic music legend. Though Shri.T.N.Seshagopalan did sing before in a movie in which he played the major role (an experience he would ‘like to forget’- as told by him), this one is unique. It is not uncommon for classical musicians to sing in movies but the fact that a musician of the stature of Shri.T.N.S., agreed to sing a song  in a commercial movie in which he played no role one, shows the respect and admiration he had for Raaja sir.

The very first piece in sitar gives the sketch of the raag. The violin expands it and we see the charming silhouettes that seem delightfully fresh.

The energy continues to flow in the Pallavi with the dholak and the tabla sounding in rupakam (it can be ‘tisram’ too but I am more comfortable with a 6 - beat cycle in this composition). The subtle sound of the jaalra makes it livelier.

The sitar plays lustrously with vigour and vitality while the flute plays with an evocative grandeur in the first interlude.

The major attraction of the second interlude is the shehnai. It is soft, buoyant, intense and sparkling. When it touches the higher octave ‘ma’, it seems as if it has discovered the Divine.

And the ‘akaaram’ of Shri.T.N.S. in the second charaNam seems to confirm this..

After all, where is the Divine- In Mandir? In Masjid? In Church?

Let the Divine give us the wisdom of seeking the Truth, so that we find the answer ourselves.

Jnaana Vairagya Siddhyartam Bhiksham Dehi...

Antique

 How do things become extinct?

Is it Nature’s Law or is it a man-made law?

Now, see this- Two species of plants first discovered more than 125 years ago in Andamans and Meghalaya are now extinct. Both incidentally belong to the ginger family and are classified under Boesenbergia. The reasons for their extinction , given by two botanists from Kerala, include Climate Change and over-exploitation from man.

Can one hope to find these again?

Before I get into that, let me think of things which have become extinct- Fountain Pen, Cassette Recorder, CD Player, Transistor radio.. The list also includes DVD players and i-pods!

Why did these become extinct?

Technological advancement? Or is there any other reason?

Well, I am not a person who closes his eyes to modern development chanting ‘Old is gold’. At the same time, to me such extinctions suggest things which might appear ludicrous on the face of it, but at same time could also trigger some thoughts.

When we give up things which were in existence once, don’t we also give up the value we attached to those things once upon a time? Can we ever give up or even attempt to give up the joy, the satisfaction and the ecstasy these gave us? Most importantly, can those moments ever be erased?

Yes, we move on but not without reliving those moments and also looking back with reverence, with fondness and with love.

‘Change is the only constant in the world’, said somebody. I look at this rather from a different angle. To me, that ‘constant’ is as valuable as ‘change’ and that ‘constant’ signifies the moments in the past, moments which left an indelible mark in our life.

Whenever a particular date appears on the calendar (which itself has become extinct), one cannot help reminiscing about the previous 364 days. To some, it would give sadness. To some, it would give happiness. To some, it would give a mix of both. But unmindful of all this, the date smiles at us like Mona Lisa and bids adieu.

No points for guessing the date which is Dec 31^st.

What is interesting and intriguing is the fact that invariably everyone looks at the next year with hopes irrespective of whatever had happened before. If not for any other reason, this alone makes the date very valuable.

Let us make this valuable day more valuable by looking at a song which too is extinct, or rather very rare.

What makes ‘Happy New Year’ from ‘Oh Maane Maane’ (1984) special is not just the first line. The composition has shades of Baila, a form of music popular in Goa and in Sri Lanka. The ubiquitous bass guitar throbs almost throughout the song. The lead guitar too leads the orchestra in many places.

Are these the only specialities?

Of course, there are more. Let us look at the song from the beginning.

The song starts with those three words which one will hear ad nauseam tomorrow. The claps are joined by the bass guitar and the lead guitar and even as the claps gather momentum, the piped instruments enter and dance with a feeling of joie de vivre.

The Pallavi in the voice of Malaysia Vasudevan brings more joy as the singer modulates his voice and is joined by another singer (Sundararajan, Raaja sir’s assistant for many years).

The guitar and its cousin bass guitar sail smoothly in the first half of the first interlude but it is the brass flute which grabs our attention not least because of its varied usage. Gliding smoothly to start with, it moves picks up pace and even gives a feeling of poignancy. The guitar cousins back it throughout albeit differently.

The lines in the CharaNams move cheerfully in the major scale and this has to do also with the rhythmic pattern in tisram. The female voice(Janaki) is a bonus while the bass guitar which is present throughout adds pulsating weight.

The different sounds of guitar make the beginning of the second interlude graceful and elegant. The piped instruments enter in the second a la first interlude but the similarity ends there. These have more vigour and zeal in this interlude with the dash of alien notes adding to their winsome variations.

Joy, happiness, hopes and yes…nostalgia. These will exist and will continue to exist without ever becoming extinct.

Happy New Year!

Within and Without

 The music system in my car continued from where it left as soon as the ignition was turned on. Within a few minutes, it said, ‘Naan KaaNbathu Un Kolame..andRum..indRum..endRum..’ and my mind went on a flashback mode. But unlike the kind of flashbacks we all get to see in a typical tamizh cinema, this one was an amalgam; and admixture of many incidents/thoughts.

It was sometime during the mid ‘80s.Having lived in different cities/towns in India and studying in different institutions, I was happy to be back in Madras, the place where I was born. But the happiness had more to do with something else. Until then, ‘concerts’ were mostly confined to that small box called the ‘radio’. Here I was in a city where concerts were held almost every evening, which would give me an opportunity to listen to stalwarts like T.N.Seshagopalan, Maharajapuram Santhanam, D.K.Jayaraman, Dr.Balamuralikrishna and many others. Not the one to miss out on opportunities, I utilised this fully. But more than all this, I was eagerly waiting for the month of December when the entire atmosphere in the city would be soaked in music. And my wait was not for concerts alone.

Right from the time somebody entered my life with his music, I have been intrigued by the theory of music. By theory I mean not just the bookish knowledge but the way the techniques are applied. Needless to say Carnatic Music has a lot of techniques and surely one birth is not enough to learn all these. Therefore, what interested me more were the lecture/demonstration sessions during the Music Season. But I did not have to wait longer.

Sometime during the month of August, a new Association formed by the youth brigade(this brigade included names like Vijay Siva, Lalgudi Krishnan etc.,) held a lecture/demo session and one of the topics was ‘Classical ragas in film music’. A serious looking gentleman(years later, I experienced his ‘seriousness’ in my office, but that is a totally different story!) played songs from ‘old’ movies. I was waiting for a particular composer to be referred/discussed but much to my chagrin, it came just towards the tail end of the session when he played ‘Pon maalai pozhudhu’!

I was upset and even irritated. A decade after his entry, just one song is said to be based on a classical raga? Wasn’t it because of him that I got interested in music? Wasn’t it because of him that I found music to be so beautiful? Wasn’t it because of him that I started exploring that most beautiful thing?

How many ragas he had used by then! And yet, just one Kedaram!!

That day, I seriously felt that one day his name and his works would be discussed in the same premises with reverence.

That ‘premises’ is situated at T.T.Krishnamachari road(then known as ‘Mowbrays road’) and is called as The Music Academy(of course that session was held in the ‘mini hall’).

In any case, my love for lecture/demonstration sessions was not lost after this. On the other hand, it grew by leaps and bounds after listening to the likes of Smt.Vedavalli, Smt.Vidya Shankar, Smt.Reeta Rajan. Each and every session was a learning and threw light on various aspects and dimensions of music. In fact, after each session I would mentally play a Raaja song based on the raga(s) discussed and see how he used the same raga(s). Of course, lectures were not just on ragas but on different techniques, but I am not getting into all that now for some obvious reasons. There were even lectures by dancers and I still remember the remark of a very famous dancer- ‘’I see music and listen to dance’’- and the way she showed the different gaits of some characters from RamayaNa.

All these scenes were mentally playing in my mind yesterday even as I was nearing The Music Academy and even as my car was travelling on the T.T.K.road, I remembered how I would rush to catch route no.23A from the place where I lived and get down at the signal at TTK road/Mowbrays road.

So finally my dream of seeing my idol- the gentleman from whom I first learnt to appreciate music, the master from whom I learnt the many intricacies in music, the guiding force in my life- during the ‘season’ as a chief guest in the festival I love the most. If at all I realised the true meaning of ‘Dream Come True’, it was that moment; a moment I had been waiting for since 3 decades.

In fact, Raaja sir and the Academy share two things in common. The ‘M’ part is too obvious to be mentioned. It is the second thing which is more significant (and sadly absent in many, nowadays).It is that ‘P’ factor called as ‘Punctuality’. The curtains went up exactly as 5pm.

The next 25 minutes or so came as a pleasant surprise to me as Shri.N.Murali poured encomiums on Raaja sir though he got some facts wrong(like ‘AnnakkiLi’ being released in 1975, ‘Symphony scored in 1998’ and ‘Music Messiah’  released in 2016). When he mentioned about ‘Rakkamma Kaiya Thattu’ and the BBC poll, Raaja sir laughed and gestured to him indicating ‘why about that here’.

When Shri.Ravi KiraN referred to music in general by saying ‘Tyagaraja to ILaiyaraaja’, the Maestro shook his head suggesting ‘Don’t even compare me with him!’.

On the whole, he was calmness personified but what was striking was the camaraderie he shared with carnatic musicians in general. His big namsakaram and smile to Shri.Umayalpuram Sivaraman from the stage is still etched in my mind (it is the affinity between the two ‘Laya’ masters!).

Finally, when got up to speak, the Hall reverberated like a thunder.  Two things stood out here- 1.It was a prepared speech, 2. Speech was in English. People who follow him closely know that his delivery has always been extempore and that he hardly refers to the notes (pun intended here!). But here it must be understood that the Inaugural ceremony is a formal occasion and that it is attended by people across the globe. That is why, he deviated from his usual way.

However, this did not stop him from saying certain things spontaneously. He started off by addressing Shri.Ravi KiraN-who in his speech had requested the Academy and the audience to support instrumentalists- by saying ‘People should come on their own and not after ‘requesting’ them’. He then spoke briefly about his journey and how he had attended the Music conference at the Academy when he was ‘nobody’.  His remark that 1000 films and 5000 songs don’t mean much to him showed yet again that he is above everything. But what made the audience nod their heads in appreciation and put their hands together was the tamizh verse he quoted on water not being the same in a river and connecting this with music.

The jewel in the crown was the song he quoted, a song not many in the audience were aware of. And I had more than one reason to be overjoyed because the song is a personal favourite of mine. Most importantly, it is not from his so called ‘80s. It is one of his 21^st century compositions from a movie which never got released(Ajanta)  and yet won him the Tamizh Nadu state award for best music direction in the year 2007. Though I have already written about this song in Orkut long ago, I wouldn’t mind writing about his again for  reasons not that difficult to understand.

The composition starts without a prelude in the musical voice of the Master. It asks us a lot of questions, the answers of which will take eons to find out. More about this later..

‘Oh Music, where were you?’ is followed by the melody of the synth instruments and the keys. It looks as though the instruments are trying to answer that question!

The Master continues the question- Were you in the soul? Or in the feelings?Or in the mind? Or in the intellect?

No, I don’t know where you were but you are inside me and flow like a spring.

The synth melody continues in the first interlude with the percussion playing in chatushram and the synth bass giving its own shade in its unique way.

Are you one of the forms of the breeze? Or are you just a sound form?- asks the Maestro in the first CharaNam.

You are formless and yet you attract everyone. Is there anybody in this worl who is not mesmerised by you?

Aren’t we related from the previous births?

The Master of varieties that he is, he changes the pattern of the percussion in the second interlude and makes it play 1 2 3 4/ 1 2 3 4/1 2 3/ 1 2 3/ 1 2. He does not stop with this. He makes the saxophone enter for the first time and makes it move with pulsating vibrancy and shining with a spiritual radiance. It is sedulous craftsmanship as the second saxophone responds briefly. The synth melody follows with spright while the keys respond with repose. What is music without contrasts? What is life without contrasts?

The second charaNam is filled with nostalgia. Musical nostalgia..

Sadness inside.. happiness outside.

Oh..Music where were you?

Where are you?

PS : Wrote this 8 years ago in the facebook group - ILaiyaraaja - The Master.

Lateral

Sometime back, when we visited a wildlife sanctuary situated very close to the sea, I found something amazing. I am not talking about a sighting a tiger or a lion-which in fact would have invoked a feeling of awe and even fear. But here it was very different. For starters, it was not an animal. It was a tiny bird which would fit into our fist with a very different shade of blue and a kind yellowish patch. If only I was a Salim Ali or a M.Krishnan, I would have immediately recognized the species and would have made a note in the pocket book. But it does not matter, for after all a bird is a bird is a bird as the Bard of Avon would have said.

What does matter however is the flight of the bird. Let me try and explain. I first spotted it from a distance of about 10 metres even as I was driving on that treacherous ‘road’. My first reaction was ‘Oh, how beautiful!’. I stopped the car and tried to click. As if driven by instinct, it moved and took off. It rose, went up vertically straight, swiveled, took an oblique turn and went to the other side-that is the left side of the car. All done in a split second.

I was astounded and stunned. Being a mathematics student, the flight looked like a parabola to me and let me admit that I had never seen anything like this before. The entire scene is etched in my memory and it gives a strange internal quivering. It is indeed very difficult to express..

What that bird did(or still doing) must be very natural for it. In fact, it may not even be aware that its flight is something extraordinary. Even when it looks at the other species of the birds with ‘normal’ flights (read as flights familiar to us), I doubt if it would flap its wings with pride thinking ‘see how different and great I am’.

Whatever it is, I discovered the real meaning of ‘poetry in motion’ that day.

Looking back now and pondering as to why it gave-and still continues to give- that feeling, I arrived at certain answers.

1. What I saw was something I had never seen before.

2. We always associate things we know with certain specific actions. And this applies to the people we know as well.

3. When our beliefs are questioned, we are shaken up.

4. There are so many things unknown to us in this world and yet we feel we know everything.

5. Nature is Divine. Or in other words, the Divine Force itself manifests as Nature.                                                                                                                   

Coming to think of it, the entire ‘episode’ has some hidden lessons. Without getting into those lessons and probably reserving those for one of my future posts, let me get into the rare gem of today, which I feel is relevant to that poetry in motion I witnessed.

It has got nothing to do with the birds, nor is anybody flying in the song. However, this song also strikes us with suddenness reminiscent of the flight of that bird. It is of course beautiful and spontaneous and also shakes one up questioning the beliefs and mindsets.

The first impression one gets on hearing the prelude of ‘Thaen KuLaththile’ from ‘Ezhuthadha SattangaL’(1984) is ‘It is a club-dance song and is a mix of pop and jazz’. This is because it has a host of western instruments which move ebulliently. Let us see how.

The drums play a beat and echoes. The bass guitar plays 1 2 3/ 1 2 3/ 1 2 3/ 1 2 3 4(ta ki  ta/ta ki ta/ta ki ta/ta ka dhi mi) for two cycles. The saxophone joins and plays a melody with the bass guitar getting subtler and the western percussion playing the same pattern as that of bass guitar’s the only difference being the stress on the first syllable in the first three ‘ 1 2 3’ s and on the first and the third syllables in the last ‘1 2 3 4’. The percussion changes the pattern slightly as the saxophone gives way to the other piped instruments. A solo sax follows again with the percussion playing all the syllables. Just towards the end, the electric guitar joins and plays a melody sounding almost like an Indian classical raga.

Ok, till now-except perhaps the last section- it is purely jazzy and therefore we should not be wrong.

And the Pallavi starts…

Is it jazzy too?

Janaki sings in Karnataka khamas in a qawwali style with the tabla backing her. Apart from the electric guitar which appears very briefly after a phrase, there is no trace of any other western instrument.

Did we expect this? And how beautifully the lines give the shades of the raga, and how wonderfully the short Pallavi is composed with the pause after ‘thaen’, with the phrases ‘kadhalile neenja vaicha kaaman avan vetti vaicha’ rolling melodiously and rhythmically. It is also rounded off with a lustrous ‘akaaram’ for one and half cycles.

The jazz returns in the first interlude with the saxophone etching a beautiful melody in the beginning. Suddenly, there is a twist with the electric guitar intercepting and going on its own trip with a touch of nonchalance and even seeming to be insouciant. But nowhere does it sound jarring. The trumpet follows in the same scale and plays with it. Finally the electric guitar says ‘enough is enough’ and goes back to Carnataka khamas, like it did towards the end of the prelude.

The CharaNam continues in the same style of the Pallavi and is marked by another bout of ‘akaaram’ which goes for 4 cycles. Note that the ‘akaaram’ s in the two CharaNams are not the same which proves the creativity of the composer yet again.

The second interlude is more energetic with the electric guitar, bass guitar, saxophone and a bevy of brass instruments playing and dancing spiritedly. The electric guitar plays again in a different scale as if to bring contrast yet again.

Linear, Parabolic and Circular..

Differently different.

That is what is Life anyway!

How to name it?

 The tune of 'Kodiyile Malliyappoo' from 'Kadalora KavithaigaL '(1986) can melt any heart and make us fall in love. With yekkam (surely no English word can be a substitute!) written all over, Jayachandran and Janaki take us to an utopian world where only two souls exist- a la Bharati’s KaaNi nilam.

 

Starting directly without a prelude, the soft Pallavi is indeed in two ragas, with the first two lines in KiravaNi and the last phrases in the in the lines that follow in ShaNmukhapriya. The CharaNams are somewhat long and go at a leisurely pace (doesn’t love too move leisurely?).Alien notes peep in here as well but these only add to the beauty. The pause after each phrase in the first half of the CharaNams accentuate that feeling of ‘yekkam’.

 

The strings, bells, keys, and the bass strings in the first interlude continue the ‘yekkam’ while the emotions evoked by the second interlude can never be expressed in words. A very different sounding instrument backed by the cello moves us, the flute that follows pierces us and the keys and strings bring tears to our eyes.

 

Yekkam….for?

 

Circle

 The lady sings ‘Saamajavaragamana’. Just towards the end, as the swaras are sung, an alien swara peeps in in the akaaram. Her father yells and asks her to say the arohanam/avarohanam of Hindolam. He then asks as to how ‘rishabham’ entered Hindolam. That night, he lights the camphor on his palm and shows it around the deities at home. The lady -his daughter- massages the palm with a cloth soaked in cold water and sings -sa ga ma dha ni Sa.

As I was watching the afore-mentioned sequence in the cinema hall, my eyes were moist. Involuntarily, tears started welling up.

People familiar with old movies/musicals would have easily identified the movie I am referring to. For the benefit of others, let me say that the name of the movie is ‘Shankarabharanam’. It is an undeniable fact that this movie created waves-literally and figuratively- and even people who were not classical music aficionados, thronged the theatres.

Personally speaking, ‘yours truly’ was just then getting into music, courtesy- a gentleman whose name is known to all here. ‘Getting into’ can be interpreted in different ways, and therefore I am not getting deep into that now. All I can say is that I was trying to understand the basics of music though the sense of appreciation was already in place. Honestly, I did not know even ‘akaaram’ had  swaras and that alien notes can creep in there too. But the sequence left an indelible mark in me, a mark which still continues to exist and which shows up its head, dancing on its hood whenever I watch the movie (I have watched it several times after this, thanks to that word called ‘technology’).

Though there are many reasons for that indelible mark, the most prominent one is the gentleman who conceived and executed the film.

K.Viswanath!

A name that reverberated in every nook and corner in South India those days. What made this film maker unique was not just his affinity for fine arts-music and dance in particular- but the way he showcased these in his films with a special sense of aesthetics, blending emotions and intellect, which elevated the audience to a different level. He stood out for his eye for detail.

Let me quote one more sequence from the same movie. The chief protagonist, Shankara Sastri gets down at a railway station along with the lady who considers him as her Guru. His accompanying artistes frown, put up a long face and keep walking with bewilderment. The Tyagaraja kriti- Enta nerchina in Suddha Dhanyasi is played in the background. The Pallavi when translated means – Even erudite scholars are slaves of women. That the relationship between the two is as pure as gold is known to the audience. Yet, the kriti reflects the perception of others, that is ‘from another angle’. When Shri.K.V.Mahadevan (the composer of the movie) was asked about the different kritis played in the background to suit the sequence, he humbly credited it to Viswanath saying it was he who suggested all that!

After watching Shankarabharanam, I started fantasising about this director working with the gentleman I adore the most in music. Let me hasten to add that the music of Shankarabharanam is outstanding and that I have nothing against KVM.

My dream came true after 3 years when that magic combination happened. I am not going to talk much about this now. The number of posts I have written about the music which oozed out and flowed like the Krishna and the Godavari, stands testimony to the Viswanath-Raaja combination. In fact, it was Viswanath gaaru who first coined the term ‘ee laya raaja’. Regular attendees of Raaja Deepam may recall that the June 2^nd 2021 session was totally dedicated to one movie, with special posts in Tamizh and English on a particular song followed by discussion and explanation on the entire background score.

Today’s song is from that movie as well.

The speciality of ‘Kottaga Rekkalochana’ (Swarna Kamalam) is its simplicity. Based on Mohanam-with a dash of alien notes here and there- the song is classically folksy. The akaaram of SPB to the backing of the single-stringed instrument, gently sways in the air making it seem as if everything in the world is floating. Unmatched in spirit, the flute goes around with glee. The strings move like the waves and even as we get immersed in this spectacle, the Pallavi starts.

The Pallavi is charming as well as haunting, the former because of the tune and the latter because of the interspersing flute melody.

The santoor caresses. The flute blushes. This romance between the two seemingly different instruments marks the beginning of the first interlude. As if goaded by this, the strings gush and move with gay abandon. The subtle sound of a stringed instrument in the background makes one feel the breeze which blows on the river banks. With sensitivity and intensity, the santoor smiles while the strings grin with friendly ferocity.

The finely etched lines in the CharaNams shimmer with grace, with the voice of Janaki enhancing the experience. The sudden dash of alien notes towards the end, gives a soothing touch.

It is the Shehnai in the second interlude which steals the show/heart. With alluring depth, the instrument shows the hidden ecstasy giving a dazzling delineation in the process. The repetitive sets of notes from a different instrument which is replicated now and then, albeit subtly by the flute, seems like short glints of colourful sparks. The Shehnai and the flute engage themselves in short musical conversations, but as if to show that nothing ends in this world, the strings move with coherency and fluidity.

Yes, there is no end…

…to/for art and artistes!

Ps: This post was written in Feb 2023 in the group on Facebook, when the legend left this world.

Ethos

 What is energy? What is spirit?

This is not a post on science class nor is it an article on occult sciences. But the idea behind that question is simple. I just want to know if any of you have experienced vibrations in some particular places(not during an earthquake or during a flight/train journey).

At least I have experienced such vibrations. It is said that one experiences this when the energy levels match with that of ours.

Take some temples; or concert halls; or even places not popular but are very special to us. I shall come to the last mentioned in a while.

That is why, places where some legends were born or where they grew up or even places frequented by them carry that value. And that is why, such places are converted into memorials.

In Salzburg, Austria – the place where one of the greatest composers of Western Classical Music lived has been converted into a beautiful museum which houses the artefacts used by the composer.

In Bonn, Germany, Beethoven’s birthplace is a memorial, museum and an institution.

In Eisenach, Germany, there is a museum dedicated to Bach with more than 250 exhibits.

At Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire, England, a 16^th Century half-timbered house has been restored and has been converted into a small museum.

Then we have memorials for John Keats, William Wordsworth and for many other poets and writers. A book ‘Second Thoughts’ written by Navtej Sarna, a book which I own with a lot of pride, describes the houses and memorials of many writers and poets across the world.

What about our ‘Bharat’? (and I am focussing only on Dakshin Bharat as of now).

Ettayapuram- the place where Mahakavi was born is very poorly maintained, though there is a MaNi Mandapam which was constructed thanks to the efforts of writer Kalki.

Thiruvaiyaaru- Musicians who make a living singing a majority of his kritis, assemble once in a year, ‘sing’ the pancharatnas looking at the TV cameras, pack their bags and never bother to even look at that place for the next 362 days. Since I went there during one of those 362 days, I know what condition that place is in.

There are more such namesake memorials in our country, but let me stop here.

One must thank their stars for the existence of such memorials. But many legends do not have even this ‘luxury’.

So, why am I writing all these now?

The house of T.N.Rajarathnam PiLLai- considered to be the father of Nagaswaram, who would play a single raga Todi from midnight to early morning with people listening with rapt attention, and a vidwan who was asked to perform on AIR on the 15^th of August 1947- was razed to the ground 4 years ago!

What shocked me was the apathy of the Government of Tamizh Nadu who decided to shut their eyes and be a mute spectator. It is more shocking because Karunanidhi, the former Chief Minister of TN was a huge fan of Rajaratnam PiLLai and had wanted to convert his house into a memorial. But somehow this did not happen during his time. It is unfortunate that people in his lineage do not share his musical taste and also the sensitivity to respect legends.

What is also surprising and shocking is the fact that none from the Carnatic music fraternity have bothered to raise their voice. Goes to show that most of them just pay lip service and keep their mouth shut when it comes to some real issues.

Now, I was mentioning ‘places which are not popular but are special to us’. TNR’s house is an example. Likewise, places frequented by us during our childhood also carry that stamp of speciality.

The song of the day is special essentially because of this fact.

‘ALLi thandha bhoomi’ from NaNdu (1981) kindles such memories without a doubt.

Rendered by Malaysia Vasudevan in a very different voice, the song has nostalgia written all over it.

Take the beginning. The humming tinged with a sense of poignancy is backed by the strings of the guitar- which plays the chatushram beats with joy- is followed by the keys which is backed by the bass guitar and this is followed by a unique sound which almost ‘speaks’ to us.

The Pallavi starts and to our surprise- and not to our surprise- it is set in Tisram , the 3-beat cycle and not in Chatushram (prelude). Laya Raaja does not stop here. The beats follow a peculiar pattern in tisram – ta ta tataaa- which is 1 2 3 4/ 1 2 but played with gaps giving a unique complexion. There is more too.

The word ‘ini’ in the second line is rendered plainly the first time and is extended the second time to make it sound like off beat though it follows the beat.

In fact, rather than an experiment done just for the sake of being done, this one is in line with the emotions and the feelings conveyed by the song.

Doesn’t the bell sound in the beginning of the first interlude remind you of your school bell? To me, it does! And along with that it also gives me some memories of many things associated with the school.

The keys that follow to the backing of the rhythm pad reminds me of the games we played and the fights we had. The two sets of strings with different melodies in different octaves remind me of different sets of friends and the debates we used to have. The guitar which bends towards the end, makes me feel melancholic.

The first CharaNam gives me memories of the paths and ways I took to reach my schools(in Madras, Hyderabad and Cuddalore).

The guitar playing the same melody repeatedly with the different sets of strings playing different melodies again remind me of my college surrounded by the sea which had different colours in different places and dirctions.

The flute and the single-stringed instrument remind me of the birds perched on the trees on my way to the college and their songs.

The second CharaNam reminds me of my trips to the library and of me sitting under the trees with a book in my hand.

Life is a lesson. What we experience cannot be taken away. This is what is energy. This is what is spirit.

Wish people in our country were more sensitive to this fact and respected what needs to be respected!

 

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!