‘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?
