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?