A brief note on "எங்கெங்கோ போகின்ற என் பாடலே..."

This song is from the Tamil dubbed version of the Malayalam children's film Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. The scope of this post is limited to just the pallavi of this song. (The song goes on to become about something else – presumably relevant to the film's concerns – in its stanzas.)

எங்கெங்கோ போகின்ற என் பாடலே
இங்கே என் நெஞ்சத்தில் எங்கிருந்தாய்
நீ வரும் பாதையில் நின்றிருக்க
என்னை நீ எவ்விதம் தான் கடந்தாய்
அழகான ஓர் கீதம் ஆனாய்
அனலாகி காற்றாகி போனாய்
அலைகின்ற நெஞ்சத்தில் தேனாய்
அழியாத கோலம் போல் வானாய்

காற்றாலே உண்டாகிக் காற்றாகும் கீதங்கள்
காற்றோடு போகாதோ சொல்லாத சோகங்கள்

The above verse is yet another instance of self-reflexivity that's a spontaneous characteristic of several Raaja songs.

I don't know who wrote this but this is clearly aligned with Raaja's own reflections on what music is – an abstract exchange of a sound pattern that the composer shares with the listeners. In even more radical terms, that which doesn't exist in and of itself. (See below video, from 01:36 mark.)

So here, we have a very interesting characterization of music as something that is at once intangible and fixed. The lines touch upon the permanent nature of music in all its ambiguity. That which doesn't alter itself or anything else.

In the first part, the composer himself wonders, to put it in simple terms, "where did that come from?" He asks the piece of music:

Where were you residing in my mind? Here I am standing all along but couldn't notice you get past me. You became this beautiful piece of sound. And went away as waves in air.

And the song goes on to examine how the piece of music reaches listener again in all its ambiguity. The modest picture it gives is that of the listener's wandering mind getting itself together for a while. What does music do but help one pass time? How could it possibly resolve anything for its listeners if it's merely a pattern of sound that engages a wandering mind just for a little while? And thus the piece of music remains a permanent abstract entity like the sky.

Tagged again

Okay, I'm back after a long time, this time to take Dagalti's tag. I'm supposed to list “seven things I love.” So here goes...

1. Perfect idleness. There are only few things in this world that give me more pleasure than just sitting idle. Sit and stare blankly. To borrow a perfect line from a great essay, “[i]t is our observation that every time we get into trouble it is due to not having been lazy enough.” I'm appreciative of boredom too. It enables one to understand what one really wants to do (which is probably nothing).

2. Theorising. I love to form theories, to formalise the ideas that pop up in my mind, and build more theories on top of that. Needless to say, the subject matter is so silly in most cases.

3. Late night reflections on life, the universe and everything. Some times with friends, some times talking on the phone, some times alone on the terrace, some times after a few glasses of wine or some such spirit.

4. Going out for a cup of coffee or tea in the evening on a holiday after being “perfectly idle” up to that point. And for some reason I prefer going to upscale coffee shops like Café Coffee Day or Barista. (Yeah, shoot me.)

5. Dining at a favourite restaurant with friends after spending enough time planning for or thinking about it (basically, after enough “foreplay”). Lunch at Sree Krishna Kafe during the weekend would outrank everything else in this category, as of now.

6. Hunting DVDs. I spend hours searching for DVDs (and VCDs) in shops that have a good collection. Regularly visit all the usual suspects (Landmark, Crossword, Music World, Planet M, et al.). And when it comes to books, I'm actually quite consumerist in that I tend to be satisfied with merely buying them.

7. The drive back home after watching a damn good film. There's something about having been a “witness” to a great film that really excites me.

Some of these things might appear to be overlapping with each other, but I suppose they do differ in the kind of pleasure they give me. (Yeah, that's how boring I am.)

Raaja and I

Suresh had tagged me, a month ago, to write about Raaja in my life. And I've finally come to take it. I've rambled a lot (and broken some of the conditions) while answering the questions. So please bear with me.

1. The moment that introduced you to Raaja.

If it's about the first ever Raaja song that I got hooked to, I don't remember at all. I've listened to Tamil Film Music all my life. Music, to me, has always meant Film Music. So, naturally, I got hooked to many a Raaja number even during my childhood. I'm not able to particularly recollect any specific song, but as a kid, I remember loving his chartbusters from the late 80s (abUrva sagOdharargaL and the like) and very early 90s (anjali, thaLapathi et al.). The first ever audio cassette we kids bought on our own was a combination of chinnath thambi and gOpura vAsalilE. And I remember loving the latter much more than the former, dhEvadhaip pOloru then being the song closest to my heart. But I'd not call any of these “my first Raaja experience.”

With the advent of Rahman in the Tamil Film Music scene, I quickly turned into a huge Rahman fan. He was the first music composer whom I began to follow very closely, and became a gushing fan of. I used to feel smug about my affection for the most offbeat of his works amidst other fans who barely knew that he did those albums. Those days, I thought of Raaja as a yesteryear legend who has composed some great albums (my familiarity with his works was strictly limited to his association with leading actors and directors), but I was never a true-blue fan.

I truly came to witness the genius of Raaja only when I went to college. It happened as I got to listen more and more of 80s Raaja. I vividly remember the first time I bumped into some of these songs that simply bowled me over. Listening to IramAna rojAvE while eating in my hostel mess (they occasionally used to play songs from the '80s) when I was in my first year. Listening to the college music troupe perform a rockish version of nI thAnE en ponvasantham. And then there's thenRal vandhu ennai thodum listening to which I used to get so ecstatic and even used to “sing” the full song (including the interludes) sitting in the classroom with no concern whatsoever as to how my mumbling would sound to the guy sitting next to me. I remember being completely enamoured by songs like AgAya gangai, AgAya veNNilAvE around the same time.

By the time I was in the third year at college, I had a computer in my room (till then I used to listen to songs from an “mp3 station” that some kind soul had set up in our intranet labs), and soon my daily play-list had nothing but Raaja. And the greatest reverence was reserved for Raaja-Yesudas combo.

2. Name one occassion where Raaja's music directly/ indirectly influenced your life.

I'm a proper stoic. In that respect, the joy I get out of listening to Raaja's music is quite singular. At times, I've been almost moved to tears. That's as much “direct influence” his music has had on my life. Listening to Raaja transports me from thoroughly quotidian moments to a different plane wherein what I am, ceases to matter. I'd of course come down after a while, but then there's always another Raaja song that's already out there, that I've not yet bumped into.

3. Lets take Tamil, Telugu, Malayalam, Kannada and Hindi into account. Assuming that one of this is either your mother tongue or native language, name a favorite song in each of the other 4 languages that immediately comes to your mind.

This is quite embarrassing because I've not listened to that many of his works in Telugu, Malayalam and Kannada at all, and I'm very conscious of it. But anyway, here goes.

Telugu – suvvi suvvi, rAma kanavEmirA and mounamEla nOyi. I know, technically, these are as much Tamil as Telugu, but since they were originally composed for the Telugu versions, I'm picking them over other Telugu songs of Raaja that I've got a chance to listen to.

Kannada – jOtheyali, the violin instrumental theme from pallavi anupallavi (which was later reworked as mella mella ennaith thottu).

Malayalam – tumbi vA. Endlessly beautiful.

Hindi – Har koi samjhe. I actually had the audio cassette of the Hindi version of Hey! Ram. That's probably why I've always felt that this is a proper Hindi song. However, it's been a long time since I last listened to the Hindi version.

4. One song of Ilaiyaraaja that you consider rare and think a song that many people should have known but don't.

Okay, I'm going to take some liberty and list a few.

Adum nEram idhu dhAn – sUra samhAram. An earlier post on the song.

maNNaiyum ponnaiyum – nAdOdi pAttukkAran. What a wonderful song! It's one of those songs that I really wanted to write a customary gushing post about in this blog. Divinely endearing chorus, virtuoso arrangements, beautiful solo vocals. Just brilliant in every single way. The seamless transition from the nAdhaswaram to the flute to the violin in the first interlude has me in total rapture every time. The song changes its scale whimsically, taking seemingly arbitrary turns, but there's something mystifyingly organic about the whole of it. An incredible mix (mishmash if you will) of irresistible pieces that's all the more seductive as a whole.

kaNdEn engum pUmagal Urvalam – kARRinilE varum gItham. This one is quite popular, but nobody is talking about it as much as they should be. A masterpiece that's just perfect in every single note. The uninitiated must listen to both the Janaki version and the Vani Jayaram version. I'm told there's a third version as well, sung by P Susheela, but unfortunately, I've not got a chance to listen to it.

5. Raaja's number that you are hearing right now/ most recently heard..?

mAnAdak kodi from mudhal vasantham. I got hooked to this song a few weeks back and it's been playing in repeat mode since then. I went back to the song as I began typing this post.
Also, maNNaiyum ponnaiyum. I was discussing about the song with my friend to whom I had gushingly recommended this song some time back.

I tag all those who are reading this post. Feel free to use the comments space of this blog.

நீராய் உருக்கி என் ஆருயிராய் நின்றானே!

நீராய் உருக்கி என் ஆருயிராய் நின்றானே
ஓராதார் உள்ளத்து ஒளிக்கும் ஒளியானே

ஈர்த்து என்னை ஆட்கொண்ட எந்தை பெருமானே
கூர்த்த மெய் ஞானத்தால் கொண்டு உணர்வார் தம்கருத்தில்

நோக்கரிய நோக்கே நுணுக்கரிய நுண் உணர்வே
போக்கும் வரவும் புணர்வும் இலாப் புண்ணியனே

என் சிந்தனை உள்
ஊற்றான உண்ணார் அமுதே உடையானே

To “post-bigil” or not,

That’s the question. And, a question of Shakespearean dimensions at that. These are the kind of questions one has been asking oneself, unselfconsciously, for a long time now.

Is Bigilism self-contained? Does it leave any scope for a “post-bigilist” school of thought?¹ Can any form of thought be “self-contained” for that matter? Is it not the case that that form of thought will give way to something “post-that?” Does the postman ever stop delivering the letters, so to put? Is that what Gödel said, umm, in a rather mathematician’s way of saying it?

By the by, does genius wear out with time? In which case, I've a Pascalian kind of wager to propose, for the sake of the “larger good”² of, uh, what else but genius.

[1] – Say, it does. The next question of gargantuan proportions would be on how to spell it – elegantly as ‘postbigilist,’ or as ‘post-bigilist’ with an ugly but somewhat useful hyphen?

[2] – Note to self, for some food for thought over some Scotch: well, one has been thinking about this for quite a while now. Shouldn’t one just stop putting words or phrases in double quotes to say them but not mean them the way as some might take them? Frankly, it sucks. Just tell the readers that you aren’t sure. That takes less time, and is a lot more elegant. May be, it’s time to form a “post-double quote” school of thought – oh, wait, a post-double quote school of thought.

Vishal Bard, Wah Wah!!

Just listen to it. Now. It’s been close to two years, but the awesomeness, the orchestral and choral flamboyance, the wild and unfettered singing, the boisterous fun in this song hasn’t waned one bit. One of those songs that makes me frenetic; that makes me want to stand up and dance, my two noncooperative left feet notwithstanding.

I can't stop gushing about this man Vishal Bhardwaj. Four brilliant films and many wonderful music albums in his kitty.

On that note, do visit Vishal Bard Watch (from which I steal the pun for the title of this post), a blog started by Ramanand to follow the movies and music of the man, to collect news and views about him; also, watch his latest short film Blood Brothers.

Postmodernism as the path to shut up

True postmodernists tend to be utterly ambiguous, and when they write, they unrelentingly confound the readers; also because they’re not sure of what they want to say themselves. To think of this as almost a virtue, one tends to think, is the primary characteristic of a postmodernist.

Many a time, the postmodernist next door starts to write something down. He thinks he probably has something to say. You know, stuff one feels like saying. As he writes on, he realises the horror of what he’s writing. Sometimes gradually, but most times instantly. “Do I want to say this? Is this, um, right?” he wonders. And, invariably, he realizes what’s not so right with it. It could probably be right, but most often not so right as to write it down.

The height of postmodernism, one sometimes tends to think, is to just shut up. Which is what one usually does on one’s blog.