Posts filed under ‘Rajnikant’

Illaiyaraja – Padma Vibhushan

Back in my teens, in 1981, I was lying on the floor listening to VividhBharati on a  well-worn Murphy Transistor Radio that would fit in the palm of your hand. The 2A Eveready Battery was on life support. My brothers and I were praying that the battery would last, anxious to enjoy every second of what we could listen to on the radio at 9:30 at Saturday night.

It was well past bedtime in our household; it was an art to keep the transistor volume at the right level; enough to hear the radio above the sound of the fan. Just about the right volume to not disturb my father in the next room lest we would awaken him from his deep slumber (something which he would never take to pleasantly, especially in those days when his hearing was good!).

The much awaited sponsored programs (vilambara dhaarar alikkum nigazchigal) started; the second film presented that night was ‘Panneer Pushpangal’. I didn’t like the name; but my ears pricked up when the music director’s name was announced. Then came the strings ; soon after, the sound of Uma Ramanan’s voice cut through the night. I increased the volume on the little radio. It didn’t matter if it woke my father up. The scolding would be worth it. ‘Aananda raagam’ – she sang; I didnt know what to focus on; the voice, the singing, the tune, or the powerful strings. This was out of the world; like nothing I had ever heard before. Wait. Was it based on a Raga? There were no markings of kacheri-sangitam in the song, but the scale was unmistakably that of Simhendra Madhyamam. Yes, this was a different paradigm; a fully loaded orchestral construct based on the scale of a raga that I had not been too fond of until then.

“This music deserves every reward under the sun” – I thought then.

36 years later, people are still talking about this song. I saw a recent performance of this song with live string accompaniment; my mind playing back images that I had conjured in my mind – as I had heard this song, lying flat on a thin mattress on the floor on a warm late-summer night 3.5 decades ago, snapping back to reality as the emcee LR Narayanan cut the program short just as the penultimate bgm started.

Anandaragam is just one. There are tons of songs such as these that were part of my teenage years and early 20s.  Illayaraja was an integral part of growing up in Madras (now Chennai!); the man kept creating new vistas in music with the limited tools at disposal – in an age prior to the studio era of sequencing, digital recording, digital editing, auto tuning and pitch correction.

It is a delight to still use a palm size device – create a play list and play a seemingly never ending list of songs that transport me back to that era.  I had never imagined on that sultry summer night that such a playlist would be available in every corner of the world. And, as a teenager,  I hadn’t imagined that the effect of those songs would be the same, some 35 years later.

I think Illaiyaraja’s music and the impact that it had on society is beyond rewards and titles. Every song of his that has touched and moved people is a ‘Ratna’ in itself.

 

Kanniks Kannikeswaran

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January 26, 2018 at 4:08 pm Leave a comment

kabAli it is and not kapAli

The word ‘kabAli’ is prime cannon fodder for my pseudo Tamil friends who don’t lose any opportunity to deride the “consonantal economy” (read ‘their perceived inadequacy’) of the Tamil language with a friendly yet condescending smug smirk.

‘KabAli’ is the most uttered/searched Tamil word this week thanks to our native kannada/marathi speaking superstar.

Rajinikanth_Kabali

Probably one of the most ancient landmarks of Chennai (perhaps not the current one but the one supposedly demolished earlier by the Portugese) is the Kapalisvara temple in Tiru Mayilai; and the association between the skull kapala and Shiva is there all over Indian mythology. However, for all practical purpuses, Kapalisvara becomes Kabalisvara and the Kapali temple becomes the famous KabAli koyil. Not only devotees and temple priests, even rowdies are named Kabaali.(I am very sure no rowdy was born one to start with).

There is so much of interchangeability between pa and ba both represented by the Tamil letter ப.

The humble ப doubles up, nay quadruples into pa, pha, ba and bha as demanded by the situation. Thus we have the sanskrit word pAdam to denote a foot, paNi to denote a snake (phani in sanskrit), palam pronounced balam in Tamil to denote strength, and pasmam pronounced basmam to denote bhasma (ash).

The nature of the Tamil language is such that sometimes the pa in a sanskrit word morphs into a ba.

Thus, growing up in Chennai, I always thought Poories were Boories. And I have also heard the word Padmini pronounced Batmini. Even the tamil word palli becomes balli on occasion.

If ‘pa’ occurs in the middle of a word, it gets pronounced as pa only when prefixed with an ‘ip’, as in kappal, theppam, kappam etc. or an ‘it’ as in natpu, thatpam etc. Otherwise, ba takes over. shApam becomes sAbam but japam becomes jabam, tApam becomes tAbam, kapham becomes kabam; even Gopal becomes Gobal – perhaps thanks to the Tamil word tabal (postal services) and needless to say subham becomes subam.
(Note – tapas, tApam, kapham, gopal, subham are all shared between Tamil and Sanskrit).

 

Our Karnatic Musicians regardless of some of their misadventures with Telugu words faithfully render the Papanasam Sivam song ‘kapAli’ with the pA intact!

Regardless of the mohana raga classic, the film kabAli establishes the ba firmly in place.

Try saying ‘kapali da kapali’! See how wimpy it sounds. It is an emasculated version of the now powerful swagger ‘kabali da kabali’.

So, I swell with pride as I tell my pseudo Tamil speaking friends. Wipe away your smiles. Sanskrit or no sanskrit – kabAli it is. None other than our superstar has established it. Even the lexicon will change in order to honor him.

July 21, 2016 at 7:38 pm Leave a comment


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