MUSICAL TIDE

A soothing lullaby is the first warm sound that a new born recognises without fear. As days pass, the appreciation of sound moves to more typical melodies and the youth is said to be the fountainhead for music. We recognise the sounds of various animals and birds. In fact, a good singer is termed a cuckoo or a nightingale. Familiar words. Who has not heard the names of Lata Mangeshkat, Sarojini Naidu or Subbulakshmi?

Emotions are also linked with music. In fact we have as many as seventy two melakartha ragas in Carnatic music which are segregated in a defined manner to appreciated the navarasas. Similarly, the Thaat in Hindusthani music is the paradigm of the various ragas if this genre of classical music in India. In fact, the most appreciable one in both the scales is the one of happiness. It is probably the reason that anything that brings happiness when related is termed as music to one's ears. Striking a jaring note would render the entire music no more to termed as music. Every note in its place is the essence of music.

Music has no barriers has been established time and again. In one of the legends it is said that a poet once told a king that the writ of the king ran only within his kingdom while that of the poet or an artiste would be universal. On this count it was argued that the artiste has a greater persona in comparison to a ruler. Tansen and Baiju Bawara are heroes in their respective realms and the legends about their musical prowess can leave one spell bound. If the legend leaves us spell bound then what would be the power of the recitals makes one feel despondent that a treasure of music has been lost to be savoured during a lifetime.

India is home to classical, folk, light and fusion musice amongst many other genre of music. We also revel in the jugalbandis of the same genre and between two different genres of music. The healthy rivalry in itself can destress any individual and provide the much needed balm to the frayed nerves. But the thirst for refreshing music is so high that we are enamoured by the symphonies of the western world. People in South India marvel at the capability of their beloved Illayaraja or A R Rahman in posting a symphony.

Organised and well rehearsed symphonies are enchanting. But how would one feel if a symphony of accomplished musicians and lesser mortals were to perform in a synchronised manner on a single stage with not even a full fledged dress rehearsal. This is not a feat that is imagined nor is it a fantasy. Recollect the month of December and January of every year. A small village Thiruvaiyar in Tamil Nadu was home to the famed musician Thyagaraja. He is worshipped as one of the trinity of Carnatic music. No musician in Carnatic music ever misses a pilgrimage to the ancestral homes of the trinity of Carnatic music. Apparently the devotion of Thyagaraja to his favourite Lord Rama was sought to be outdone by the devotees of Thyagaraja. They therefore decided to celebrate their devotion by holding a Aradhana. This Aradhana is a congregation of all vocalists and instrumentalists who render at the Pancharathna keerthana compositions. The rendering is nothing such sort of symphony. It is astounding that this confluence of the musicians who congregate once in a year render in such flawless cohesion that should astound any person who has a reasonable understanding of the nuances of classical music. A similar feat is also performed in honour of Purandaradasa who is revered as Father of Carnatic music. These two symphonies are outstanding examples of concerts in unison.

Today, we watch several music reality shows, listen to verious FM channels, use the MP3 players or Ipods but the essence is the same that we are all unconsciously tuned to the musical soul. The poem Solitary Reaper of William Wordsworth is one which subtly glorifies the power of music. No narrative would do justice to the poem's lyrica and hence I choose to reproduce the same.

Behold her, single in the field,
Yon solitary Highland Lass !
Reaping and singing by herself ;
Stop here, or gently pass !
Alone she cuts and binds the grain,
And sings a melancholy strain ;
O listen ! for the vale profound
Is overflowing with the sound.

No nightingale did ever chaunt
More welcome notes to weary bands
Of travellers in some shady haunt,
Among Arabian sands :
A voice so thrilling ne’er was heard
In spring-time from the cuckoo-bird,
Breaking the silence of the seas
Among the farthest Hebrides.

Will no one tell me what she sings ? –
Perhaps the plaintive numbers flow
For old, unhappy, far-off things,
And battles long ago :
Or is it some more humble lay,
Familiar matter of to-day ?
Some natural sorry, loss, or pain,
That has been, and may be again ?

Whate’er the theme, the maiden sang
As if her song could have no ending ;
I saw her singing at her work,
And o’er the sickle bending ; –
I listened, motionless and still ;
And, as I mounted up the hill,
The music in my heart I bore,
Long after it was heard no more.

This is the feeling one gets when we listen to the translations of the various lyrics on different programmes. A prominent flutist conducted a show on television which analysed the various ragas used in film songs. This has been carried forward in another programme which has two artistes. One recites a song from classical music and another one from folk to film music based in the same raga to drive home the point that music in each form is as appealing as another.

Therapy apart music is an inherent part of all life and will outlive any soul. But why the petty debate as to which music is better. Could we not savour all kinds of music? Am I striking a musical note or a jarring note is for the raaders of this blog to decide.