This is an ongoing series of written explorations into songs/music in general that has somehow significantly contributed to how we remember our past selves. Importantly, understanding these sonic memories will go onto colour one's preferences for a future that is yet to come. This series sets out to chronicle some of these musical milestones that are intimately biographical yet somehow universal - miles through tones.
Edayya Gati, Koteeshwara Aiyyar (late 1800s)
Knowledge of Classical Music, traditionally imparted from a very young age can have far-reaching impacts on one's psyche - chiselling the ears while conditioning the mind to recognise formal from the informal. Carnatic Classical vocals - as I understand retrospectively, was my earliest lesson in spirituality, religiosity and devotion. Edayya Gati is one throwback that needed some unpacking and self-reflection.
Pedai aerkka un arul kaataadu, ennodedayya vilaiyattaa?
Why have You not shown mercy in accepting this imbecile? Is it a game that you play?
The lyrics register a form of playful grievance - evoking both joy and helplessness while the tune ensures that the intended pathos isn't lost on the listener. Layer the vocals with violins, and this austere prayer never fails to draw some deep sense of calm from within.
Sruthi Amma Layam Achan, Vidyasagar (2000)
My nine-year-old self would not have recognised classical strands in this movie song, but the aforementioned conditioning did help pick up similar veins in both sub-consciously. In the movie, Sruthi Amma Layam Achan anticipates the reunion of a fragmented family - and likens it to the impending confluence of Sruthi (melody) and Layam (rhythm) in the creation of Sangeetham (music).
Three distinct voices texture the composition - each almost becoming extensions of the three main instruments. Raveendran's rustic male voice alaap transitions into an Indian tambourine - deep, hollow yet jingly - establishing movement through the song's length. Yesudas's tenor male voice is led on by sitar and violins, while Chitra's shrill female voice siphons in and out with flute accents. The composition peaks at the 3.25-minute mark with a deeply affecting take of Edayya Gati on the violin.
Prabanchamaake niranyu nilkkum pranavamallo nee ...Swargam ithellaam poyaalum koottinoru eenam chaare varum
The Universe is shrouded in your Omnipresence
Have the heavens to depart, your cosmic tune will be my sole companion
In the end, both songs explore the concept of surrender, of externalising faith - to another being or some supreme, intangible force; Lord Shiva (in the former) or Sangeetham (in the latter). In doing so, they seem to lyrically and musically converge - creating a state of meditative bliss.
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