The language of music

By Bala Shankar

Carnatic musicians are now being questioned for their lack of allegiance to Tamil, as concerts, many times, feature just one or two passing pieces in Tamil. Is this unconscious choice or intentional neglect or a collection issue? And does the crusade matter?

Tamil is a very rich and ancient language with waves of literary works from the Tirukkural period to the Sangam literature period to the Tholkappiam period to the Saivaite, and Vaishnavite renaissance to the pre-colonial era to the 20^th century works, epitomised by Subramania Bharati and others. These are largely poems or dramatic texts. Except for a few, most creators did not set them to music themselves and thus are not vaggeyakaras. We have always understood that distinction. The Tevaram and Divya Prabhandam hymns (pans in Tamil) were sometimes sung with tunes resembling modern-day ragas, but it was ad hoc and often the reciter’s choice and musical felicity. There were no clear talas, as the emphasis was on emotional expression and lyrical delight. No more and no less.

Carnatic music that probably began in the 15^th or 16^th centuries followed a different template. The songs written had multiple tenets – lyrics of course, but also tala, or beat interval, sangatis or manipulated expressions, swara structures, all with varying layers of bhakti and further grammatical elements. So, one can say that it’s an enhanced version of poetry. That this enhanced complexity may have spurred them to be learnt in totality and be performed, first in private and later publicly. The compositions of the trinity, Purandara Dasa (his works were retuned in later years), Gopalakrishna Bharati and many 20^th-century vaggeyakaras followed this template. The musical elements, and not the lyrical base, then added the creative dimension of manodharma or created music. The distinction between literary work and musical work emerged from these trends. It is therefore, inevitable that concert pieces are chosen predominantly for their musicality. The fact that alapana is the piece-de-resistance of manodharma follows this premise, as alapanas are free of lyrics.

Why should this preclude singing of more Tamil kritis in concerts? The answer lies in the differences in the composition collection. Many Tamil-speaking vaggeyakaras like Syama Sastry, Patnam Subramania Iyer, Poochi Srinivasa Iyengar, GNB and others composed in Teleugu largely. Add to this the copious creations of Tyagaraja and Dikshitar in Telugu and Sanskrit, Tamil compositions are even today outnumbered. Then there is the question of musical brilliance and comparisons are inevitable. Vaggeyakaras like Gopalakrishna Bharathi and Papanasam Sivan were next to none, but they are fewer. So, the next best option is to take the literary works and set them to formal music. Ariyakudi did that with Andal pasurams and some Ramanataka kritis. To make up the Tamil shortfall, more are being included in concerts with contemporary tune-smiths. In that process, outstanding musicality found in colossal non-Tamil compositions could be sacrificed in the name of language. If every linguistic state starts a movement like this, the larger interests of the core music may be a point of argument.

There is sometimes an argument that the audience lend their ears better if they follow the language. There is merit in that line. To address this partially, Tamil has been used very heavily in creative elements like viruttam and pallavi lines for decades. Old literary works lend themselves to such musical expression, capitalising on the emotions conveyed in them. Tiruppugazh is also part of this effort. This was considered a fair solution to bring the virtuosity of the language and musical intent in the same breath. In fact, Hindustani classical music is almost sans lyrics, except for five to ten words, mostly chosen as an after-thought. Instrumentalists show us this phenomenon every day. Lalgudi’s playing of his own varnams and tillanas evoke exhilarating musical feeling, even if they actually have some words behind them.

I am a Tamil language lover (I have published short stories in Tamil) but am equally a diehard fan of Carnatic music. There is a need to reflect whether we are muddling up the language and music tracks for symbolism. Let it be just ‘music and us’.

(The author is a music lover based in Singapore)