Part 10

(continued from Part 9)
After all the twists and turns in the road, the milestones crossed and destinations reached, after all the crests and troughs in the journey, the high notes scaled and the low points touched, what one word/phrase/adjective can sum up a lifetime of experience, a life full of experiments, and capture, even in general sense, the true essence of the being? Does the person in question draw a demarcation line clearly showing the difference before him and after him? The graph that charts the course of every genius' path reads pretty much the same. A blazing start, a rapid rise to the top, a comfortable period of settlement, and the eventual step down from the pedestal. The gradual slowdown and slipping into history is as inevitable as it is natural. And only when a career ebbs and comes to its final resting point among the pantheon of other pioneers, path pavers and path breakers, do calls for legacy slow gain a voice. So what does Ilayaraja leave behind beyond thousands of memorable scores? There were music directors of great repute before him, who enriched the film music scene with their unmatched talents and great expertise - Ghantasala, Pendyala, Rajeswara Rao, K.V.Mahadevan and the like. Each of them joined the mainstream at some point, but left it only after changing the course of the stream, even if it is by a little degree. Each of them introduced their own variations, stamped the compositions with their signatures and left a mark that is bright and everlasting. Rajeswara Rao was the first music director (on the telugu scene) that toyed with instrumentation. Orchestration for him was as important as composition. Pendyala had a penchant of fusing the rich traditions of Carnatic and Hindustani. Amid an august company of fellow music directors, Ghantasala asserted himself with his simplicity in the design. And by the time it came to Mahadevan, the music scene exploded beyond everyone's imaginations. A music director was required to cater to every genre - from thrillers to thillanas, from traditional to 'tapori's. In effect, it wasn't a forte anymore, it became a requirement - flexibility.

If one looks at the current music scene one can clearly note, how each of the above traits shaped the path of the progress and how each of the music directors was instrumental in scripting yet another page in the annals of telugu film music history. So when the time comes when Ilayaraja rests his baton for one final time, what would he be leaving behind? There is no easy way of answering that question. However an attempt could be made by looking at the present state and then working backwards from it. Currently, composition happens in soul-less ways. A music director composes a basic base track, which would be filled in with words by the lyricist. The music director then starts to work from there on, adding more instrumental tracks, picking and choosing from a wide variety of traditional and foreign instruments - either played by artists or produced by machines, correcting any imperfections that might creep in at some stage, before ending up with a complete song. Note that, it is only at the final moments of this entire process that life is infused into this song. The current music scene is entirely instrument driven. For better or worse, that remains Ilayaraja's legacy. Bestowing an instrument the same honor as a vocal, placing a lifeless organ on the same pedestal as a live voice, is entirely because of him. Whether it is right or proper is subject to one's own judgment or discretion. With a cacophony caused by a clutter of sounds on one side of the spectrum, and a perfect harmony produced by a seamless fusion of pitch perfect instruments and vocals on the other side, the argument is no more about appreciating/denouncing the kind of music produced in this mould, but rather the existence of such a choice that might give rise to pleasing harmonies and speck less standards (A distant comparison could be made to the invention of the dynamite, that could be used to the detriment of society if used maliciously, or to the development of the same, if used judiciously). If Ilayaraja is to be held liable for albums that are produced in a heavy handed manner by throwing in every possible sound known to mankind simply because the technology is available, he should be equally lauded for creating the space for the music directors to produce nuance-rich perfect albums, without worrying about timing, coordination and other overhead duties unrelated to the act of composing. Either way, the new milestone named after him would read 'an instrument is just as expressive as a voice'.

Just like a parent who doesn't distinguish between his kids, a music director tends to maintain the same kind of impartiality towards his creations. No song is less important than the next and no composition is purposefully scored in an inferior way. Inspite of best efforts and best intentions, some compositions never reach the intended audience to the fullest extent. "vaevaela varNaala ee naela kaavyaala" was one such from an eminently forgettable "Sankeertana" (this composition is curious precursor to hugely popular "kottagaa rekkalocchenna gooTilOni guvva pillaki" from "Swarna Kamalam"). The entire soundtrack of "Sankeertana" could very stand proudly next to other successful semi-classical numbers of Ilayaraja, both in intent and content. Sometimes the strength of the soundtrack could overcome the inertia of the image on the screens, stand on its own legs, gain the mileage and make inroads into public acceptance. Some other times, the burden of boredom of the image is too great, pulling back the popularity of good scores. Pratap Potan's "Chaitanya" suffered the latter's fate. The song "paapa eeDu gOla, paapa paeru jOla" ranks among the best Ilayaraja-Balu combinations, in terms of exploiting the great bass in Balu's voice. The entire album, smacking of Goan/Portugese influence, particularly the duets, was an exercise of great style, marrying the composer's creativity to the exotic expression. Owing to the listless performance of the movie, the songs that should have echoed through the passages of time, died down in the halls of silence - "vana mayoori kulikae chilikae idi vasantamae" ("kirAtakuDu"), "aevaevO kalalu kannanO madilO" ("jwAla"), "madhura muraLi hRdaya ravaLi, adhara sudhala yamuna porali pongae" ("oka rAdha iddaru kRshNulu"), "teeganai mallelu poochina vaeLa" ("ArAdhana"), "keechurALLu, cheekaTinTa maggu chicchu rALLu" ("keechurALLu"). It is unfortunate, despite the best of efforts, the chances of a song appealing to the audience's taste, have so little to with the actual content of the song. As some wise man once said, heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.

Even before the appearance of it on the Eastern front, the sun casts a dull golden glow. It doesn't show its full splendor, and neither is it known what is in store. Gradually, the dull glow gives way to an orange hue as it makes its way. As time passes by, what has been perceived merely as a passing delight gains strength and by noon, rises to the top of the sky, blinding the whole world with its brilliance. As it settles down into the evening dusk, the image is one pure bliss. And here is the beautiful part. Even after it slips into the Western horizon and makes its exit, it still shines through the light it casts on other celestial bodies. Literally, sun is why the moon glows, figuratively, sun is why the stars shine. After regaling millions over dozens of years, spread across multitude of languages, the exit of a legend like Ilayaraja from the front line cannot be a sudden and unceremonious. Sure, he may not still hog the headlines and grab the limelight, but the music he created and the legacy he leaves behind are much greater than the individual himself, in the ways they outlive him, they outshine him, and in all the ways his style is emulated, imitated and taken inspiration from. For, there could be no better adulation than imitation and emulation. In spite of his proclivity for fusion, in spite of his command over orchestration, in spite of his great re-recording abilities, the common man, unaware of the technicalities and nuances of the music world, would remember Ilayaraja for the simplest of reasons - his melody, which, ultimately, is what that decides the longevity of the song. Sure, the beats temporarily get the mood up, the up-tempo soars the spirits even if for a short while, the pace might get the ears ringing and the hearts thumping, but at the end of the day, all of the above - the moods, the spirits, the ears and the hearts, all beg to be blessed with the bliss of a sweet melody. And if it comes by the way of a Raja's tunes, so much the better. Men may come and men may go, but the sweetness of the song is what that echoes through the ages.

nAsti te shAm yasah kAye, jarA maraNajam bhayam

Ageless is the work and timeless is the creation
A work of art lives through many a generation

End.

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