The late seventies heralded a mild creative renaissance in Tamil cinema, a turn of the wheel that time ushers in, in a seemingly inconspicuous manner. It also meant the confluence of like-minded talents collaborating and contributing equally. You can’t say better cinema was being made though. Try telling that to the previous generation. It just meant a refinement in tastes according to the times. Talents like Bharathi Raja, Mahendran, Balu Mahendra, Kamal Haasan and Ilaiyaraja were thrown up just to name a few in their respective departments. This can happen only when the consumer becomes the creator. None of these talents can be accused of overthrowing their predecessors. In fact, they were deeply influenced by them and seldom failed to mention their indebtedness on public platforms. Cinema, rather than dictating, reflects the changing times.
It’s exactly forty years since Ilaiyaraja made a sensational debut. He has scored music for 1000 films at an average of around five songs in each. It’s not just the numbers and the prolificacy but the consistency that stands out. He may appear to have, off late over drawn from his tune bank, but for most part has imparted sheer musical bliss. I would use the Urdu term ‘Sukoon’ or in Carnatic music parlance ‘Sowkhyam’ to describe his music. As someone who has visited his song recording sessions on and off right from the early eighties when he was at the peak of his powers, his prowess never ceases to amaze. Magic is sleight of hand but in the true sense of the term, I can assure you it is watching Raja scoring the background score. It can enhance the emotions in the most mundane of sequences. He makes it look like child’s play, watching one reel just once, writing the respective musical notes and dispensing them to the respective musicians to be performed in perfect harmony. It’s only when you watch another music director struggling, that you realise the sheer genius of the man. For me, it’s the ninth wonder. For ‘Nandalala’, he individually recorded stray notes from four Hungarian musicians with various instruments. When it was mixed with the rest and played along with the scene, they were awestruck. Mysskin was in tears because it was a crucial scene. The best thing about Ilaiyaraja’s score is that he knows when a scene could speak for itself without him interrupting with an unnecessary interlude.
Applause and awards are an artiste’s creative aphrodisiac. Praise and plaudits are mostly posthumous in our country or when the recipient is feeble and fuzzy enough to wonder what all the fuss is about. A fete to honour an individual’s achievements when in their prime is rare. I avoid any event involving film personalities because they never start or end on time. A film personality loves the microphone as much as the cameras. This was different. It was the monarch of the seven notes being honoured by Vijay TV who did a brilliant job after Kamal completed fifty years in cinema and I had a ringside seat. Chennai is a city in progress with most roads dug up to enhance public transport. There were serpentine queues of cars and humans snaking into the vast YMCA grounds. It didn’t matter that Indian cricket team was facing its arch rivals, Pakistan in a T20 faceoff. ‘Passes’ were as scarce as tickets. Of course the event started late, by an hour. Raja arrived in style to a standing ovation and was seated on a podium opposite the stage. Surprisingly, the proceedings were ill-planned and it took the infectious charms of the much loved compere Divya Darshini to placate the frayed nerves backstage as well as on stage. There were piles of plaudits by directors and obeisance paid by indebted singers but it was the lack of presence of the cream of film personalities that was jarring. There was no ‘Kokila’ Mohan or Ramarajan just to name a couple, whose films were largely aided by the great man’s score. Chiranjeevi and Mammooty were expected to represent their respective states but they were absent. I can’t recall a single lyric writer going on stage and sharing his or her experience of creating a song with the maestro. The Kannada film industry was not represented though I know that a few top stars were invited. Of course, Kamal was there for his ‘Annan’. Theirs is a relationship that goes beyond the professional. A few days back, Kamal had tweeted that Raja had rescued ‘Hey Ram’ from wrong hands. Well the ‘wrong hands’, L. Subramaniam, was there to recall how his father was Raja’s first music teacher. There was an awkward moment when Kamal and LS greeted each other sheepishly. Gautham Menon planned and performed a pleasant playlist of numbers with singer Karthik and the guitarist Prasanna. The massive crowd applauded when SPB appeared midway and recalled an incident about travelling with Ilayaraja on bullock carts and scooters. “It took a while before we could afford a plane ticket,” recalled SPB fondly. He insisted on singing the Kannada hit, ‘Jotheyalli, Jothejotheyalli’. “Audiences will lynch me if I don’t sing this song in Karnataka.” Usha Uthup, that indefatigable performer had the crowds on their feet and childhood pal Kamal was seen applauding.
The show tottered into the wee hours with Kamal and Raja singing a song from ‘Marudhanayagam’. The show will be remembered for stray moments but Raja’s songs will survive generations. Is there any other Indian music director whose background score is instantly recognised and associated with the respective film? As the encomiums flowed Ilaiyaraja sat stoic, seemingly unmoved because he feels he’s not the creator.
He’s just a messenger.
