JIMIKKI KAMMAL

Jimikki Kammal  is creating  waves of ecstasy the world over. I am infinitely happy that a song like this has been composed by music director of the NewGen or NexGen and that it has been included in a modern day cinema. And of course  i am not surprised by the enthusiasm it has generated across  all generations and geographies.  Something going viral or generating a million likes in no time is the order of the day. But the history Jimikki Kammal  has scripted needs special mention and analysis too. I have always been against meaningless,  hollow talks of “modernity”. There are certain things in nature that cannot ever change.  I am sure that human beings have not changed basically during the past five thousand years at least. Then what do you mean when you say the modern man? Aren’t you talking about the changing attires or fashion at the lowest level an scientific or technological advancements at the highest levels? These are bound to change, but the apparent change is only a consequence of the thought process that developed in humans long ago. The by-products of the never changing process called the thought or the rate of their generation might have changed. The most fundamental process of intellectual thinking remains the same. Viewing modernity synonymous to the chronologically latest is absurd. Because this definition will make Plato and Aristotle primitive beings. My belief against the popular perceptions of modernity grows beyond all proportions when I see the  success stories of the Jimmikki Kammal  kind. Let me explain. Jimikki Kammal is not an entirely new song. It  has a folk genesis. Of course, the lyricist and the music director could “cut and polish” with their genius. In fact genius is all about identifying, comprehending and decoding the unfathomable mysteries of nature and making them “visible” to the “lesser” ones. Thus the seven notes, the most marvelous thing that had happened to mankind, might have been “mined out” from the cosmos by a genius at some time.  Or it might be the result of the meditations and thoughts of a string of geniuses at different points in time and in all probability these points might be separated by  centuries.  This “mining” remains as “modern” as ever. The seven notes cannot ever change. Again the “Thalam” is there in the nature whether one experiences it or not. The human mind resonates only with this “Thalam”. The creators of Jimikki Kammal did just one thing, in fact the most crucial thing. They brought  the “Thalam” out of the human chromosome and made it audible even to the ordinary ear through some very ordinary lyrics. No wonder it resonated the way it did. You cannot create anything outside the nature and expect resonance. This is the reason why I am still optimistic of pure, serene music making a come back. Jimikki Kammal is a good omen.

NOTE FOR SALE

This is a sequel to the previous post “AN EVOCATIVE NOTE”.  The incident happened during one of those most memorable annual tours of the MSc students while I was in CMS college. It was the tour of  Suresh, James Raj, Rajalakshmi et al. The scene now is the street in front of  the Mysore palace. Almost all of our tour party had entered the palace but I was drawn towards the source of some instrumental music.  I found a person sitting on the ground playing the toy violin (chiratta violin with just two strings). His mastery over the instrument was spellbinding. There was a small crowd around him with a keen ear for the music. None ventured even “trying” the instrument, but in their eyes I detected an urge to play it the way the man did it. Realising this urge I had this naughty thought in my mind. Those days I used to regularly practice my violin. Therefore it should not be difficult for me to play this toy. I sat on the ground beside the man and learnt how the two strings were tuned. Thereafter  it was easy and I started playing film tunes. I played the then Tamil hit song “Ennedi Rakkamma......” with reasonable ease. Then it was “Kuttanadan Punchayile......”. That was more effective. I had deliberately chosen these two as they were fast numbers and I can skip the finer details without getting noticed. The trick really worked. Some among the crowd came forward and started “consulting” me. And I with my “innate humility” advised them to  buy one and back home, practice simple songs which can be played with three or four notes.  I even suggested some simple songs to them. And what ensued was to the greatest delight of the musician-cum-vendor. Some thirty violins were sold in no time as the little children in the crowd started demanding. No doubt these demands were not music to the ears of the parents and they might have said in their mind “to the hell with this dirty long-fellow!!!”. They could not air their anger aloud, as by that time I had become the darling of the children and of course, of the musician-cum-vendor. Now our tour party had come out of the palace and was surprised to see me sitting on the ground doing business. Yes, I was selling the violins and collecting money too, as by then I had acquired the status of a God sent Messiah in the mind of the musician. The man had made a killing in no time. The sense of gratitude in the man’s eye’s still lingers in my mind.

From among our group only James Raj had the sense of music (!!!) to buy one. I thought he bought it to decorate his showcase in his home.  But back home (ie, in CMS) he expressed his strong desire to become a Chiratta Violinist by playing at least “Kuttanadan Punchayile....). I quietly shouted (!)  “At least Kuttanadan Punjayile??......, what do you mean???”. I did not express my rage at his insult of music as, so strong and sincere was his desire. We started our first class sitting on the veranda of Thomas Chettan’s mess in the PG hostel.  That was a nice place to sit for music with the lush green meadow extending from the PG hostel up to the  Teacher’s hostel. I kept teaching and James tried learning putting in all efforts at his command. Days gave way to weeks. But James continued to remain weak. Finally we two agreed upon stopping the misadventure as not even the “Ku” of “Kuttanadan Punchayile.....” refused to come out. I do not know where James Raj is these days but I am very sure that he might not have tried “it” again.

A word about James Raj. He was from Kottarakkara. Immediately after his MSc he passed GATE and did his M.Tech in Electronics at the CUSAT, Kochi.

NOTE: James Raj should not be mistaken for the more famous James Raju. Dr James Raju is currently a senior Professor at the Hyderabad Central University.

AN EVOCATIVE NOTE

I wrote about the Baker junction, the bottle neck of Kottayam town, in a previous post. The din and bustle, chaos and commotion produced collectively by the vehicles, all at this small junction, is to be seen to be believed.  Added to this is the quite frequent shrill bang of the (prohibited) air horns that pierces one’s ears.  I don’t remain there for more than ten minutes lest I should faint.

Recently while I was standing at the junction, from this sea of maddening noises I could differentiate out a musical note. That was not any serious music being played anywhere. But I heard almost the same note repeated after irregular intervals. As if someone was tuning a violin. With great difficulty I could get the direction from which it emanated. Though a violin note cannot be expected to condescend on this junction I walked towards the source of the note. There was a pleasant  surprise awaiting me. I could spot a frail old man with a typical Rajasthani turban with all the looks of a nomad  playing a toy violin (Chiratta violin) with just two strings and a small bow. On a long staff resting on his shoulders hung at least a hundred  chiratta violins. By this time he had started playing some old Hindi film songs with amazing purity of notes. I was slowly getting absorbed into the music and lose my sense of existence as I am wonted to every time a note touches my heart.  But this time I lost my concentration and my mind and thoughts slipped into some distant past, 1986 to be precise.  I have heard the same man playing the same old Hindi film songs with the same ease and grace, Oh God “age has not withered the beauty” of his music. I was completely lost in time and space. I felt like standing in front of the “Hava Mehal” in Jaipur listening to this man’s music. Occasionally when reality and wisdom prevailed upon me I told myself, “How come”? Thirty years ago this man was as old as he is now?? Impossible. This man might be some descendant of the man I heard in front of the Hava Mehal. The gene might have been transmitted to a son or a nephew. Or this man might be a much younger brother. I decided to ask the man his name and inquire about  any relation with the man I heard in 1986. But alas, the man was nowhere in sight as I switched back to reality. And the music was not heard, not even any trace of that from anywhere. I did not hear him stopping the music. Nor did I hear the waning music as he walked away still playing tunes. I felt very sad. The reason, I feel incapacitated to explain. This loss of sense of space and time often happens with me when I have an evocative sight, sound or even a smell.