by Vani Viswanathan
[box]In your deepest of music-related memories will be songs from long ago that you are surprised you ever liked, that tickle you, or that take you down the memory lane. Vani Viswanathan recollects a few Tamil songs in her music memory that formed an indelible part of her teenage but don’t really feature in her regular playlists – the ‘crazy’ songs, she calls them.[/box]It was during a Class 10 Board exam, I wish I could remember which one it was. As I feverishly wrote the paper, hand rhythmically sliding down those broad, ruled sheets, a song suddenly popped into my head. I paused for a couple of seconds. Here I am, writing one of the most important exams in my life so far, all crazed up about my aim to top the school, and my mind wants to sing ‘Laalaakku Dol Dappi Ma’ (for the uninitiated – and I wouldn’t blame you, for the lyrics really don’t give it away – it’s a Tamil song from the early 90s, featuring Prabhu Deva in his pre-ridiculous-movie-direction stage). For those few seconds, I wondered whether I was to be amused or disgusted with my mind’s song selection – for exams I had already written, the mind wandered naturally to songs I had listened to when studying the particular topic I was writing an answer on. I distinctly remember Roja’s ‘Pudhu Vellai Mazhai’ during the math paper. Why ‘Laalaakku…’ though? No clue. I thought I was a freakshow, but years later I heard an acquaintance talk about actor Govinda’s songs playing in his head during exams, and I didn’t feel so bad.
Whenever we explore music, examine its beauty, relive memories, etc., we leave out an important segment, I feel. We so often stick to the melodies, the blues, the jazz, the rock, the general feel-good songs, that we forget the silly, mindless songs that were the rage then, those that in the cinema-hall-non-multiplex days people used to dance at the front of the hall for. You may have forgotten them, but I haven’t. Yes, I actually have some of them on my laptop, so much so that sometimes when I’m playing music out aloud (or even when it’s just me, actually) and one of these songs plays, I jump to change it. I agree they sound jarring, they are reminders of the ridiculous, musical past that we used to have and enjoy, but they form the past nevertheless, so now I’ll take you down my crazy-song memory lane and hope to stir some crazy songs from your memory too. I’ll talk about the 90s, which is when my TV-watching was at its peak, before high school and college overseas pretty much cut me off from television and pop Tamil songs.
In Tamil, it was somehow Deva who made this genre immortal for me. As much as I hated how easily he ripped off songs from beyond the seas, he gave us some music we’ll always remember, most importantly the taan-ta-da-da-taan that plays whenever S-U-P-E-R-S-T-A-R R-A-J-N-I comes on screen, one letter at a time. Deva was the man behind the harmonium for many you-want-to-forget-but-can’t songs such as ‘Vidha vidhamaa soap seepu kannadi,’ ‘Vellarikka pinju vellarikka,’ ‘Kaathu adikkudhu kaathu adikkudhu,’ or ‘Muniyamma kovapadathey Muniyamma’ or my mother’s favourite ‘Kavalaipadadhey sagodhara,’ which she’d break into every now and then to console me. Just thinking about the lyrics of these songs makes me giggle. These songs used to haunt television programmes like nobody’s business, getting me frustrated mostly, or on rare evenings, getting me in the mood as I finished my math homework. In the pre-private-FM days, these songs were such draws to the cinema hall, and I’ll admit in a very haughty way that I haven’t watched any one of these movies in the cinema hall, but I can imagine, due to the sheer number of times they used to play on TV, that these songs would have seen audiences dance and whistle their way through. It is unfortunate that most of these songs are forgotten today, and only Rajni’s versions are still remembered – like a ‘Naan autokaaran’ or ‘Vandhenda paalkaran,’ or ‘Adhaanda idhaanda.’ I’m sure though, that on the rare occasion that you come across one of these songs today, you’ll break into a smile and be transported to that phase of your life.
But you cannot forget the SA Rajkumars or the lesser known Adhithyan of that period too. SA Rajkumar with his ‘la-la-la’ and annoying tunes, was nevertheless hailed for his heart-wrenching-dripping-of-love ‘Rosappu, chinna rosappu’ or ‘Sollamale yaar paarthathu,’ which so closely resembled Rahman’s ‘Kannalane’ from Bombay, down to the interludes. Funnily enough, both SA Rajkumar and Deva thought it was a great idea to copy Junoon’s ‘Sayonee’ around the same time – one for a Vijay movie and another for a Prashanth movie. My favourites for SA Rajkumar, though, are ‘Kotta paakum, kozhundhu vetthalaiyum,’ which had a giant beetle leaf in the background as Khushboo and Sarath Kumar danced away to glory with their background dancers, the leaf shaking slightly in the wind. and ‘Salakku salakku jarigai selai salakku salakku.’ Thinking of the lyrics and the jerky dance steps makes me laugh even as I type, and I pity Devyani – who eventually becomes a collector in the movie– for being put through such torture.
As for Adhithyan, I don’t remember too many songs, but can recall two from one movie: Seevalaperi Paandi. One is the almost-forgotten but revived thanks to YouTube, ‘Kizhakku chevvakaiyile,’ which shows Napoleon and Charanya getting married. Vivid scenes from the song stay with me even today – the couple rolling a golden ball (!) to each other at a wedding ritual, Napoleon knocking off the tops of eggs and drinking/eating straight from them, making the ‘pure’ Vegetarian in me squirm then, and him biting into a carrot fresh from his farm. The other is the ‘Chinna chinna aasai’ sound-alike ‘Oyila paadum paatula,’ which shows a blouse-less village belle croon her way through a typical day. Sung by Chitra, the song does stay in your mind, and I remember these two songs being played frequently on TV too.
If you’re wondering why AR Rahman didn’t make this list, it’s because his songs willingly play on my iTunes no matter what genre they belong to. I’ve always felt he gives a classy twist to his most ‘local’ songs – sample ‘Nee kattum selai madippula naan kasangi ponen di,’ with its fairly western instruments belting out folk-sy tunes. I deliberately leave out going too much into Illayaraja too, because to me, his songs continue to be immortalised by his many fans across the globe, while composers like Deva or SA Rajkumar really fade from public memory except for their really popular melodies.
There are many more. There’s the genius ‘Maargo, maargo’ from Sathileelavathi, ‘Aye kutti munnala nee,’ ‘Oranga Sriranga koppara thenga’ or the evergreen ‘April May ila pasumai ye illa’ or the awesome ‘Kaasumela’ that my dad recently heard because I insisted I wouldn’t change the channel in which the movie was playing. His verdict was ‘Thaanga mudiyala.’ Well, he might say they’re unbearable, and I’d agree most of the time, but there are those moments when they make you sit up, grin and think back about those magical days when you were younger and more carefree.
Vani Viswanathan is often lost in her world of books and A R Rahman, churning out lines in her head or humming a song. Her world is one of frivolity, optimism, quietude and general chilled-ness, where there is always place for outbursts of laughter, bouts of silence, chocolate, ice cream and lots of books and endless iTunes playlists from all over the world. Vani was a Public Relations consultant in Singapore and decided to come back to homeland after seven years away to pursue her Masters in Development Studies. Vani blogs at http://chennaigalwrites.blogspot.com
[facebook]Share[/facebook] [retweet]Tweet[/retweet]
