Vairamuthu’s Padma Bhushan honour is a reminder (if any were needed) that the lyrics written for films are sometimes on par with the best poetry.
We all read prose, some of us write prose, but when it comes to poetry, we excuse ourselves from the table, suddenly remembering something more important. I don’t think it’s because we dislike poetry. And I don’t think it’s because we don’t (or won’t) get it. Many of us enjoy poetry when we encounter it in school, simple poetry, laid out in evenly measured lines and with easy rhymes, and we even learn to quote a few stanzas, pausing carefully at the punctuation marks – but as the years go by and we realise that only maths and the sciences are going to get us jobs, these poems recede further and further in the mind, into the attic-like space cluttered with the date of birth of Akbar and the major crops of Madhya Pradesh and the names of the countries that are permanent members of the security council. And one day, all grown up, we find that we’ve forgotten how to read poetry, which we now see as sideward skyscrapers, staggered lines of words piercing a lot of white space.
And if it weren’t for our film music, poetry would be out of our lives for good – especially, in my case, Tamil and Hindi poetry. Most of my reading and web browsing consists of English-language content, and save for the short poems in Tamil periodicals I don’t get to read much poetry in other languages at all – but thanks to film songs, I do get to listen to a lot of poetry, and when I heard that Vairamuthu, the great lyricist and writer, was one of the recipients of the Padma Bhushan this year, I had a flashback of sorts, to the time I began listening to “poetry” on the radio, through the lyrics of the film songs that played on the Vividh Bharati programmes.
With songs, it’s always the music that gets you first. We’re drawn to the flight of the tune, the drive of the percussion – and if the music is good, we don’t really need the words, in the sense that it is possible to experience an emotional reaction to a song even if we don’t know the language the lyrics are in. But there’s an altogether higher kind of pleasure in listening to a song in a language you know, where the music flows around the lyrics and the lyrics lock into the music. And when you know the language, a well-composed song with bad lyrics is a little like a gold-plated objet d’art – there’s always the embarrassment of something being compromised, of not being all that it could have been.
But are lyrics really poetry? The great Broadway songwriter Stephen Sondheim, in his near-autobiographical collection of lyrics, Finishing the Hat – you must read it (and its sequel Look, I Made a Hat) if you’re interested in writing, in music, in songs, and in the way they shape the thoughts of a character in a musical (a lot of which applies to our films too) – draws a clear line between poetry and lyrics: “Lyrics, even poetic ones, are not poems. Poems are written to be read, silently or aloud, not sung… Poetry is an art of concision, lyrics of expansion. Poems depend on packed images, on resonance and juxtaposition, on density. Every reader absorbs a poem at his own pace, inflecting it with his own rhythms, stresses and tone…”
All of which is certainly true, but the best lyrics, when written down, can produce similar effects. Besides, how do definitions matter when you can feel that something is poetry – if not in the textbook definition of the word, then in the sense of freeing us, for brief moments, from this prosaic world? Emily Dickinson said, “If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry.” That’s as good a definition as any for poetry, and the best lyrics can make us feel that way, through mood and image and a voice from beyond that’s like an X-ray of your soul, surprising you by revealing everything about something you thought only you knew about.
And I return to my flashback, to the Vairamuthu lyrics that took the top of my head off, many many years ago – from the song Vizhiyil vizhundhu, in the film Alaigal Oyvadhillai. I haven’t heard or read a better encapsulation of the feverishness of adolescent infatuation, which is a strange mixture of the sacred and the profane, as much love as lust, and this all-raw-nerve-endings excess of emotion can truly be represented only by one colour: the colour purple. And that’s what Vairamuthu does, throwing caution and restraint and taste and decorum to the winds, and writing the song as if he were a teenager with a burning temperarature. (The song takes these feelings a notch higher by using a female voice for sentiments that ought to be expressed by a male – another “strange mixture”.)
Everywhere you turn in these lyrics, in this – yes – poem, there’s a startling physicality. There is, first, a description of the physical process through which one falls in love. The usual way to do this is to say that “one’s eyes fell on a certain someone,” but here Vairamuthu says that “a certain someone fell on one’s eyes,” then entered the heart and then merged with the soul. Love has struck. And thereon, the cosmos and its contents are slave to this love – the mere sound of your silver anklets will open every window in the street; your laughter will cause moons to rise in every direction; if you place jasmine flowers on your hair then the spurned rose will catch a fever; if you wear silks, silkworms will attain salvation. Even the skies are touched by this physicality, with the twilight hour resulting from the “rubbing together” of day and night. It’s some sort of celestial frottage.
In these lines, we find – to borrow Sondheim’s words – density and packed images, and if these lines were to be written down, the reader can read it like he does a poem, inflecting it with his own rhythms, stresses and tone. But even if you reject these “academic” criteria, something inside those of us felled by these words tells us that these are, without doubt, not just “lyrics,” in the sense of simple, rhyming constructions fitted into a tune so that the singer will have something to sing. Lines that produce this kind of raw feeling – what else can they be but poetry? And someone who captures this level of intensity with mere words – what else can he be but a poet?
Lights, Camera, Conversation… is a weekly dose of cud-chewing over what Satyajit Ray called Our Films Their Films. An edited version of this piece can be found here.
Copyright ©2014 The Hindu. This article may not be reproduced in its entirety without permission. A link to this URL, instead, would be appreciated.
Anu Warrier
January 31, 2014
and if the music is good, we don’t really need the words,
🙂 That one line is the subject of many an argument between my husband and me. I need the words; that is what draws me to many a song. Tune first perhaps, sure, but if the lyrics don’t match, it can play in the background for all I care, but it will never make it to the forefront of my consciousness. ( Or perhaps that is also because I’m tone deaf.)
Thanks for the recommendations of the two Sondheim books.
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Niranjan
January 31, 2014
Your article as always is a great read. Some of my cousins have vouched that his poem books are much better than his work in his films, which I guess is bound to be the case anyway since he is not bound by the outlines of the story that feed in to the lyrics for his songs. I thought his best period was when he was writing for Raaja.
Personally, I am not that big a fan of Vairamuthu. Frankly I think he is way overrated. Calling him Kavi Perarasu (The King of kings of poetry) and Kannadasan ‘Kaviarasu’ (King of Poetry) sounds sacrilegious!
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ram murali
January 31, 2014
nice write-up…I was listening to the songs from AO the other day…this one is indeed a classic…i absolutely love the way the last line perfectly sum up radha’s plight – “kadhal meengal rendil ondrai karaiyil thooki poattaar.”
in an episode of vijay tv super singer, vairamuthu was the chief guest and he sung a couple of lines from the “lost” charanam of “Idhu oru ponmalai” that didn’t find their way into the original composition… I loved some of those lines as much as the ones in the final product…
a sample – “baedhangaley…vedhangalaa…koodathu!”
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Ananth-Ana
January 31, 2014
VM’s genius lies in exposing us to lines/thoughts unheard in film songs before….and things we would immediately start relating ourselves to-
small sample:
ennai vidavum ennai arindhum yaar nee endru ketkaadhe…(Gulmohar malare..)
nindru pona liftukkuL indru pootha poo ondru ondraai nindral neeyum lucky…(Mercury mele)
ennaithavira aangaL ellam pengaLagi ponal kooda..unnaithavira innoru peNNai uchi mondhu paarpathum illai..(paarthen paarthen…)
pandigai thedhi sundayil vandha..take it easy policy..(Oorvasi..)
kalvi illak kaNNiyarum kadidham ezhuthacheigiravan (kadhal mannan..)
unpol azhagi pirakkavum illai..inimel pirandhal adhu nam piLLai (ayyangaru veetu..)
idhayam enbadhu sadhai dhaan endral eri thazhal thindru vidum..anbin karuvi idhayam endral saavai vendru vidum (anbe sivam..)
Aadum ilaigaLil vazhigira nilavoLi iruvizhi
mazhayil nanaindhu magizhum vaanampaadi (panivizhum…)
Mugilinangal Alaigirathey Mugavarigal Thølainthanavø
Mugavarigal Thavariyathaal Azhuthidumø Athu Mazhaiyø (ILayanila)
vaanam enakkoru bodhi maram..naaLum enakkoru seidhi tharum (idhu oru ponmaalai..)
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venkatesh
January 31, 2014
And to go with BR’s excellent description , the subtitled song :
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brangan
January 31, 2014
Anu Warrier: For me, it works this way. If I don’t know the language, obviously lyrics don’t matter. Listening to a Telugu song, for instance, is like listening to a Spanish number. I “get” only the music, so that’s what drives my enjoyment.
But if I know the language, bad or indifferent lyrics really piss me off.
Niranjan: After that Thamarai interview (here), she gave me two volumes of her poetry. I swear, reading them was like reading her lyrics — except, of course, the poems were more expansive, freed from the “metric” nature of the film song.
Also, I hope you got that this wasn’t about one lyricist per se — more about the lyrics being poetry thing.
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Vivek Gupta
February 1, 2014
The one poem/lyrics that always takes the top of my head off no matter whether I am driving, doing dishes, concentrated on work, or just trying to relax is Gulzaar’s “Mera Kuch Samaan tumhare paas pada hai…”
What a song! What lyrics! What imagery! From the moment Asha Bhosle starts the rendition with a heart-piercing “Aa Aa Aa” the lyrics hit you like a bolt from the sky wrapping you up in its power. The genius of the song also lies in the music where RD’s doesn’t try to overshadow the lyrics and lets Asha squeeze out every ounce of emotional juice from the words. The song continues equating memories with Samaan (stuff) that can be packaged and returned exhorting na daring the lover to give back that memories of nights spent together, memories of being drenched in the rain, memories of unfulfilled promises. And the way it ends- I have started to feel wetness in my eyes while playing it in my head–, “yek ijaajat de do bas jab is ko Dafanaaoongi main bhi wahi so jaaoongi “, those parting words linger a long time after the song ends. Greatness in hindi movie song writing achieved that day has probably not been surpassed yet. Too bad the movie did not live up to its lyrics!
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AK
February 1, 2014
Superb translation, BR. Totally agree on the bad/indifferent lyrics. As irritating as an itch that you cannot scratch.
Your post reminded me of a take on vairamuthu from ages ago:
http://www.image-in-asian.com/ramesh_m/ramesh4.html
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Madan
February 1, 2014
Great write up, BR, very convincing arguments even if I may not agree personally. I think lyrics should capture the contours of the music, its ebbs, its swells and first and foremost be phonetically pleasing. If you make a singer stretch a consonant (something that our Tamil kavignars have often done), it’s painful. In other words, to me, lyrics should more often that not be subordinate to the music, unless it’s a poem considered great in its own right (like Bhartiyar’s poems) adapted to music.
Also, coming to the specific example of Vairamuthu, I have a theory that in all great things in art there is simplicity at the core. Even if the ideas are complex, a great artist seeks to present them with as much lucidity as he can muster because he has that conviction and self belief in his work that less secure people who want to appear more intelligent than they are don’t. With that in mind, I have sometimes found Vairamuthu’s verbal acrobatics distracting and appearing to set off on a tangential course from the music rather than blending with it. Not in all cases, I love Enna Satham Indha Neram (which, curiously, he rated as one of his best efforts of the songs he wrote for Ilayaraja, when he appeared on Super Singer). So while I can understand the appeal of his lyrics to those who are prepared to look at it as poetry independent of the music and do not question the honours bestowed on him, I personally couldn’t relate to his work beyond a point.
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MANK
February 1, 2014
@Vivek gupta
I heard a story about ‘Mera Kuch Samaan tumhare paas pada hai…’. Reportedly RD was real angry when he got the lyrics from Gulzar and called it a TOI article rather than a lyric. But then Asha started singing the mukhda and nailed the saaman word as you put it with that every ounce of emotion, that he started getting interested in it. and voila he composed the rest of the song in a jiffy. So Thanks to Asha . that was a real soul stirring number .BTW wasnt that from the film Libaas,I thought the film never got released(in theatres anyway) 🙂 . That is a point always mentioned everytime that song is discussed.
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brangan
February 1, 2014
Vivek Gupta: Yes, I think that’s a favourite with many people. The genius of the poem/lyric is in the way it makes you think she’s talking about physical things and then realise that the “samaan” she’s talking about are really signpost moments from their relationship. Actually I like the film quite a bit. I’m not as much a fan of Gulzar the filmmaker (as opposed to Gulzar the lyricist) — but this film has quite a few moments that work for me.
AK: “For example, during one period, he was using ‘Paadhame Suprabaatham’. (‘Your feet are Suprabaatham’) It sounds very nice and rhythmic, except, when you try to figure it out, you go nowhere.”
Actually, I disagree with this. What it means, IMO, is that she wants to wake up next to his feet every morning — hence, paadham/Suprabhatam. You may call the lyric regressive, but meaningless it certainly isn’t.
Madan: in all great things in art there is simplicity at the core
I disagree with this. I don’t think you can say that the only great art is art that’s simple at the core. As much as I love complex thoughts expressed in simple words, I love people who do the “acrobatics” you talk about — what matters to me is that the wordplay isn’t forced. (Imagine “Midnight’s Children”, for instance, written in a simple style. The whole book would fall apart.)
The film was “Ijaazat” BTW.
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MANK
February 1, 2014
oops , yes its from ijaazat, got confused as both was Gulzar \RD burman combo.Libaas also had some good songs like Phir Kisi Shakh Ne. the film never got released.
Yeah and gulzaar the filmmaker was no match for gulzaar the lyricist. Even the films he made as director , the songs in them encapsulated more about the film than the films themselves.like Naam Gum Jaayega,musafir hoon yaaron etc
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Madan
February 1, 2014
I do like some, or even a lot of, art that’s complex for the sake of being complex. But I wonder if everything one likes is necessarily great. If the argument that the word ‘great’ should be used selectively is accepted, then let me just say for that me, the cut off point is the ability to obtain clarity even while attempting something that is actually difficult and/or unorthodox. That takes a greater, often unique, insight into the art to achieve that balance (otherwise others would have done it). It is commendable on the other hand to attempt a different way to express something so I am sympathetic to experimentation. But the ideal, to me, is when the experimentation reaches fruition and the artist arrives at a suitable structure for his unorthodox ideas that translate easily to the audience.
It’s interesting that you should cite Midnight’s Children. I never completed the book. I did on the other hand complete 1984 and Childhood’s End pretty quickly and both books made a big impression on me. Rushdie or Vairamuthu may be great in the eyes of many people and far be it for me to question their judgment but let me also have my own.
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Aparna
February 1, 2014
“sideward skyscrapers, staggered lines of words piercing a lot of white space.” – straightaway loved that. To me, that is poetry – it’s obtuse, but prose sometimes can’t pierce that white space like those staggered lines can! I’m this *huge* fan of poems set to song – and as much as I love movie lyrics (of course, they’re poems!) I like Bharathi’s too… At times, I’m obsessed with them, the words, the way they rise and fall… and esp how some singers make the words theirs. To me, the very same set of words can sound so very diff, when sung by diff people – Santhanam, for instance, gives us Bharathi’s words. Jayashree makes them her own! Unless I’m in a mood for both Bharathi and Jayashree, I will never listen to her ‘Chinnan chiru kiliyey’ or ‘Ninnai Charan Adaindhen’. Be it film lyric-poems or Bharathi’s kannama poems, I love what the act of setting it to music does – it actually liberates the words from the page, isn’t it? It gives those words body, form… if I were to read them from a page, I would experience it, no doubt, but I find my experience more whole, more 3-dimensional, when it’s sung… Not sure if you’d agree, but to me, it really heightens the beaut of the words!
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Aparna
February 1, 2014
And yep, I think I was rambling on about poems being set to song… veered away, haven’t I, from lyrics and poetry? 🙂 Apologies
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vikram
February 1, 2014
BR, very well written as usual …but some of us seem to have thought you have written about specific writers whereas you have spoken of poetry that shines through a very well written song lyric…IMO, lyric writing is most certainly not a hack’s job (ie., well written stuff, not the sarikayilo khatiya type 🙂 ) its more of a poet when (s)he is moonlighting…
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Self
February 1, 2014
Haven’t heard the song but I want to now. The initial bit about poetry is interesting too….
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Vivek Gupta
February 1, 2014
@MANK : That was interesting trivia. Thanks. Gulzaar and RD have created many a gem together and for me this song remains the crowning jewel of their collaboration.
@Rangan: I watched Ijaajat a long time ago and remembered liking it but when I re-watched it recently it fell a few notches from the pedestal I had put it in my memory. For me, the huge problem was Anuradha Patel’s character. The movie sets her up in the beginning as an impulsive and creative person with a rich inner life, but when she goes all school girly in the later stages of the movie, the film falls apart. He character was crucial. It needed gravitas of a Shabana or Smita. Patel did not have it in her to pull off a weighty role like that. And Rekha was barely adequate. Naseer’s superb performance, music, and dialogues were the highlights though.
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Vivek Gupta
February 1, 2014
@Rangan: Interesting to hear about Midnight’s Children. The process I went through with that book was the opposite of movie Ijaazat. When I first started to read it a few years ago, I hated it, felt it was contrived and boring. I picked it up last year again and loved it. The same things that I found contrived before were now inventive. Nor did I find it boring. The writing was brilliant though sometimes I felt that Rushdie will go a little easy. After that novel I picked up Satanic Verses and found it contrived and boring. May be that will change in a few years too 🙂
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vijay
February 2, 2014
when I listen to Manidha Manidha(kann sivandhaal man sivakkum) today, the music and especially VM’s lines(“vizhiyil vazhiyum uthhiram muzhuthhum ini un saridham ezhudhum / asaiyum kodigal.uyarum uyarum.nilavin mudhugai urasum” and so on.) I feel the song could be Kejriwal’s theme for the 2014 elections. The emotions and the theme itself would be relevanr forever. Never listen to this song while driving for you could rearend somebody 🙂
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Sanjay Kumar
February 3, 2014
recently when syed subhan sang “vidai kodu engal naade” in ASS S4 grand finale, i was like Manicka Vinayagam at home…crying profusely. And believe me i was hearing that song for the first time…the opening lines itself sets up what Rangan had mentioned here :
“The usual way to do this is to say that “one’s eyes fell on a certain someone,” but here Vairamuthu says that “a certain someone fell on one’s eyes,” then entered the heart and then merged with the soul.”
vidai kodu engal naade
kadal vaasal thelikkum veede
panai mara kaadae, paravaigal koode
marumurai oru murai paarpoma?
I think he had used that inverted longing of the homeland with her inhabitants through her inhabitant’s voice…and simultaneously brings in the mother-daughter separation which is central to the movie…i mean these lyrics are rich in poetic tapestry that i think certain languages like urdu or tamil are designed for such expression (pardon me, although i am a malayalee i find the lyrics in malayalam too complicated when they dig deep as opposed to tamil/urdu which convey so much by being economical with words)
//udhattil punnagai pudhaithom
uyirai udambukkuL pudhaithom
verum koodugaL mattum oorvalam pogindrom//
This song will definitely be his best and probably one of the best songs in tamil film history (it might take the top 10 slot easily)
having said that his lyrics in “senthamizh naattu tamizhacchiye” were as regressive as it can be or his comparison of women as demure, painfully shy kinda metaphors only reinforce the gender stereotypes we have…in a way he has not changed the standard template of tamil film lyrics with regard to man-woman relationships (even in pudhumay penn, the romantic songs try to figure women under this victorian era description of “nice women” slots )
not to mention his opposition to Kanimozhi or Salma’s bold poetry where the women behind those lyrics were no longer embrassed by their sexuality and that was reflected in their poetry by expressing through verses about their bodily needs…he takes offence when women describe their rounded breasts but finds it poetic when he uses the same metaphor…! what a hypocrite!!
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K Sundar
February 4, 2014
First of all, Vairamuthu is not as great as Kannadasan or even Vaalee for that matter. Most of his lyrics border on sensuality and lack the subtle nuances which Kannadasan employed in his lyrics to describe the conjugal relations. In many songs he had used the word ‘vaervai’ which stinks…and his usage of words like ‘adhisayamey asandhu pogum nee endhan adhisayam’,’vaervaikkey vaerkkum’ ‘rojavaukku kaaichal varum’ berates him too low to include him in the league of Kannadasan, Vaalee, etc. and it would be in the fittest of the things if he be given a sobriquet “Viyarvai kavignar Vairamuthu”.
Further, I have made an RTI application to know who recommended Vairamuthu for Padma Bhushan when he already had been recognized 6 times for national awards and when more deserving artistes like MSV or Vani Jairam had been left out.
He is a much overrated artiste and calling himself ‘Kavipaerarasu’ is ridiculous as it can be one and only Kannadasan who deserve this title.
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Shyama
February 4, 2014
Of the more recent songs, Moongil Thottam was one where the lyrics hit you first rather than the tune (though ARR did do a wonderful job). It was probably the simplicity of the line, the refrain especially. The song makes love seem so simple, so subtle.. and that is something missing from song which profess undying love with big words.
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vijay
February 5, 2014
Shyama, I second your take on Moongil thottam. When it came to rustic-flavored songs VM charted his own path. Mudhal mariyaadhai besides others come to mind
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PoliBhagavathar
February 5, 2014
@K Sundar:
“First of all, Vairamuthu is not as great as Kannadasan or even Vaalee for that matter. Most of his lyrics border on sensuality and lack the subtle nuances…”
Agree about Kannadasan. But, Vaalee ? You’ve got to be kidding..
uttaalakadi sevaththa thOlu dhaan, uththu paatha ulla theriyum naidu hall-u dhaan
sOkkaa (i)rukku karumbu saaru dhaan, ponnu back-a paaththa benz-u car-u dhaan
bag-a onna maatikkura, iva velaikku poraennu kaattikuraa,
indha maari edathulla, naan eppadi iruppaen en vayasula,
anga paaru yemmaadiyO, evalavu periya sizeu-la
Vaalee may not have the same word fetishes as VM (and both VM and Vaalee have given some gems), but both have waded through swamp !
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K Sundar
February 6, 2014
First, why Poli Bhagavathar? I agree with you, but many of Vaalee’s lyrics were inspiring. You can cite examples like these but his Vaalee is according to me several notches above VM…thanks.
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PoliBhagavathar
February 7, 2014
@K Sundar: “… I agree with you, but many of Vaalee’s lyrics were inspiring. You can cite examples like these but his Vaalee is according to me several notches above VM…thanks”
I’ve no quibble about whose lines might inspire you more (to each his/her own, right?), but you were outright dismissive of VM for his ribald lyrics while still leaving Vaalee on a high pedestal. I’m no shill for VM, but given such an exclusive focus on VM’s lyrical improprieties, it was only fair to underscore Vaalee’s similar transgressions (& they are not one-off).
I’m with you on the matter of heaping all these awards on VM, but that is a whole another issue.
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brangan
February 8, 2014
Vivek Gupta: Regarding your experience with those books, that’s why “evaluating” art is so tricky. You may think, at age 20, that something’s bad, and the 10 years later, with a decade of life experience, that very same thing may turn out to be good (in your opinion, of course). That’s really why I don’t get into much specific evaluating in my reviews and prefer to talk of the film in a more experiential sense — that way, I can say, “See, this is a true record of how I felt while watching this film.” And then the reader can write in saying, “But BR, did you like the film or not?” 🙂
vijay/Shyama: I also like his lyrics for generic love songs, which I think are the toughest to write “fresh lyrics” for, given how much this maavu has been arachufied. Like “kaadhal paal kudam kallaai ponadhu / roja yenaddi mullaai ponadhu.”
Another lyricist I like in this regard is Rv Udhayakumar, who wrote some very evocative lines for aracha-maavu situations… “aagaya megam aagi aasai thooral poduvaal…”
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tonks
June 5, 2021
Such a passionate, beautifully articulated piece
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tonks
June 5, 2021
… “aagaya megam aagi aasai thooral poduvaal…”
“thooral” means watery, loose stools in Malayalam (this was always a source of great hilarity amongst us Malayalee siblings growing up in Madras).
Sorry to rain on that parade, but I couldn’t resist 😉
I agree with Shyama about Moongil Thottam. What lovely lyrics. I too much prefer simple lyrics conveying meaning to meaningless pretty words strung together.
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vijay
June 5, 2021
tonks, is that why bhagyaraj’s “thooral ninnu pochu” had some issues n Kerala? 😉 I heard something along those lines during my schooldays, that the movie was retitled as saaral ninnu pochchu or something like that
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