Stream of consciousness, slightly obsessive writing about music ahead.
Do you listen to the soundtrack of a yet-to-be-released film and wonder how the songs will feature in the film? Have your favourite songs from such an album changed after you watched the film?
In times when movie songs are “dropped” as singles in the lead-up to a film’s release, this seems like a luxury. Until Aga Naga from Ponniyin Selvan-2 released, I looped its background music version from Ponniyin Selvan-1 someone posted on YouTube. Absent from PS-1’s original album, the song was a pleasant surprise to the viewers, and accompanying as it did a love story that we all craved for, it quickly built a massive following and calls for a longer version of the song.
When a longer version of the song released in March in the lead-up to PS-2, I was disoriented for a couple of days. Its mood seemed different from the BGM version, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it. I struggled to not focus on Sakthisree’s pronunciations and nasal twang, constantly muttering to myself ‘mookaala padara’, something that was heavily discouraged by every teacher I learnt Carnatic music from, but what seems to be the default mode of singing in most film music these days.
Very soon, though, as a Rahman composition is wont to do, I was swept away by the melody, the words, the rise and fall of the tune, seemingly walking the listener through the myriad emotions of love. Sakthisree whispers, teases, whimpers and smiles through the tune, and I joyfully plunged into the song that is a gushing stream at one point, a gentle rivulet at another, and at yet another, a placid lake. I imagined, helped generously by the lyric video, a lovestruck Karthi – a face so typical of an actor in a Mani Ratnam romance – and a gorgeous Trisha whose smile teases and yet barely contains her brimming affection. The Ponniyin Selvan movies can’t afford time to build out romance, so the Mani Ratnam fan in me would have to make do with these stolen moments.
For weeks, I looped Aga Naga obsessively, starting from my morning shower time to whatever little time I could manage during work. Every once in a while at home I would break into ‘Yaar adhu yaar adhu…’, eyes closed, head swaying, submitting myself to the lilting tune.
I spent two to three weeks looping Aga Naga from Ponniyin Selvan-2, even after the full album released, refusing to listen to anything else from the album, until a cousin mentioned Veera Raja Veera and I had to finally, reluctantly listen to the other songs.
Veera Raja Veera was, of course, instantly energising and likable. It was delightful to hear Shankar Mahadevan and Harini (after years!) in a Rahman song, and bittersweet-nostalgic to hear Chithra’s voice, bearing signs of age. 15-year-old nephew K, on a visit to Delhi, seemed to love the song, and told me about its unusual beat – 5 counts as opposed to the standard 4 or 8. I marvelled at the way it seemed to go without a break, setting us up for visuals of a glorious Chola prince going to war. The visuals with the song when it was released as a single – of Arunmozhi Varman with Vanathi, on what looked like a warship! – were surprising, though, and I kept wondering which situation it would be used in.
By the time I got to the rest of the album, I found myself asking this question repeatedly. I had finished reading the Tamil novel a few months ago, so I was regularly wondering which scenes, sub-plots, and characters would make it to the second part of the film. Now, I had songs to add to this questioning, the urgency and impatience for answers increasing as the film release date came close.
Chinnanchiru Nilave (Haricharan’s version) instantly reminded me of Nallai Allai from Kaatru Veliyidai for its initial mood and given it’s sung by the same singer, but within seconds that’s all gone – the gentle, sad tune changes to outright anguish, often accompanied by rousing violins. Who would this song be visualised on? Based on the original story, I couldn’t quite place how it would fit Aditha Karikalan and Nandhini.
When I watched the film on April 28th, I was pleasantly surprised by the way the songs seemed to seamlessly fit in the storyline. Songs came in bits and pieces to move the narrative forward. The song (and accompanying sequences) that stuck with me after the film was Chinnanchiru Nilave, and I’ve found myself, in the two days since, drawn to the agony that the song makes us feel, visualised on a young Aditha Karikalan and Nandhini. The film depicts this love story in a way that the book didn’t manage to, for me – tender, passionate and ill-fated. Even though Aga Naga still has my heart, I’ve been looping this song too now, stumbling through the words that I don’t understand with my basic Tamil vocabulary. I let myself be drawn into the distress and feelings of loss that the violins paint out for the listener, before the song again ends on a gentle tone.
There are a few such instances I remember of songs suddenly becoming more dear to me after I watched the film: Kun Faaya Kun from Rockstar; Theera Ula from OK Kanmani; Dil Gira Dafatan from Delhi-6. What a feat it is for a song to be composed to exactly suit the film’s requirements, such that it makes more sense to a viewer when watched in its context! And for a filmmaker, what a gift it is to be given a tune that enhances their visual story!
Excuse me while I revel in the songs, visuals and storytelling of a film two full days after I watched it.