Veera Serial Song Download
Maybell Hughs
And there is a virtual cricket team of singers who have been credited with 'additional vocals': Haricharan, Nakul Abhyankar, Ravi G, Bharat Sundar, Sreekanth Hariharan, Vasudha Ravi, Keerthana Vaidyanathan , Niranjana Ramanan, Maalavika Sundar, Srivardhani and Sireesha Bhagavatula. Why does a song need 11 additional vocalists? Well, that is a story for another day.
Now, a top film music director officially giving credit to a classical composition as the source of his inspiration is indeed welcome, especially in a country where copyright laws in such matters are a bit of a joke. Good thing that Rahman has taken the lead in such a matter.
The troupe alleged that Varaha Roopam had copied portions from its song Navarasam. The matter reached the courts, and the film, when it released on the OTT platform, was stopped from carrying the Varaha Roopam song.
After such a high profile case, perhaps the makers of Ponniyin Selvan, which is backed by Lyca Productions and directed by Mani Ratnam, did not want any bad publicity to its prestigious film and song.
So having collaborated so extensively with Dhrupad practitioners, Rahman could not have gotten away easily with a song in that quintessential style, which actually dates back to Swami Haridas, who is believed to be guru to the likes of Tansen and Baiju Bawra.
And in this era when film music is basically a collation of bits, loops and instrumental portions from different sources (as opposed to being one organic flow), attribution is must and underlines integrity.
Of course, it is a moot point as to why a music director should fuse a Hindustani tune to a song in a film that is all about South Indian Chola ethos. Is it the height of musical inventiveness or desperation born out of creative lacuna? There are no easy answers.
If the answer is an unambiguous 'yes', literally thousands and thousands of film songs across various Indian languages would attract the dubious charge of being products of plagiarism. And that would obviously be a monumental travesty.
After all, songs in Indian films, especially in southern India, took off on the runaway of classical music. Why stop with film offerings, Carnatic music itself is filled with songs and tunes that can be called a replica of another.
But such comparisons can be made only from a Chatbot GPT-like unthinking academic perspective, and not any artistic deep-dive. After all, if songs are made on the same raga, which have to strictly adhere to the predetermined swara patterns, there is bound to be inevitable sameness.
In the Carnatic classical system there is something called 'varnamettu', which is essentially the fundamental tune for a raga. And save for artistic improvisations within the flow, the raga is impossible to render sidestepping its compositional core.
And it is the same yardstick we need to use for film music too. Rahman himself beautifully fitted an identifiable riff from Patnam Subramania Iyer's Navaragamalika varnam in the Rasali song in the 2016 film Acham Enbathu Madamaiyada. Nobody batted an eyelid in opprobrium then. For it had a natural flow to it.
This tune was reprised in an obscure 1982 film Raga Bandhangal for the song Nalam Tharuvai En Thaye Meenakshi (brilliantly sung by KJ Yesudas). But one listen to the song you will understand that the music composer Kunnakudi Vaidyanthan has not brought anything new or original to the composition and has merely copy-pasted the Tamil lyrics on Jagajjanani.
A more recent example can be the number Yamaha Nagari from the 1998 Telugu film Choodalani Vundi to being an unabashed replica of the Patnam Subramania Iyer kriti Raghuvamsha Sudhambudhi in Kathanakuthuhalam raga.
But ragas and old Carnatic krithis are like flowing rivers anybody can dip into and come up with anything they choose to. Many imaginative musical directors have come up with remarkably inspired offerings.
In southern India, there is a preponderance of classical Carnatic musical motifs in films. The Tamil film musical world in particular was the domain of Carnatic musicians. And to this day, almost all music directors tend to fall back on a raga or two for their tunes.
Of course, there is none to better the one and only Ilaiyaraaja. His use of Carnatic ragas in films is in itself a study for scholars. If anything, the ingenious ways he chooses to utilise ragas and their phrases has been an inspiration for Carnatic musicians to use the same in their kutcheris.
G Ramanathan's Aadal Kaaneero in 1956 hit Madurai Veeran, it is said, was chiseled out of Thyagaraja's Charukesi beauty Adamodi Galade. But both have different feel and fervour. That is the hallmark of greatness.
Or take the rambunctious song - a typical kuthu number - Maman Veedu Machu Veedu from the 1981 film Ellam Inba Mayam. In it resides the classical Bilahari swarajathi Raravenu Gopabala. This is impish brilliance at its best.
Yet, what is exhilarating creativity and what is just mundane duplication is a subjective matter of sensibility and sensitivity. And there can be no final word on it. Just as well. Otherwise, there would be little difference between exciting art and exact science.
Given all this and its frequent historical references to Tamil culture and heritage, the novel has gained an almost cult-like following over the decades. It has also become infamous for not being adaptable to a movie format, with multiple failed attempts rivalling those of Dune.
Set in raag Adana, the original composition, as the name suggests, is in praise of Lord Shiva. For those who don't know, 'raag' very loosely translates to melodic scale or framework; Adana is a Carnatic raag which, like Kirwani and Charukeshi, was adopted by the Dhrupad tradition, in an example of cultural exchange in oral traditions.
Upon hearing the song, Dhrupad musician Ustad Wasifuddin Dagar immediately flagged it as a copy of Shiva Shiva Shiva, which was originally composed and sung by his father Zahiruddin Dagar and uncle Faiyazuddin Dagar. Members of the Dagar family, as well as their students, have spoken out about this instance of direct copying, but whether anything will come out of it remains to be seen.
Rabindranath Tagore, the writer, composer, and philosopher, is generally regarded as the outstanding creative artist of early 20th-century India. In 1913, he became the second non-European to receive a Nobel Prize, receiving it in Literature for his "fresh and beautiful verse".
Many people have suggested that family compositions and musical heritage be copyrighted. This, in my opinion, does a great disservice to our music tradition. Being an oral one, it has survived all these years by being passed down, by being reinterpreted by generations of musicians, by being traded and borrowed and, admittedly, stolen, by travelling musicians, courts and kings, and music students.
For the exact same reason, being an Indian classical musician and particularly a Dhrupad musician can be very hard because your audience has technically heard it all before. In the same way, musicians acknowledge that copyrighting or guarding original work is usually not the way to success here. We take pride in our open source compositions!
Adana is rarely sung in a full-length Dhrupad concert, mainly because the melodic scale and structure of Adana does not lend itself well to the elaborate improvisation that is done in Dhrupad without either sounding repetitive or slipping into a similar-sounding but structurally different raag, like Darbari Kanhada. Instead, a quick aalaap is usually sung and the singer then goes straight into the composition like Shiva Shiva Shiva.
Adana as a raag is supposed to evoke a feeling of anger or valour, based on which source you decide to go with. It is essentially a high-energy raag because of the note placement. The Dhaivat (La) is an oscillating note, which means the pitch is modulated throughout giving a sense of tension. Steep climbs in the scale and the dramatic contrast between a sharp, natural Rishabh (Re) and Komal (minor) Dhaivat (La) give off this sense of valour, rather like the climax scene in a film.
This is why Adana is often sung at the very end of a Dhrupad concert. This is also likely why it fits well for PS-II, being all about praising the might and valour of the warrior kings whom the Cholas were.
Gaana is your gateway to the best and latest in music, offering over 30 million songs across diverse languages including Hindi, English, Bollywood, and regional tracks. Stream your favourite Hindi songs, Bollywood music, English MP3 songs, radio, podcast and regional music online or download songs to enjoy anytime, anywhere!
But labels, movie composers, musicians and directors scour this repository looking for inspiration for their compositions. And the wheels of this well-oiled industry ensure that the slickly produced songs are marketed to an audience all over the world, earning everyone involved crores. Now, classical Indian artists are debating whether they should copyright their compositions. It goes against the grain of tradition, but it is the nature of the game.
The Dagar gharana is the most prominent Dhrupad family in Hindustani classical music, spanning 20 generations. It can trace its history to the 15th century. Initially, Wasifuddin Dagar was contemplating making a video about the similarities between the two songs and posting it on Facebook. But then he will be taking on heavyweights in the South Indian film industry.
But given the evolving history of a bandish, it is difficult to credit one person or family for it, others argued. Senior Dhrupad singer Umakant Gundecha sees it as a matter of pride that the bandish has been used by Rahman.
Cry for acknowledgementPramathesh Ambasta, a senior development professional and disciple of the Junior Dagar Brothers, said the Dagar gharana has steered clear of working with film people and preserved the tradition of Dhrupad.
Indian classical singer Ustad Faiyaz Wasifuddin Dagar filed the copyright infringement suit against Rahman at the Delhi High Court claiming that it was copied from the song Shiva Stuti by his father and uncle
93ddb68554