<p>When you grow up in a household where the music is always on, you tend to internalise certain snatches without being conscious of doing so. You are going on with your everyday drudgery while that piece of music has stealthily entered your veins. Sometime later in life, when you are elsewhere and you hear that very same snatch, it hits you; you know this bit of music, you feel it, you yearn for it and all that it is associated with and you are now all ears — you want to label it, record it, store it in your soul in its entirety. And then you begin to search for it. You believe serendipity will lead you to it and however mawkish that sounds, you believe the universe will help you find it again. And the universe, believe it or not, often does.</p>.<p>This is what happened with me with the M<span class="italic">ohanakalyani</span> thillana composed by the violin maestro Lalgudi Jayaraman. Lalgudi’s thillanas are legendary and the <span class="italic">Mohanakalyani</span> composition is especially popular among classical dancers and instrumentalists alike. (This was indeed the reason I must have heard it many times while growing up). <span class="italic">Mohanakalyani</span> is a raga derived from a combination of raga <span class="italic">Mohana</span> and raga <span class="italic">Kalyani</span> as the name indicates — both alluring ragas that effortlessly pour zing and bounce into every moment you listen to them. In the genius rendering by Lalgudi, the thillana is, without exaggeration, an alchemy of the soul. While you are at it, also give a hear to Jayanthi Kumaresh’s veena version of the same thillana. (<span class="italic">Both are available on YouTube</span>).</p>.<p><strong><span class="bold">Play By Ear</span></strong> <em><span class="italic">showcases a potential earworm every week for you, the discerning listener, who is on the hunt for some musical serendipity.</span></em></p>
<p>When you grow up in a household where the music is always on, you tend to internalise certain snatches without being conscious of doing so. You are going on with your everyday drudgery while that piece of music has stealthily entered your veins. Sometime later in life, when you are elsewhere and you hear that very same snatch, it hits you; you know this bit of music, you feel it, you yearn for it and all that it is associated with and you are now all ears — you want to label it, record it, store it in your soul in its entirety. And then you begin to search for it. You believe serendipity will lead you to it and however mawkish that sounds, you believe the universe will help you find it again. And the universe, believe it or not, often does.</p>.<p>This is what happened with me with the M<span class="italic">ohanakalyani</span> thillana composed by the violin maestro Lalgudi Jayaraman. Lalgudi’s thillanas are legendary and the <span class="italic">Mohanakalyani</span> composition is especially popular among classical dancers and instrumentalists alike. (This was indeed the reason I must have heard it many times while growing up). <span class="italic">Mohanakalyani</span> is a raga derived from a combination of raga <span class="italic">Mohana</span> and raga <span class="italic">Kalyani</span> as the name indicates — both alluring ragas that effortlessly pour zing and bounce into every moment you listen to them. In the genius rendering by Lalgudi, the thillana is, without exaggeration, an alchemy of the soul. While you are at it, also give a hear to Jayanthi Kumaresh’s veena version of the same thillana. (<span class="italic">Both are available on YouTube</span>).</p>.<p><strong><span class="bold">Play By Ear</span></strong> <em><span class="italic">showcases a potential earworm every week for you, the discerning listener, who is on the hunt for some musical serendipity.</span></em></p>