According to Nātyaśāstra of Bharata Muni, rasa—‘that which is relished is rasa’— can be experienced “by a sympathetic (sahrudaya) audience member who would taste the rarefied essence of an emotion through a process of generalising and abstracting the commonality (sādhāranikarana) between their own experience and the emotional experience represented through a work of art”.
Nātyaśāstra originally classified rasa under eight (ashta rasa) categories. One of them is Śringāra Rasa (Erotic Sentiment). Śringāra rasa originates from the sthāyibhāva of rati (love, desire). Bharata said: “Whatever is clean, pure, and worth looking at is connected with the sentiment śringāra”.
Śringāra rasa produces the highest kind of pleasure. It is the sentiment that permeates all human beings. It is the synonym of self and ego. Śringāra creates an attachment of a person to himself. This self-love expands one’s personality. The word Śringāra suggests that it is the pinnacle of all kinds of rasa.
Whenever I think of Rasa theory and its various connotations, I get reminded of a couple of Telugu film songs that lodged themselves deep into my childhood consciousness opening the world of Śringāra—to the enchantment of its imaginations, fictions, pleasures and torments… …
The first song that comes to my mind is: ēnati ēhayi kalakadoyi nijamoyi (This joy of the day is not a dream but true!) from the swashbuckler Telugu film, Jayasimha of 1955. It was picturised on the scene-stealer ever, NTR and languorous Anjali Devi. Lyrics that were pretty sweet and quite meaningful with a great depth of emotion were penned by Samudrala Jr and music was composed by TV Raju.
There is a certain cadence in the lyrics. The music composed based on the Rāg Mohanam for the song by TV Raju carries forward the pace of the lyrics, indeed to an elevated level. Mohanam, as such, is a well-suited rāga for expressing śringāra (delightful love) rasa, bhakti (devotion) rasa, and even vīra (heroic) rasa. And, flute goes so fine with it and the music director rightly exploited it fully in the interludes and also as a follow on of the lyrics that enabled him to maintain the tempo of the song.
With few swarās, mohanam makes it easy for the listener to enjoy it fully and easily. In all, the flight of tune being what it is, the song runs like a rivulet that is gurgling down from a hillock with clear water reflecting sunshine … …
Picturization of the song is equally mesmerizing. In a pond, there is a canopy in the center. Shapely carved stone slabs are placed in the water to reach the canopy.
Stepping on these slabs gracefully like a celestial nymph, Anjali Devi walks … in between dancing in sync with the prelude to the song … … towards the canopy …. while NTR, the hero with long hair that curled up on the back of the neck—draped in a black dhōvati with a broad silver border and uttareyam (Upper cloth) dangling on one side from his shoulder and on the other side it was wrapped around the forearm, and decked up with glittering ornaments over the bare chest with earrings dangling from the ears— following her, stops half the way and stares at Anjali Devi with an angelic smile pasted on his lips as she starts singing — Ēnati ēhayi kalakadōyi nijamōyī (This joy of the day is not a dream but true!) / Nē vōhathone pulakinchipoye ēmeenu nēdoyī (this body that sways in delight with your very thought is yours) / Nēkōsamē ē adiaashalanni (It’s for you that all my cravings are!) / Nā dhyasa nā āsha nēve sakhā (you are my very yearning and craving, O, friend).
After the interlude, joining the heroine on the central stage under the canopy, NTR, the hero epitomizes the evocative cadences of the lyrics by singing —Ye nōmu phalamō ye nōti varamō ēprema javarāla (Of which vow’s fruit? Boon of whom is this love? Oh, youthful maiden) / Maniyemule ika virithāvi lēla (shall get on well ourselves henceforth in the unfolding divine play) / Manaprema keduredi ledē sakhi (No obstacle against our love, Oh dear playmate) …
Singing in that incomparable gandhrva voice, Ghantasala, understanding and appreciating the nuances of language, infused a touch of panache to the evocative lyrics, and with all that, the song glides like a silk dupatta in the evening breeze.
After the third interlude, as the hero holding the hand lifts the cherubic Anjali Devi, she rises up on her right leg while her left leg is slightly folded backward and staring down at the hero starts cooing the third charnam, ‘vūgemule thula thōgemule ika tholiprema bhōgāla’ (shall swing along with the overweighing pleasures of the love at its beginning) … This frame of two young lovers smitten with love… … immersed in its sheer joy enjoy staring at each other exuberantly … … stands out great as though sculpted by an angel sculptor.
There is a certain equanimity in the song that provides an unsullied and wholesome enjoyment to the spectators. Listening to it in the marvelous tone of Ghantasala and Leela is a poignant experience that I have been living with since my childhood.
The other song that I love most is: O Nelarājā Vennala Rājā from the film Bhatti Vikramarka of 1960, which was another swashbuckling adventure film of NTR. This song was also picturized on NTR and Anjali Devi.
This song was written by Anisetti and was set to music by Pendyala based on that hypnotically beautiful raag Bhimpalasi— a rāga best suited for expressing Śringāra Rasa (romantic mood). It has a magical impact on mood elevation. The lyrics of this song are full of yearning and what raga is there other than Bhimpalasi that can give a better expression to it?
Camera takes us through the moonlit garden along a path that is adorned with finely sculpted arches with dangling creepers to the centrally located canopy under which Anjali Devi, that angelic beauty, dancing with side glances sweet with ambrosial smiles and vilāsa as a transient emotion, sings with matching abhinaya—Ō Nelarājā Vennala Rājā (Ō Moon, the king, king of moonlight) / nē vannelanni chinnelanni mākēnoyi (all your brightness and its hues are mine) / mā vennu tatti pilichindee nēvenoyi…(knocking on my back it is you who called me)
As she, stepping out into the garden, starts singing the 1st charanam, challa gāli jādalo, tella mabbu nēdalo (amidst cool breeze under the shade of white cloud), NTR, draped in black dhōvati, adorned with rich jewellery over his bare chest and a nicely plated white upper cloth around the neck that swings from one shoulder while the other side of it was wrapped around a slightly raised forearm makes a regal entry on the screen cheerfully with a gorgeous ālāp — Aa aa aa aa aa aa aa that reaches the highest octave. What a majestic entry! Simply to be seen and relished.
As the interlude in which flute leaves a mesmerizing effect on the listeners ends, NTR, as if questioning with the play of his eyebrows and his typical style of twitched lips and stiffened nostrils, all three in one stroke, sings: Kaluvala chirunavvulē kannela nunu siggulē (the half-smiles of blooming water-lilies, the side-glances of lasses) Oo..oo..oo..oo / ventananti pilichinapudu chandrudā (if called by following you) / vāni viduva manaku taramounā Chandrudā (would it be possible to leave them, O moon?) / Aa aa aa aa…
As he thus questions, Anjali Devi looks at him continuously with blooming eyes, concealing her smile with a downcast face, throbbing lips, and a trembling body. The whole scene evokes goosebumps— indeed, the moonlit garden, pretty flute music and poetry, and graceful movements of the hero and heroine evoke Śringāra rasa— a romantic mood in the hearts of the audience.
Singing the Pallavi once again along with Anjali Devi, NTR, striding royally, leads her to the fountain, and ultimately both of them settle down on its parapet. This whole scene portrays excellent aesthetic sensibilities.
Whenever I think of this song, Ō vennela rājā, Ō nelarājā, its very thought delights my senses. Sweeps me along with its beauty… and as it reaches the end one would simply be out of one’s wits.
It was so aesthetically picturized on luscious Anjali Devi and luminous NTR… its textured seductive frames that captured the meaning of the lyrics … mellifluous tone of Ghantasala and Susheela … Pendyala’s melodious orchestration that flows around the lyrics … … what a joy it is to watch it when all strands in the song are woven together so seamlessly … musty fragrances of a long-faded world transport you to another realm.
These two songs, which portray favourable moon-lit nights, gardens/ponds, youthful and beautiful faces with sweet and smiling eyes roaming playfully in the gardens with graceful movements of limbs and enjoying the company of beloved ones duly supported by apt music and poetry, which are cumulatively known to generate Śringāra Rasa, simply stand out as Camatkāra and lokōttara-ānanda—a wonder and rare-delight, which according to Daśarūpakam is indeed the essence and purpose of any work of art. And that is what sahrudaya—sympathetic spectators love to enjoy—be it in the cinemas or the real world.
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