Naan Yen Piranthen (Why was I born?)

Naan yen pirandhen, kann yen thirandhen, enakke theriadhe.

Translated as 'Why was I born, why did I open my eyes to the world I am oblivious about'

It is one of ARR's Coke Studio hits which I was introduced to in an incident bringing out the envy in me. Let us wind back in time to when I was 16 years old - imagine the front bencher in your school, but for the sake of accuracy we shall also remember that all stereotypes do suit him the best. He might have been academically smart, and not the best at keeping up with the latest pop culture happenings. Although not the best at sports, he tried his luck at the inter-house tournaments known for their intense competition and the 'gethu' (Tamil for pride). It did however, come along at the risk of your disappointed friends bawling on about how you did not listen to their one piece of advice which could have made sure that the 'gethu' is not just mine, but the entire gang's. He knew though that one way he can make his house - Abhimanyu (and the gang of course) proud is by stepping on the stage and singing, partly trembling and worried about the power going off as soon as he starts singing.

And this time, he had to pick a non-film song Indian song which in 2019 was as rare to encounter for him as it is for a middle-aged office-goer to know and listen to Anuv Jain. So, he choose to sing something he knew the best - Carnatic. He had no lack of songs to choose from the ocean out there - so he picked a rather underrated Tamil composition of Papanasam Sivan (Enadhu Manam) and made his way on stage wearing his freshly rented black blazers, pastel pink shirt and his brother's trousers. The 5 points which he was going to earn his house were of immaterial importance for him, and for the entire house - it was at number three and needed to pick pace quickly to be in the race to win the cultural segment. As he was about to walk onto the stage, brushing aside his classmates 'All the best' as stress-inducing, there was just one thought in his head - he had done it before (twice), and will do it again.

He did it! Unlike last time, he was also able to keep his eyes open and see his friends listening to him, rapt.  He performed, he knew he had done well but boy could he rest until he had listened to everyone else in competition? He joined his friends at the other end of the auditorium, listening to each of the upcoming candidates fighting for those five points. There - he heard a song for the first time and unfortunately for him, she was doing it quite well. He quickly Googled it with the help of his friend handling the logistics to check if it was a film-song in the hope of losing an opponent. 'Naan yen pirandhen' it went, and to his dismay it was a Coke Studio release of Rahman's.

6 years hence, I have listened to the song a little bit more than a half a hundred times and I should say - I did nothing wrong googling it out in my moment of envy. I can never be sure of what ARR had in mind while creating it, but to me the song is life in itself. The lyrics give it an entirely new taint, but I will stick to exploring the music in it in isolation, for the reason that it can communicate by itself. It starts with a prelude, calm and sombre with the initial 'Pacha karu yaavum paava karuvalla, Neeyum naanum yaaru kutham kura solla' synonymous with the kid's comfort in the womb, in no rush or hurry for time or routine. Rayhanah goes on to humm as the guitar starts playing, as the baby is born. When Rahman ends with Yen pirandhai, the baby's crawling phase stops and they start walking in broken steps with the beats. As the kid gets going to school and makes friends, the vocals begins to support the song to be followed by their teenage years. Again, the initial phrase repeats but now it is with the beats running - depicting how the baby's originality in the womb might be construed as misdemeanour or to drift away from the rhythm of life. The song swings from a zap at once to multiple pauses in between, like their teenage years. As they end their teens, the song swiwels (uyir vaazha, payir vaazha) into the chorus of naan yen pirandhen again - now with further conviction that they are unaware of the reason for their existence.