Thrumming through bustling lanes of Vada Chennai and working-class neighbourhoods in Tamil Nadu, the soulful notes of gaana and beats of parai are featured in most Tamil film blockbusters and kuthu playlists. But when you listen closer, these music traditions that capture the daily lives and struggles of marginalised communities are a glimpse into the state’s cultural landscape, and a map to explore the heart of the anti-caste movement.
Associated with burial grounds and funerals, parai and gaana have long been considered “impure” and too “lowbrow” for the city’s Brahmanical sabhas. Over the past few years, folk traditions have reached stages and international platforms, with a message of anti-caste unity and rhythms of resistance. With mentions in the Thirukkural and Sangam literature, the parai — one of the oldest instruments in India — is crafted with cow skin, and was used as a means to announce news. Meanwhile, gaana has hazy origins and acts as a lexicon for the trademark ‘Madras bashai’, a mashup of languages, and a concoction of slang.
According to rapper Imman Vijay, gaana initially began during funerals, during the long nights of mourning and grief. “Love, self, politics, everything will be sung about. Almost everyone in Vada Chennai sings gaana, from kids to senior citizens. While working too, labourers sing.”
Roots of tradition
The term gaana can be traced back to the 60s says music artiste Gaana Ulaganathan. “When a group of migrant workers from Tamil Nadu went to Bombay for ship-related work, the contractor asked them to sing gaana, a term for song in Hindi. The labourers started singing in Tamil, and eventually, when they sang in Chennai, this term took currency. The subject of the songs could be about anything, such as drinking alcohol, a girl, stories from where they have travelled, or mundane everyday life,” he says. All these songs would contain a message and emotion, he adds.
Mapping the history of gaana, Antony Arul Valan writes in ‘A Conceptual Lexicon for the Twenty-First Century’ that this tradition finds roots in songs of siddhars of ancient Tamilakam, Tamil Muslim mystic Gunankudi Masthan Sahib and novelist Samuel Vedanayagam Pillai. Yet, he acknowledges that despite gaana existing for over two centuries, “their voices were muffled by the politics of nation-building that could only accommodate the songs of the affluent sections of the city.”
In the 90s, for the first time, this tradition was recorded in albums with songs contributed by Ulaganathan, Thousand Lights Gaana Selvam and Palani Antony. In the cinema world, composer and music director ‘Thenisai Thendral’ Deva opened a space for gaana paatu. “Gaana entered and now there is no film without gaana,” laughs Ulaganathan.
Songs of the subaltern
The world of music too reflects the casteist notions of purity, pollution and hierarchy. As folklore researcher and advocate Adal Arasu says, “Animal skin is seen as unhygienic, and behind the stigma is the idea of impurity. The question of why the stigma still exists is there but it can be seen when one picks up a parai. Nobel laureate CV Raman saw vibrations in the mridangam but he could have used the parai to understand these concepts too.” Crafted from the same thol (skin), one instrument has been in the limelight and the other relegated to centuries of discrimination. “Society and hierarchy dictate that parai and gaana are done by some and classical by others. That divide is there; one doesn’t think that scales, raagas, tunes exist in gaana but they do,” says Ulaganathan.
As Gaana Vimala, the first trans gaana artiste, points out, “When you are playing mridangam, nobody will get up and dance. You will just sit and watch. But when you are playing parai, everybody will sing and dance along. We cannot sing a folk song with mridangam but with parai you can experiment with a melody. Parai used to be seen as something played at funerals but it is an instrument that can make the whole village dance.”
Entry into the spotlight
In the past few years, folk traditions have made it to an international platform, extending the boundaries of music, language, and what the mainstream has accepted as art. For instance, we may examine global music charts with Therukkural Arivu’s Enjoy Enjaami or the international indie scene with musician Tenma and Gaana Muthu’s The Ostracized Guardian. Linked to its roots of protest, the parai was also played during a Black Lives Matter meets, fighting against the murder of George Floyd, in Australia.
In Chennai, Neelam Cultural Centre’s Margazhiyil Makkalisai and other festivals have democratised the stage and opened up a platform for folk traditions and performers. Imman, who recently took part in this festival, recalls, “When I was a kid I used to wonder why only classic songs are being sung in December in temple kutcheris and sabhas. It is rare to use instruments like parai and do folk shows as a lot of them have been booked during April or so. We want to break all the stereotypes and sing our songs. Be it rap, gaana, parai or other funeral instruments, we are taking it to the sabhas. All art and music should have a stage, to that extent of classical music.”
In the otherwise male-dominated gaana and rap field, artist Isaivani from Castless Collective has made her mark. As Imman says, “Casteless Collective is a revolution. They have a huge role in experimenting folk into the mainstream and used parai and other folk instruments in the live shows. Taking these sounds to a mainstream audience, they do political gaana.”
Keeping the message of unity and resistance at centre of her art, Vimala’s recent work includes the Coke Studio hit Daavula Darling and the Paraiyena Paaratum Ambedkar Anthem, a song in tribute to Dr BR Ambedkar. “Singing the songs of Ambedkar is a great strength and I try to reach as many people through that. My writings are dedicated to Ambedkar and his teachings, equality, and what we should do to walk in his path,” says Vimala.
But there’s a long way to go to bring other folk traditions like parai into the mainstream, says Arasu, adding that despite anti-caste films, Ashok Selvan-starrer Blue Star or director Pa Ranjith’s movies, the parai remains a supporting instrument, not at the centre. “Songs are a big weapon. Historically, Hitler used propaganda music to form troupes and communists used it as a means to organise protests, call the masses, and help people. Similarly, using music, Dalits speak about their atrocities and aim to bring understanding to their neighbourhoods. Music and art are for the people,” he signs off.
Know your music
With mentions in the Thirukkural and Sangam literature, the parai is crafted with cow skin, and was used as a means to announce news. Meanwhile, gaana has hazy origins and acts as a lexicon for the trademark ‘Madras bashai’, a mashup of languages, and a concoction of slang.