Lesser Known Gruhabhedams: 2X4: A Typology of Gruhabhedams| Rasikapriya, Dharmavati, and more

Here's the last video in the Lesser Known Gruhabhedam series:

Lesser Known Gruhabhedams: 2X3: Hindolam vs. Hamsanandi

Lesser Known Gruhabhedams: 2X2: Charukesi vs. Gowrimanohari

Lesser Known Gruhabhedams: Season 2

Decided to make a second round on Lesser Known Gruhabhedam. Here's the first one in this second set:

Lesser Known Gruhabhedams: Lalitha and more

Here's the fourth and the last one in the Lesser known Gruhabhedam series.

Lesser Known Gruhabhedams: Lalitha

Here's the third in the Lesser known Gruhabhedam series.

Lesser known Gruhabhedams: Nattakurinji

Here's the second in the Lesser known Gruhabhedam series.

Lesser known Gruhabhedams: Rageshri

First of a series of videos on relatively lesser known gruhabhedams in classical/ film music.

Of rakti, scales, and hedonism

!Rambler Alert!

The motivation for this piece really was the question, "What ragas do I like, and why?" I don't think I can come up with even a remotely satisfying answer to that. In fact, I'm not sure if it's even possible to answer this, but I've found it quite interesting and stimulating to mull over the question (like a zillion other pointless ones) and I believe I stumbled upon some intriguing observations. Well, at least intriguing for me. Right from when I was a child, I've been drawn to certain ragas that I believe have a certain kind of "personality". But rather than trying to characterize this personality, which seems daunting, let me try to explain with examples. When I was little, Hamsadhwani was an absolute favorite. Natural, I guess: it's undoubtedly a "happy" raga, and the very first krithi I learnt was in this raga (Vinayaka). As I grew older, Hamsadhwani started seeming kinda mundane, but I believe my new preferences were still similar in a sense: for many many years now, I've died for Bahudhari, Hamsanadham, Nalinakanthi, Ranjani, Dharmavati, Varamu and Bindumalini. This is surely not an exhaustive list, but you get the idea. All of these have an almost visceral effect on me: I feel physically exhilarated/ stimulated/ touched; and Nalinakanti is the most strongly evocative of these (Check out this (compositionally very simple) piece, that I can listen to endlessly, while almost feeling my heart leaping.) On the other hand, ragas like Thodi, Begada, Reetigowlai, Bhairavi and to an extent even Sahana, don't have this effect. I respect and revere them. I fear (yes) and love them, but I'm not sure they give me the kind of "high" that the former set of ragas give me. The difference in preference was way stronger when I was younger - I just wouldn't be able to appreciate these latter ragas. I guess age and experience have helped me mature - I'm glad that now there are certain pieces in Bhairavi for instance, that I absolutely love. Based on these preferences, many connoisseurs of Carnatic music might not consider my breed "serious"/ "deep"/ "pure". Here comes what's most interesting to me. I feel that the former ragas are in a sense hedonistic. The focus is on strong emotional appeal, if not always pleasure. Well, I could say that ultimately it all comes down to pleasure in some sense: even Shubhapantuvarali evokes a kind of a pleasure - through its heaviness - but that's different from the pleasure that Nalinakanti brings about. Ragas like Bhairavi on the other hand seem to be somewhat on a "higher" plane. And it seems to me that this hedonism has been systematically curbed - just like hedonism in life in general. Pedagogically, we are (may be tacitly) encouraged to appreciate the more "serious" ragas like Reetigowlai or Bhairavi. They take musical maturity, conditioning, depth and involvement to appreciate. Of course, I need to keep throwing disclaimers throughout this piece that these claims are not grounded in any kind of experiment - neurological or sociological - but are just strong-ish hunches I have.

This Bhairavi-group of ragas are what are usually referred to as "rakti" ragas. (Some like Thodi are also "ghana" ragas, and may be not all ghana ragas are considered rakti ragas, but I won't go into that here.) Vidushi R. Vedavalli lucidly explains what rakti is in this Sruti article. Basically, rakti ragas are defined more by the raga "swaroopa" or form, rather than by the swaras alone. I like to think of this idea as a kind of 'holism': in rakti ragas, the whole is more than the sum of its parts. For some more philosophical jargon (sorry, can't help flaunting my disciplinary bias): rakti ragas don't reduce to the swaras, and don't supervene on the swaras. They have a distinct identity that emerges in terms of phrases, usages, prayogams, gamakams etc. and the mere scales of these ragas cannot fully capture these facets. My feeling is that the aptitude for these ragas is rooted in a deep reverence/ musical intelligence/ musical discipline. I feel it's unlikely for someone to say they get a plain "kick" out of, say, Huseni. (Of course, a LOT depends on the kind of notes too: Begada roughly belonging to the major scale certainly sounds happier than Huseni, so rakti apart, I'm sure a "theory" about preferences needs to be more nuanced and account for this point. Clearly, I am glossing over details, but given the sloppy theorist that I am, let me proceed anyway.) But interestingly, I feel in musical experience that involves tremendous amounts of conditioning - as is often the case with a Carnatic rasika - it is so hard to distinguish between "pure emotion" and "conditioned emotion". I mean, someone might say they are really touched by Begada and argue that they are as touched by it as I am by say, Nalinakanthi (I'm quite sure my dad would say that, and he was never trained in music - but he's of course a self-trained listener and rasika). Of course, mental states are entirely personal and we'll never know, but I'm still going to (audaciously) try to argue that Begada-appreciation is finer, more nuanced and more conditioned than Nalinakanthi-appreciation. To bring back the hedonism metaphor, the liking for the latter seems kinda "baser", less refined as far as music goes. Now what's curious about this is that as Smt Vedavalli says, the very meaning of rakti is that which is "pleasing and engages the mind joyfully": "ranjayati iti raktihi". Ha, so much for my insistence on almost the reverse. I have a half-baked response to this as well, but I'll spare you for now and move on.

One thing that's common to my "adrenalin-pumping" ragas is that they're all scale-based. I have no idea why. It's also indeed puzzling why/ how a "characterless" Chandrakouns/ Charukeshi/ Gambheera Nattai/ Srothaswini tug at my heart way more than any standard rakti raga that's supposed to be full of character. Well that's the question at the heart of this piece and evidently, I still don't have a clue as to how to answer it. It's also very curious that usually, in almost everything I do, I'm way more analytical than emotional. So is it probably that these scale-based ragas are actually intellectually stimulating for me? And this intellectual stimulation is somehow translating to emotional appeal in a way I can't tell? Likely. All I can say I guess is that I like the non-traditional appeal of these ragas.

It's of course heartening that many top notch artists indulge in a Charukeshi or Srothaswini for an RTP (yes, "indulge"; and that word can only be used for these kind of ragas: you can't possibly "indulge" in a Bhairavi lest you make her angry). Right now, I'm getting back to a breathtaking Charukeshi RTP by Jayanthi Kumaresh.

Oh, and check out this interesting blog post by Sanjay Subrahmanyam on this topic.

Reverse engineering a gruhabhedam: the genius of Raja

If there's one piece of music that leaves me transfixed every time I listen to it, it's Composer's Breath from Ilaiyaraja's album Nothing But Wind featuring the flute maestro Pt. Hariprasad Chaurasia.

-Art by my amazingly talented sister Sumi.
-----

Where do I begin...I bought Raja's two non-film albums (read "cassettes") - How To Name It and Nothing But Wind back during my undergrad days and for almost a year I would pretty much listen to nothing else. Raja taught me several lessons and each one of those would vie with the others to make me feel it was the sole purpose of my life :) But one lesson stands out till today as the most revealing, the most intriguing, and the most awe inspiring. Unfortunately, it came to me much later - I hadn't quite seen the genius through for until numerous times of involved listening. But come, it did, and to this day it gives me goosebumps.

Amidst trying to get a grip on the treacherous equations and derivations of Electrodynamics and Statistical Mechanics - not to mention, in the dingy IIT hostel room - solving Raja's puzzles in Nothing But Wind was a much more satisfying experience, needless to say. The epiphany under discussion hit me on one such occasion of listening to Composer's Breath. Let me try and explain to my understanding, one of the underlying theoretical ideas behind this piece that the man has so ingeniously woven in - the reason for this post.

Disclaimer: my apologies in case this is all too familiar to you and sounds platitudinous.

First, here's the track: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I4g6Zl4nB_g

It starts off with a lovely Hindolam/ Malkauns. Hariprasad Chaurasia's bhava-rich and masterly playing
make it a most pleasurable experience. The main melody (starting at 3:54) is beautiful. It goes, Sa,, ni da ma ga ni da ma gm da# ni# sa,,,,. I'm certainly not an expert on analyzing chords and harmonies but parts like 4:26 that recur throughout just sound heavenly. The drama starts at 6:12 (and there is a lot of build up to it in the chords that just precede) when you start hearing Hamsanandi/ Sohini. What's happening here? Just an ordinary raga change? Absolutely not. A random change in shruti as well as raga? No again. Let's do this piecemeal. First, notice that the shruti is reduced by half a step - or half a note. The new sa is at ni3 of the original shruti. Next, observe that the absolute positions of all the other swaras remain the same. So basically, what starts at 6:12 is Hindolam relative to a new sa; but what's most crucial here is that unlike in a standard gruhabhedam, the new sa is *not* one of the swaras of Hindolam itself: it is a newly introduced swara. So what was a pentatonic raga becomes a hexatonic one due to the additional swara and that turns out to be Hamsanandi. And when you do this, lo and behold, a thrilling coincidence (pun intended) occurs: every swara of Hindolam remains the same, albeit of another variety. ni2 becomes ni3, da1 becomes da2, ma1 becomes ma2, ga2 becomes ga3 (and of course, sa becomes ri1). It is obvious and stunning at the same time. The main melody in Hindolam that I mentioned above now changes to Hamsanandi as follows: Sa,, ni3 da2 ma2 ga3 n3 da2 m2 ga3 r1 sa d2# ni3# sa,,,.

Okay, so far so good. But this made me rack my brains: I had never come across such an unusual way of doing gruhabhedam - such a gruhabhedam would probably not be permitted on a Carnatic stage. I was wondering if there was any way of reconciling it with the standard process. And then, I started thinking about how we might bring about the opposite gruhabhedam: Hamsanandi to Hindolam. Hamsanandi's ri would have to be taken as sa... and... if you do a sa varjya (omit sa), you get Hindolam. And immediately it dawned on me that THIS one was indeed a standard Carnatic gruhabhedam! It is not unusual in Carnatic to do a gruhabhedam transpose from hexa (or heptatonic) ragas to pentatonic ones by omission of sa (and pa)! (And that's because gruhabhedam or no gruhabhedam, one often renders phrases in a raga without sa - and sometimes pa- just to add beauty) In fact, here is a reference that talks about the Carnatic master of all times, T.N. Seshagopalan doing exactly this: http://ramsabode.wordpress.com/2007/04/10/tns-musiri-chennai09042007/
(There is also a youtube video of a breathtaking Hamsanandi alapanai by TNS where he shifts base to Madhyamavati using the same concept)

So WOW - the brilliance of Raja in Composer's Breath lies in that he has actually reverse engineered a (standard) gruhabhedam! Who would've thought of it! If only I could enter his head and see the workings.

The rest of the track goes in and out of many, many ragas - malayamarutham, bhageshri, sindhubhairavi etc which all sit smiling and pretty in Chaurasia's safe custody (and bring poignant flashes of 80s Tamil cinema along with them - probably because they remind me of many of Raja's 80s songs). But the highlight for me is that even after the Hamsanandi episode is over, Raja teases you with some brilliant sparks alternating between the two sa's (thus alternating between the two ragas) within a matter of seconds, like between 6:44 and 7:33 - pure magic! Also at the very end of the track starting at 15:32.

Sometimes I wonder if I'm overly pedantic. Sometimes people say that too much analysis especially in art is not healthy and robs it of its beauty and charm. But the more I think about it; no...I beg to entirely disagree. This situation always reminds me of something a celebrated Astrophysics prof G. Srinivasan told us in a class - a physicist apparently once said that understanding that stars are nothing more than huge blobs of gas and studying the equations governing their behavior doesn't make them seem any less pretty and poetic! :) Unfortunately I don't remember which physicist this was.

As I complete another year of existence on this planet today, I cannot thank Raja the God enough for giving infinitely more meaning to my appreciation of human creativity, godliness in art, and life.

My article on raga recognition in Sruti Magazine

I'm happy to share that my article on the neurophilosophy of raga recognition appeared in the September 2011 issue of Sruti. What started as a term paper for a class I took long ago (more than a year now) with Prof Paul Churchland has resulted in this. Thanks to Swaroop who first spotted it on my blog when I'd posted it for a very brief period last year; and of course, to the editor Ramnarayan.

As Octaves completes five years this month (that's right, five! hard to believe for me); it's a nice feeling to be writing musicology/ music theory related posts back to back. After all, I've always primarily been a theorist at heart.

Here's the article.
(Disclaimer: the model I discuss as I conceived of it in this context is just that: a model; a kind of an artificial neural network for heuristic purposes only)

PS: Please do subscribe to Sruti if you're interested in the Indian classical arts. It's an immensely valuable resource!

Raga recognition

Colored Ragas: Synesthesia and Carnatic Music

Here's something very curious - and very personal in some ways - I wanted to put out there so that hopefully, I get to hear what people have to say about this and even better would be to know if there are other people who have similar experiences.

I associate colors with ragas. Yes. And swaras too. Kharaharapriya is greenish; Kalyani is yellowish; Bahudhari is purplish; Nalinakanthi is orangish... Sa is yellowish, ri is greenish, ga is majenta, ma is reddish... I could go on. You might think either a) I'm making it all up, or b) I'm crazy. Well for now in my defense, I can only say neither is the case, unless you can jump into my brain (which, trust me, you likely wouldn't want to do). I've experienced this raga/ swara - color correlation since childhood. In fact, I associate colors with abstract things much more fundamental than colors and ragas in some sense: I see letters of the alphabet as well as numbers, as colored. I have always been very curious about this and among the handful of people I shared this with when I was growing up, no one seemed to experience anything similar. It was only a couple of years ago that I learned about synesthesia from this extremely insightful and engaging talk by V.S Ramachandran (and shamefully, I go to the very university he teaches at and I haven't had a chance to meet him yet). In brief, synesthesia is a neurological condition where multiple (usually two) senses/ perceptions get mixed up.

The correspondence (between the color and say, a raga) in my case seems to be completely random: there doesn't seem to be a pattern in the correlation between say, the frequency of a swara or the mood of a raga and the colors I associate with them respectively. Same goes with numbers and letters: I see no pattern (for instance, higher the number, darker the color). My initial suspicion was that this had its roots in the fact that I had colored plastic letters and numbers to play with when I was a kid; but now I doubt it, for I don't even seem to remember the colors of most of the pieces. But may be the colors, in their abstract, stuck on subconsciously and I lost the ability to actively recall what color each piece was. But even if all this began with my playing with these colored pieces of letters and numbers, how did it catch on to music as well? May be it's all linguistic after all? May be the color of a raga for me is the color I associate with the first letter of the name of the raga? For I see 'N' as orange, and Nalinakanthi is indeed orange too. But this cannot be the case: the foregoing example has to be a coincidence, for other ragas starting with N are not necessarily orange for me. In fact, I don't seem to always perceive ordinary words as colored (although letters are colored) and even when I do, the color seems to have little to do with the color I associate with not just the first, but any of the constituent letters (and similarly, the color of a raga seems to have little to do with the colors of the constituent swaras).

Two clarifications are in order. First, I think letters or numbers or ragas or whatever - produce a sensation of color only when they're "inside" and not "outside". I mean, when I look at a number or hear someone say a letter; or for that matter even hear someone sing a raga or a swara or sing it myself; I don't think the color sensation shows up. Or if it does, it certainly is not very strong. It is rather the thinking of these entities (for lack of a better word); that conjures up the colors for me. And second, it's extremely hard to put a name to each color I see! It's usually a haze and while I'm sure that I'm having a color sensation, I'm not sure what color it is. I think it's usually not even a well defined color (which is why the "ish-s" suffixed to names of all the colors I mentioned above)

I don't know if what I've described above is characteristic of synesthetes in general. May be I'm not synesthetic at all. One goal for this year is to go to a Cognitive Science lab and get a test done. How interesting that would be!

Sorry for the ramble. I've been wanting to write about this for so long now and finally, just dashed it off while in a restless mode :( Hope it all made at least some sense, and I'm very eager to hear your reactions.

Gruhabhedam... again

Here is an AWESOME gruhabhedam demonstrated by Prince Rama Varma:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Nnq5tdukBeg

Once the concept of gruhabhedam is clear, doing it with linear (monotonic) ragas is fairly straightforward- say between Mohanam and Hindolam. But here, its two vakra ragas (i.e. with scales where swaras don't exactly monotonically increase or decrease) which is what makes it so special! The "pa ma2 pa ga3 ma1 ga3" phrase of Behag mapped to "ga2 ri2 ga2 sa ri1 sa" of Sindhubhairavi was so revealing!
What's more, the inflections (or "brighas"/ "gamakams") of the swaras match too!

Music is beautiful. Math is beautiful. And the two put together- ah, bliss!

For those interested, here's an earlier post of mine where I'd explained the concept of Gruhabhedam (albeit overly simplified)- http://octaves.blogspot.com/2007/06/carnatic-chills.html

(Note: It was only later that I learnt from Shri.Kumaresh (of Ganesh-Kumaresh) that the word "Shruthibhedam" for such transposes is a misnomer, for it only means what it literally means: change of shruthi, and nothing more)

'Carnatic Chills'

Does the title seem familiar? Yeah, its a new fusion music album released by the violin maestroes Ganesh and Kumaresh. But no, this post doesnt have anything to do with that...

Nevertheless, Shruthibhedam I think is really one of those 'Carnatic Chills'...Its a concept that has intrigued me for so long now that I was tempted to try out a small aalaap incorporating the idea.

My undertanding of the concept:
(Much has been discussed about Shruthibhedam, among both Classical and Film Music lovers alike; Ilaiyaraja's music mostly being the subject matter for the latter :) Here is another such attempt by me to take up and deal with this in some detail. Given my limited knowledge,I'd be glad to have any inputs/corrections/clarifications.)

To avoid any confusion, I will refrain from using any terms from Western Classical Music and adhere to Carnatic terminologies.

Pre-requisites to understand Shruthibhedam:

1.Shruthi: A shruthi is defined uniquely by two distinct frequencies x and y (y>x)and their integral multiples, with a condition that the ratio y:x::3:2.
I.e., the frequency y is 3/2 times the frequency x. We give these frequencies x and y names, which are 'Shadjam' and 'Pachamam' respectively. (So since it is the shadjam that actually fixes a shruthi, it is called the "Adhaara Shadjam".) So, whether its 5 Hz and 7.5 Hz or 10 Hz and 15 Hz, it doesn't matter. Within any given pair x and (3/2)x, x will be Shadjam, and (3/2)x (or y), Panchamam.
What is to be carefully noted here, are the words 'within any given pair'. I.e., a frequency by itself cannot be called a Shadjam or Panchamam. It is only with respect to the other frequency in the pair that one can say that the particular frequency is Shadjam or Panchamam.
These are denoted in short by sa and pa respectively.
Now, given such a pair x and (3/2)x, all integral multiples of x will also be called Sa and all integral multiples of (3/2)x will also be called Pa.
Thus, a shruthi is uniquely defined by a series of frequencies x,(3/2)x, 2x,3x,4x,6x,8x..... where x, I emphasise, is a variable.
A shruthi is named by a number which corresponds to any sa (x,2x,4x and so on) convenient for performance by the human voice or any instrument. Let's call this convenient sa as the middle sa.
A middle Sa of 261.6 Hz is denoted by the number 1. The number notations for other frequences for the middle sa will be discussed eventually.

2.Sthaayi: A Sthaayi is defined by 3 frequencies x,(3/2)x and 2x.
So, x,(3/2)x and 2x form one sthaayi; 2x,3x and 4x form another sthaayi and so on.
If x is the middle Sa, then the set x,(3/2)x,2x form the 'Madhyama Sthaayi' ; the set
(1/2)x, (2/3)x,x form the 'Mandra Sthaayi'; and the set 2x,3x,4x form the 'Taara Sthaayi'.

3. Swara:Given a particular sa, we have so far only discussed about its corresponding sa and the other Sa's and Pa's; while (obviously) there can be a multitude of other frequencies.
It is largely agreed that the minimum ratio of two discernable frequencies should be 1.059.
So if we construct a geometric progression (GP) with x as the first term and 1.059 as the common ratio and compute upto the 13th term, we find that the 13th term is nothing but 2x.
So given an x which is the first term of the GP; like Sa and Pa, all the intermediate frequencies have particular names and these are called 'Swaras'. The nomenclature of the 12 frequencies as swaras are as below:
1st : Shadjam (sa)
2nd : Shuddha Rishabham (ri1)
3rd : Chaturshruthi Rishabham (ri2)or Shuddha Gandharam (ga1) in different cases.
4th : Shatshruthi Rishabham (ri3) or Sadharana Gandharam (ga2) in different cases.
5th : Anthara Gandharam (ga3)
6th : Shuddha Madhyamam (ma1)
7th : Prati Madhyamam (ma2)
8th : Panchamam
9th : Shuddha Daivatam (da1)
10th : Chaturshruthi Daivatam (da2) or Shuddha Nishadam (ni1) in different cases.
11th : Shatshruthi Daivatam (da3) or Kaishiki Nishadam (ni2) in different cases.
12th : Kaakali Nishadam (ni3)
13th : Shadjam (Sa)
Now going back to the number notations of Shrutis, a middle Sa corresponding to 1.059 times 261.6 Hz is denoted by 1.5; a middle Sa corresponding to 1.059^2 times 261.6 Hz is denoted by 2 and so on.
In other words, given a shruthi, if you want to go to the immediately next higher shruthi, you have to transpose the ri1 of this shruthi to sa and proceed to construct the geometric progression as usual. Taking the ri2 of the original shruthi as sa would give the 'next-to-next' shruthi and so on.
(Conventionally we denote swaras in mandra sthaayi with a "#" symbol and those in taara sthaayi with capital letters.)

4. Raga: A raga is a unique combination of a certain set of swaras in a certain pattern. The pattern of the swaras has to be defined for both ascent and descent of the swaras.
(Here I shall not dwell on the criteria for forming a raga.)
(Note: A raga is Sthaayi-independent.)
For example, the combination
sa ri2 ga3 ma1 pa da2 ni3 Sa; Sa ni3 da2 pa ma ga3 ri2 sa
forms the raga 'Shankarabharanam'.

Shruthibhedam :

It is to be borne in mind that cognizance/ interpretation of the shruthi of a piece is pivotal in determining its raga.
Hence, if we now retain the absolute frequencies of the above swaras, but decide to shift the sa to the present ri, i.e. make a 'bhedam' in the shruti, all the swaras change correspondingly.
So the above combination would now read:
ni#2 sa ri2 ga2 ma1 pa da2 ni2; ni da2 pa ma1 ga2 ri2 sa ni#2
(Obviously but importantly, this is possible only because the relative frequencies of successive swaras remain the same since they are in geometric progression)
Now this new combination forms the raga "Kharaharapriya".
Thus, a Shruthibhedam is said to happen when the shruthi is changed in a raga, resulting in a new raga.
The idea of Shrutibhedam has other interesting consequences too:
An entire song in a single raga can be percieved to be in one raga by one person and some other raga by another person, since it all depends on where the listener places her/his sa.
A classic example is Ilaiyaraja's andhi mazhai pozhugiradhu, which would be in raga Vasantha if one placed the starting swara of the song as ma, and Ramani if one placed the starting swara of the song as sa.
Now why is it that some people percieve it as Vasantha and some others as Ramani, and yet some others are able to pick both ragas with equal ease is a question I have not been able to answer. We would have to go into musical cognition processes for that, I'd imagine.
In other words, what is the criterion for deciding the shruthi (and equivalently the raga) of a song if it is not known to you beforehand?
And why/how is it that for a majority of songs (if the shruthi is not given), majority of people seem to find out the shruthi by some apriori ability, and also largely remain mutually consistent?
I wish to answer these questions some day!

Here is a small Alaap I did, in raga Sriranjani, with a transpose to Hamsanadam, and back to Sriranjani.
Sriranjani is defined by:
sa ri2 ga2 ma1 da2 ni2 Sa, same way back.
If the ga in the above is taken to be sa, and the Sa of the above omitted, we get,
ga2 ma1 da2 ni2 Ri2 Ga2, same way back.
This combination also corresponds to:
sa ri2 ma2 pa ni3 Sa, same way back, which is the raga Hamsanadam.
So when the {ga2 ma1 da2 ni2 Ri2 Ga2} phrase is repeatedly sung, with a stress on the ga so as to make it sound like the shadjam, what results is our perception of it as Hamsanadam.
Here it is:

--Ok, I really need to add here now that today, I'm really embarrassed by this piece :P I have to, have to, have to redo it. And really soon. Its perfectly ok if you've read the article and don't listen to this :P 02/09/2010 --


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Do leave your feedback.

UPDATE as of Nov 2011: Since the player I'd embedded here doesn't work anymore (thankfully!) and also since I did this very transpose (Sriranjani to Hamsanadham) live at a recent concert, I'd like to redirect you to that: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PeO9kjk7aPg
Feedback as always would be much appreciated, thanks!