rāga: kaḷyāṇavasanta, tāḷa: ādi.
ఫలితముఁ గలదా మీ యాజ్ఞప్తి వినా ఓ జగదంబా
తల్లి మీ దయ లేక యేమి చేయవలెను
సన్మార్గముఁ జూడవమ్మ నాకు
మఱి చిత్తశుద్ధిలేక ప్రొద్దు వేగలేచి
మనసులో ననృతముఁ గల్గితే కర్మఁ
జేసి పుణ్యం బేమి వచ్చును
మాఱుబల్కుమా యీ వేఙ్కటప్రణవును
బ్రొవుమా మాయమ్మ లోకజనని
phalitamu galadā mī yājñapti vinā o jagadambā
talli mī daya leka yemi ceyavalĕnu
sanmārgamu jūḍavamma nāku
maṟi cittaśuddhileka prŏddu vegaleci
manasulo nanr̥tamu galgite karma
jesi puṇyam bemi vaccunu
māṟubalkumā yī veṅkaṭapraṇavunu
brovumā māyamma lokajanani
Kaḷyāṇavasanta is (for some reason) a rare rāga, and I feel that there aren't enough compositions in it. This rāga is partly what got me interested in musicology, as the kr̥ti nādaloluḍai had a large impact on my interaction with music due to the time around when I learned it coinciding with us reviving Columbia Raaga. For the first time I decided to delve into the intricacies of history and musicology and never went back. Compared to its parent meḷakarta rāga kīravāṇi, kaḷyāṇavasanta is pointedly more poignant with the gamaka employed in the prayoga SGM that creates a sombre and reflective, almost grieving mood. The fluctuating, wavy nature of grief is encapsulated by the shades of the gāndhāra svara in SG,MD-MP,MG,R-RN,,S.
This is also the first devī kr̥ti I ever composed, in a style heavily influenced by the masterpieces of Śyāma Śāstrulu. It is also the first kr̥ti of mine with a more ādhyātimka (philosophical) sāhitya, as seen in the caraṇa. Here's a rough translation:
Do the fruits of our actions truly exist without your permission, O Jagadambā?
Mother, without your kindness, what am I to do? Won't you show me the correct way forward?
Without even a hint of mental purity, to those who wake up early in the morning
harboring lies deep in their hearts, what sort of fruit do they get from performing rituals?
Won't you respond to this Veṅkaṭapraṇava? Protect me, my mother, mother of the entire world!
There is a thematic relation between the word phalitamu (consequence, the fruit borne of a tree) in the pallavi and the word puṇyaṁbu (benefit) in the caraṇa, tying the entire theme together: without true inner respect, adoration, and genuine understanding, what is the point of blindly conducting rituals? From the ritualist's perspective, offering āhuti-s to the Deva-s in yajña-s when you don't truly respect them is meaningless. But the inner struggle to achieve such cittaśuddhi is also reflected in the words "sanmārgamu jūḍavamma." There is a clash with perhaps the staunch pūrvamīmāṁsaka perspective of the veda in itself being sufficient, but that precisely is the point of the kr̥ti: what is the correct way forward? Only Jagadambā Herself knows.
The motif of cittaśuddhi here is inspired by the following tĕlugu poem, written by Vemana (whose poems I absolutely adore):
ātma śuddhi leni ācāra madi yela
bhāṇda śuddhi leni pāka mela
citta śuddhi leni śivapūja lelarā
viśvadābhirāma vinurā vemā
Here's my translation: O Vema! Without a pure soul, why follow ācāramu (proper customs and rituals)? Without a clean vessel, why cook in it? Without a pure mind, what is the use of worshipping Śiva?
I learned this poem as a child, and it has stuck with me for my entire life, and is a question that I also deeply ponder myself.