In 2024, a ground-breaking musical project emerged, rooted in the spiritual depths of Tamil tradition while boldly venturing into unexplored sonic territories.
Anbenum Peruveli, which translates to ‘The Grand Expanse Called Love’, is far more than an album. It is an audacious revival of the poetry of Ramalinga Adigal – known to the world as Vallalar – in a form that had never been envisioned before.
Vallalar, the 19th-century Tamil mystic, left behind verses that blazed with compassion and defied the hierarchies of caste and creed.
Vallalar’s message, expansive and uncompromising, has echoed through generations, but in recent years, it has faced the risk of being appropriated and narrowed by forces keen to mould him into ideologies that contradict his universal appeal.
In this fraught context, Anbenum Peruveli arrives like a clarion call, cutting through the noise and reclaiming Vallalar’s voice through the transformative medium of music. What sets this project apart is its ability to blend classical, folk and contemporary genres into a seamless, unifying experience.
“It all began with a simple wish – to present Vallalar’s songs in the voice of Sanjay Subrahmanyan,” says Rafiq Ismail, director of the documentary.
He continues: “The initiative was carried forward by a core team of five: Vignesh Sundaresan, founder of the Onemai Foundation; journalist A.S. Panneerselvan; singer Sanjay Subrahmanyan; artists Narendran and Krishnapriya, members of Onemai. Later, music director Sean Roldan joined to handle the musical arrangement.
“Initially, it was just about creating an album with six selected songs. But we soon realised that the songs would resonate more deeply if accompanied by a documentary on Vallalar. Based on this, I and cinematographer Karthik Muthukumar joined the team.”
The documentary delves beyond conventional music-making and captures the philosophical heartbeat of the project. Ismail’s lens examines how Vallalar’s words continue to resonate in a fractured modern world – one still confronting the very injustices Vallalar sought to dismantle.
Through interviews with Tamil scholars, musicians, historians and activists, the film explores how Vallalar’s poetic activism was both a spiritual quest and a form of social dissent. It posits him not as a distant, saintly figure, but as a thinker whose rebellion against religious dogma and caste oppression feels painfully contemporary.
For Subrahmanyan, an artist deeply entrenched in the rigorous discipline of Carnatic tradition, the project posed a thrilling challenge. Exploring genres like jazz, blues and rock, he expanded his vocal expressions in ways that both surprised and exhilarated him.
For Roldan, Vallalar’s words seemed destined for the bold spirit of rock and its offshoots – genres that could convey rawness, rebellion and profound sincerity in equal measure.
“While the songs were still being created, we began shooting the documentary,” says Ismail.
“Since Roldan planned to incorporate European orchestral elements, we felt the film should also speak to a broader, global audience. We designed the documentary to seamlessly weave together Vallalar’s social engagement, literary contributions and philosophical vision with the creative process behind the songs – without making it seem forced.”
Ismail notes: “In particular, we aimed to present Vallalar as a powerful poet-philosopher, much like Rumi or Kabir. Through this, we hope viewers will grasp the significance of reinterpreting Vallalar for contemporary times, which was one of our key objectives.”
Anbenum Peruveli was not content with merely matching poetry to melody. It was about distilling the urgent humanity of Vallalar’s message and transmitting it with the visceral power only music can wield.
In that pursuit, the project found another guiding force in Panneerselvan. His role was to carefully select verses that could form the album’s spiritual and narrative core.
Drawing upon his deep understanding of both Vallalar’s philosophy and Tamil literary heritage, Panneerselvan curated poems that reflected Vallalar’s unwavering commitment to compassion, light and transcendence beyond sectarian divisions.
His selections ensured that the album carried an emotional and intellectual heft, elevating the music beyond aesthetics to a vessel of Vallalar’s revolutionary vision.
Says Panneerselvan: “I had initially selected 200 lines of Vallalar to mark Vallalar[‘s] 200[th birth anniversary]. But Roldan pointed out that would mean creating at least five albums. I thought that was fair.
“While selecting the songs, I noticed an interesting dichotomy – ‘Orumayudan’ evokes a sense of his departure, yet it appears in the fifth Thirumurai, not the sixth or final one. The fifth felt like a spiritual prologue to the sixth. Also, all six songs featured in the album have been presented in some form by Sanjay on Carnatic stages, though reimagined here. One of the reasons we could not include more songs was simply the album’s time constraints.
“In ‘Ithu Nalla Tharunam,’ Vallalar essentially says: do not wait for the right or perfect moment to do what you believe is right. Imagine – he said this 175 years ago. Songs like ‘Enna Pavam Seitheno’ could feature in a sequel, where I hope to explore Vallalar’s vision of right and wrong in more depth. When we first discussed the album with Roldan, we were clear: the universality of Vallalar should resonate in the music. That’s how genres like jazz, Celtic, rock and roll and Black protest music became integral to the album’s soundscape.”
This spirit of artistic freedom and genre fusion defines Anbenum Peruveli.
At the heart of Anbenum Peruveli are its six meticulously crafted tracks, each offering a unique sonic interpretation of Vallalar’s teachings.
‘Ithu Nalla Tharunam’, with its searing rock intensity, feels like an anthem for the disillusioned, a reminder of agency amid chaos. ‘Arutperum Jyothi’, echoing Vallalar’s most renowned invocation of divine grace, soars with spiritual urgency, carried by Subrahmanyan’s powerful vocals and Roldan’s layered instrumentation.
‘Kallarkkum’ is perhaps the album’s most haunting creation. Rooted in Celtic influences, the song takes on the character of a lament – an aching appeal for unity in a world torn apart. ‘Vennila’, with its smoky blend of jazz and blues, demonstrates that Vallalar’s words, although born in the Tamil countryside, can travel the world, finding resonance in unexpected musical spaces.
The fusion continues with ‘Orumayudan’, a masterful blend of intricate ragas and contemporary rhythms, embodying the possibility of harmony between past and present.
The closing track, ‘Anjathe Nenje’, is a call to courage. Its compelling rhythms and fearless energy invite the listener to reject fear, step into light and embrace the radical empathy that Vallalar championed.
What ties all these tracks together is their refusal to reduce Vallalar’s poetry to mere ornamentation. Instead, the music channels and amplifies his words, reintroducing them with a freshness that feels both timeless and fiercely modern.
In an era where efforts are underway to appropriate Vallalar into narrow political or religious narratives, Anbenum Peruveli asserts itself as a necessary act of resistance.
