Natrinai 61 – A silent reply

Podcast: Play in new window | Download

Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Amazon Music | Android | iHeartRadio | Email | TuneIn | RSS | More

In this episode, we marvel at the persuasive skills depicted in Sangam Literary work, Natrinai 61, written by Sirumolikanaar, his only poem in Sangam literature. Set in the lush mountain country of ‘Kurinji’, the poem speaks in the words of the lady’s confidante to the lady, passing on a hidden message to the man listening nearby. 

கேளாய், எல்ல தோழி! அல்கல்
வேணவா நலிய, வெய்ய உயிரா,
ஏ மான் பிணையின் வருந்தினெனாக,
துயர் மருங்கு அறிந்தனள் போல, அன்னை,
”துஞ்சாயோ, என் குறுமகள்?” என்றலின்,
சொல் வெளிப்படாமை மெல்ல என் நெஞ்சில்,
”படு மழை பொழிந்த பாறை மருங்கில்
சிரல் வாய் உற்ற தளவின், பரல் அவல்,
கான் கெழு நாடற் படர்ந்தோர்க்குக்
கண்ணும் படுமோ?” என்றிசின், யானே.

A song that has you at hello, for it starts with the inviting word ‘கேளாய்’ meaning ‘Listen!’. With that one-word command, the poem reels you into the narration. I discovered a new word for ‘night’ in ‘அல்கல்’ and another curious one-letter Tamil word for ‘arrow’ – ‘ஏ’! It seems to shoot sharp and straight from the lexicon to a word-lover’s heart! The word ‘மருங்கு’ is used in two different meanings in the expanse of this tiny verse. One following ‘துயர்’ or sadness, meaning ‘the limits/extent’ and another following ‘பாறை’ or ‘rock’ meaning ‘by the side’. The final word to fascinate me in this poem is ‘படர்ந்தோர்க்கு’! Generally, ‘படர்தல்’ means ‘to spread’ but I learnt that here it means ‘to think of’. Don’t you think there is a thick connection in that when one is lost in the thought of someone/something, it feels as if that has spread and covered the whole of their mind and so we find the meanings meet!

Speaking of meetings, the man arrives for his tryst with the lady during the day. Knowing that he’s listening nearby, the lady’s confidante turns to the lady and says, “Listen, my dear friend! Last night, due to my soaring desire, filled with distress, I let out hot sighs, saddened like a female deer hit by an arrow. As if she understood the extent of my pain, mother asked me, ‘Can you not sleep, my little girl?’ Without letting out the words that arose to my lips, I said softly to myself, ‘By the sides of rocks, on which thunderous rain had poured, blooms the buds of the ‘thalavu’ flowers, resembling the bill of a ‘siral’ bird, on a land paved with tiny stones. From such a land filled with forests, comes our lord of the mountains. Those who have him in their thoughts, can their eyes see sleep ever?’ That was what I said!” Please do not wonder why the confidante is speaking of her distress and love, instead of the lady’s. As we have seen in Natrinai 28, this is a case wherein the confidante speaks in the voice of the lady. This is to pass on a message to the man that mother is growing conscious of the distress in the lady and she may confine her to the house. Hence the man must make haste and seek the lady’s hand in marriage. 

Now, let’s explore the little nuances in this poem. First is the expression ‘வெய்ய உயிரா’, which means ‘hot breath’. The interesting detail here is that the word ‘உயிர்’ found in this expression, means ‘life’ and I think it’s a deep spiritual understanding in these ancients to equate ‘breath’ and ‘life’. Then, we meet with the first simile in the poem: the sadness of the female deer hurt by an arrow is akin to the sadness the lady feels at being away from her man. Like the deer sends out hot breaths to heal and calm itself, so does the lady, in the middle of the night. All this noisy breathing wakes mama dear! She turns to the lady and as if understanding the full extent of her pain, she asks her why sleep eludes her. Just at that moment, the lady does a thing that most of us would have done, at some point in our lives. ‘சொல் வெளிப்படாமை மெல்ல என் நெஞ்சில்’ meaning ‘Not letting the words slip out and softly, just to my heart’ is how the lady responds to mother’s concerned query. In an exquisite description of the mountain country to which the lord belongs, the land is brought before our eyes. Heavy rains have poured on the rocky mountain country! By the side of the rocks, blooms the ‘thalavu’ or the ‘pink jasmine’ flowers resembling the beak of the ‘siral’ bird or the kingfisher. Searching for images of this flower and that bird, I came away once again stunned by the acute observational skills of ancient Tamil poets. Let me tell you about the ‘thalavu’ flowers first. These belong to the ‘mullai’ or the ‘wild jasmine’ family. Usually, jasmines are white and what on earth, could they have in common with kingfishers, you may wonder. ‘Thalavu’ flowers are different because their ‘தளம்’ or ‘base’ is different from the other variety. In this case, they have a pink colour and as a bud, these flowers bulge out just a little and end in a sharp tip. Coming to our kingfisher, especially in the Indian variety, I find so many with the same pinkish beak, bulging and ending in a sharp tip. So many words I have used to relate this bird and that flower but the ancients simply say ‘Kingfisher-mouthed jasmine-bud’. And hey, like that ‘ஏ’, sharp hits the word arrow!

Why this particular simile to describe the land of the lord? Perhaps, a cue to point out that even in this rock-filled, rain-pouring, hard mountain country, the jasmine plant takes root and blooms into those lovely flowers. Likewise, the man, by seeking a formal union with the lady, would make happiness bloom forever in her heart. Poetic persuasion at its subtle best!