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In this episode, we savour the portrait of inner life, depicted in Sangam Literary work, Natrinai 97, written by Maaran Vazhuthi, who’s said to be a poet-king from Sangam times. The verse is set in the forest country of ‘Mullai’ and speaks in the inconsolable voice of the lady to her confidante, expressing her anguish about the man’s absence.
அழுந்து படு விழுப் புண் வழும்பு வாய்புலரா
எவ்வ நெஞ்சத்து எஃகு எறிந்தாங்கு,
பிரிவில புலம்பி நுவலும் குயிலினும்,
தேறு நீர் கெழீஇய யாறு நனி கொடிதே;
அதனினும் கொடியள் தானே, ”மதனின்
துய்த் தலை இதழ பைங் குருக்கத்தியொடு
பித்திகை விரவு மலர் கொள்ளீரோ?” என
வண்டு சூழ் வட்டியள் திரிதரும்
தண்டலை உழவர் தனி மட மகளே.
The poem welcomes us with a well-known Tamil concept, ‘விழுப்புண்’ meaning either a ‘battle scar’ or ‘deep wound’. This word is often used in contemporary times, in an amused manner at little children, who come back home with bruises after an evening of play. The word ‘எஃகு’, which is seen in Tamil alphabet books to denote usage of that enigmatic letter in Tamil with three dots called as ‘ஆய்த எழுத்து’, means a ‘spear’ here. We hear the mellifluous voice of the ‘குயில்’ or ‘cuckoo’ pulling us into the music of the verse. Yet again, we meet ‘மதன்’ meaning ‘beauty’ in this context. We see three striking references to a girl striding through the poem in the verb-turned noun forms of ‘கொடியள்’, ‘வட்டியள்’ and ‘மகள்’. Are these three, different characters or one and the same? Let’s find out…
The man and lady are in a married relationship and the man parts away from the lady to gather wealth and complete a mission. The day he promised he would be back comes and goes. One day, the lady turns to her confidante who has been trying to console her and she says, “As if throwing a spear into a deep, troubling wound, still unhealed, sings that cuckoo that knows no separation from its mate. Cruel than the cuckoo is the river that flows with crystal clear water. Even crueler than this river, is that girl who, with a basket swarming with bees, roams around the streets shouting, “Beautiful ‘kurukathi’ flowers with cotton-like crown of petals mixed with ‘pithikai’ flowers… Just for you… Buy now!” Indeed it’s that girl, who is the young, delicate daughter of the farmer who grows those cool, flowering groves.” With these words, the lady expresses how the season of spring is upon them with the man still absent and thus, conveys the pain in her heart to her friend.
Walking in the by-lanes of the verse, we meet at first, an abstract notion. A simile of a spear thrown into the heart of a festering wound. Imagine that pain. A raw wound, bleeding and a sharp spear, piercing through. It evokes a feeling of a sudden and sharp pain. As we try to understand what caused the lady to talk about this, she reveals the scene of a cuckoo cooing in the distance. The lady mentions that the cuckoo is always with its mate and the lady wonders why it has to sing and make the lonely pain soar. If you thought that was the one thing so cruel, the lady talks about the river flowing so clear, with fresh waters, at the end of the rainy season. Why are these elements of nature that fill one’s heart with joy, referred to as ‘cruel’? To many of us, living in urban jungles, the sound of cooing birds and the sight of a clear river would be the epitome of ecstasy! But, why is our lady, taking the opposite view? This is because the singing of the bird heralds spring. The lady remembers the man’s promise that he would be back before the cuckoo cooed. Seeing that it’s an unfulfilled promise drives that spear of pain into her heart. Why, the clear river? The river, still and fresh, also is a marker that the rains are over and there’s calm in the air. This is the time of the year that ancient Tamils loved to take a dip in those clear waters and reap the blessed benefits of bathing in nature. What’s stopping the lady from taking a dip? Turns out that a woman separated from her husband lives a life, pining for him and does not have the heart to wash her tresses and dress herself up. Perhaps, a visible illustration of how her heart is with the man who’s away and she’s unable to focus on the tasks of the day.
Another illustration of the lady’s inability to partake in the simple pleasures of everyday life is that portrait of the flower-seller. This farmer’s daughter walks about the streets of the lady’s town selling her wares and beseeching people to buy the cotton-headed ‘kurukathi’ flowers, known as the ’hiptage’ along with ‘pithikai’ flowers, a type of magnolia, known as ‘champak’ or ‘Senbagam’ in modern Tamil. Both these flowers are favoured for their exquisite fragrance and are used in the making of perfumes even today. The lady calls this flower-seller as the cruelest of the lot, for although the fragrance and the inviting call of the seller beckons, she cannot relish them as the man who will buy those flowers for her is still missing. Thus, using the elements of a cuckoo’s call, a river’s calm and flowers’ fragrance, the lady paints a rich sensory portrait of her feelings. Remarkable indeed how such objects of pleasure have transformed as the source of pain!
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