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In this episode, we relish the evergreen fortune of a seaside hamlet, as depicted in Sangam Literary work, Natrinai 311, penned by Ulochanaar. The verse is situated in the coastal regions of ‘Neythal’ and speaks in the voice of the confidante to the lady, bidding her to disregard the slanderous talk about town and await the arrival of her man.
பெயினே, விடு மான் உளையின் வெறுப்பத் தோன்றி,
இருங் கதிர் நெல்லின் யாணரஃதே:
வறப்பின், மா நீர் முண்டகம் தாஅய்ச் சேறு புலர்ந்து,
இருங் கழிச் செறுவின் வெள் உப்பு விளையும்,
அழியா மரபின் நம் மூதூர் நன்றே-
கொழு மீன் சுடு புகை மறுகினுள் மயங்கி,
சிறு வீ ஞாழல் துறையுமார் இனிதே;
ஒன்றே- தோழி!-நம் கானலது பழியே:
கருங் கோட்டுப் புன்னை மலர்த் தாது அருந்தி,
இருங் களிப் பிரசம் ஊத, அவர்
நெடுந் தேர் இன் ஒலி கேட்டலோ அரிதே.
Opening with ‘பெயினே’ which means ‘if it rains’, the poem invites us on the trail of a hypothetical ‘if…then’ clause. Shorty thereafter, we glimpse ‘விடு மான் உளை’ which describes ‘the mane of a jumping horse’ as well as ‘இருங் கதிர் நெல்’ pointing to ‘tall stalks of paddy’. The word ‘வறப்பின்’ sketches a diverging path from our first trail for this means ‘if it doesn’t rain’. A bush that flourishes on shores can be seen in ‘முண்டகம்’ referring to the ‘water thorn’ plant. The age-old ingredient that has added immensely to human life makes an appearance in ‘வெள் உப்பு விளையும்’ or ‘white salt flourishes’. Other elements of the seaside such as ‘கொழு மீன்’ or ‘fatty fish’ and ‘சிறு வீ ஞாழல்’ or ‘small-flowered senna sophera’ greet us in this song. Not just the ‘gnazhal’, but also the ‘கருங் கோட்டுப் புன்னை’ meaning ‘dark-trunked laurel wood’ delights us in this ode to an ocean village. The verse ends with ‘நெடுந் தேர் இன் ஒலி கேட்டலோ அரிதே’ meaning ‘it’s hard to hear the sweet sounds of the lord’s chariot bells’ and beckons us to listen closely.
The man and lady had been leading a love relationship and the man had been trysting with her. He is delayed from his trysting for a while. The lady starts to pine and seeing the changes in her, slander spreads all around town. In a vicious cycle, now, the lady starts to worry about the rumours in the town and confides in her friend. Hearing the lady’s laments, the confidante says to her, “When it rains, there is plenty of paddy flourishing into tall stalks, looking like the luscious manes of leaping horses. When it doesn’t rain, the water thorn bushes growing near the vast seas spread on the dried-up mud and in the spreading marshlands, white salt sprouts. Our ancient town with such undying fortunes is good indeed. Smoke from cooking fatty fish spreads around and fuses with the small flowers of the ‘gnazhal’, making this seaport entrancing. There is but one fault in our hamlet, my friend! Savouring the pollen of the dark-trunked ‘punnai’, those bees drunk on nectar buzz aloud and make it difficult for us to hear the sweet sounds of the lord’s chariot!” With these words, the confidante tells the lady to mind not the slanderous talk in town and bear with her momentary separation with the man.
Now, for the nuances! The confidante opens her words to the lady by talking about their hamlet. She says when it rains, their fields are filled with the tall stalks of paddy that seem to sway in the wind akin to the dancing mane of trotting horses. A picturesque simile linking the plant and animal world, yet again! Yes, when it rains, any hamlet is going to be fertile and the people therein can rest sans worry of food shortage. Nothing remarkable in that, is there? But, the confidante continues saying, even if it doesn’t rain, prosperity doesn’t part from their little village. She goes on to elaborate how talking about the times when the rains fail to appear. And in those times, only water thorn bushes with their blue flowers spread all over the dry ground but there is something else that is getting ready to be harvested. This is the salt, that blooms in dry weather, and yields white gold to these seaside folks. So, the confidante says it doesn’t matter if it rains or doesn’t, it’s always welcome weather for their little coastal village. Not only that, the scent of fatty fish frying in homes wafts around and merges with the scent of golden flowers of the ‘gnazhal’, making the shore sensuously delightful as well!
When we are smiling thinking the lady’s hamlet does sound like heaven on earth, the confidante adds a ‘however’ to the description. She adds that their desirable hamlet has just one shortcoming. And that is, when the bees get drunk on the nectar of the ‘punnai’ tree’s flowers and buzz around, it becomes difficult to hear the sound of the lord’s chariots. Sounds more like a boast, when we consider the richness, those ‘punnai’ trees are further adding to the shore! The confidante this far has only been talking about the glories of their village. Where is the promised consolation for the lady? To reach that destination, we have to let go of specifics and move to the abstract dimension. When the confidante contrasts the rainy and the dry seasons and points out the benefits in both, she is actually telling the lady it doesn’t matter if the man visits her or is away from her, the lady is to see the good in both, for love blooms in the dryness of parting equally as it does in the rain of togetherness! Then, like how bell sounds are not heard when bees drink nectar and buzz around, the lady too must ignore the slanderous talk in town and believe in the beauty of her relationship with the man, making sure to bear with parting gracefully. With such thoughtful words, the lady is sure to regain her poise and strength. A pithy verse that seems to tell us to look ahead with positivity at the end of an endeavour, no matter the outcome!
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