Podcast: Play in new window | Download
Subscribe: Apple Podcasts | Spotify | Amazon Music | Android | iHeartRadio | TuneIn | RSS | More
In this episode, we are presented with intricate facets of life from a poet’s home, as depicted in Sangam Literary work, Puranaanooru 160, penned about the Velir King Kumanan by the poet Perunchithiranaar. Set in the category of ‘Paadaan Thinai’ or ‘King’s praise’, the verse reveals the renown of this king.
‘உரு கெழு ஞாயிற்று ஒண் கதிர் மிசைந்த
முளி புல் கானம் குழைப்ப, கல்லென
அதிர் குரல் ஏறொடு துளி சொரிந்தாங்கு,
பசி தினத் திரங்கிய கசிவுடை யாக்கை
அவிழ் புகுவு அறியாதுஆகலின், வாடிய
நெறி கொள் வரிக் குடர் குளிப்பத் தண்ணென,
குய் கொள் கொழுந் துவை நெய்யுடை அடிசில்,
மதி சேர் நாள்மீன் போல, நவின்ற
சிறு பொன் நன் கலம் சுற்ற இரீஇ,
“கேடு இன்றாக, பாடுநர் கடும்பு” என,
அரிது பெறு பொலங் கலம் எளிதினின் வீசி,
நட்டோர் நட்ட நல் இசைக் குமணன்,
மட்டு ஆர் மறுகின், முதிரத்தோனே;
செல்குவைஆயின், நல்குவன், பெரிது’ என,
பல் புகழ் நுவலுநர் கூற, வல் விரைந்து,
உள்ளம் துரப்ப வந்தனென்; எள்ளுற்று,
இல் உணாத் துறத்தலின், இல் மறந்து உறையும்
புல் உளைக் குடுமிப் புதல்வன் பல் மாண்
பால் இல் வறு முலை சுவைத்தனன் பெறாஅன்,
கூழும் சோறும் கடைஇ, ஊழின்
உள் இல் வறுங் கலம் திறந்து, அழக் கண்டு,
மறப் புலி உரைத்தும், மதியம் காட்டியும்,
நொந்தனளாகி, ‘நுந்தையை உள்ளி,
பொடிந்த நின் செவ்வி காட்டு’ எனப் பலவும்
வினவல் ஆனாளாகி, நனவின்
அல்லல் உழப்போள் மல்லல் சிறப்ப,
செல்லாச் செல்வம் மிகுத்தனை, வல்லே
விடுதல் வேண்டுவல் அத்தை; படு திரை
நீர் சூழ் நிலவரை உயர, நின்
சீர் கெழு விழுப் புகழ் ஏத்துகம் பலவே.
Yet another long song, in the marked style rendered by this poet to this king. His words can be translated as follows:
“Making dried-up grass on the forest bed, attacked by radiant rays of the fierce and luminous sun, to sprout with vigour, along with stern-voiced thunder, pours rain drops. Akin to that, making lined guts, which had shrunken not seeing the visit of food in hunger-infested, sweaty bodies, to cool, he would grant in small and handsome golden vessels, fleshy meat cooked with spices and ghee rice arranged, akin to stars surrounding the full moon. Making sure that the kin of bards face no suffering, he would easily grant hard-to-get golden ornaments – That Kumanan of great fame, who is more affectionate to us than his own kin, the lord of Muthiram, whose streets overflow with toddy. If you were to go to him, he would grant you greatly!
When many spoke of your fame so, nudged by my heart, I came rushing here. As lack of food had reigned for long, forgetting that his house can ever feed him, my young son with a top-tuft of hair, attempts to suckle at his mother’s milk-less empty breasts. Not finding food there, he opens vessels with nothing inside, again and again, hoping to find rice or gruel, and then starts crying aloud. Seeing his tears, his mother tries to distract him with stories of a fierce tiger, and then tries calming him by pointing to the full moon. And when that doesn’t work, she says to him, ‘Think of your father and show me an angry face’. And so, she suffers greatly all day. To transform her state, if you were to quickly render gifts from your unceasing and abundant wealth and grant me leave, then I will be sure to sing of you and make your good fame rise high in all the lands enveloped by the waves of the seas.”
Let’s look into the words of this poet a little closely. He starts by talking not about the king or his own situation but instead a dried-up bed of grass. Why is it dry? Attacked day after day by the harsh rays of the sun in summer, the grass is in this ruined state. At this time, imagine how the grass would feel if rain were to pour to the accompaniment of resounding thunder. Hold on to that feeling and now turn to another aspect of human anatomy presented by the poet – That of the intestines in human bodies! He talks about shrivelled intestines in hungry human bodies that have not seen food for long. This was a line that made me pause and ask, ‘How did these ancients know about the structure of intestines inside the body?’. There are no mentions of mummification in this culture, and so that knowledge so commonplace for ancient Egyptians cannot be assumed here. Did these ancient Tamils have an understanding of the internal organs in a human body? If so, how did they gain that knowledge?
Setting aside these questions, let’s revert back to the words of the poet, who is now describing the state of those shrunken guts when offered fatty food with spices along with cooked rice. Remember that feeling you were holding on to, when dry grass is cooled by rain, that’s the same feeling when food is offered to these empty guts, the poet relates. He stacks another simile talking about how these fatty meat pieces and cooked rice are arranged just like stars around the full moon. This is offered by King Kumanan to many. And not only food, but precious ornaments, the king offers to all who come seeking to him, say many different people to this poet.
Hearing such glorious praise, the poet seems to have rushed here to Muthiram, the town of this king. Then, from Kumanan’s fame, the poet turns to his own household and presents a scene happening there. The poet’s little boy seems to have forgotten what eating is, in their home. He first tries to suckle his mother’s milk-less breasts and finding nothing there, out of habit, he opens the empty vessels in his home again and again, seeing if there could be some rice or gruel, by a miracle, and finding nothing, he starts hollering in hunger. His mother comes there and first tries to take his mind off that situation by telling frightening stories of fierce tigers and then trying to calm him by pointing to the moon. When that too does not work, she asks him to make an angry face thinking of this father – the poet. Narrating this heartrending sequence of events at his home, the poet begs the king to bless him promptly with gifts taken from the king’s abundant store of wealth so that that pitiable state of the poet’s family would change. If the king were to do that, his praises would be sung about across all the lands of this world surrounded by seas, the poet promises.
A song that etches the pain of poverty, focusing on the helplessness, a mother feels in such a situation seeing the suffering of her hungry children. The poet is entirely dependant on the king’s store of wealth and his generosity to remedy the situation of insufficiency at his home. And so, in this poetic echo of an ancient era, we see early traces of the skewed distribution of power and wealth and learn how we have indeed made a world, where so much depends on so few!
Share your thoughts...