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In this episode, we observe the plight of someone facing the prospect of another’s death, as portrayed in Sangam Literary work, Puranaanooru 280, penned by the poet Maarokkathu Nappasalaiyaar. The verse is situated in the category of ‘Pothuviyal Thinai’ or ‘Common Themes’ and reveals the consequence of a person’s demise.
என்னை மார்பில் புண்ணும் வெய்ய;
நடு நாள் வந்து தும்பியும் துவைக்கும்;
நெடு நகர் வரைப்பின் விளக்கும் நில்லா;
துஞ்சாக் கண்ணே துயிலும் வேட்கும்;
அஞ்சுவரு குராஅல் குரலும் தூற்றும்;
நெல் நீர் எறிந்து விரிச்சி ஓர்க்கும்
செம் முது பெண்டின் சொல்லும் நிரம்பா;
துடிய! பாண! பாடு வல் விறலி!
என் ஆகுவிர்கொல்? அளியிர்; நுமக்கும்
இவண் உறை வாழ்க்கையோ, அரிதே! யானும்
மண்ணுறு மழித் தலைத் தெண் நீர் வார,
தொன்று தாம் உடுத்த அம் பகைத் தெரியல்
சிறு வெள் ஆம்பல் அல்லி உண்ணும்
கழி கல மகளிர் போல,
வழி நினைந்திருத்தல், அதனினும் அரிதே!
We return to the former theme of the loss of a leader. This female poet’s words can be translated as follows:
“Terrible are the wounds on the chest of my lord; In the middle of the day, bees start swarming; Lamps within the bounds of the tall mansion seem not to be steady; My sleepless eyes desire slumber; In a fearsome voice, the owl hoots aloud; Wise and old women, who look for omens in scattered paddy and water, seem not to hear the words they seek!
O drummer, O bard, O dancer with a great voice! What is to become of you? You are to be pitied; For you to go on living here seems hard! As for me, to think of a life later, with clear water dripping from my flattened, shaved head, and eating seeds of the small white lily, which he wore as a beautiful battle garland back then – the life of those women who are shorn of their ornaments, is even harder!”
Let’s explore the nuances. The poet speaks in the voice of a woman whose husband has returned from the battlefield with deep wounds on his chest. This woman mentions how bees are swarming the house in the middle of the day when they should be outside sucking nectar from flowers. Next she points out to flickering lamps that seem to be on the verge of being extinguished in her home – a poignant projection of a person’s life, trembling at the very edge; From the lamps, she turns the light to her sleepless eyes and says these long for sleep. Once again, traversing outside she points to the sounds of an owl hooting in the distance. She ends by talking about how the omen-seeking wise women seem to have nothing good to say either. By listing all these facets, the lady declares that the possibility of her husband surviving was remote.
From the reality of that situation, the woman talks about the sad state that awaits the drummer, the bard and the singer – artisans who were all dependant on this lord for their livelihood. That is something hard to fathom but what’s even harder is for her to think of a life, without her husband, when she would appear with a shaved head, and eat seeds of the lily, once to be found around the shoulders of her husband as he fought many a battle. The poet in the voice of this sorrowful woman concludes with the words that thinking about living a life of a widow seemed impossible to bear.
A verse that once again highlights the pitiful state of a woman after her husband’s demise. It’s as if society was passing a sentence on the woman saying she had no right to the pursuit of joy once her man was no more. No wonder the woman shudders at the thought of that life. However, even amidst all that hardship, she finds it in her heart to reflect on the suffering of others, echoing aloud her empathy!
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