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In this episode, we relish intricate similes involving an age-old occupation, as depicted in Sangam Literary work, Kurunthogai 330, penned by Kazhaarkeeran Eyitriyanaar. Set in the farmlands of ‘Marutham’, the verse speaks in the voice of the lady to the confidante, asking a question about the man, as he remains parted away.
நலத்தகைப் புலைத்தி பசை தோய்த்து எடுத்துத்
தலைப் புடைப் போக்கித் தண் கயத்து இட்ட
நீரின் பிரியாப் பரூஉத் திரி கடுக்கும்
பேர் இலைப் பகன்றைப் பொதி அவிழ் வான் பூ
இன் கடுங் கள்ளின் மணம் இல கமழும்
புன்கண் மாலையும், புலம்பும்,
இன்றுகொல்-தோழி!-அவர் சென்ற நாட்டே?
‘A suffering-filled evening of loneliness’ is the central theme herein. The opening words ‘நலத்தகைப் புலைத்தி’ meaning ‘the washerwoman with good virtue’ talks about a profession that has been around for millennia in the Tamil landscape, one which we have already encountered in Natrinai 90. In both instances, Sangam Literature seems to depict this profession as one done by women. The gender of hunters, soldiers and robbers has been portrayed as male, whereas this is one of the few professions mentioned with a female descriptor. Returning, ‘பசை தோய்த்து’ talks about ‘dipping in starch’, an essential activity in the washing profession then. The phrase ‘பிரியாப் பரூஉத் திரி’ talks about ‘a cloth that is thick, stiff and firm’, the typical quality of a starched garment. From professional aspects, we turn to nature in ‘பகன்றைப் பொதி அவிழ் வான் பூ’ meaning ‘sky-white blossoms of the rattle-pod’. Elements of the core theme can be seen in ‘புன்கண் மாலையும் புலம்பும்’ meaning ‘an evening of pain and loneliness’. Ending with the words ‘அவர் சென்ற நாட்டே’ which means ‘the land where he went’, the verse welcomes us to listen closely.
Intriguing glimpses of a washerwoman at work! The context reveals that the man and lady were leading a happy, married life when the man parted away to gather wealth. As days roll by, the lady languishes in the man’s absence. One day, she says to her confidante, “The good-natured washerwoman dips in starch, beats against a stone and then soaks in a cool pond, leaving the cloth thick, twisted and taut. Akin to that, are the blossoming white flowers of the ‘pakandrai’ with huge leaves. The smell of these flowers, like that of sweet and hard toddy, wafts in this suffering-filled evening. My friend, isn’t there such an evening and loneliness in the place he parted away to?” With these words, the lady wonders aloud whether the man has no opportunity to think of her and her suffering.
Intricate is the way scene after scene is stitched together with the thread of similes. Let’s explore the nuances. The lady takes us to a spot, near a waterbody, where we see a washerwoman, knee-deep in work. First, the washerwoman takes the cloth, dips it in starch, then she beats the cloth on a hard rock nearby, and after that she dunks the same cloth in the pond, so as to leave it dense and firm. It’s this quality of the cloth that the lady has been journeying to, for now she takes that, and connects it with texture of a ‘pakandrai’ flower. From the texture, the lady moves on to the smell of the flower, which she equates to the smell of mature toddy. The focus here is smell of the flower, which she says, wafts in that evening hour – one that assails her with suffering and loneliness. The lady then ends with a final question as to whether such an evening was nowhere to be seen in the land, where the man parted away.
In the end, it’s the same question, ‘Here I am thinking so much about him and losing my health and beauty. Won’t he too think of me the same way and come thither to save me?’ Hopefully, the confidante will have some reassuring words to placate the lady. Let’s turn our focus to the work flow of a washerwoman presented so poetically here. If you happen to do an image search for ‘washing’, most of the images you will see will be that of a round-faced washing machine. While that may be true, even today, in towns and villages in India, the washerman or washerwoman is an inseparable part of community life. They are called as ‘dhobi’ in Hindi and ‘vannaan’ in contemporary Tamil. When you travel by the rivers in rural India, you will get to see the very scene described in this Sangam verse of white clothes being struck against stone and soaked in water, and drying on rocks and clothlines between trees, fluttering in a timeless breeze. One of those verses that renders to me the thrill of discovering a bridge that connects the modern present to the ancient past!
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