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In this episode, we listen to a lady’s heartfelt wish, as portrayed in Sangam Literary work, Kalithogai 143, penned by Nallanthuvanaar. The verse is situated in the ‘Neythal’ or ‘Coastal Landscape’ and paints the sorrow and smile of a woman.
தலைவி:
‘அகல் ஆங்கண், இருள் நீங்கி, அணி நிலாத் திகழ்ந்த பின்,
பகல் ஆங்கண் பையென்ற மதியம் போல், நகல் இன்று
நல் நுதல் நீத்த திலகத்தள், “மின்னி
மணி பொரு பசும் பொன்கொல்? மா ஈன்ற தளிரின்மேல்
கணிகாரம் கொட்கும்கொல்?” என்றாங்கு அணி செல
மேனி மறைத்த பசலையள், ஆனாது
நெஞ்சம் வெறியா நினையா, நிலன் நோக்கா,
அஞ்சா, அழாஅ, அரற்றா, இஃது ஒத்தி
என் செய்தாள்கொல்?’ என்பீர்! கேட்டீமின் பொன் செய்தேன்
மறையின் தன் யாழ் கேட்ட மானை அருளாது,
அறை கொன்று, மற்று அதன் ஆர் உயிர் எஞ்ச,
பறை அறைந்தாங்கு, ஒருவன் நீத்தான் அவனை
அறை நவ நாட்டில் நீர் கொண்டு தரின், யானும்
நிறை உடையேன் ஆகுவேன்மன்ற மறையின் என்
மென் தோள் நெகிழ்த்தானை மேஎய், அவன் ஆங்கண்
சென்று, சேட்பட்டது, என் நெஞ்சு
‘ஒன்றி முயங்கும்’ என்று, என் பின் வருதிர்; மற்று ஆங்கே,
‘உயங்கினாள்’ என்று, ஆங்கு உசாதிர்; ‘மற்று அந்தோ
மயங்கினாள்!’ என்று மருடிர்; கலங்கன்மின்
இன் உயிர் அன்னார்க்கு எனைத்து ஒன்றும் தீது இன்மை
என் உயிர் காட்டாதோ மற்று?
பழி தபு ஞாயிறே! பாடு அறியாதார்கண்
கழியக் கதழ்வை எனக் கேட்டு, நின்னை
வழிபட்டு இரக்குவேன் வந்தேன் என் நெஞ்சம்
அழியத் துறந்தானைச் சீறுங்கால், என்னை
ஒழிய விடாதீமோ என்று
அழிதக மாஅந் தளிர் கொண்ட போழ்தினான், இவ் ஊரார்
தாஅம் தளிர் சூடித் தம் நலம் பாடுப;
ஆஅம் தளிர்க்கும் இடைச் சென்றார் மீள்தரின்,
யாஅம் தளிர்க்குவேம்மன்
நெய்தல் நெறிக்கவும் வல்லன்; நெடு மென் தோள்
பெய் கரும்பு ஈர்க்கவும் வல்லன்; இள முலைமேல்
தொய்யில் எழுதவும் வல்லன்; தன் கையில்
சிலை வல்லான் போலும் செறிவினான்; நல்ல
பல வல்லன் தோள் ஆள்பவன்
நினையும் என் உள்ளம்போல், நெடுங் கழி மலர் கூம்ப;
இனையும் என் நெஞ்சம்போல், இனம் காப்பார் குழல் தோன்ற;
சாய என் கிளவிபோல், செவ்வழி யாழ் இசை நிற்ப;
போய என் ஒளியேபோல், ஒரு நிலையே பகல் மாய;
காலன்போல் வந்த கலக்கத்தோடு என்தலை
மாலையும் வந்தன்று, இனி
இருளொடு யான் ஈங்கு உழப்ப, என் இன்றிப் பட்டாய்;
அருள் இலை; வாழி! சுடர்!
ஈண்டு நீர் ஞாலத்துள் எம் கேள்வர் இல்லாயின்,
மாண்ட மனம் பெற்றார் மாசு இல் துறக்கத்து
வேண்டிய வேண்டியாங்கு எய்துதல் வாயெனின்,
யாண்டும், உடையேன் இசை,
ஊர் அலர் தூற்றும்; இவ் உய்யா விழுமத்துப்
பீர் அலர் போலப் பெரிய பசந்தன
நீர் அலர் நீலம் என, அவர்க்கு, அஞ்ஞான்று,
பேர் அஞர் செய்த என் கண்
தன் உயிர் போலத் தழீஇ, உலகத்து
மன் உயிர் காக்கும் இம் மன்னனும் என் கொலோ
இன் உயிர் அன்னானைக் காட்டி, எனைத்து ஒன்றும்
என் உயிர் காவாதது?
கண்டோர்:
என ஆங்கு,
மன்னிய நோயொடு மருள் கொண்ட மனத்தவள்
பல் மலை இறந்தவன் பணிந்து வந்து அடி சேர,
தென்னவற் தெளித்த தேஎம் போல,
இன் நகை எய்தினள், இழந்த தன் நலனே.
The long songs, featuring the lament of the lady, continue on. The words can be translated as follows:
“Lady:
Saying, ‘Akin to the moon that dispels darkness in the wide spaces and shines with beauty and brightness, and then appears dull and listless as day arrives, her fine forehead has lost its radiance. Has gold won over in the battle with shining sapphires? Has the yellow pollen of the buttercup shed upon the tender mango shoot?’, you declare that the maiden has lost her beauty and pallor shrouds her form, and with a ceaseless emptiness, she stares at the ground below, filled with fears, tears and laments, and wonder, ‘What has she done?’. If you ask me that, I can only say, ‘Nought, have I done!’
Akin to how a hunter would play a hidden lute to lure a creature, and then without grace, full of betrayal, would seize its life, by beating the drum, a man graced me and then parted away. If you can search for him in the nation of nine and bring him back to me, I will be filled with joy. Secretly searching for the one, who has made my soft arms thin away, wanting to bring him back, my heart has left.
You come behind me saying, ‘He will return and embrace you’. I say to you, ‘Do not worry that she’s heartbroken’ and ‘Do not be anxious that she’s confused’. Fear not, for he is like my very life, and if something bad had happened to him, won’t my life reveal it to me?
O sun, who destroys all evil! Hearing that you shower your enmity on those, who tread not on the righteous path, I have come pleading to you, requesting you to not show your fury on the one, who parted from me, ruining my heart, for if you do, it’s me that you will destroy!
Devastating me, in this time of the day when the sun appears, akin to tender mango shoots, the people of this town wear those shoots and relish their good health and beauty. Those shoots will sprout on me too, if the one who went to the drylands, where sal trees sprout, returns back to me!
He is one, who is an expert in extracting blue lotuses; He is also one, who can etch those sugarcanes on my long and soft arms; He can paint thoyyil art on my young bosoms; Like the god of love, he can aim his bow at others and stay back with restraint; He’s a man of many skills, the one who rules over my arms!
Akin to my heart that thinks of him, the flowers in the backwaters close their buds; Like my suffering heart, resounds the flutes of those who guard the herd; Like my confused words, the music of the ‘sevvazhi’ lute stammers; Like my light that’s lost, the day withers away; And so, akin to Death, bringing terror, arrives the evening in my world now!
Leaving me to wallow in this darkness, you have forsaken me, O graceless sun! May you live long! Not attaining my beloved in this water-filled world, if my life were to end, if it is true that those, who have an honourable heart, and die a flawless death, would attain whatever they wish, however they wish, I will surely attain that glory then!
As the town spreads slander, this unceasing suffering makes my eyes, akin to blue lotuses in copious waters, which caused great suffering in him back then, to now spread with pallor in the hue of ridge-gourd flowers!
Why doesn’t the king, who protects all life in the land, as his own life, not show to me, the one, who is akin to my sweet life, and protect my life?
Onlookers:
And so, the one with a sorrowful mind, with a terrible affliction, saw the man, who had parted beyond the mountains, come bow before her feet. Just then, akin to the nations that the Southern king conquers and reigns, she flourished with sweet smiles and regained her lost beauty!”
Time to delve into the core. The verse is situated in the context of the man’s parting from the lady, prior to marriage, and here, both the lady and the onlookers express the emotions of the moment. In this version, the lady opens the tale by speaking the words of the others around her, who remark on the pallor of her skin, by relating it to the victory of gold over sapphire and the coating of buttercup pollen on tender mango shoots. A tangible image of the lady’s transformation!
Then, these others talk about how the lady is filled with emptiness and keeps staring at the ground below, with no interest in anything, always crying, fearing and worrying. Sounds to me like a classic case of depression. However this same lady does not remain in that state, but starts speaking out her heart, talking about a mythical creature called ‘Asunam’, mentioned in many Sangam verses, which loves the sound of gentle music, but dies the instant it hears harsh beats of a drum. Just the way a hunter would lure the creature with sweet music and then beat his drums, the man had first loved her and then parted away, she says. She seeks the help of these elders to search for the man in the faraway country of nine territories and bring him back to her. Wonder which part of the world the lady is referring to!
Then, the lady turns to those others and asks them not to worry about the welfare of the man for if anything were to happen to him, her life would reveal it to her, for he was her very life, she connects! A feeling that’s often repeated in love, across space and time! She pleads to the righteous sun not to show its wrath on the man for abandoning her, saying attacking him is like destroying her. She looks around at those who are happy with their mates and remarks that she too would be like them if the man returns from the drylands.
Turning her attention to the many skills of the man, she delights in remembering all the sweet things he has done for her in the past. Again, as lament fills her heart, she sees elements of herself in her surroundings, in the closing of buds, the flutes of cowherds, the stuttering music of a lute, and the light that is fading in the evening. She fights with the sun for abandoning her, as the darkness of the evening surrounds. Then talks about how even death would bring her glory because of her chastity and loyalty to her love. Again, she turns to remark about how slander causes her eyes to turn the colour of ridge-gourd flowers, and ends her lament, by wondering why the king doesn’t bring back the man and protect her life.
Now, the onlookers conclude the verse summarising the lady’s sorrowful state and then portraying the moment her man came and bowed before her, and to vividly sketch the lady’s transformation, they choose a political simile, stating how all the nations conquered by the Pandya king flourishes, and akin to that, the lady seemed to thrive with new born smiles and regained beauty! To me, the highlight of this verse is the expression of the intricate movements of a heart in sorrow, connecting it to space and time, travelling to the past and present, to the tangible and intangible, and somehow, soaring above the suffering of the moment!
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