Aganaanooru 1 – A promise to never part

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”வண்டு படத் ததைந்த கண்ணி, ஒண் கழல்,
உருவக் குதிரை மழவர் ஓட்டிய
முருகன் நற் போர் நெடு வேள் ஆவி,
அறுகோட்டு யானைப் பொதினி ஆங்கண்,
சிறு காரோடன் பயினொடு சேர்த்திய
கல் போல் பிரியலம்” என்ற சொல்தாம்
மறந்தனர்கொல்லோ தோழி! சிறந்த
வேய் மருள் பணைத் தோள் நெகிழ, சேய் நாட்டுப்
பொலங்கல வெறுக்கை தருமார் நிலம் பக,
அழல் போல் வெங்கதிர் பைது அறத் தெறுதலின்,
நிழல் தேய்ந்து உலறிய மரத்த; அறை காய்பு,
அறுநீர்ப் பைஞ் சுனை ஆம் அறப் புலர்தலின்,
உகு நெல் பொரியும் வெம்மைய; யாவரும்
வழங்குநர் இன்மையின், வௌவுநர் மடிய,
சுரம் புல்லென்ற ஆற்ற; அலங்கு சினை
நார் இல் முருங்கை நவிரல் வான் பூச்
சூரல்அம் கடு வளி எடுப்ப, ஆருற்று,
உடை திரைப் பிதிர்வின் பொங்கி, முன்
கடல் போல் தோன்றல காடு இறந்தோரே?

At the word go, the thing that struck me about this collection of verses was its perfect organisation. The poems in specific landscapes have been placed in specific positions with mathematic rigour. For instance, the first song we are exploring is a song from the ‘Paalai’ landscape, and I learnt that every odd-numbered song in this collection, totalling 200, is going to be from the same drylands domain. What about the other landscapes? That we’ll explore as we encounter each one! Here’s a translation of the first poem in this long series of drylands songs, wherein a lady speaks her heart to her confidante, saying:

“‘Renowned for the head garland, swarming with bees, and radiant anklets, which he wears, and the ‘Mazhavars’, with their handsome horses, whom he routed, is the God-Murugan-like, battle-worthy, tall-speared ‘Aavi’, the ruler of ‘Pothini’, a land known for its battle elephants with neatly shaped tusks. Akin to a whetstone assembled together with a strong glue by a young stone-worker in this land, we shan’t part’, he said! Has he forgotten that, my friend? 

Making my fine, thick, bamboo-like arms to wither away, so as to return with an abundance of gold ornaments from a faraway country, he left to that place, where splitting the earth beneath, fire-like hot rays of the sun clear the land of anything green, leaving trees with fading shadows, rocks that scorch, fresh springs with sweet waters to dry up without any respite, and the paddy falling down from the stalks to become fried and turn into puffed rice. Seeing no travellers around, even the waylaying robbers feel deprived in this listless-looking drylands path. From the swaying branches of the fibre-less drumstick tree, the withering, white flowers, severed by the hot and harsh winds, spread around and resound, akin to the spray of the breaking waves in the ocean’s front. Such is the drylands jungle, where he parted away to!”

Time to delve deeper into the nuances. The lady segments her words into three different sections. She first brings forth the promise made by the man and rather than simply saying he said that he would never ever part from me, she goes on to talk about a leader named ‘Aavi’ who was the ruler of ‘Pothini’, which some scholars say refer to the contemporary ‘Pazhani Hills’ of Tamil Nadu. This ruler is portrayed as a fine warrior, who has worn over the Mazhavars, owners of sturdy horses. But it’s not the leader the lady wants to focus on and rather turns her attention to the land he rules over, and here too, she zooms on to a particular professional, a stone-worker, and further, on an efficient whetstone that this person assembles using a stone base, a strong glue and possibly a sturdy handle. Why the lady talks about this object of industry is to bring in parallel the inseparability of the glued-together stone and handle to the promise of the man, who said they would be together so, never separating! 

After rendering the promise made by the man, the lady shifts to talk about the reason why he broke that promise and parted away, and that’s simply because the man wants to return with great wealth from a faraway land, and in this process, he makes the lady’s health fade. After this, the lady comes to the third and final part of her rendition, and brings before our eyes, the place where the man has left to. This is a place where the scorching rays of the sun vanquish anything green, and thereby, make the trees to lose the luxury of their thick shadows. Further, the rocks are burning away, springs are drying away and the paddy that’s falling down instantly becomes puffed rice! This reference reminded me of a video I recently saw, of a woman opening her window and extending a frying pan with a raw egg, and in minutes, that raw egg turns into an omelette, saying that’s how the weather’s now, in the Middle East. Not sure if that’s an exaggeration, or a true thing, but in any case, we have often talked about how we can make fried eggs on car bonnets in the summer, so hot that it is! The voice of this lady from our ancient past echoes the same thought, talking about how any wild paddy would become so fried that it would turn into puffed rice, like corn becoming popcorn! 

Returning from our food tour, we find the lady turning her attention to the pitiable state of the fearsome highway robbers, who have no one to rob in that dull and abandoned drylands. Next, she talks about the white flowers of a drumstick tree that have fallen down in hordes, pushed by a hot, harsh wind. The image of these fallen flowers, the lady compares to the foam of waves on an ocean shore, thereby transporting us to an entirely different domain, before bringing us back, and ending with the words that such is the severe nature of the place her man has parted away to! And thus, in this simple song talking about the promise of togetherness, we are left with little treasures like the existence of a whetstone industry, and the effect of the scorching sun on the land in that ancient place and time – Elements that we can identify with, even today!