Talking in the train

It has become almost inevitable that I meet somebody interesting on the train….and almost always, they avail of the senior citizen concession. Not that they never existed before; but I probably never looked or I was travelling in AC coaches.

Two weeks ago, on the way to Madurai, it was an affable old lady, going alone to see her ailing sister. Frequently distracted by a voluble, returning-from-Abudhabi woman, boldly travelling alone to Tirunelveli with a toddler and tonnes of luggage, she told me, her mom-in-law had a principle of not marrying off her sons to anybody from Tirunelveli or Salem (they were roguish – ராங்கிகள் ). Teachers were also ineligible. They never live with their in-laws. She was neither. She said she wasn’t biased and gets along well with her daughter-in-law working in a software firm. Except that she retires to her lonely room at 4pm and stays there chanting and sleeping. For being being a stoic listener, she shared with me a few of the famed Manapparai murukkus and gave me a ride in her hired auto to my destination.

Yesterday, it was an elderly gentleman, sitting opposite to us, next to the window, which had the fire exit. The conversation started in Tamil when he said all windows should be made fire-exits. Then, I heard him speak in a very familiar-but-unfamiliar tongue to his wife. I asked him, which language it was. Sanskrit. He is on a mission to make everybody speak Sanskrit. His 50 odd students can all speak fluently in Sanskrit. In Sanskrit, hardly 5% are vedas and other religious material; 95% is knowledge. It has everything from metallurgy to nuclear physics. With dedicated effort, you can master Sanskrit in 1.5 years since it runs in our blood.

He said, the village that just passed by, has a rare Sanskrit name(Virinchipuram…Google threw this up for Virinchihttp://kduvvuri.blogspot.in/ and Tamil lexicon has this from Kamban’s Ramayana : வேதங்கண்ணிய பொருளெல்லாம் விரிஞ்சனே யீந்தான்). The villagers wouldn’t know the significance, ofcourse. Even nowadays, all baby names are in Sanskrit. He had chosen a beautiful Sanskrit name for his daughter, from Lalitha Sahasranamam.

I couldn’t suppress my reply, with my hand caressing our daughter’s head: We have kept a pure Tamil name for her. Mahirl Malar.

There was a nice breeze blowing through the window. The vast stretches of greenery, outside the window, were lovely. He decided to notice their loveliness and started watching them give way to a long range of mountains.

He turned inside when Mahirl offered him a cake. Then, when we talked, it was about the bus route to Perur, where he had to go to.

Abundance

Lakes and rising water
lead to a rich harvest,
in other countries.
In the land of Karikala,
surrounded by Kaveri,
just the paddy left behind,
stuck in the stubbles,
more than suffices.

– An anonymous Tamil poet, 20 centuries ago, in a time when such dreams could be dreamt.

————————————————————————————————————

ஏரியும் ஏற்றத்தினாலும் பிறர் நாட்டு

வாரி சுரக்கும் வளன் எல்லாம், தேரின்

அரிகாலின் கீழ் உகூஉம் அந்நெல்லே சாலும்

கரிகாலன் காவிரி சூழ் நாடு

நூல்: பொருநர் ஆற்றுப்படையின் பிற்சேர்க்கையாக உள்ள வெண்பா

http://365paa.wordpress.com/2012/05/08/307/

Gems and potatoes

They are digging for potatoes.
The gems that come their way
they cast aside with their iron bars,
and keep digging for potatoes.

– translated from an obscure Tamil text (திருநாகைக்காரோணப்புராணம்) quoted in U.Ve.Saminatha Iyer’s  autobiography. (உ.வே.சா – என் சரித்திரம்). I am glad I didn’t shove away this gem.

The full poem in original:

புன்மை சால்கிழங் ககழ்ந்திடும் போதெதிர் போதும்
அன்மை தீர்மணி சுரையிரும் பாலகற் றிடுவார்
வன்மை மேவிய தாயினு மாண்பறி யாரேல்
மென்மை மேவிழி பொருளினு மிழிந்ததாய் விடுமே.

The day has dawned

The day has dawned

thanks to my penance.

The damned dark moments

have all disappeared.

Spreading its rousing

fresh golden rays,

it’s risen with splendor:

the wisdom, the sun.

– part of a poem by Bharathi, translated by me and posted on Facebook.

Here is a wonderful rendition of the song by Bombay Jayashree (Pozhudu pularndadhu).

Ool (karma) in Thirukkural

After translating 370 couplets from Thirukkural, I ran into a translator’s dilemma, when I encountered the chapter on Ool (ஊழ்). Should I translate this chapter, when I dont believe in it (after a superficial skimming), or shall I skip this chapter and move on to the next one? After a lot of deliberation, I decided to give it a deeper reading before coming to a conclusion. And, I am glad I did that. Instead of posting the kurals one by one of Facebook and Twitter, like I’ve done before, I am giving the entire chapter here on my blog;  since, there is a lot of scope of misinterpreting individual kurals, in this chapter, without a holistic perspective.

I am refraining from using the word fate or destiny, since there is a significant difference between ool and fate. [I am writing ool instead of oozh, since I belief zh doesnt serve the purpose for non-Tamils anyway.)  Fate, as per OED, is the development of events outside a person’s control, regarded as predetermined by a supernatural power. Ool or karma, in an Indian context as per Hindu, Jain and Buddhist traditions, and as rightly put in OED, is the sum of a person’s actions in this and previous states of existence, viewed as deciding their fate in future.

This belief was at the core of Gandhi’s thoughts.  “I do not seek redemption from the consequences of my sin. I seek to be redeemed from sin itself, or rather from the very thought of sin. Until I have attained that end, I shall be content to be restless.”

Swami Vivekananda, also, put it eloquently : “Men generally lay all the blame of life on their fellowmen, or failing that, on God, or they conjure up a ghost, and say it is fate. Where is fate and who is fate? We reap what we sow. We are the makers of our own fate. None else has the blame, none has the praise.”

The way Thiruvalluvar has dealt with Ool  is very interesting. As in most other kurals, it is more poetic than spiritual. The rationality is probably too rational that it almost sounds irrational for self-professed rationalists like me. While, I definitely still dont subscribe to the idea of previous and future births, I am viewing this as a poet’s liberty to exaggerate, and make his point.

Ool is almost a character in my other favourite Tamil classic, Chilapathikaaram.

So, here is the Chapter 38 from Thirukkural : Ool

Constructive ool causes tireless endeavor leading to prosperity;
destructive ool causes indolence. [371]

Malign ool blunts one’s intelligence;
in its turn, benign ool sharpens it. [372]

Even if knowledge comes through profound books,
one’s innate wisdom remains dominant. [373]

The world is stratified based on two factors:
wealth and wisdom; and, they are not correlated. [374]

While seeking wealth, positive aspects can turn harmful;
and negative aspects beneficial. [375]

Strive hard, we may; but what we don’t deserve doesn’t stay,
and what we deserve, we can’t dispose. [376]

One may amass wealth worth crores, but can consume
only as ordained by the Ordainer (based on ool). [377]

Even those who possess nothing to enjoy will ‘renounce’,
if only one can escape the misery that is to be suffered. [378]

Why bemoan the misery caused by ool,
when one enjoys the good without complaint. [379]

Is there anything mightier than ool? It remains dominant
despite all plans devised to counter it. [380]

It is interesting to note that Valluvar doesn’t say constructive ool causes prosperity; it causes effort. Throughout these 10 kurals, Thiruvalluvar is building up Ool as a very potent character, like in the best works of fiction,  and then deals ool a deadly blow (and answers the question he asked in kural 380), when he says later on,

“Even if god has given up, perseverance will yield positive results. ” [619]

“Those who persevere without ever giving up, will defeat even ool”. [620]

The original couplets in Tamil :

அதிகாரம் 38 : ஊழ்

ஆகூழாற் றோன்று மசைவின்மை கைப்பொருள்
போகூழாற் றோன்று மடி.  [371]

பேதைப் படுக்கு மிழவூ ழறிவகற்று
மாகலூ ழுற்றக் கடை. [372]

நுண்ணிய நூல்பல கற்பினு மற்றுந்தன்
னுண்மை யறிவே மிகும். [373]

இருவே றுலகத் தியற்கை திருவேறு
தெள்ளிய ராதலும் வேறு. [374]

நல்லவை யெல்லாஅந் தீயவாந் தீயவு
நல்லவாஞ் செல்லவஞ் செயற்கு. [375]

பரியினு மாகாவாம் பாலல்ல வுய்த்துச்
சொரியினும் போகா தம. [376]

வகுத்தான் வகுத்த வகையல்லாற் கோடி
தொகுத்தார்க்குந் துய்த்த லரிது. [377]

துறப்பார்மற் றுப்புர வில்லா ருறற்பால
வூட்டா கழியு மெனின். [378]

நன்றாங்கா னல்லவாக் காண்பவ ரன்றாங்கால்
அல்லற் படுவ தெவன். [379]

ஊழிற் பெருவலி யாவுள மற்றொன்று
சூழினுந் தான்முந் துறும். [380]

The Politics of grief : Granta article

V.V.Ganeshananthan has written a moving article on dealing with grief on Granta magazine. As an Indian Tamil, who has helplessly watched an unbearable human tragedy unfold to his brethren in Srilanka, I am still struggling to come to terms with what my grief means and whether I am even eligible to grieve.

Ganeshananthan leaves us heavier with unmourned and unshared grief.

You may never have heard of these deaths before, and you may never hear of them again, but in the spring of 2009, tens of thousands of civilians who were ethnically Tamil, as I am ethnically Tamil, were killed in Sri Lanka, the country where my parents were born and I was not.

——————

As I watched what was happening, it seemed to me unbelievable that I could stand knowing about such a large atrocity in such depth. It seemed unbelievable that I had not died from this – that this level of grief was perhaps only a first circle.

——————

It is a way of humiliating people, to say that their dead are not dead, to say that people are not even allowed to mourn. There was little room for the legitimate expression of grief during the war, and after it was over, what little was there dwindled.

——————

I do not want to be defined by disaster. I do not think this would help anyone, and it seems another way of letting disaster win. Still, it is important to me to keep the solidarity I feel not only for the living, but also for the dead, whose deaths were not necessary.

——————

My grief will not destroy me. In some times and places, we are given the space to build our memorials. Perhaps in others, we must learn to become them, even as we go on.

A poem from a forgotten Tamil classic

An elephant chases him.
He tumbles down a pit,
swarming with snakes.
He grasps the grass
on the walls of the pit.
Dangling,
he sticks out his tongue
to taste the honey,
dripping from a beehive.
Such is the nature of
human joy.

– translated by me from Soolamani, a 9th century Tamil classic

ஆனை துரப்ப அரவு உறை ஆழ்குழி
நாநவிர் பற்றுபு நாளும் ஒருவன் ஓர்
தேனின் அழிதுளி நக்கும் திறத்தது
மானுடன் இன்பம் மதித்தனை கொள்நீ

Triggered by an article by Naanjil Naadan.

My friend Anurag Chabbra has translated this in Hindi – thank you Anurag:

हाथी पीछे, गड्ढा नीचे
साँपो के ऊपर इंसान
लटका, घांस को खीचे.
जीवन का रस ऐसा –
जिव्हा लपकती है फिर भी
टपकता मधू जो छते से.

Ecstasy

Crows and sparrows are our caste,
the ocean and mountain our creed.
None but ourselves,
wherever we glance.
Nothing but joy and dance,
the more we see.

——
A poem by Bharati – translated from Tamil

A tiny tract of land – Bharati’s wish

A tiny tract of land, I want, Parasakthi,

a tiny tract I want. There,

with​ pillars exquisite, and the color

of the rooms pristine, amidst

that tiny plot, let a palace

be built. There, close to the well,

with slender branches,

and tender coconut juice,

​

a dozen or so coconut trees​,

I want nearby. Like

the glittering pearl, let

the moon lit the place.

Let the song of larks

ring on my ears.

Let the gentle breeze

enchant my mind.

​

For our songs to blend,

a virtuous girl be there.

In our joint intoxication, bestow

on us, poetry. In that

dense wilderness, Amma,

your protection I adjure.

I must protect this world,

With my poesy.

———————————–

This is the translation of a song from Subramanya Bharati, the great Tamil poet. He happens to be extremely difficult to translate. Much of his rhyme, rhythm, simplicity,  sublime choice of words and impact is lost in translation. Nevertheless, this is a modest attempt to give glimpses of Bharati to the uninitiated.

More from Bharati here, here and here .

The pilgrimage of an atheist

 

– Let us go on a short tour to Thanjavur.

On hearing this, my wife must have thought that I was playing out a cruel joke. The Thanjavur that we knew of had nothing but temples. Temples? and me, a staunch atheist? Two months ago, when I had to visit Guruvayoor with the family, I happily stayed outside listening to a Carnatic music concert. My facebook update, immediately afterwards: ‘After many years, the mortal Kannan agreed to descend on a temple premises and to Guruvayur, no less. His immortal namesake has turned semi-modern, allowing entry for salwar-clad women. But men – they still have to appear shirtless in all their flabby splendour and sweaty odour. At the end, both had it our way, with the blasphemous me, barred entry and banished outside with a bag of cellphones.’

But Thanjavur is a different story. The historic, cultural and aesthetic aspects hold enough appeal for me to overrule the atheistic objections.   Apart from a sudden history-itch created by renewed interest in Tamil literature and inspiration from the travelogues of the renowned Tamil writer, Jeyamohan, another reason why we chose Thanjavur, was because we thought that not many others would make that choice during the December holidays. Surprisingly, most hotels in Thanjavur, seemed to be full. I managed to book us on a low-end hotel which, however, had good reviews on Tripadvisor. We started from home (Bangalore) at 3pm. And, spent another hour hunting for pant-type Pampers for Mahirl Malar (மகிழ்மலர்), my 2-year-old daughter, rushing from Reliance to Spencers to Foodworld and finally finding the right-sized diapers at an unlikely little place in Koramangala. So, it was almost 4pm, when I, irritatedly, stepped up on the accelerator of our Honda City, in anticipation of atleast an 8-hour drive. I have a history of doing a bit of sleep-driving after 10.

The drive till Namakkal was smooth. After Namakkal, the roads were getting increasingly rugged. The big temple at Thanjavur has survived the fury of a thousand years. The roads to Thanjavur have succumbed to the smile of a single monsoon. I fought off the worn-off roads and the sleep-induced driving errors to reach Trichy. Thankfully, the roads after Trichy, were good enough to carry us safely to the desolate streets of Thanjavur. We woke the guards up, in the haunted-looking hotel, and checked into a stuffy room. The AC was working and the bathroom was decent. There were only a few mosquitoes. What more can we ask for? The next day, we found accommodation at a better hotel and shifted there.

The Thanjavur Palace, built by Nayak rulers in 1550 AD and expanded by the Marathas, has been converted into multiple pockets of interest. There are multiple versions of Natarajas and Ammans in the bronze statues…I wasnt expert enough to spend time and spot the subtle differences that must have been present, and more so, when there is a 2-year-old demanding attention. We also spent a lot of time, experimenting with the new Nikkor lens (55-300mm) and capturing Mahirl in a myriad poses, than in seeing the statues. The palace tower, almost resembled a temple gopuram, and interestingly, the stairs to the higher levels were open for the tourists. The narrow stairs made me wonder how the fat rajahs would have made their way up.

There were paintings, there were kitchen utensils and various other everyday articles, which assume importance only because of their age and their royal owners. The 6-foot mirror of the kings, still reflected the same-old me.

The must-see place within the palace is the Saraswati Mahal library, conceived by the Nayak kings in the 16th century and nourished by the Marathas, particularly, Maharaja Serfoji during early 18th century. The collection of over 54000 books is awesome – ranging from ancient Tamil manuscripts to the then modern European books. Samuel Johnson’s dictionary caught my eyes. I was blown away when I saw a Tamil-English dictionary printed in the 1810s (I think this was the first Tamil-English dictionary, published in 1779 by Fabricius and Breithaupt, missionaries at Madras). I was earlier thinking that the Mirlon-Winslow dictionary, published in 1862, was a phenomenal work.

Saraswati Mahal library has also published a few books from its collections. I bought 2 volumes of தனிப்பாடல் திரட்டு,  containing rare singles from an ancient past, and 3 huge, yet incomplete, volumes of Tholkappiya uraikothu (தொல்காப்பிய உரைக்கொத்து) ,  compilation of the interpretations of different authors (இளம்பூரணர், நச்சினார்க்கினியர், சேனாவரையர், etc) for the verses of Tholkappiyam, a grammar book possibly 1500-2000 years old. We also picked up a cookery book with recipes from the Maratha royal kitchen.

The one lingering memory is that of a lady in a nightie, at the entrance of a rather ruined house at an isolated corner of the palace compound, running after a child. When I enquired the guard, he told me that the descendants of the Maratha royal family still live there. Oh, so, this lady could have been a queen but for our independence and democracy!

The Big Temple (Brahadeeswara Temple) was a bit of a disappointment when I saw it first. It is a monstrous structure but still a poor imitation of the mythical tower in my mind, grown impossibly tall.​ Once I came to terms with reality, I could realize what a magnificent achievement it was, for Rajaraja Chola, in 1010 AD. I dont have anything new to say about the temple that is not already available on the internet. The temple is located in the middle of a spacious compound and the lawns were inviting and well-maintained. It was pleasing to see and hear a few kids taking lessons from an ‘othuvar’ (ஓதுவார்) on the ancient Tamil songs from Thevaram (தேவாரம்).

Between these two visits, we went to Thiruvaiyaru (திருவையாறு) and Darasuram (தாராசுரம்).

We rushed through the Panchanadeeswarar/ Aiyarrapar temple at Thiruvaiyaru. This is another large Chola temple, much older than the Thanjavur Big Temple. Mahirl was excited to see the elephant there given a bath. The huge beast was lying sideways on the floor and was being scrubbed with different equipments, including a knife, by 6-7 people. It, however, seemed to be serenely enjoying the bath.

The memorial for Thyagaraja was located by the Cauvery river. The small place on the banks outside the memorial is where the Thyagaraja Aaradhana happens every year – that day it was hosting a ‘gilli’ match spiced up by some heated arguments; the teams had a good mixture of adults and boys. Young and old ladies, were taking bath in Cauvery, in true Tamil Cinema style, oblivious of the roving eyes of the visitors and the players. We were treated to some lovely music by two old men, singing  ‘Endaro mahanubhavulu’, the famous Thyagaraja krithi. Our visit was fulfilled, when Mahirl started clapping her hands rhythmically, in vintage style, like a veteran vidhwan.

Cauvery tailed us as we drove towards Kumbakonam. On the other side, a lush green carpet was rolling along. December is a great month to visit the rice-belt of Tamilnadu, with the paddy fields offering an experience that is no less to that of the elegant Chola architecture. At a joint, where the river met the road, Mahirl gleefully got into the river, with the water only upto her knee-high, and refused to be drawn out for the next couple of hours.

Darasuram is on the outskirts of Kumbakonam. After seeing the Thanjavur Temple, this gopuram looked miniscule from outside. But when we went in, it was splendid. The intricate carvings allover the temple, on the pillars, on the walls, on the ceiling, were fascinating. ,The Airavatesvara Temple, built by Rajaraja Chola II in the 12th century, is, with its splendid sculptures, far more beautiful than even the Big Temple.

Darasuram has a small Saurashtrian population, adjoining the temple, who moved there 2 centuries back and have formed an industrious silk-weaving community. We were lured to visit one of their houses, and were shown how the silk sarees are weaved. It involves quite a painstaking effort, lasting for over 7 days, to make one saree. Sitting in front of a giant silk-loom, the ladies have to pedal, bend forward and pull a guiding lever from one extreme to the other, and then again pedal. This goes on and on. Impressed by the effort involved, I decided to lighten my wallet, with the full knowledge that I was being subjected to an extremely effective sales pitch.

After heading back to Thanjavur, we shifted base to Pudukkottai. Our first visit was to Sittannavasal, the Pandya-Jain cave temple from 7th century AD. The mural/fresco paintings on the ceilings are stunning. The government employee, incharge of the cave, is an enthusiastic fellow who has made unusual efforts to understand the paintings and explains them to the visitors. He also demonstrated a curious, magical, case of acoustic resonance, when we could hear a musical echo only when he breathed at a particular frequency.

The next day, we went to Thirumayam. Thirumayam is unique for housing twin temples – one for Vishnu and the other for Shiva. There is also a fort built by Sethupathi Vijaya Ragunatha Thevar in 1687. It is one of the few forts that has remained fairly intact. The fort is majestic but I was baffled as to what it was protecting except some empty space. They must have kept weapons and other precious treasure inside. Oomai thurai or Chinna Marudhu (there are different narrations) is believed to have hidden here, before being taken captive by the British.

Going through Google Maps, w e then decided to take a route from Pudukkottai via Manappaarai, so that we could avoid the Trichy-Musiri stretch. While risky, it turned to be a great decision. Terrific roads through deserted fields till Manappaarai. More fortuitously, two places, which we had reluctantly decided to skip due to lack of time, were right on the way: Kudimiyanmalai (குடுமியான்மலை) and Kodumbalur (கொடும்பாளூர்).

Kudumiyanmalai turned out to be the highlight of the trip. The temple was closed by the time we reached there. The guard, volunteered to take us around the temple and even brought the key for a cave temple. The two halls at the front of the temple are adorned with numerous sculptures and carvings. Life-sized and alive with expressions, beautiful and nuanced . The first hall, supposedly had 1000 pillars, and all of them with carvings. The Hanuman and other vanara sculptures in the hall seemed to be attracting quite a lot of monkeys!

 

All along the walls of the temples, there are inscriptions in old Tamil. There are also some acclaimed musical inscriptions, which apparently provide some of the missing links to ancient Tamil music. There were two huge beehives above the musical inscriptions…the bees humming the inscribed notes and guarding them from the wicked gaze of humans. The guard, acted as our guide, and showed us a few more carvings (bas-reliefs, I learn now) in the folds of the adjoining hill. Unless he showed them, there is no way, we could have spotted those at that height. Then, he opened the cave temple, for us to enter and marvel at it in pitch dark. With the help of the camera flash, we could see some lovely sculptures there too.

The cave temple and the musical inscriptions are timed to be from the 7th century, with possible contributions at different periods from the Pandyas, Pallavas and Cholas. The following links give more details and photos:

http://www.hindu.com/fr/2009/04/10/stories/2009041050960300.htm
http://templedarshan.blogspot.com/2010/01/story-behind-name-kudumiyanmalai.html
http://aparna-a.com/2009/07/01/Kudumiyanmalai/

Our final stop was Kodumbalur, where Muvar Kovil (மூவர் கோயில்) is present. There are now, only two temples, that have survived the ravage of time. But the remains of the other temple can be seen. As per the ASI website, “A Sanskrit inscription on the central vimana clearly asserts that Bhuti Vikramakesari, an Irukkuvel chief built the three shrines. He named the central shrine after himself and the two flanking ones after his queens viz. Karrali and Varaguna. Regarding the dating of Bhuti Vikramakesari’s rule there are two opinions among scholars. One opinion is that he was contemporary to Chola king Aditya I (AD 871-907) and the other opined that he was a contemporary of Sundara Chola (AD957-973) and his son Aditya II (AD 960-965).”

 

In 4 days, we had a peek into a glorious past . I now feel small ahead of the thousands of years that we have traversed. I doubt, if any foreign tour, which we keep planning and deferring, could have given this satisfaction. Hopefully, some memories will remain with Mahirl and keep her interest in our culture and literature alive, as she grows. Being an atheist, in no way, impacted my appreciation for the lasting architectural achievements of our ancestors, which are impossible to replicate in this modern era when we have automated tools and machinery at our disposal. The next time we get 4 days, we know how best to plan a quick historical tour.