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LIFE GOES ON.....

Sunday, November 2, 2014

BRAMMARAJAN: A PIONEER IN NEO-THAMIZH POETRY - By latha ramakrishnan

BRAMMARAJAN:
A PIONEER IN NEO-THAMIZH POETRY.
[1]

By latha ramakrishnan



Rajaram Brammarajan 
Contributing Editor, Tamil Literature
Rajaram Brammarajan is a poet, translator, critic and editor. He started writing poetry in the late 70s and brought out his first collection of poemsArindha Nirandharam (Known Eternity) in 1980. His last collection of poems was called Zen Mayil (Zen Peacock)[2008]. So far he has published 7 volumes of poems. His Selected Poems (2004)contains selections from all his collections excepting one. His keen involvement in the process of poetry and poetics led to the writing of essays ranging from Modern Tamil poetry toAnti-poetry of post-war Europe. All his essays on poetry are collected in the book titled Vaarthaiyin Rasavatham(Alchemy of the Word)[2008]. He edited the notable anthology calledContemporary World Poetry (2008)spanning all countries excluding America and England. His full-length introduction to Ezra Pound was published in 1985. In 1987 he presented to the Tamil readers a selection of Bertolt Brecht with a highly structured introduction.

His translations include Jorge Luis Borges’s Stories (2000) and Calvino Kathikal (Stories of Italo Calvino). His translation of Gabriel Garcial Marquez’sOne Hundred Years of Solitude is forthcoming. He has also translated from Tamil into English many younger poets. For Sahitya Akademi’s Indian Literature he translated a selection of Siddhar poems. (“Second Tradition: SIDDHAR POEMS”, Indian Literature, Jan-Feb 2000).

He occasionally writes columns on Indian music. He edited a quarterly magazineMEETCHI (Retrieval) since 1983. By the time when the magazine was defunct in 1992 he had published 35 issues that have made a strong impact on the sensibilities of modern Tamil literary world. He started another little magazine under the name Naangam Paathai(Fourth Way) in 2008. This little magazine has extended its roots to other arts like music and painting. Its 3rd issue is forthcoming.

He has conducted a couple of workshops for upcoming poets in different parts of Tamil Nadu. He has also been instrumental in the planting and preservation of 13,000 trees in the Government Arts College campus.

He was born into a peasant family and was educated in government colleges and completed his post-graduation in English from the Annamalai University (1975) with distinction and University First. Later he completed his M.Phil in Bharathiar University specializing in the novels of Samuel Beckett. In M.Phil too he secured the first rank. He is based in Dharmapuri, a sleepy small town in Tamil Nadu. He is Associate Professor and Head of the Department of English in Government Arts College, Dharmapuri.

He can be reached at his email:bramoraj@yahoo.com

[* courtesy: Muse India]


For more than 30 years now, since the 80s I have been associated with the field of Neo-Thamizh Poetry and I can say with conviction that Poet Brammarajan is a pioneer in this realm, in more than one way. Form-wise and content-wise he has experimented a lot in this area. Anyone who objectively writes the history of the History of Neo-Thamizh Poetry cannot but mention Poet Brammarajan as a name to reckon with in this realm.

Though I cannot claim to have understood the full texts and sub-texts of all his poems and the myriad lanes and by-lanes of the inner world through which the Poet's mind and imagination choose to undertake a lone, wholesome  voyage, the Style and Content of his poems have given me lot of new openings and poignant moments and hence I have always wanted to write  book on his Poesy.

As a  first step I have decided to upload whatever I have so far written about his poems. There are two articles, to be precise, one in English and one in Thamizh, which I will be uploading, in segments. 

Peguy: There is even a Poetry which draws its brilliance from the absence of God, which aims at no salvation, which relies on nothing but itself, a human effort, rewarded on this Earth, to fill the void of Space” 
 – Albert Camus’s Entry in his Note-Book IV.

“I took everything as seriously as if I were Immortal” _ THE WILL/ JEAN PAUL SARTRE.


These two ‘quotable quotes’ that we find in Arindha Nirandharam[The Known Eternity], the first poem-collection of Brammarajan, a pioneer in Neo-Thamizh Poetry appeared in 1980, convey, in a sense, the very essence of his Poesy. A retired English Professor, born in 1953[bio-data given in box] he has six poem-collections and also several books on Poetry and its various aspects, to his credit, apart from a sizeable number of translated works. Right from his first collection of poems he has been writing poems in rich, experimental styles, consciously and steadfastly adhering to post-modern forms of contemporary poetry.

Writing mostly ‘open-ended’ poems he has a firm grip over the language concerned and has an unwavering conviction of What, How and Why Poetry should be. A multi-faceted personality he is, his varied interests ranging from Literature to gardening, from Music to Atoms, Travel, Painting, Books, nature Science and Technology, Mythology and a lot more and all these find a significant place in his poems, forming the inter-textual components of his poetry and give it a splendid neo-poetic form and content. Further, one can hear the voice of a rebel too, not in the direct, political sense, but in a more subtle and psychological sense, defying the Order of the Day, so to say, whereby the mediocre becomes the monarch.

 The poem captioned ‘Enakku Edhiraai En Nilaikkannaadiyil Unakku Oru Chitram [ Facing Me in My Mirror  A Portrait For You] reveals this inherent trait of his Poesy.

Facing Me in My Mirror  A Portrait For You
Say thou will
That there was a soul
Or
Think you would
As a God who carved
Posterity in splinters
Or
Your heart would visualize
Whether there was a ‘hyper-human’
Who didn’t break open the
Shackles of Freedom
Meant to be spent.
Henceforth as wave after wave
Your shore-men would
Raise slogans
Killing the silence that has
Arrived and stayed for a
Few days.
The garden and the shore, the wayfare
And the waves all would forth.
Keeping vigil without batting the eyelid
Catching the minutes in the net
The history of stealing flesh out of flesh
Has never been alive.
With the words moving away the
Garden might’ve come into sight.
The holed ‘jinna’ flowers would give orders
In the stars of the wire-fence.
Green coloured grass-hoppers would be
Beheaded
Not just lines flow out of my fingers;
Sometimes cutting tools and razor-edged
Grasses.
Fifteen days since planting
The seedlings eyes are yet to open.
The heart gone out of station
Would worry in the weekend.
The mark of nail would lovingly fall
On the neck of Dalia tubers.
Inside the tuber also there would remain
Alive a tiny animal eating flesh.
Think You
Not me. But inhaling deeply
And going in a half
Circle
Wiping off the grey smoke I
Revealed
With flesh and smoke
Each day a corpse - burning my way.
The tenth skull nerve
that wander non-stop would swirl and tongues that’ve
split-opened thinking of acid rivers.
The fire on the dead would build
nests in the hung branch
with a quiver
Breaking the desire that multiplies
colour mounds as membranes
Unearthing the mind-sculpture that
remained after the decay of
tissues, as Mohanjodaro
While going in search of new pillars
You would re-iterate
That so a Man  did exist.

THE ORIGINAL POEM IN THAMIZH from Poet Brammarajan's first Collection of poems ARINDHA NIRANDHARAM

மூலக்கவிதைதமிழில் - பிரம்மராஜனின் முதல் கவிதைத் தொகுதி 
[1980]யான  அறிந்த நிரந்தரத்திலிருந்து


எனக்கு எதிராய்
       என் நிலைக்கண்ணாடியில்
                        உனக்கு ஒரு சித்திரம்
சொல்வாய்
அப்படி ஒரு மனிதன் இருந்தானென்று.
இல்லை
நினைத்துக்கொள்வாய்
சிதறல்களில் செழிப்பைச் செதுக்கிய
கடவுள் ஒருவன் என்று.
இல்லை
காட்சிகொள்ளும் உன் மனது
செலவுக்கென்று சுதந்திரத்தின் கட்டுகளை
முறிக்காத அதீத மனிதன் இருந்தானாவென்று.
அலையலையாய்
இனி உன் கரை மாந்தர் கோஷமிடுவர்
கொஞ்ச நாளாய் வாழ்ந்து வந்த
மௌனத்தைக் கொன்று.
தோட்டமும் கரையும் பாதையும் அலையும்
நுரையும்.
இமைக்காதிருந்து
நிமிஷங்களை வலையில் பிடித்து
சதையில் சதை திருடும் சரித்திரம் உயிர்த்ததில்லை
என்றும்.
சொற்கள் விலகித் தெரிந்திருக்கலாம் தோட்டம்.
துளையிடப்பட்ட ஜீனியா மலர்கள்
கட்டளையிடும்.
கம்பி வேலியின் நக்‌ஷத்திரங்களில்
பச்சை நிற வெட்டுக்கிளிகள்
கழுவேற்றப்படும்.
கோடுகள் மட்டும் வழிவதில்லை என் விரல்களில்
சில சமயம் துரப்பணக்கருவிகளும்
கூர்நுனிப் புற்களும்.

நட்டுப் பதினைந்து நாட்கள்
நாற்று கண் விழிக்கவில்லை.
கவலை கொள்ளும் ஊர் சென்ற மனது.
வாரத்தின் இறுதியில்
அன்புடன் டேலியாக் கிழங்குகளின்
கழுத்தில் விழும் நகக்குறி.
கிழங்கிற்குள்ளும் ஒரு மிருகம்
சதை தின்று வாழும்
என நினைக்கிறாய்.
நானில்லை.
ஆனால் அழுத்தமாய் மூச்சிழுத்து
அரைவட்டம் போய்வந்து
சாம்பல் பனி விலக்கித் தெரியவிட்டேன்
சதையும் புகையுமாய்
தினம் ஒரு பிணம் எரியும்
என் வழியை.
ஓய்வற்றுத் திரியும்
பத்தாம் கபால நரம்பு
அமில ஆறுகளை நினைத்துப் பிளந்த நாக்குகளைச்
சுழற்றும்.
நுரையீரல் மரக்கிளையில்
கூடுவளர்க்கும் சுதை நெருப்பு.
வர்ணத்திட்டுகளை செதிலாய் வளர்த்தும்
விருப்பத்தைச் சிலிர்த்து உடைத்துவிட்டுத்
திசுக்கள் அழிந்து மிஞ்சிய மூளைச் சிற்பத்தை
மொகஞ்சாதரோ எனக் கண்டெடுத்து
புதிய தூண்கள் தேடிச் செல்கையில்
நீ மீண்டும் சொல்வாய்
இப்படியும்
ஒரு மனிதன்
இருந்தானென.


As is perceivable in the works of any significant writer, be it Prose or Poetry, poems of Brammarajan too have several significant and recurrent strains or themes and on the basis of these, his Poetry can be broadly classified into three chief heads. They are 1] Poems that deal with man-woman relationship and its myriad hues. 2] Poems that challenge or criticize the prevailing autocratic notions about what poetry or life is or what they should convey and how. And, 3] Poems that deal with man’s ultimate loneliness, unnamable sadness and ever-remaining and growing dissatisfaction and the sense of incompleteness. And, in conveying these aspects of life the Poet makes use of all that he has learnt, felt, seen, read and experienced. Also, his knowledge of books, music, painting, computers, science, ecology, environmental awareness and a lot more go into the poem to give it the ‘Brammarajan Touch’, so to say! Further, in his poems instinct and intellect, matters of the br ain and the heart all co-exist so harmoniously complementing one another and thereby lending depth and spelendour to the poems. The poem titled ‘Prayaaanathilirundhu Oru Kaditham [ A Letter From Travel ] is a fine example of the aforesaid synchronization of the brain and the heart.

“Contrast the countenance of
Wooden-Buddha
With that of the chaotic strokes of
Van Gaug’s self-portrait
Between the Two I Be.

_These lines from the said poem, by bringing Buddha and Van Gaug together, not only convey the jam-packed life of Today but also juxtapose the Ancience and the Modern, Peace and Turbulence, Religion  or Philosophy and Art etc. and, the lines that follow can be roughly translated thus:

I will come bringing
Some more days
Poem’s stupid lines blue
Bouquet
Brimming amnesia
Fate-ways of the streets
Gwalior Music that came
Zigzagging in the wheat-fields
Used tickets
Sleeplessness that overflow in the
Eyes
Worn-out footwear, eye-impressions
Of Kajuraho’s stone-sculptures
that Gandhi wanted to be smashed
Sea
Infinite
And

THE ORIGINAL POEM IN THAMIZH captioned from Poet Brammarajan's Third Collection of poems GNYABAGACH-CHIRPPAM

மூலக்கவிதை – தமிழில் - பிரம்மராஜனின் ஞாபகச்சிற்பம் என்ற தலைப்பிலான மூன்றாவது கவிதைத் தொகுதியிலிருந்து

பிரயாணத்திலிருந்து ஒரு கடிதம்

…………………………………………………….மகளுக்கு
கோடிட்ட இடத்தில் எனக்கான குணச் சொல்லை
நீ நிரப்பிக்கொள். ரயில் மாற வேண்டும்.
தங்களை அனுப்பக் காத்திருப்போருடன் நான்.
மனிதப் புழுக்கமும்  புழுதியும் பிரதேசமும்
மொழியும் பிரயோகமும் புரியாதது புதிது.
காலொடிந்த பெஞ்சில் என் கால் தாங்கி எழுதுகிறேன்.
உன் பதினாலாம் பிறந்த தினம் மறந்துபோய்
சூர்யக் கதிர்கள் பிளக்கும் நெடுமரக்காடுகளை
அனுப்ப மறந்தேன்.
பால் வெலேரியை நினைத்துக்கொண் டிருந்தேன்
அவனது பதினெட்டு வருட எழுத்துமௌனத்தை.
பேதார் கணவாயில் பிரதியின் பிரதியிலிருந்து
பிரதியான புத்தரின் சிலையை வாங்கினேன் பளிங்கில்.
6 ½ “ உயரம். விலை ரூ.132.
சத்னா ரயில் நிலையத்தில் தூசி தட்டி பெட்டி திறந்து
பணம் தந்தேன்.
என் ப்ரௌன் நிறச் சட்டையில்
[உன் பாஷையில் மெரூன் கலர்]
வெண்பளிங்கு மாவுத் தூசி.
கல் முற்றவில்லை. கல் பழுக்கும் காலத்தில்
நர்மதையில் நகரும் மனித வியர்வைப் படகுகள்
மறைந்துவிடும்.
அணுத்துடுப்பிலோ அதற்கெடுத்தென்னவோ
அதிலோ எதிலோ
நீ செல்வாய்-
ஆற்றின் அடிவயிற்று முனகல்
உனக்குக் கேட்காமல் போகும்.
மட்கும் மண் கனவுகள் கரைந்துவிடும்.
மரத்தில் கிடைத்த புத்த முகத்தை
வான்கோவின் சுய போர்ட்ரெய்ட்டின்
பதற்றக் கோடுகளுடன் ஒப்பிடு
இரண்டிற்குமிடையில் நான்.
கொண்டு வருகிறேன்
இன்னும் சில நாட்கள்
கவிதையின் முட்டாள் வரிகள்
நீலப் பூச்செண்டு
நிறையும் மறதி
தெருக்களின் விதிவழிகள்
கோதுமை வயல்களில் வளைந்து வந்த
குவாலியர் சங்கீதம்
காலாவதியான ரயில் டிக்கெட்டுகள்
கண்ணில் வழியும் உறக்கமின்மை
தேய்ந்து போன காலணிகள்
காந்தி தகர்க்கச் சொன்ன
கஜூரஹோவின் கல்சிற்பங்களின் கண் பதிவுகள்
கடல்
எல்லையின்மை
    மற்றும்.....

_The starting line of this section, i.e., “I will come bringing’ reads thus in Thamizh – Varugiraen kondu’. And, the term ‘kondu’ in Thamizh, apart from its common meaning ‘to bring’, ‘bringing’ etc., also mean holding, comprehending, receiving, acquiring, conceiving and several more. By reverting the common arrangement of the two words from ‘Kondu Varugiraen’ to ‘Varugiraen Kondu’ the Poet effectively conveys something that is more than ‘mere bringing’. This is another integral aspect of Brammarajan’s School of Poetry. We can cite ample instances for this usage of language from all the seven poem-collections of his. So also, by employing a word in its not so common application the Poet enriches a poem and succeeds in conveying effectively that which he wished to say.

[to be continued]


[2]

Inter-textuality is another essential ingredient of Brammarajan’s Poetry. Even an occasional acquaintance of the poet could easily perceive that the poet need not strain himself to employ ‘inter-textuality’ in his poems, for, being a voracious reader and also having diverse interests-be it myths and tales about Lord Shiva, Nebakov, beethovan, Charlie B rown, Kafka, Goddess Kali, Borge, Jim Garbett and a lot more it remains ever-ready at the back of his mind, and, consciously and unconsciously they pervade his realm of Poetry. And, he never gives a mere list of names in the name of ‘inter-textuality’, but, Nebakov, Baudalaire, goddess Avudai and Ravanaa and also abundant allusions from the realm of Music, Painting etc., are so intricately interwoven as the body and soul of the poem. A poem in his third collection NYABACH-CHIRPPAM [Memory Sculpture] is titled CARTOON LIFE AND KAFKA. Roughly translated it reads thus:

CARTOON-LIFE AND KAFKA

Charlie Brown a slip of boy
Two tiny front hair curls apart
Shaven-headed almost
Beethovan mostly Mozart
Often Muzoorki
To enjoy Rahmanininov
Taste Shubert
So He would ask for Music
It seems. With every day a thought
And an apprehension
Every moment
I keep watching him.
Entrapped in the hands of the kite-eating Tree
With the branch grasping firm the
Kite and He pulling at its
This side thread
And thi thi this way with
His leg enmeshed in the yarn he
Hung upside down from the tree.
Charlie’s dog would write story ‘ you are
My gulping air and gobbling bun,
So it would pen tales in Love-Typewriter
That too looking topsy-turvy
Confirming
Yes yes indeed our master only
Goes he.
In order to keep your thing
in your cabin how
Long you would stay like this?
To little sister’s query
He screams
the answer.
Enough I am to know what
It is yes or no
Says she just that.
Charlie swung as ever
Some morns I failed to see
Today with the print-ink’s scent
He is describing the experience
To his chummy
Good he doesn’t know to spin
The tale of a
Man selling clothes rising up
One day and saw himself
A bumble-bee.

*THE ORIGINAL POEM IN THAMIZH captioned from Poet Brammarajan's Third Collection of poems GNYABAGACH-CHIRPPAM

பிரம்மராஜனின் ஞாபகச்சிற்பம் என்ற தலைப்பிலான மூன்றா வது கவிதைத் தொகுதியில் இடம்பெறும்  மூலக்கவிதை   கார்ட்டூன் வாழ்வும் காஃப்காவும் என்ற தலைப்பிலான மூலக்கவிதையிலிருந்து சில வரிகள் இங்கே தரப்பட்டுள்ளன. 


நாள் ஒரு நினைவும்
பொழுதொரு கவலையுமாய் கவனித்துவருகிறேன் அவனை
பட்டம் தின்னும் மரத்திடம் சிக்கிக்கொண்டான்.
பட்டத்தை மரம் கவ்வ இவன் இப்பக்கத்து நூலை இழுக்க
இ இ இப்படி காலில் நூல் சுருக்கி தலைகீழாய் தொங்கினான் மரத்திலிருந்து

I keep watching him.
Entrapped in the hands of the kite-eating Tree
With the branch grasping firm the
Kite and He pulling at its
This side thread
And thi thi this way with
His leg enmeshed in the yarn he
Hung upside down from the tree.

Brammarajan’s Poetry is essentially a ‘Poetry of Interiority’. He is predominantly a poet of the interior or internal world and he explores the enormous space of this ‘nutshell’ universe in such a manner that gives it a grandeur-par-excellence’. As much as it is difficult to speak of the outer world in a manner hitherto untried. Poet Brammarajan does exactly that. In his poem titled ‘MARAM SONNADHU’ [ Tree’s Version] he represents the intensity of pain with a new dimension. Roughly translated the poem reads thus:

TREE’S VERSION
The commencement of pain too
Is but a common one
So a  thorny word tears
They who claim that its
Volume is but
Like fixing inside the
Frame the painting that
Is not
Are poor being unaware
Of pain.
Yet the age of pain
Is that which is the
Before of
Time Immemorial.
Karnan’s disposition in
Offering his own wakeful body’s
Check
Before Parasuram’s bodily sleep
To bee’s and giant worm’s
Sharp pierce.
For he who said that
Never can one make merry
The bark of a tree
Never can change it to change
As like changing snake’s skin
The tree that has grown with
The dates and names carved
On it by love-gullibles
Declares weighing heavy that
More than the pain of felling
And tearing apart
Bearing with the rapidity of scar’s growth
Flakial damage
Is murder’s unending long line.

*THE ORIGINAL POEM IN THAMIZH captioned மரம் சொன்னது[TREE’S VERSION] from Poet Brammarajan's Third Collection of poems GNYABAGACH-CHIRPPAM

பிரம்மராஜனின் ஞாபகச்சிற்பம் என்ற தலைப்பிலான மூன்றாவது கவிதைத் தொகுதியில் இடம்பெறும்  மூலக்கவிதை   மரம் சொன்னது[TREE’S VERSION]  என்ற தலைப்பிலான மூலக்கவிதை:


மரம் சொன்னது

வலியின் துவக்க முகமும்
ஒரு சாதாரணம்தான்
என ஒரு முட்சொல் கிழிக்கிறது.
இல்லாத ஓவியத்தைச் சட்டகத்ஹ்டினுள்
பொருத்திப் பார்ப்பதுபோல்தான்
அதன் அளவு என்பார்
வலியறியா வறியோர்.
எனினும் வலியின் வயது
தொன்மையின் முன்மை
பரசுராமனின் உடல் உறக்கத்திற்கு
முன் தன் விழிப்புடல் தடையை
வண்டுத் துளைப்புக்குத் தந்த
கர்ணத் தன்மை.
மரப்பட்டையை மகிழ்ச்சிப்படுத்தவே
முடியாது
பாம்பின் சட்டையை மாற்றுதல் போல்
மாறுதலுக்கு மாற்றுதல் முடியாது
என்றவனுக்கு
காதல் முட்டாள்கள் செதுக்கிச்
சென்ற
தேதிகள் பெயர்களுடன் பெரிதாகும்
மரம் கனத்துச் சொல்கிறது
வெட்டிக் கிழித்தலின் வலியை விட
வடுவின் வளர் வேகம்
பொருக்கு சேதம்
கொலையின் முடிவற்ற நீள்கோடாகும்.

The tree that has grown with
The dates and names carved
On it by love-gullibles
Declares weighing heavy that
More than the pain of felling
And tearing apart
Bearing with the rapidity of scar’s growth
Flakial damage
Is murder’s unending long line.

A poem becomes significant when it perceives, as stated earlier, and presents an incident or feeling from a different, not so common angle, thereby lending it more depth and complexity. In the poem given above, the poet, instead of subscribing to the general notion that psychological pain is something that slowly loses its intensity with the passage of time, compares it with the deep scratches on the tree trunk, thereby revealing their long-lasting nature. The last few lines so poignantly reveal scars as more painful than fresh wounds in that as days pass the scars ‘do grow rapidly’. The apt reference to the mythological Karnan in this context is indeed noteworthy.

And, true to his claim that language is an integral part of Poetry, Poet Brammarajan innovates a great deal in the usage of language, coiling new terms, giving a new connotation to much used, most common word, bringing two or more words in  such a way that they change the entire concept of reading and understanding Poetry. His thired collect ion ‘NYABAGHACH-CHIRPPAM’ [Memory Sculpture] has a long poem which attempts at interpreting dream in the very exclusive language of Dream, which is highly disoriented and unexplainable. The small poem given below[from the same collection of poems] precisely puts forward how the poet values and treats the components of language and what he expects of his won self as well as from his fellow poets in their application of the, i.e., the components of language in their poetic endeavours.


INCANTATION

Say ‘Flower’
In the garden field and
Park
All those that stood
In the jar
Would disappear.
Create somehow
The bloom some kind
The wind admonished
At once freezes
Inhale for you and me
The very life
The ‘bats’ that fall
In the sounds falling
Pull of the earth.
Perform your music
Say Food
Let all turn rotten
Himself
He would prepare
That which is His.

*இதன் மூலக்கவிதை உச்சாடனம் என்று தலைப்பிடப்பட்டது 


Poems require the reader’s participation also in their comprehension, and, as the readers’ experiences in life and their reactions and responses to them vary from person to person and also as the usage of language undergoes various changes with the passage of Time, there cannot be a definite and permanent , one and only interpretation for a poem, holds the poet.  He believes that any sound poem does have, apart from the ‘writerly text’  a ‘readerly text’ too – which in fact is not just one  but several. Hence, a reader who wants to get close to the so-called real meaning of a poem can at best be one who would like to go through another’s personal diary. Instead, reading poems should elevate, enrich and enlighten the human mind in more than one way. Nevermind if one cannot reach at its final meaning, for, there isn’t one and there cannot be. But, if the poem causes in its reader some unfathomable stirs and ripples which reveal to him/her in a flash some hidden treasures, provide the reader moments of intense trauma and anguish and also relief and catharsis, then the poem holds good, says he.

And, true to his contention, his poems, though not comprehensible in their totality, unless the reader has the same wavelength and knowledge of language and the ability to decipher the unusual similes, images and expressions used in them, they still have the quality and readiness to communicate something, some part of them that have great depth. And, Brammarajan’s poems never fail to instil in the reader a melting and moving feeling, without in the least resorting to melodrama, a feeling of acute pain or sorrow or loneliness, despair, disappointment and such other poignant feelings. And, it is to the credit of the poet that these poems never degenerate into mere weak and sob stories or statements or ‘story-telling’ sessions, steeped in self-pity or self-aggrandizement.
[to be continued]


[3]

Being ‘subjectively objective’ at the same time ‘Objectively subjective’  can be called the hall-mark of Brammarajan’s poesy. The poem given below is one of the many that bear testimony to this observation.


THE CONSENT OF THE SEA

Dos and don’ts
It doesn’t have
Profane taboo low noble
Ignoble etc., and the
sacrilege of the foot-wear
Even if the lines drawn
are overthrown
the wild fire of castigation
would not rise in ire.
The firmness of the feet
matters most.
Why leg, who wears
It never discriminates.
It would wash the feet
Whatever be the caste colour and
creed
Raft
Burnt match-stick
The eeriness of the cargo ship
all are but floats.
As the accurate focal bounce
of the balance hand
blossoms can be borne
It can be kept opened
on all directions
it can be locked
for the miser who remembers not
the key
the doors of the sea
don’t allow entry
as like as like moss-coloured castle
falling into the sea
from the no-man’s land above
Oh, please stop  Rene Magritte…
He who knows not penning prose
He who falters in the language
of his choice
This one feels ill at ease
in the alien tongue….
Still, allow
all these lowly ones, minions
and ‘Shiva’ who owns the ‘southern region’
to set foot
spreading the carpet of foam on
the shore


*THE ORIGINAL POEM IN THAMIZH captioned கடலின் அனுமதி[KADALIN ANUMADHI] from Poet Brammarajan's fIFTH Collection of poems MAHAA VAAKKIYAM

பிரம்மராஜனின் ஞாபகச்சிற்பம் என்ற தலைப்பிலான மூன்றா வது கவிதைத் தொகுதியில் இடம்பெறும் கடலின் அனுமதி      [THE CONSENT OF THE SEA]என்ற தலைப்பிலான மூலக்கவிதை.


கடலின் அனுமதி

அனுஷ்டானம் அதற்கில்லை
எச்சில் கீழ்மேல் உன்னதம் விலக்கு
உருப்படி செ ருப்பின் தீட்டு
வகுத்த கோடு மீறப்படினும்
பற்றி எழாது தண்டனைத் தீ
காலடிகளின் அழுத்தமே பிரதானம்
ஏன்கால் யார் அணிகிறார்
பாகுபடுத்தியதில்லை
பாதங்கள் கழுவும் சாதியுமற்று சமயம் துறந்து
தோணியும் எரிந்த தீக்குச்சியும்
துரப்பணக் கப்பலின் அமானுஷ்யமும்
மிதவைகள்தான்
தராசு முள்ளின் மையத் துல்லியமாய்
பூக்கொண்டும் போகலாம்
திக்கெட்டிலும் திறந்தே வைக்கலாம்
பூட்டலாம்
திறவுகோல் மறந்த உலோபிக்குத் திறன்பிக்கவில்லை
கடலின் கதவு
உருண்டைப் பாசிமீது  படிந்த கோட்டை
அந்தரத்திலிருந்து கடலில் விழுந்த வண்ணமாய்
நிறுத்துங்கள் ரெனே மகரித்
உரைநடை எழுதத் தெரியாதவனும்
பெயர்ந்த மொழி சரளிக்காதவனும்
விதேசி பாஷையில் லகு கிடையாது இவனுக்கு
இருப்பினும்
இக்கடையோரும்
தென்னாடு உடைய சிவனும்
கால்வைக்க அனுமதியும்
கரையில் நுரை விரித்து

Quoting the Russian poet Joseph Broadsky, Brammarajan says that a poem should first and foremost qualify itself as a poem. Only then it has the right to function as a tool for something else. The basic requirement is that it should first evolve into a poem in the real sense of the term.

Poet Brammarajan calls himself apolitical and his poetry is essentially a poetry of the interiority , but, as much as  man is a social animal his poems too can be apt reflections of the world we live in. In his second collection, Vali Unarum Manidhargal’ there are a number of poems dealing explicitly with the chaos of city life and also of the Modern Man. But, true to his contention they do qualify themselves as poems with their intensity and ambiguities in tact. In a wider sense, almost all his poems reveal the hopelessness, haste, alienation, pricks of conscience, acute consciousness, painful awareness of Time and the strictures it imposes on Man, the impacts of Science and Nature, Art and Literature and a lot more that mark the present man’s ongoing conflicts, within and without. His poem captioned ‘Michap Pathuk Kattalaigal, meaning ‘The Remaining Ten Commandments’, highlights the anxieties and aspirations of the Modern Man.


THE REMAINING TEN COMMANDMENTS

In the twilight of the aging
Century
My life begins anew
as a brand new Art Treasury.
Yet, the though that I no more
belong to the spring of youth
keeps coming back to me.
In the bitterness that ferments
and swells in
my distillery beaker
the pesticides for the
insects of the world
would be produced
The thorns that have pierced the fingers
and torn apart
turn strings that  vibrate in
solitude.
Meaning is forever springing up
for Him and Them
In the fractured and plastered
‘Inside’
in the mole of the cheek
in the scum of the faecus
in the thread-knot turning tighter
in a few expendable coins
Wishing a genuine Companion and falling in  love
having realized
that eye is but wound  alright
the axilla of the bird that has forgotten flying
would agonize in me
In all those living
in the list of those that
deserve not Life
ere the Earth would
emit a gasp
I should utter a few words
Lashing the whip in the firmament
Ten more commandments.


*THE ORIGINAL POEM IN THAMIZH captioned கடலின் அனுமதி[KADALIN ANUMADHI] from Poet Brammarajan's fIFTH Collection of poems MAHAA VAAKKIYAM

பிரம்மராஜனின் ஞாபகச்சிற்பம் என்ற தலைப்பிலான மூன்றாவது கவிதைத் தொகுதியில் இடம்பெறும் கடலின் அனுமதி      
[THE CONSENT OF THE SEA]என்ற தலைப்பிலான மூலக்கவிதை.

மிச்சம் பத்துக் கட்டளைகள்

தளரும் நூற்றாண்டிறுதியில் அறுபத்து வருடம் அழிபடும்
பிராயத்தில் இளமையின் ஊற்றினைச்
சேர்ந்திலேன் கண்டு
என் வடிகலன் நிறைந்து கொதிக்கும் கசப்பில்
பூமிப் பூச்சிகளின் ரசாயனக் கொல்லிகள் விளையும்
தைத்து அறுபட்ட வடுமுட்கள் விரல்கள்
அதிரும் தந்திகள்
அர்த்தம் உற்பத்தியாகும் அவருக்கும் இவருக்கும்
வேனில்  கயிற்றில்
காரை விடுதியில்
கன்னத்து மச்சத்தில்
மலக்கலசத்தில்
நற்றுணை ஆகட்டுமெனக் காதல் உதயம் செய்து
கண்ணைப் புண்ணெறு உணர்ந்தவுடன்
பறத்தல் மறந்த பறவையின் அக்குள்
வலிக்கும் எனக்குள்
வாழ்ந்திருப்பவை அனைத்திலும் வாழும் தகுதி
அதிகமில்லாதவை பட்டியலில்
பூமி செருமிக்கொள்ளக் குரலெடுக்கு முன்
சொல்ல
வேண்டும் சொற்கள் சில
விண்ணின் சாட்டை சொடுக்கி
மிச்சம் பத்துக் கட்டளைகள்.



 [4]


In one of his rare interviews Poet Brammarajan, in reply to a query, calls the Sea ‘an escape route’ and that the poet as well as the man in him turn to the sea for peace and solace. True to his statement, right from his first collection we see the sea symbolizing the myriad moods and shades of life. In his poem-collection Mahaa Vaakkiyam there are seventeen to eighteen sea-poems’ which had earlier appeared as a thin volume under the title ‘Kadal Patriya Kavidhaigal’. The term ‘pattriya’ in Thamizh means ‘about’[the sea] as well as ‘held by’[the sea], and can even mean ‘poems caught afire by the Sea’. Further, there are also some more poems in his subsequent collections and all of these ponder over and glorify Sea, literally as well as figuratively, i.e., the vast ocean called life, being at once personal and social, having wholesome descriptions about the Sea and the environmental hazards therein and musings over inter-personal relationships and man’s unrealized[unrealizable?] yearnings.

So also, the poems under the title ‘Chithroopini’ meaning the ‘Mindscape Woman’ bring forth the parched heart’s vision of an ideal and ultimate woman who never withers nor wavers and also whose love too never withers nor wavers. When compared and contrasted , of these two series whereas in the first series the Sea too stands out equally along with the focal points of the poems, i.e., the love between a man and a woman in its ideal form and its soothing effects on Man, in the series Chithroopini it is the physical and mental features of Chithroopini, i.e., the Mindscape Woman that are so poignantly fantacized from reality or realized from fantasy or both, where reality and fantasy overlap each other, that demand more attention, so to say. And, in their wholesome sense the Sea and the Chithroopini are one and the same, and the poems together present a powerful plea for soothing, spontaneous and everlasting relationship which implies man’s eternal longing for transcending and surpassing Time.

These two series of poems have won wide acclaim among the discerning readers of Poetry in Thamizh. In the words of Soothradhaari, who is also a significant poet in his  own capacity, ‘those poems give expressions in words to the ecstatic and delirious moments of copulation and the way they enable one to cross the barriers of Time and the physical self. Glorifying the human body the poems undertake a journey through that into the spheres of metaphysics’, says he in his review of Mahaa Vaakiyam. The very poem under the same title is a striking example of this poetic caliber of poet Brammarajan. The poem apparently deals with man’s unquenchable thirst for sexual gratification which forever eludes him, but, on a deeper level all the images and similes and the like put to use for describing man’s everlasting search for a wholesome love, physical as well as psychological precisely stand for the unnameable dissatisfaction that keeps troubling any wakeful and sensitive mind. The poem is rich and complex ob both levels which is worth mentioning. There are sensitive fellow poets who observe the fact that poet Brammarajan’s images are not only ultra-modern but also extremely imaginative and that even the seemingly casual observations of the poet never fail to make an impact on us as can be seen in such descriptions as ‘the radio that sings even with the intestines wide-opened[kudal thirandhum paadum vaanoli], and ‘the layers of grass-sculpture that the wind has carved on the torso of the mountain[ malai udalathil kaatru chedukkiya putchirppa adukku] etc. Poet Kalapriya, another significant name in Neo-Thamizh Poetry observes that the poetic moment is something where each and every image and phrase come from the past and at this specific moment the journey that the poet’s mind undertakes is mostly into the past and the rest into the future. And, converting this moment as existing in the present would take the Modern Poetry ahead. Brammarajan has achieved this, says he. We can cite the poem given below as a befitting example to this contention.

THE MINDSCAPE WOMAN _ 11

Are you the one who gave out orders
to kill the pain-filled sorrow-struck
animals.

Aren’t you the one who sprouted the
last fruit and with the hip giving way
brought down the canopy.

Otherwise in the flowery seat of one
of your incorporeal reproductions
making me entrapped in the
whirlpool of intoxication

or else, are you the you are who
directed me to glorify the
Indivisible
You are someone who was that
Allowing not to see the stars
Asking me to worship your ever-growing
Breast.

As for me I become that
very that that which I contain
in form and content
and so turned
an alligator holding on to your
feet.

You were it was who brought
your cool rain on the
raging fire of the incense-mast
extinguishing.

When the opportune season came when
You alone are the You
could be obtained
You turned ‘Are You’

Therein as I looked at your
lap as a beggar-child
with the luscious lips reddening
tightening the bodice
You chose to dance.

Are you the one who turned the
light-rays of my dreams
barren and raised them to
Your idol-face

Are you the are you who have
changed my deceptive sleeps
that seemed as no sleep into deep
sleep and offered peace

or else, that which
had frozen as the ever falling formless form
in the dark floor of my ocean
along with the minute vermin that
the Sun has never set eyes upon
was whether your phantom vagina or the
Mammoth or Reality’s tomb

Aren’t you the one who had nurtured
the pierced thorn along with the
flesh as the serum and
anointing pain-fed memory.

Isn’t that which I called with
My voice quivering your voice
You who is you alone
have so absorbingly coalesced.

In the two ‘prasthaaraas’ of a
‘Hindola’ Raagaa as a Woman
in a Man

All incomprehensible standing
bewildered with eyes
popping out and
praying for a way out am I
your You I am
ever your ‘are you’. Amen.

THE ORIGINAL POEM IN THAMIZH from Poet Brammarajan's Fifth poem-collection MAHAA VAAKKIYAM

மூலக்கவிதைதமிழில்-பிரம்மராஜனின் மஹா வாக்கியம் நிரந்தரம் என்ற தலைப்பிட்ட ஐந்தாவது கவிதைத் தொகுதி[2000]யிலிருந்து


சித்ரூபிணி _ 2

நீ தானா வலி முற்றிய துயர் மிகுந்த விலங்குகளை
கொல்லக் கட்டளை கொடுத்தது
நீதானே கடைசிக்கனி விட்டதும் கறையான்கள் அரித்து
இடுப்பு இற்றுவிழ குடை சரியவிட்டதும்
ஐன்றியுன் அரூபப் பிரதிகளில் ஒன்றின் மலர் மிசையில்
என்னை மயக்கத்தின் சுழலில் வீழ்த்தியது
அல்லது நீயோதான் பகாபகத்தினை மகிமைப் படுத்த
திசைப்படுத்தியது
விண்மீன்களையும் நோக்கவிடாது உன் வளர்முலையை
வணங்கச் சொன்னது நீயோ யாரோ
நானோ எதைப் பிடித்தாலும் அதுவாகும் வடிவ வஸ்துவாகி
உன் பாதத்தினைப் பற்றும் முதலைப் பிறவியானவன்
நீயே தான் உன் குளிர் மழையை எனது தூப ஸ்தம்பத்தின்
கடுந்தழல் மீது அவிய வைத்தது
நீயே தான் நீ என்று முதன்முதலில் உணரும் பருவகாலம்
வந்த போது நீ நீயோ வாகினாய்
அங்கில் நான் ஏதற்ற குழந்தையாய் உன் மடி நோக்க
தாம்பூல அதரங்கள் சிவக்க கச்சைகளை இறுக்கி நடனமிடத் தேர்ந்தாய்
நீயோ என் கனவுகளின் ஒளிக்கிரணங்களை மலடாக்கி உன்
சிற்பமுகத்தினை நோக்கி நிமிர்த்தியது
நீயோதானா உறங்காது போலிருந்த போலி உறக்கங்களை
நித்திரையாய் மாற்றி நிர்மலம் தந்தது
அன்றி என் சமுத்திர இருட்கரையில் ஒரு வருடமும் சூரியன்
பார்க்காத கிருமிநுண்ணிகளுடன் வீழ்படிவமாய்ச் சமைந்தது
உன் நிழல் யோனியா நிஜத்தின் கல்லறை யாளியா
நீ தானே தைத்த முள்ளினை சதையுடன் நிணமாக வளர்த்து
வலி தடவி நினைவு புகட்டியது
என் குரல் நடுங்கக் கூப்பிட்டது உன் குரலேயல்லவா
நீயாகும் நீதான் ஒரு ஹிந்தோள ராகத்தின்
பிரஸ்தாரங்களில் ஆணில் பெண்ணாய் லயமொகித்தது
யாதுமே விளங்காது விழிபிதுங்க வழிவேண்டி நிற்கும் உன்
நீயோ நான்
என்றுமே உன் நீயோதான்.

A voracious reader poet Brammarajan has been constantly in touch with the various new literary trends and the distinguished writers around the world and introduce them to the Thamizh readers who care to know, by translating qualitatively unique Asian and Western poets. H has translated such world renowned poets as T.S.Eliot, Ezra Pound, Osif Mandelstam, Bertolt Brecht and several others. He had authored and financed Meetchi[Redemption] a Thamizh quarterly that created the much needed atmosphere for modern ideas to flourish in the field of Thamizh Literature. This quarterly is considered to have made significant contribution to Modern Literature in Thamizh. Budding and promising writers were given space in Meetchi many of whom later evolved into significant short-story writers, poets, critics and translators. Further, poet Brammarajan took upon himself the task of bringing out the complete collection of his co-poet Athmaanaam’s poetry after his sudden demise in 1983, single-handedly. Hailing from an agrarian family he has intense love for Music, Computers, Painting and he has designed the front-covers of many of his co-writers under the label ‘Graphicus Esoterics’ and ‘Magico Marvel’. His book titled ‘Padhinaindhu Airoppiya Naveenavaadhigal [Fifteen Modern European Writers] can be aptly called a veritable guide introducing world class European writers to the Thamizh readers. His collection of essays captioned ‘Vaarthaiyin Rasavaadham’ [The Alchemy or Word] give out the poet’s impressions about the Realm of Poesy with all its shades and nuances.

Being more of a recluse Poet Brammarajan never bothers about accolades, awards and brickbats. He pens for the pure passion of it. “when the poem makes me write, I write”, says he simply. Having written a great deal about Poetry in various small magazines which are read in al seriousness by discerning readers, he has just this to say regarding Poetry, its Aesthetics and Significance.

“Each and every poem has a life of its own. There is no need for the poet to come running to defend and safeguard it. A good poem has its safety-valve ingrained in it. A good poem would challenge Time and it would defy and defeat autocracy. And, a good poem cannot be discarded by any kind of concocted history – for that matter, any history is penned by the powers-that-be as is done in the case of a part of a rocket with its fuel exhausted”.



















CAME THOMAS A Novel in Thamizh by KA.NAA.SUBRAMANIAN Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan CHAPTER [1]

CAME THOMAS

A Novel in Thamizh by 
KA.NAA.SU

 Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan

CHAPTER [1]



1. Thiruvalluvar (Tamilதிருவள்ளுவர்Tiruvaḷḷuvar ?)was a celebrated   Tamil poet and philosopher [1] whose contribution to Tamil literature is the Thirukkural, a work on ethics. Thiruvalluvar  is thought to have lived sometime between the 2nd century BC and the 8th century AD.This estimate is based on linguistic analysis of his writings, as there is no archaeological evidence for when he lived.He is sometimes also called Theiva Pulavar ("Divine Poet"), Valluvar,   Poyya mozhi  PulavarSenna Pothar, or Gnana Vettiyan.

2. Thomas the Apostle, also called Doubting Thomas  or  Didymus (meaning "Twin," as does "Thomas" inAramaic") was one of the Twelve Apostles of Jesus. He is best known for questioning Jesus' resurrection when first told of it, then proclaiming "My Lord and my God" on seeing Jesus in  John 20:28. He was perhaps the only Apostle who went out side the Roman Empireto preach the Gospel. He is also belie ved to have crossed the largest area, which includes the  Parthian Empire and India.

3. Ka. Naa. Subramanyam (b. 31 January 1912 - d. 18 Dec ember 1988)[1] was a Tamil writer and critic from Tamil Nadu,  India. He is also popularly known by his Tamil initials as  Ka..Naa.Su. Subramaniam was born in Valangaiman  in  Thanjavur District. His first noted published work was the novel Poithevu (1946). He also wrote poems using the pseu donym Mayan. He published many literary journals like  Ilakkiya vattamSooravali and Chandraodayam. He became a literary critic in the 1950s. His reviews first appeared in the magazines Swadesamitran and Saraswathi. In 1965, he moved to New Delhi and started writing articles for English language newspapers. For the next twenty years he lived in Delhi and moved back to Chennai only in 1985. In 1986, he was awarded the Sahitya Akademi Award for Tamil for his literary criticism Ilakkiyathukku oru Iyakkam (lit. A Movement for Literature). Pondicherry University made him an honorary professor. He died in 1988. The Government of Tamil Nadu nationalised his works in 2006.
 [*courtesy: wikipedia]
 ______________________________________________________

I] down memory lane….

ON TRANSLATING KA.NAA.SU’S NOVEL THOMAS VANDHAAR  INTO  ENGLISH, UNDER THE TITLE 
_‘CAME THOMAS’
latha ramakrishnan

I am never good at undertaking ‘down memory lane’ journeys. And, twenty years is a long time. Still, a few reminiscences about this book seem inevitable…

Two or three years before his demise, in December 1988, veteran writer Ka.Naa.Subramaniam had come to Chennai and was living in Mylapore, with a failing eye-sight. Learning this I wrote a card to him saying that I would consider it an honour to be of some help to his literary activities. Shortly afterwards I met him and started going to his place almost everyday. I was one of the few who could read his handwriting (it would be too small but so neatly aligned with no corrections, addition, deletion etc.) and so was able to be of some help to him. I could feel a sense of peace in his presence.

When he asked me to translate into Tamil his novel ‘Avadhuthar’, originally written in English by him I thought he was kind of evaluating my literary capabilities and nothing more than that. But, he did get my translation published. So, when he asked me to translate his poignant novel ‘Thomas Vandhaar’ into English I set out to do it in right earnest.

Sad indeed that when I was half way through the translation assignment, Ka.Naa.Su breathed his last. Nevertheless, I finished translating Thomas Vandhaar, giving it the title ‘Came Thomas’, in the next six months. And, when his wife left for Delhi I gave my typed manuscript to her, thinking that in Delhi the prospects for its publication would be far better.

Nothing happened in the next twenty years for which no use blaming any body, including my own self. Recently, when I came to know that writer Ka.Naa.Su’s books and works were handed over to Kalachuvadu for preser vation, I contacted the son-in-law of Ka.Naa.Su, Mr.A.R.Venkatachalapathy and the head office of Kalachuvadu in Nagarcoil asking for my manuscript. They made arrangements for the manuscript to reach me within a month for which I genuinely thank them.

Seeing my manuscript, the white-sheets having turned grey and brown, after almost two decades, with the covering letter written by me, in fact, I experie nced an eerie feeling, to say the least.

We can perceive a general trend around us, the ‘in-thing’ so to say, whereby if one echoes our views he/she is hailed and approved of, and, if not, abused and subjected to class-based and caste-based castigation. But, Ka.Naa.Su belonged to that clan of writers who write what they feel right no matter whether they get accolades or brickbats and who would never be the mouth-piece of any particular individual or group.

When this novel was serialized in a small magazine for several months it gave considerable food for thought. I sincerely hope that this English version of it would also prove that poignant. Whatever be the merits of this translation of mine, they truly belong to Ka.Naa.Su and the lapses are entirely mine. Hope they are few.

There are a round 25 chapters in this novel, comprising some 230 pages. I would be uploading my English rendering of this novel chapterwise in this blogspot of mine once in every week. I sincerely wish to have my English rendering of this very thought-provoking novel published in a book form. I sincerely hope that there won't be any need for me to remind anyone that though writer Ka.Na.Su's works are nationalized my English translation of his Thamizh novel 'Thomas Vandhaar[Came Thomas] is not!

Regards,

Latha ramakrishnan






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CAME THOMAS Ka.Naa.Su’s Novel THOMAS VANDHAAR Translated into English by latha ramakrishnan CHAPTER 2


CAME THOMAS


 Ka.Naa.Su’s Novel THOMAS VANDHAAR

Translated into English by latha ramakrishnan

 CHAPTER 2



My name is Vadhoolan.

Many a time have I wondered as to why I was named Vadhoolan and called so. There are also those who address me as Vadhoolaa, Vaadhoo and ‘Thambi’ and so on.

I do not like this name in any form. There was one called Vadhoola Maharishi. That I have come in that lineage is one reason.  Whether any such person called Vadhoola Maharishi really existed – that itself is not known. As far as I know, nowhere in Vedas, Upanishads or in any proven and accepted origins [rishimoolangal] we come across any such name. But, father says that as I have come in this lineage he has given me this name. My father is not at all sensible, I think.

By now you would have guessed that I am born a Brahmin. That those who make much ado about Gothram, lineage and all are mostly Brahmins, is  a known fact to all.

Many a seer and others have asked the question whether ‘Brahminicality’ comes by mere birth itself. Those great sages, born of Upanishads, the Jain Munipangas called Men of Religion and Theerthangaas, Gauthama Buddha have all asked this question and given various answers.

I asked father. There came no answer from him to this query. Anger alone erupted. I can’t regard him as a Brahmin. When this being the case, how can I regard myself as one..?

“Hei you, why are you thus roaming around with all and sundry, leaving off the learning and chanting of Vedas? How are you going to earn a good name in this world and live?”, - so asks my father in response.

When he says that I wander in the company of all and sundry, I know who he has in mind.

In the vicinity I have only one dear friend. It is said that he is born of some ‘low-caste’. Like my name is given to me after my ‘gothram’ he is also given his name after his caste and creed. Except him, I have no other close companion. Being and chatting with him, as if observing as to how many varieties of human forms and faces are there in people, going around the market-place, bazaar-road, places inhabited by human species has become almost a full-time job for the past two or three years. I derive a sense of satisfaction out of this.

How come such a friendship and bondage has come into being, is indeed a surprise even to my own self. He, this Valluvan, is five or six years elder to me. As for me, I am a complete stranger when it comes to Learning. Somehow I would recite by heart those manthras and slokas taught by father, rhythmically.  Don’t know their meanings. But, somehow, all the manthras and slokas are known to Valluvan. Not only that, he knows their meanings too. When I told this to my father, do you know what he said? “Scoundrel, sinner he is, learning manthras and Sanskrit slokas. Is he telling their meanings too? He is bound to go astray. And you, who have joined hands with him will also follow suit”, said he.

I have no wish to become ‘something’ in father’s interpretation of those terms. Not worrying about this, I am roaming around, with Valluvan.

When we two go along the streets, if someone happens to see us they take only him to be a Brahmin and me as a no-Brahmin. I have no regrets at this. In fact, with his knowledge, humility, mental-strength and good habits, I too consider and regard Valluvan as a true Brahmin! Valluvan never uses the term ‘Brahmin’. He would say ‘Andhanan’. Only he who, not by birth but through his conduct, is a noble soul, is Andhanan – says my good friend.

That my grandfather never deviated from the path of Virtue and Morality, they say. I do not know that. But, my father is an amoral person in all aspects. Particularly, in his lust for another man’s woman, he has no equal at all. Indeed there is some magic in him which lures wives of other men.

Some men who didn’t fear this power of his – the husbands of some of the women lured by him – had given him sound thrashing too, to weaken his alluring effect. My father’s mother – even while being in her death-bed, called me and, before her life-breath stopped, said: “don’t go astray like your father, Vaadhoolaa….this is my only prayer…”

What for people are born? Why do they die?
I asked my father.

“Who can say ‘why’ and ‘what’? we should never ask why. Fate. God has destined so” – replied father.

The next day I asked Valluvan the same question. “Man starts moving towards Death right from the moment he is born. We refer to Utility[Use] and Time, as Time. We should live our Life, not feeling sad whenever Death confronts us. The use of your Birth need not be known to others. There is no necessity that it should be known to you”.

In a way this was also an unsatisfactory answer only. For the query ‘why’ there was no answer. But, it seemed to give, to some extent, the meaning of both Birth and Death.

“My father says it is fate” – said I.

“True, there is that thing called Fate too.  It is fate that decides the quality and course of Life, quality of Death and that which goes beyod Death”, said Valluvan.

I always think that my friend Valluvan lives in a world which is built extensively of words, where nothing else is real. If he begins to converse, sweet beautiful words come out of him. All those words are familiar too. Apart from Sanskrit slokas and manthraas, the language of Thamizh too comes to Valluvan in a spontaneous and beautiful manner. Where did he learn? When? I asked him directly.

Easily, without getting angry, he answered. “Thamizh comes to me by constantly listening and hearing my mother speak. I learnt Sanskrit from Aaladhi Naayanaar. From the ‘jewish’ merchant Ezekial who has come to stay in Mylapore I am learning about the language Hebrew and the people’s habits and behaviour. I am now going to Ezekial’s house only. If you want you can also come”.

To Ezekial’s house? Will they allow Valluvan to enter into the brand new mansion? I had stood facing it, gazing at it with awe and wonder. A huge, brand new bungalow. During day time its entrance would always be crowded with people going in and coming out of the mansion.

At the gates, there are always some four or five ‘vasthaadhs’[men of gigantic built] standing, guarding the palatial building. Goods and articles from very many a land, costing too high, are forever brought to the bungalow and taken out of it. At least one half of those boats which come sailing in the Sea for fifteen to thirty ‘Naazhigai’ a day and stand in a row providing a pleasing sight are said to belong to Ezekiel. I have heard them say that some two or three ships which would stand there with the anchor laid and start sailing with their sail spread that push them forward with the help of the wind also belonged to him.

There has spread a rumour in our locality that, for all  these affluence he is comparatively a new-comer to this land and to the filed of business and that when he came here he had but only a little money with him and that, with the help of kith and kin and fellow Hebrews in various countries he bought and sold things, earning profits and thus, within  a year he had become a millionaire. When he came he had come alone only. But now he has a family. He has got two sons and three daughters. I know that the girls with their large eyes and sharp nose look very beautiful, and, the two sons, tall and with looks and activities that are peculiar to the Hebrews are slowly turning into big-shots in our place.   One son’s – the eldest _ name is David. Don’t know the name of the second son. Likewise, I know the name of one of the daughters. The youngest called Miriam is very brave. Without any reservation or hesitation as to what to speak to whom she would easily pick up a conversation with almost anyone. In this area, women driving a vehicle is a very common sight. Tying two horses, as is the existing fashion of our place, in the cart when she was going alone one day, to bring someone from somewhere, the local thug called Maadan, thinking that a sixteen year old girl, being alone was a good chance not to be missed, blocked the way and had said something, it seems. Whether Miriam could understand his Thamizh or not – she could interpret the motive behind his action. She brought him down with the help of the horse-ship and beat him black and blue, leaving him bleeding all over. There was none in our place who didn’t praise her for her courage. This incident had earned Ezekial more name and fame than all his wealth could ever hope to offer him. The title like tag that he is Miriam’s father has enhanced his pride and glory.

Significantly, wherever and on whatever occasion Vaadhoolan, i.e., me, happens to see the girl called Miriam, his heart-beats would gain momentum. There arises in me a different kind of momentum of the heartbeats when I see Valluvan’s wife Vasuki. Vasuki cannot be compared with Miriam and called beautiful. But then, she is endowed with the skill of creating and preserving peace in her countenance, eyes, words and her surroundings. It seemed to me that in the same way, but as against that, there is that a magic in Mirium to turn the atmosphere charged.

I don’t know whether such feelings are there in me alone. If asked, Valluvan would answer, but, somehow I felt shy of asking.

That there never could arise any occasion which would in some way bring together Miriam and myself, is known to me in all certainty. I am a very poor Brahmin boy. Not even having the academic qualification and knowledge    required for one to claim himself a Brahmin. Miriam is from an alien land. A girl with different habits and unorthodox practices, i.e., in our view.  Further, one who belongs to a rich household. Enough if she just moves her little finger – there would be thousand young men following her footsteps.

Yet, I cannot help thinking that she did notice me on one or two occasions. And, it seems that it is something that gives me satisfaction.

The other day – recently only – what did Valluvan say?

‘Does love have bolt that shuts one out? Can it be true? Is my quickening heart beats, Love?” I myself cannot say for sure.

Now my friend asks me to go with him to the mansion where Miriam is. Will it bring about a new beginning? Will it indeed happen?”, - Desire urges me.

But, I am afraid too. It so happens that doing something and so being misunderstood and so forced to face humiliation – how to face such a situation? True, Brahmins are to some extent brave people only, having the heart to carry out a job without fearing anything. To that extent I am also a Brahmin. Further, Valluvan is also there… Can cope with the situation…

“May I also come with you?”, I asked Valluvan.

“Who said that you shouldn’t ? if someone says so I will tackle it. If you want to come, come. Disbelieving the stranger is deep-rooted in us. But, Ezekial is no stranger. For, some people, especially for some individuals there is the quality which makes them one with any place and the native of any land and atmosphere. Such persons look familiar amidst any people and in one and all surroundings. In Hebrews – they call themselves Jews – this endearing quality is a little more striking. And, in Ezekial it is especially significant”, said Valluvan.

“Have you talked to that chap?” – asked I.

“With that chap? No, it is wrong. He is very much an elderly person in age. Very much experienced. So, I can think of him only as ‘that gentleman’. Not only with him; but also with his wife, daughters, sons and the servants I haven’t spoken… in this place it is this family that I consider most affectionate and they are real friends and well-wishers.”

“I can’t help feeling somewhat embarrassed”, said I.

“lLast Sunday when I was in their house, Ezekial’s third daughter addressed me as your friend and even enquired after you?”

“Is it? She enquired? Really? So, they have that much freedom for women?”, asked I, greatly surprised.

“The way you have learnt what her name is, she has learnt yours. But, don’t do anything foolishly. She is a highly liberated girl, having a mind and vitality of her own. The way she questions me regarding v arious things are proof enough to show how deep she has though of and has a knowledge of very many things. Sometime I would struggle to answer her queries”, - said Valluvan.

“Is she very much educated?”

“Not Education as such. Some have the capacity to think and contemplate. For the educated, the ‘well’ within springs further and further. But, it happens only some times. for many, Education turns out to be the ‘stagnant-point’ of thinking. Also, there are several uneducated men who can think… once upon a time I myself gad been ignorant of alphabets, remember?” _ said Valluvan.

“But, you have learnt many a thing through listening to others”, I exclaimed. “ I will not accept that you were ever an illiterate even if you did not know reading and writing. I too am an illiterate only. But, I do not possess your…”

“ _ the fact that you have lack of confidence in your own self can become the foundation of your progress… you know.. it can act as a stepping stone to your success. Learning depends on things like Where, in Which place one gets it, What one gets out of Whom etc. we should keep contemplating on all that which we see and hear”.


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CAME THOMAS Ka.Naa.Su’s Novel THOMAS VANDHAAR Translated into English by latha ramakrishnan CHAPTER 3



CAME THOMAS


 Ka.Naa.Su’s Novel THOMAS VANDHAAR

Translated into English by latha ramakrishnan

 CHAPTER 3



 Chatting with each other, both of us reached Ezekial’s mansion. Seeing Valluvan, the head of the muscle-men[usthaads] who was standing at the entrance, came forward and said, “Please do come sir, only half-an-hour ago ‘Saap’ enquired whether you had come”.

“But, I didn’t tell him that I would be coming today. Is he expecting me?” – So saying, Valluvan, along with me, went past the chieftain and his crew, into the house.

Beyond the entrance was a vast huge hall and as its doors were kept wide-opened as befitting its style it looked wide enough for a four-wheeled wagon to be driven in. But, as it happened to be some auspicious day of the Jews there was absolutely none inside. Seemed like business-transactions and visits were temporarily suspended.
“These ‘usthaads’ don’t seem to be from our area”, I remarked.

“They don’t belong to our area. They were slaves from Jews’ land and from its surrounding areas. Ezekial has freed them by buying them from their owners, and thus, securing them freedom he has kept them as his servants”, said Valluvan.

“It is just that he speaks pure Thamizh. That’s why I asked”.

“For th past two or three months he has been learning Thamizh from me”, said Valluvan.

“Oh!”, I exclaimed. ‘Indeed, how many things this Valluvan is doing! When, for me there seems no time even to do one thing fully’- thought I. Each and everyone of us who are all living  today should learn from Valluvan the art of leading a useful life’.

Meanwhile, Mariam herself, who had come from one of those rooms inside, saw us and came past the vast hall, graciously, and, greeting us in the proper Thamizh manner by gesturing vanakkam by joining the palms of both the hands and raising it till her nose, saying, “Come come, my father is waiting to speak to you”.

The knowledge that while she was coming not only myself but also several others who were engaged in doing some work in that vast hall observed the beauty and elegance of her walk, made me feel jealous. It would indeed be good if she were to walk for me alone’ – I felt so. Is it possible? So spontaneously did the thought come whether it wouldn’t be possible at all.

“If the good old gentleman is waiting for you Valluvan, you alone go and come after talking to him. I will wait here itself”, said I.

“My father is not waiting for him to speak to him any secret matter. From our place a lengthy letter has come. Must be something connected with religion. When it comes to religious matters my father likes to chat and  discuss with Valluvan more than with anybody else. And, of morals and justice, codes of conduct I myself like at least some of Valluvan’s ideals”, - so saying, she continued with a smile. “Remember last week we were talking about food-habits? I have decided to be a strict vegetarian like you, henceforth”.

“My friend is forever a vegetarian only”, observed Valluvan.

As if asking what that has got to do with her, she looked up, at me. “My father and mother are teasing me. My brother says that if I am to eat only the plants, my mischievousness would just vanish, leaving no trace of it”
“How can there be Mariam minus mischievousness?” asked Valluvan.

Mariam laughed heartily, as if agreeing with what he had said. Then, “Is your friend dumb? He has not uttered even a single word!”, said she.

He is not a warrior of words like me”, said Valluvan.

“Not that. I am afraid that there would be horse-whip somewhere within the reach!” said I.

“One should fear horse-whip also, if one is to come having wrong ideas”, said Miriam bravely, looking straight in his eyes.

This girl is indeed dangerous. Should be careful’ – thought I. For, a Brahmin lad – calling just a lad is incorrect but still – courage comes only sometimes ad in some matters alone.

While Miriam going in front of us, Valluvan and myself followed her. Going behind Miriam who opened the door at the right side and went inside, we reached a square shaped room which was vast-looking. On the three sides of the room there were swings made of wood, near the walls. Made of real teakwood. There were lotus flowers made of silver, decorating the four sides of the swing. On the fourth side of the room there lay a piece of wooden seating, just like that of the swing. There were none, either on the swings or on the wooden-seating.

“Father was sitting here only. He might have gone inside. I will go and call him. Both of you be seated here”.

“For me it appears that the way she speaks Thamizh adds to the beauty of the language itself”, - I said.

“You are a bachelor. If you speak in this vein Vasuki would start asking why, you know!”, said Valluvan.

“Even Miriam cannot be like ‘anni’[sister-in-law]” – while I was saying so, unexpectedly Vasuki herself came inside. The other lady who came inside conversing with her must be one of the elder sisters Miriam.

I who have come here to teach Miriam and her elder brother Thamizh was asked by the reverend old man to go and bring you. Leaving the lesson midway I’ve started. Thank God, you yourself have come. Good thing”, said Vasuki.

What lesson you were teaching?” – Enquired Valluvan.

What all you know you have taught her also, haven’t you? And, she has the skill to impart to others that which she knows, in an able manner. In this land that which is called knowledge and that which is beyond, that, called Wisdom, are obtained easily and from unexpected sources”, -Opined the lady who had come along with Vasuki Ammaiyaar.

Should speak of her as ‘Ammaiyaar’[gentle elderly lady[ only. She must be at least two or three years elder to Vasuki Anni. In her physique, countenance and stature there appeared the motherly look.

I said: “Still, Valluvan and Anni belong to that caste whose people are discarded and ostracized as unfit to learn and get education” – The moment I uttered those words I felt that there was no need to have said so. But, no use biting the tongue. What has been uttered cannot be undone.

That gentle lady said: “That is also a surprise indeed. Don’t know why in this land of knowledge and wisdom people live in mutual disbelief and disrespect and perpetuating wide differences and disparities amidst themselves and so segregate them from their fellow-beings”. Then, turning towards Vasuki Anni, “Come, let’s go inside”, said she.

But, Vasuki Anni said: “I will come another day. He has also come now. Can’t say when he would return home. Father too won’t be at home. Mother will be there all alone, struggling. I’ll go and come later. After all, I keep coming daily. Don’t I?”, and went off. After the lady also went out. Vaaluvan said: “This lady is the eldest sister of Miriam. Her name is Hepsiba. Widow”.

“Sad”, I said.

“Can’t say sad. As far as I know, her husband used to harass her a lot, taking to all evil ways of life. Moreover, she has two children also. A girl and a boy. In a way we can say that it is good that he took leave”.

“Still…”

“True, nothing can be said for sure in man’s life. That which we call good may not be wholly good. Likewise, that which we regard as bad may not be in fact entirely bad also… In all, both are inseparably – interwoven only”.

“Don’t they – i.e., Jews – have widow-remarriage in  them?”

“They say that it is in vogue”, said Valluvan. “But still, may be after the first bitter experience she doesn’t have the courage to go in for the second time or may be, she would have decided against it thinking that there was no need for it after begetting two children”.

As I was watching him intensely, I didn’t notice the person who approached to be of thirty to thirty-five years of age, coming inside. Coming closer, he asked: “Where is father? He was waiting for you only. Have you been here for long?”

“Let him come. We’ll wait. We’re in no hurry. We have come to see your father only” – so saying, Valluvan introduced him to me as ‘His name is Mathew. He is the eldest son of the reverend gentleman. Heir to all his business. In calculation, that too in calculating by heart within a matter of a few seconds he is a great master”. Then, “This is my friend. His name is Vaadhoolan”. – thus, Valluvan introduced me also, to him.
“About him I know that he is our friend and also a man of comforts and a good Brahmin. Miriam has said a lot about him”, said Mathew.

‘Oh, what is this?’ felt I. ‘That Miriam has said a lot about me, he says… what at all is that she would have come to know and said of me…’

‘Not a good Brahmin… can say an evil Brahmin… also, that my existence is smooth-going. How can a person having nothing lead a comfortable life? I consider myself fortunate for having Valluvan as my friend. As the thread in proximity with the flowers acquire the fragrance, so also, thanks to his company, I get the opportunity to enter your mansion and all’.

I know” – said Mathew majestically. Couldn’t guess what he meant by that. “Valluvan is my friend too. And, because of this we can think that there is a bondage between you and me, no? Moreover, in life, one cannot always live solely on assessing our losses and gains. We need something else, to hold on. For my father there are those to hold on to, like religions, customs and old habits and so on. As for me…”

“You have the thirst to learn the customs and habits of the people of this land and to be one among them. And, I know that your father worries on that score. Vaadhoolan is also of the same mould. He has a liking for everything else, except Brahmins. And, his father worries whether he would lose his Brahmin traits”- said Valluvan.

Earning money also doesn’t suffice. For, there comes no satisfaction out of it, you know”.

“I agree. Not any one thing alone gives satisfaction. Satisfaction comes only when all are there in the required ratio. We need money. If we spend that which we earn in ‘just’ and ‘honest’ ways, that gives us a sense of satisfaction and peace of mind. Here we believe that if we earn our livelihood in righteous and straight-forward manner we will attain salvation[moksha]. But then, to get salvation, satisfaction etc., we need Grace and Mercy. This world is not for those who have no wealth. Likewise, the world above is not for those who are bereft of mercy and grace and the milk of human-kindness” – Thus concluded Valluvan.

There may be those who are going on in search non-stop of wealth but are unable to acquire it. Same is the case with mercy too. And, sometimes, one, without searching for them, would just have them also”, said Mathew.

He looked a ‘man-of-riddles’ to me.

The Jains think that going around, searching thus, is the result of what we have done in our previous birth”, said Thiruvalluvan.

Thiruvalluvan has been born a Jain only. But, he never calls himself a Jain. In anything and everything he keeps searching for a unique-identity and a humaneness that stands above all religions” – said I.





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