LIFE GOES ON.....

LIFE GOES ON.....

Sunday, May 20, 2012

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





CAME THOMAS


A Novel in Thamizh by KA.NAA.SUBRAMANIAN



Translated into English by Latha Ramakrishnan




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

Chapter 1

Can anyone claim for sure that Thiruvalluvar lived thousand and nine hundred years ago or thirty, fifty or hundred years earlier or later only, from hence?

How can anyone say with absolute certainty? Apart from the fact that there lived a man called Thiruvalluvar and he wrote Thirukural, the rest like when and where he lived, which religion he belonged to , what educational qualifications he possessed are things not known to us clearly, we should admit.

Still, stories afloat such as Thiruvalluvar Year, that he lived in Mylapore, had a virtuous woman by name Vasuki as his wife… All these are…?

Should be mere tales only. It is man’s tact to fill in those gaps when nothing is known for sure, as suits his whims and fancies. There is nothing wrong in it.

Of course, nothing wrong. But, will that become true?

What at all is Truth? Usually, we accept things if we feel that accepting that which is accepted by one and all would be good to us as well as to others and also to the society.

Don’t we tend to think on the line that accepting stories in the place of History has been the Indian Custom?

But, History, Fiction, Mythology, Novel are all, in a way, the Truth that all have accepted for convenience sake. Aren’t they? Instead of saying that this was ‘The Truth’ I came here to ask whether it was a lie. But, I changed course. Isn’t believing History as nothing but facts and accepting it in stories, Mythology too, just a Custom?

Viewed in that light we can accept that more or less thousand and nine hundred years ago form hence – it can be fifty or hundred years earlier or later too – in a place called Mylapore, lived a man called Thiruvalluvar. When nothing is known as to whereelse and in what other period he lived, what is wrong in accepting the available information regarding the time and place of his being? We can say with conviction that though not exactly known it looks like it might have been so _

The nativity of Thiruvalluvar and the period in which he lived are not known. Does one know at least the religion to which  he belonged…?

Even that is not to be. Hindus, Saivas, Vaishnavaites and many other sects and also Jains, why – even the extremists claim him to be of their clan. But, by and large, there is more room to consider him a Jain.

How?

From things like such terms as that appear in the very first Kural ‘Aadhi Bhagavan’ [the Prime God] and ‘Malarmisai Aeginaan’[He who is atop the floral seat]. Vaiyapuri Pillai and others consider him a Jain. Seems like, we can also consider him so, thus.

Will that alone suffice?

Ofcourse not. Taking into account the prestigious place to which Justice is raised aloft and also the atmosphere of non-violence in the Universe of Thiruvalluvar also, we can consider him to have been a Jain. In one Kural he says that as long as there remain men who eat the flesh of the killed animals, there will exist the practice of killing animals. This was an argument of the Jains in those times to checkmate to the Buddhists. Likewise, it is very clear that he regarded Agriculture in the same vain as like the Jains who considered it holy, high and noble. Having come to agree that he did not belong to the religion of Buddha, taking into account the fact that he had dealt with at length many thoughts common to both the Schools – the Boutha and the Jaina also , there is room enough to think of him as a Jain.

What about the practice of describing Thiruvalluvar as a ‘so-called’ low-caste born, which is in vogue?

Isn’t there room to speak of him as a ‘low-caste’ born, even if he was a Jain?

It is believed that he belonged to the ‘Valluvar’ caste. The reason for such a notion is not known.

In his work one can find several views and sayings of Christianity. Which gives room to consider him a Christian. After Rev.G.U.Pope voced his opinion that he was to be viewed at least as a person who was familiar with the views and ideology of Christianity, such a viewpoint has come to stay.
That  Jesus himself had engaged his immediate, chosen disciples in the mission of converting the whole humanity as Christians, holds the history of Christianity. It is said that according to the Bible the task of converting the Indians as Christians was assigned to one called St.Thomas. I don’t know with what evidence they claim so. And, the eleven  disciples of Jesus known as Apostles divided the world between themselves and toiled hard to spread the gospel of Jesus throughout the  world. This seems to be a veritable historical fact.

Then, would he, called St.Thomas who was one of the eleven, who came to India thus, have met Thiruvalluvar and spoken to him elaborately about the Christian views and outlook of life?

Who can say that such a thing  should not, could not have taken place? We can think on the line as to whether it could have happened. On the other hand, one can also say that some of the noble Christian concepts of life would have become known to Thiruvalluvar from within. None can say for sure that they couldn’t have been taken shape like that, from his own inner light.

Then, what are the possibilities of a meeting between Thiruvalluvar and St.Thomas? For, don’t we need some proof to believe…?

True, we do. There exists an age-old story, age-old and widespread among the Christians, which says that the disciple of Jesus called Apostle Thomas came to India for the first time during 40 B.C. and propagated Christianity in the North-West region of India, with the support of King  Kondaberns and, either after his death of dethronement , went away from the place for want of help and support, and, for some time worked in Kerala, and, somewhere around 50 B.C., a little earlier or later, initiating the fishermen into Christian ideals, he went along with them in their boat and along the eastern coast of Indian Ocean reached the seashore of Mylapore during 52, 54, 55 B.C., most probably 62, 63 B.C., was killed by a Brahmin, and attained the status of a martyr.

One set of people might tend to ask whether a Brahmin could have killed him.

The opposite section, in keeping with today’s trend might say that a Brahmin alone could have murdered as the rest have come and journey through the Path of Love and Brotherhood. Don’t know whether the story is real or not. But, St.Thomas Mount, St. Thomas Cathedral and so on, possess evidences to show that this story was indeed believed as true. The fact that exist today lend credence to the thought that St.Thomas might have come to Mylapore.

Thus, if St.Thomas had indeed come to Mylapore, Thiruvalluvar might have had the opportunity of listening to his religious-speeches; gospels.

Of course, he would have listened to the speeches of St.Thomas that were spreading Christianity. Because, for those like St.Thomas who had belief in conversion, only those among the Hindus who were considered ‘low-caste’  born could be won over. Several wealthy and powerful men might have also lent ears to his speeches. These men would have been slightly indifferent and angry toward the approaches and style of and functioning of their own religion. But, indeed Thiruvalluvar, who was in a way a saint and a seer, must have lived in pride and glory during his period, in the then prevailing social atmosphere. And, would such a person have gone to meet St.Thomas?

Then, how could there have been a meeting between the two?

Before proceeding on that line we should think of another aspect. We do not know for sure whether Thiruvalluvar was a Jain or not. We can only say that there is scope to view him as one. He was one who tried to preach to the world through his work, something beyond the mere Jain concepts of Life, Humaneness and a set of ideals would be acceptable to one and all. If the Apostle who was trying hard to make the world accept the thoughts and ideals of Christianity would have met such a person there is room to think that he would have tried to steer him toward Christianity.

Indeed, it is funny to contemplate so. If both of them had indulged in converting each other to their respective religions who would have succeeded? And, we feel that one who won or lost is not what is important, but the meeting and its consequences.

Both of them were men of great mental strength and will-power. St.Thomas was one who came to India with the prefix ‘Doubtful’. Though his suspicion or disbelief was there in him regarding the incarnation of Jesus Christ only, still it goes to show that he had a mind of his own. And, it seems indeed a matter of great interest to imagine how both the wise men would have met and what all they would have talked.

Ok. But, how and under what circumstances both of them would have been thrown together?

Someone called Vaadhoolan in his capacity of an associate of Valluvar, is telling about the historic meet between the two learned men and their dialogues and association. Shall we listen?

Who is this Vaadhoolan?

Someone. Someone like you and me. After some thousand years who would believe that You and I did exist? He is someone like us. He is required to narrate this story.

Isn’t it that through him the story should take place in our perception only? But, what is wrong in that? The perception of the narrator is one; that of the reader, listener, viewer is yet another one and the fusion of the two which gives rise to a wholesome perception. All indeed all of these, have a place in this. Don’t they?

Shouldn’t we know something about Vaadhoolan?

He himself will tell- Let’s listen.

Are we to believe this too? Everything should be believed. Isn’t it a known fact that, in this vast world there are very many things which we refuse to believe, but are bound to believe.

0

Wednesday, May 9, 2012

போகிறபோக்கில் ரிஷியின் 8வது தொகுப்பிலிருந்து

போகிறபோக்கில் 
ரிஷியின் 8வது தொகுப்பிலிருந்து
[ஷாலினி புக்ஸ் வெளியீடு] 



கவிதை என்பது இலக்கியத்தின் ‘சபிக்கப்பட்ட பிரிவாகப் பார்க்கப்படும் காலகட்டம் இது. குறிப்பாக தமிழில். இலக்கியமே கவிதைவடிவில் இயங்கிவந்த மொழியிதில் இன்று அரசு நூலகங்கள் கவிதைத்தொகுப்புகளை ‘பீச்சாங்கை வீச்சாக’ புறமொதுக்கிவிடும் போக்கு நிலவுகிறது. [கடந்த சில வருடங்களாக அரசு நூலகங்களுக்கு புத்தகங்கள் வாங்கப்படவில்லை என்று கேள்வி] இருந்தும் கவிதை எழுதுகிறவர்கள் எழுதியவாறே... வாசிப்பவர்கள் வாசித்தவாறே....

அப்படி கவிதையில்- எழுதுவதிலும், வாசிப்பதிலும்  என்ன இருக்கிறது?

கண்டவர் விண்டிலர்; விண்டவர் கண்டிலர்

_ரிஷி





1]  தொடக்கப்புள்ளியிருந்து வெகுதூரம் வந்தாயிற்று-
போகவேண்டிய தூரம் அதிகம் என்ற தெளிவோடு.
சிறுகற்கள் மலைமுகடுகளாய் வழியடைத்த நிலை மாறி
பெரும்பாறைகளும் இன்று துகள்களாகிவிட்ட
ரசவாதம்!
கண்டவர் விண்டிலர்; விண்டவர் கண்டிலர்!!
புரியாமல்
கருத்துப்போர்வையில் கற்களைச் சுருட்டியெடுத்துவந்து
கைபோனபோக்கில் என் ஆறெங்கும் இறைத்துக்கொண்டிருக்கும் நீ
எப்போதுமே
ஐயோ பாவம்!



[2]
உன் உன்னும் என்னும் முன்னும் பின்னும்
ஒடுங்கும் ஒருமைக்குள்
எதிர்வினைக்கும் அறவுரைக்கும் இடையே நிறையும்
அகழி மறைத்துக்
கவியும் காரிருள்.
என் என்னும் உன்னும் இன்னும்
என்னென்னவும்
புதிரவிழ்க்கும் எல்லையின்மைக்குள்
இல்லையாகிவிடும் உன் எல்லாமும்!

 3
இருந்தாற்போலிருந்து
ஒரு காலாதீதத் தூக்கத்திலிருந்து விழித்துக்கொண்டு
வேர்த்துவிறுவிறுவிறுத்துப் பாய்ந்துவந்து
வழியெங்கும் ஆர்ப்பரித்துக் கொட்டி முழக்குகிறது
அறியாமை புரையோடிய அந்த வரி:

இருண்மை தமிழுக்குப் புதிதோ புதிது

கேட்டு
சங்ககாலம் தொட்டு நவீன தமிழ்க்கவிதைவெளியெங்கும்
வாயார வயிறுகுலுங்க கவிகள் சிரித்துக்கொண்டிருப்பதைப் பார்க்க
எத்தனை மகிழ்ச்சியாயிருக்கிறது தெரியுமா?
காயப்படுத்தும் சூழலிலேயே வாழப்பழகியவர்கள்;
கழுவேற்ற மேடை வெகு பரிச்சயமானவர்கள்;
வதைமுகாம்களே வசிப்பிடமானவர்கள்
வடிகட்டிய பாழ் கண்டு
விழுந்து விழுந்து சிரிக்காமல் என் செய்வார்கள்?

இறந்துபோய்விட்டவர்களில் புதைக்கப்பட்டவர்கள்
கல்லறைகளில் புரண்டு சிரிக்க,
எரிந்துவிட்டவர்கள் திரும்ப எழுந்துநின்று
குதிக்கிறார்கள் “ஹே, இது என்ன புதுக்கதை என்று!

இருந்துவரும் கவிகளின் செவிப்பறைகளை அந்த உச்சபட்ச அபத்த வரி
சென்றடையும் நேரம்
நிச்சயம் சீறத்தொடங்கும் சில எரிமலைகள்.

சிறுமை கண்டு பொங்குவாய் வா வா வா!

சொன்ன பாரதியாரை வெறும் பிரச்சாரக்கவி
என்பாரை
‘கல்லுக்குள் தேரை கவனித்துக் கொள்ளும்.

 மெல்ல
சன்னமாய் என் காதுகளுக்குள்ளும் ரீங்கரிக்குமாறு
சில்வண்டிடம் வேண்டிக்கொண்டு
தொடரும் என் பயணம்.

4

சாலையோரங்களில் சில வீடுகள்
சிலவற்றில் வெளியே அமர்விடங்கள் உண்டு.
இளைப்பாற வரும் வழிப்போக்கர்கள் பலவகை.
அடுத்தவருக்கு இடம் தராமல் தம்மை விரித்துப் பரப்பிக்கொள்ளும் சிலர்
‘அதனாலென்ன பரவாயில்லைஎன்று தரையமரும் சகபயணியை
சீடராக வரித்துக்கொண்டு சிட்சையளிக்கப் புறப்பட்டுவிடுவார்கள்.
[பீடம் கிடைக்க வேறேது கதி?]
இதற்கு கால்வலியே மேல் என்று எழுந்துகொண்டுவிடுபவரை
வழிமறித்து பிடித்திழுத்து செவிப்பறை கிழியக்கிழிய
சொல்லித்தருவார்கள் -
சொல்லும் சொல்பழகாதவர்கள்.

சொக்கப்பித்தளை யிளிப்பை
சொல்ல வல்லாயோ கிளியே...


[5]
அன்பிற்காகும்;
அவதூறுக்காகும்.
ஆசுவாசத்திற்காகும்;
அக்கப்போருக்காகும்.
அறிவுக்கூடமாகும்;
அதிகாரபீடமாகும்......

அகழ்வாரைத் தாங்கும் நிலம்.

அதுதானோ திண்ணையும்?

 6

செல்வழியெங்கும் பாய்ந்தோடிக்கொண்டிருக்கிறது
சிந்தா நதி யொன்று!
படகில்லை,
நீந்தத் தெரியாது,
சிறகில்லை,
பறக்கமுடியாது....
ஆனாலுமென்ன?
ஏழு கடல் ஏழு மலை தாண்டி
அந்தப் பச்சைக்கிளியைக் கண்டடைவதுதானே
வழிச்செலவின் வரவு
என்று
சுழித்தோடியவாறு அறிவுறுத்துகிறது ஆறு!

7
தெம்மாங்குப் பாட்டு தெரியாது.
கர்நாடக இசை படித்ததில்லை.
இந்துஸ்தானி, ஜாஸ், ராக், கஸல்
 என்று எத்தனையெத்தனை  உலகில்!
எதிலுமே பயிற்சியில்லை.
ஆனபோதும், குரலெடுத்துப் பாடவேண்டுமாய் எழும்
இந்தத் திருத்தினவை என்செய்ய....?
மெய்யோ பொய்யோ
உளதாம் குரல்வளம்;
உறுதியாய் கிளம்பும்தான் சுருதிபேதம்.
உச்சஸ்தாயியை எட்டமுடியாது;
பிசிறு தட்டும்.
நிச்சயமாய்த் தெரிந்தாலும்
இச்சமயம் வனாந்திரத்தில் எதிரொலிக்கும் குரலாய்
விரியும் இந்தப் பெருங்கனவை என்செய்ய?
பாடிவிடவேண்டியதுதான்!


 8
அதெப்படியோ தெரியவில்லை
அயர்வையெல்லாம் மீறி
அவ்வப்போது என் நடையொரு துள்ளலாக
மாறிவிடுகிறது!
தேர்க்கால்களாக
புரவிப்பாய்ச்சலாக
அவ்வளவு ஏன்
சற்றுமுன்னர் தான் சிந்நேரம்
மின்னலாகியிருந்தேன்!

 9
 உனக்கு நீயே என்ன பிதற்றிக்கொண்டு போகிறாய்?
_தாழப்பறந்துவந்து அன்போடு என் தலைதட்டிக் கேட்டது கொக்கு.
மழலைப்பேச்சு மற்றவருக்குப் புரியாது மக்கு! மக்கு!
என்று செல்லமாய் அதன் நீள்மூக்கை நீவிவிட்டபடி கூறினேன்.
இன்னுமா பாதைக்குப் பக்குவப்படவில்லை? என்று கடிந்துகொண்டது
கரையோர முதலை.
காத்திரு என்று வேண்டிக்கொண்டேன்.
நாளை மற்றுமொரு நாளாகாத நாளில் தருவேன்
நல்லதோர் பதிலை.



 10
 அருகேயொரு வண்ணத்துப்பூச்சி பறந்துகொண்டிருக்கிறது-
அற்புதச் சிறகுகளோடு!
ஆனால், எனக்கு ஆறறிவு இருக்கிறது!.
அந்த அசோகமரம்தான் எத்தனை உயர்ந்தோங்கி
வளர்ந்திருக்கிறது!
ஆனால், எனக்கு ஆறறிவு இருக்கிறது.
வழியில் காணக்கிடைத்த ஆமையின் ஓடு
அத்தனை உறுதியானது!
ஆனால், எனக்கு ஆறறிவு இருக்கிறது.
கருங்கல்லின் சொரசொரப்பும் கூழாங்கல்லின் வழுவழுப்பும்
தொடுவுணர்வின் நல்வினைப்பயனாகிறது!
ஆனால், எனக்கு ஆறறிவு இருக்கிறது.
நாயின் மோப்பசக்தி எத்தனை நம்பிக்கைக்குரியது!
ஆனால், எனக்கு ஆறறிவு இருக்கிறது.
சிலந்திவலையின் தொழில்நுட்பம்
சொல்லிலடங்காது!
ஆனால், எனக்கு ஆறறிவு இருக்கிறது.
ஆனால்... ஆறறிவில் என்ன இருக்கிறது.....?

11
வீதியெங்கும் சிதறிக்கிடக்கின்றன _
 வெட்டரிவாள்கள்;
வறுமையின் பரிமாணங்கள்;
பாதிக்கால்கள்;
பலியான நீதிநியாயங்கள்
பிய்த்தெடுத்த நகக்கணுக்கள்;
பொய்த்துப்போன வாக்குறுதிகள்;
வெறியின் விரிவுகள்;
வேறுபலவும் நிரம்ப
உலர்ந்தும் உலராமலும் பெருகியவாறிருக்கும் குருதியில்
மொய்த்திருக்கும் ஈக்கள் நோய்க்கிருமிகளைப் பரப்பியவாறு...
கடந்துசெல்ல இயலவில்லை-
நினைப்பிலும் நடப்பிலும்.
பயணத்தில் இந்தக் கையறுநிலை நேராதிருந்தால்
எத்தனை நன்றாயிருக்கும்....
ஆறாது ஏங்கிச்சோரும் பித்துமனதைக்
 காக்க காக்க கவிதை காக்க.....











Sunday, April 22, 2012

ON THE HORROR OF [EEZHAM] WAR AND ITS AFTERMATH - THEEPACHELVAN'S POEMS IN ENGLISH - DEEBACHELVAN'S 11 POEMS IN ENGLISH

ON THE HORROR OF [EEZHAM]WAR AND ITS AFTERMATH
THEEPACHELVAN'S  11 POEMS 
IN ENGLISH
Translated by latha ramakrishnan

 




PRAY FOR MY LAND
[On The Horror of [Eezham] War 
and Its Aftermath]

POEMS OF  THEEPACHELVAN


TRANSLATED FROM TAMIL INTO ENGLISH 
BY latha Ramakrishnan


Poet Theepachelvan has emerged as a significant voice highlighting the plights of the Tamils in Today's Eelam. He is one of the important poets of Eelam. He depicts the war-ridden life of the Tamils with shells pouring from above day and night in the Sri Lankan soil, in a very poignant manner, being there right in the midst of it all, experiencing the miserable life of the hapless Tamil population in the Island.

Apart from poems he is revealing his skill and expertise in other fields too, such as painting, photography, writing critical reviews, using all his talents and potentials towards creating the much-needed awareness about the hardships that the Tamils of Sri Lanka are undergoing.

His poems have been published in four volumes and have won wide-acclaim. His blogspot (http://www.deebam.blogspot.com/, is also giving a true and graphic picture of the miserable life of the Tamils in the island.

The sufferings and hardships that the Tamils plunged all too deep in a life of violence, discrimination and uncertainties are undergoing, their extensive loss and miseries that are hidden from the world's knowledge and purview and the innumerable cold-blooded murders, shielded from the world's eyes are being recorded with a sincerity and seriousness that make Poet Theepachelvan’s poems and interviews stand apart.

The main reason for Theepachelvan’s poems to be so powerful and poignant could be his life in Eelam, witnessing the horror and sorrow from close quarters. This proximity has raised his poems from being empty rhetoric to powerful and poetic documentation of all that is going on in the Island.

In today’s power-mongering and conflict-ridden global scenario we feel it a must that his poems should have a wider range of readership and hence I have translated almost 100 poems of poet Theepachelvan in English. Of which some eleven are given here. The other poems can be read from his blogspot.www.edeebam.blogspot.com.



-Latha Ramakrishnan

1.STREETS THAT WE DARE NOT STEP INSIDE

Translation of Theepachelvan’s poem in Thamizh titled ULL NUZHAIYA ANJUM THERUKKAL
[உள் நுழைய அஞ்சும் தெருக்கள்]

01.

Streets that none dares to step inside
are aplenty in our city.
It was in a grand function that the military chains  
blocking entry into the street
 through which alone one can reach the city
were removed.

The street that stands all dilapidated
 in the interior of the city retains still
signs of humans, living there once upon a time.

This street had always remained closed
since the time I was born.
Just the way I have lost all of my time
I have lost this street also.
Even in this prohibited street
I keep searching for children.
The tales that children read and turn terror-struck
I do read on the walls of this street.
What can I tell my father’s aged mother
who still clings to life with the hope of
 visiting those lands that remain barred still,
waiting for the opportune time?

How have you understood her dream-filled great expectations
 of stepping inside the house with bush grown dense
covering it on all sides?
She keeps lamenting that someone tells her to die
 as an insane old woman.
From when onwards she began to wander?

With wounds I keep going along the street
in the interior of the city
where entry is allowed.
A boat with the name of the girl,
 who bore the brunt of bomb and is sleeping
in the depths of sea,  inscribed
stands there, detained.
I read her words dissolved in the sea
and the tales in between.
Streets where none can step in
are aplenty in our city.
The dilapidated city is giving out a real big warning.

02
Children fear the prospect of going along the streets.
Regarding those streets that remain closed and barred
my dear children have all the relevant details.
In those passages where the State Power is forever traveling
with a military van and its jarring sounds
these children dare not step inside and go to their  schools.

No street of our Land stretches too long
for, that might end up in the dangerous barbed wires;
 that might cause us bang against the board barring entry.
In the end
it might be discoursing endlessly of the methods of punishment.
One day they have thrown open the street
which we had never seen for years together.
Ending the penance for the street
undertaken during those days so full of
the cruelty of hunger
We have a look at the street.
They have left behind nothing save destructions.
Nothing except colossal damage they have left behind
for our street.
We dread the prospect of stepping inside this street
which is totally changed in the hands of destruction.
Not having the strength to fight against all kinds of injustices,
invasions and entrapments pursued with a soft approach-
not having any means of putting an end to them all
the life of the hapless old lady that keeps breathing
in days under siege
and surrounded on all sides by Power so cruel
keeps narrating within
the tales of the street.

03
The blood spread all over the streets has turned dry
and remain glued; embedded.
The lives killed in those streets
stay on, smashed and fragmented beyond recognition.
The dreamy slogans written along the stretch of those streets
have been stamped, crushed and bitterly broken.
You know the frozen tales of all that we have lost
for treading along this street.

Please allow those streets to open up
for these children to run and play.
We will surely clap for the streets thrown open
but, please open those streets closed down.
The children are terrorized with the thought that
the thief who steals and takes away the streets
is forever haunting and frequenting this region.

This city after the colossal destruction
has been abandoned  by the invaders.
Those who capture the city
Those who capture the streets
Turn them into their fortresses and seize them off our hands.
Or, demolish them with no second thought.

Streets that none dares to step inside
are aplenty in our city.
Cities to which entry is still denied
are aplenty in our Land.

2.CHILDREN OF WAR

A poem by Deepachelvan in Thamizh titled
 POERIN KUZHANDHAIGAL

These children carry along a cane or some wooden-pieces.
They go in search of some pits or bushes.
The stones that they throw
land at a great distance.
For bleeding
they mix kumkum  or some ‘paper flowers’ in water, apply it on themselves and lie there tying worn-out and ragged saris.
In the coconut-trees at the corners of agricultural fields
Tender coconuts have once again come to be.

In the region of those people displaced and chased away
none returned.
Taking their cycles Loordhamma and Abiraj
go along all the streets and lanes.
Lotuses have bloomed in the pond at Konaa.

Loordhammaa’s eyes turn blood-red.
Abiraji’s hands have become hardened.
When they think of playing hide-and-seek
the bunkers lie close by.
The tents sway, unable to bear the words of kids.
At times the children succeed in dismantling the tents
Loordhamma goes,
seeing those who get into the agricultural fields.
In the eyes of Abiraaj who lights the lamp in Chinnakoil
the tortures of those chill nights kept burning.
The guns entrusted in the hands of Loordhamma
were snatched away.
The shells that Abiraaj had were also taken away.

 For having a count of the bullets,
for identifying bombs,
for placing books in empty cartridges,
for carrying the landmines and throwing them at the backyard
these kids are well accustomed.

Not to tread into some roads and streets that with their name-boards in Sinhala threaten you not to dare-
not to go anywhere near those houses enclosed with tall fences-
these children are severely cautioned.
Raising the wick of the hurricane lamp
these children carry the ‘kuppi’ lamps in their hands.

In the streets along which Loordhamma had been dragged away the Landmines lie hidden now.
In the fields where Abhiraaj hid himself, dangerous words
are written that keep you out.

With those who dragged away Loordhammaa and Abhiraaj
 wandering in the streets once again
those who went in rows, waving, have been wiped off the Land.

In the land that has turned red with the blood of people
there is nothing for children save the particles
and fragments of bombs and bullets.
In front of everything the children keep going.


3.LANDLESS LIFE

A Poem in Thamizh by Deebachelvan titiled
NILAMATRA VAAZVU

In the Land filled with the leaves of tree uprooted and thrown away
where none remains
in frozen-fall
the life full of dreams keeps perishing.
The birds with no branches to sit and rest
wander all over the sky destroyed.

In the trees made of sticks decayed
the Sun that jumps down in a leap moves on
with morbid wounds.

The wind keeps dragging life, lifting it high
and casting it away.
The children scratching pictures of oppression writ large on starving faces, with their nails
fill up the Spaces.

The Land keeps perishing.
The cruel birds that devovour the Land
merrily hunt the birds of the Land.
The land-birds with their wings burnt
have safely tugged the dream wholesome in time
and rich in history
inside the holes.

In this time when the rain and the sun
kept eating the land
life was contained in a bundle
hanging suspended in a rope torn apart from the land
and dangling in the air.

In the barren land the birds uprooted are wandering above
the withered leaves of the fallen tree wander below.



4.THE DESERTED LAND OF 
THAMIZH SELVI 

A poem in Thamizh by Deebachelvan titled
THAMIZHSELVIYIN YAARUMATRA NILAM

Thamizhselvi has a tent
She never looks back at those sand-beds and canal-banks
that are lost
She never looks at the withered memories
strewn along the streets.
She never looks for kindness or embrace of kinship
from anybody.
Earlier Thamizhselvi had a Mother.

Thamizhselvi has a ration-card.
She doesn’t have to run for relief-measures.
She is unable to carry the rice-bags
offered to her.
She is unable to bring those tin-sheets and
other accessories provided to her.
Earlier Thamizhselvi had a Father.

Earlier Thamizhselvi had two brothers.
Now she doesn’t feel like playing in the backyard
or in the courtyard of the house.
She doesn’t like dolls that close and open their eyes.
Earlier Thamizhselvi had several Dolls.

Earlier Thamizhselvi had a God.
Now she has no temples
nor any prayers.
She knows not boons and blessings.
Earlier Thamizhselvi had a beautiful World.
Now she has a deserted land where none lives on.


5.THE GHOSTS BROUGHT TO THE EARTH

A POEM BY Deebachelvan in Thamizh titled

In this life that dissolves us underneath
 the feet of demons
losing the Sun
we have become the inhabitants of Dark Land.
Despite being destroyed
in totality
The demons are not prepared to leave us.
Grabbing our legs they topple us.

Though we have suffered defeat
in the war waged by the Demons
their hunger remains burning.
In the field where
blood and flesh-particles
decaying into corpses and growing with stench unbearable
the demons relished them and danced deliriously but yet
their hunger remains burning.
In order to offer us as sacrifice and so
anhnihilate us without a trace
the demons were brought to our Land.

Have you seen the Demons?
In the cups held in their hands
they have filled the eyes of children
and are happily eating them all.

The Demons wearing red badge in their neck
or wearing military uniform on their persons
are so covering their mortal bodies.
At those times when we had
playfully covered our children’s eyes
they tore apart our chests and sucked deep our blood.
The Demons that keep wandering,
feeling heady to the hilt with the drunken revelry of death
keep hanging there, suspended,
  in the demolished buildings along the roads.
They drive wagons along our roads.
When we firmly cling to our life declaring that
we would never let go of life
even in the face of annihilation
the Demons too keep chasing us
declaring that they would never let go.

in our beloved Land where Demons are brought forth
nothing remains,
save mere skeletons with life fully sucked out.
Will our children live in an era
when they could gain back all things lost?
When will the Sun come to our Soil?


6.THE ROOM THAT ISN’T…

A poem in Thamizh by Deebachelvan  titled
Just the tender palm-leaf that had withered without getting resurrected 
do I leave behind and go.
In all those bunker-like holes that had caved inside the walls
my dreams are filled to the brim.
Unusually the lizards fall down and creep away in great haste.
If you want let me also leave behind
cups with tea stains still damp;
dish-particles turned taut and dried up.
The cruel dangers that keep driving away the dream
indulge in revelry and celebration, drinking my yet to be dried blood.
The lizards carry the torn poems.
The residual fragment of the soap
are made wet by the water-drops oozing out of the pipe.
I wander in the room
that isn’t.
In the semi-portrait that stays glued to the wall
wherefrom remembrances removed-
ashes pour down.
From cabin created out of threats
 the bird that has not come into life
 goes off to the cruel field created by bullets; bombs.
To wipe my face that turns damp with bleeding dreams
Oh, there is none!


7.THE DEMON THAT DEVOUR 
THE CHILDREN

A poem by Deepachelvan in Thamizh titled ‘KUZHANDHAIGALAI THINNUM BOODHANGAL
Deleting the tales read by children which know not 
anything but fear
the cruel Demons come and shake the very Life.
The Demons that drink blood slice off the breasts
that nurse the children
and swallow them in one gulp.
The Devils search for kids too along with the Land
and swallow them.

In order to pluck away the eyes of little children
hiding the army uniform and the red leather-box
and wearing cruel attires,
with razor-edged knives fixed to the nails
the Demons sought entry into the world
and floated.
With acts yet unknown regarding the Demons
 the children are terrorized more and more.
The kids fear visualizing the demons
 near the compound wall and behind it
and behind the door too,
devovouring the houses without a care.
With the demons that reside inside the well
and turn delirious by the hour
the children spend their time
in hunger and horror.

The demons that spring from the seats of power and dominance
that dance in frenzy
rise up in full view of us and go out of sight.
With the Demonl reigning supreme the devils wander
With Devils on the throne the demons have a hay day.

In the street where the Demons wander in hunger unleashed
throats lie slit and cut.
The Demons that along with blood gulp words too
climb up the trees and hide themselves,
from where they shake everything along with
the land.
Demons that no mothers nor children had ever seen nor read
Oh these children are cursed to come face to face.


8.THE LAND BUTCHERED

A POEM BY Deebachelvan in Thamizh titled KOLAIYUNDA NILAM[கொலையுண்ட நிலம்]

After the entire stretch of Land has been captured
The roots of dreams are sought to be destroyed.
In walls pierced by shells
In houses eaten away by bombs
In fields demolished by aircrafts
Dream sprouts from wounds.

In the maimed land so barren
The tomb-stones of Buddha forcibly broken
and brought forth
become the walls.
With Poovarasam trees killed
Arasamaram is planted
the land which escapes the hand and is oozing out
The sleeping children
Grasp in their hands and retain
The land drenched -  oh, when will it dry?

Fences Walls and Roofs
grow differently
and annihilate the Land.
In this time when guns go grazing the land
the lives buried for the sake of Land
are on the verge of sprouting anew.

9.THE LONG PASSAGE 
AND A CUP OF TEA

A Poem by Deebachelvan in Thamizh titled
PERU VAZHIYUM ORU KOEPAI THAENEERUM’

In the long passage how many thousands of people
kept on moving…
None had cups
Time held the sorrows
Those who were returning and migrating _
what at all they could share?
The roads that spread across thousands of miles_
Wherefrom they were created and how?
In the town where nothing save the remains of destruction
exist
machines were sown.
At the end of endless wandering
the people had been mortgaged for a cup of water.
Mother remained all hungry
Loads became dried up
Turning weak, on the verge of falling down on her land
She asked for a cup of water;
And also,  a way out of the barbed wire.
In the night shrouding the Land,
from beyond a thousand miles
came I running, with a Cup of Tea.


10. CHILDREN ARE BEING BORN IN THE LAND THAT CAN’T BE  DONE AWAY WITH

English Translation of Deepachelvan’s poem 
in Thamizh
 Titled  ‘ KOLLA MUDIYAADHA NAATTIL KUZHANDHAIGAL PIRAKKIRAARGAL

Yesterday also some children were born.
They cry
They laugh aloud, making a hell of a noise.
The children keep growing
The children view this Land
with their eyes.
Swinging and swaying their hands
they begin to walk with their legs
in the Land that cannot be done away with.
Even after a hundred-thousand had been dead and gone
the children of those maimed
are being born hale and healthy.
These children
start speaking straightaway.
Questions in thousands unasked by me
would gush forth out of them.
And they would see those aspects of life
that my eyes have failed to see.
They will earn their Liberty.
For, they are born as the seedlings of the
Land that cannot be done away with.

11.THE CHILDREN WILL BREAK THE CANNONS
 A poem in Thamizh by Deebachelvan titled
BEERANGIGALAI SIRUVARGAL MURIPPAARGAL
[பீரங்கிகளை சிறுவர்கள் முறிப்பார்கள்]
Guns and Cannons are collected
for children.
What do the guns intend to do?
They might either turn terribly exhausted and
fall upon the ground.
Or, turning all the more sharpened
they would tear off the faces.

It is you who insists on turning revolution into a
Weapon.
It is you who throws open the Field
that brings forth resistance and rebellion.
When it proves beyond you to contain and do away with
the rebellion and revolution
and you start oppressing the people
Revolution gushes forth in the streaming blood.
From the Land where we remain singing the Hymn of Life
oh, you alien forces-
When will you leave?
Oh, when will you choose to remove the shadow of your
arrogant power
that shrouds our very Life?

When the aged ones feeling all spent out
go past Time - shrunk and huddled
the small boys would grow into full-fledged adults
and break those guns and cannons that you have
brought along.
The whole lot of generations of this Soil
are being annihilated by war.
Oh, when will all these annihilations cease to be?

When destruction is forced upon our children
When once again annihilation-spree commences
This land of decay would tremble and writhe in pain.
Yet, when cannons and guns would be brought
to this Land
the boys would break them all, for sure.