BORROWED ROBES

Translator’s Preface

Of all the literary labours, translation is the least creative and the most difficult. A good translation is one that preserves the sound and sense of the original. But this is impossible as every language has its peculiarities which cannot be captured by another language. Hence, not without reason, Percy Bysshe Shelley calls translation a vanity.

Translation is a necessary evil, for there is no other way by which great poems can be brought to the lay audience which has no knowledge of language other than its own. Therefore, translation cannot be dispensed with.

A translator should be a master of two languages: the language in which the poem occurs and the language into which the poem is to be translated. The next requirement is that he must be a poet himself.

A translator can lay pretense to a few liberties. He can sacrifice the literal meaning to capture the spirit of the original, and to preserve the sound even at the cost of the sense. This has been my guideline. This slender volume Borrowed Robes comprises translations of some miscellaneous Tamil compositions of different periods: from the Sangam Age to modern times. Some of the poems I have rendered in prose and the rest in metre. And I could not resist the temptation to include two of my English poems in the appendix. The phrase ‘borrowed robes’ occurs in William Shakespeare’s Macbeth. I hope my translations have done justice to the original compositions; and that the Tamil Muse, here dressed in English robes, has not lost her mellifluous voice.

— Nirmaldasan
Chennai, May 2012

Two Songs From Kuruntokai

1. Song 2 (Iraiyanar)

O bright-winged bee who wingest thine way
Across flowers of various hue
And dependest on their nectary!
My long-lov’d lady dear
The peacock's gait doth bear
And teeth set in close array. —
Tell me, thou, with soul sincere,
If ever came across thy view
A flower blest in perfumery
As rival to her dark and balmy hair!

2. Song 40 (Chembulapeyalneerar)

Who are you and who am I?
Who’s your sire and who is mine?
Sprung from what illustrious line?
Yet as red earth and rain combine,
Our loving hearts mingling lie.

Thirukkural 133

(A verse from each chapter from the Tamil of Thiruvalluvar. Translated from May 29 to October 8, 2004)

Part I: Virtue

2. Of what use is learning if the learned worship not the Omniscient’s foot?

19. Charity and penance cannot last should the skies refuse to rain.

29. Nothing can guard against the rage, though momentary, of those who have attained the peak of virtue.

34. Purity of mind is virtue; all else is not.

45. The nature and fruit of family life is love and virtue.

60. The glory of home is a virtuous wife; and the gift of children, its ornament.

66. “The flute is sweet, the lute is sweet,” say those who haven’t heard their children’s babbling voice.

72. The loveless covet everything; the loving even sacrifice themselves.

86. A good host to frequenting guests will be a good guest to the gods.

100. Uttering a bad word instead of good is like eating a raw fruit instead of ripe.

108. Forgetting kindness is not good; forgetting unkindness at once is good.

113. Even if good comes of it, spurn at once the wealth that injustice brings.

129. A burn may heal within, but not that caused by a scalding tongue.

131. Since conduct bestows honour, it is dearer than life itself.

148. Manliness eyes not another’s spouse and is the virtuous conduct of the wise.

151. As the earth bears those that dig, so bear with those that scorn.

165. The envious need no foe to bring about their downfall.

173. Those who seek bliss will not do wrong for pleasure’s sake.

183. Better to die and gain the fruits of virtue than to live on lies and slander.

192. An empty speech in an assembly is worse than a deed that offends friends.

202. Since evil begets evil, it is to be feared more than fire itself.

211. Philanthropy is such as rain that expects nothing in return from the world.

225. Great is the penance of overcoming one’s hunger, but only next to satiating another’s.

238. They deserve blame who leave behind nothing worthy of fame.

247. Even as this world is not for those without wealth, so is that world not for those without mercy.

260. With folded hands all creatures worship him who neither kills nor eats meat.

268. All living things worship him who has conquered the self.

271. The five senses inwardly mock at the double life of the hypocrite.

283. The wealth obtained by theft, though seeming to increase, will decrease and disappear.

299. No lamp is a lamp to the wise, but the lamp of truth.

309. Every desire will be fulfilled if the heart is without ire.

314. Return good for evil and make the villain ashamed of himself.

327. Even if one’s life is at stake, never take another’s sweet life.

338. As a shell to the bird that is hatched, so is the body to life that will fly.

341. The thing, the thing that is renounced can give no pain, no pain to the ascetic.

355. Howsoever a thing may appear, to behold its true nature is wisdom.

365. Nothing has an ascetic renounced if he has not renounced desire.

377. Unless Fate wills otherwise, even those who have amassed wealth can derive no pleasure.

Part II: Wealth

388. A just king who guards his people well shall be deemed a god.

391. Learn well the lessons of ethics and live according to its precepts.

403. Even fools are great if they be silent in the assembly of the wise.

418. Ears that can hear are deaf indeed if they have not listened to words of wisdom.

423. Whatsoever be said about a thing, to grasp its true meaning is wisdom.

439. Never praise yourself nor nurse a fruitless deed.

448. A king is defenceless, if there be none to rebuke him, and is ruined even if there be no foe.

455. Purity of mind and deed can last only in the company of the pure.

466. Doing that which ought not to be done brings ruin; not doing that which ought to be done also does.

471. Act only after measuring the relative strengths of the deed, self, foes and friends.

483. No deed is difficult if the act is well-timed.

495. Within the lake, a triumphant crocodile; beyond the lake, a vanquished reptile.

505. The touchstone of the great and the small is their own deeds.

517. Knowing that this through that by him can be done, entrust him with that task.

521. Though out of touch, only relations remember and nurse the ties of kinship.

531. Worse than exceeding ire is weariness borne of extreme delight.

546. It is not the spear that brings victory to the king, but a righteous scepter.

559. Should a king stray from righteousness, clouds may stray too and fail to rain.

562. The king who wishes long to reign, in striking seems severe and yet softly strikes.

573. Of what use a song that lacks harmony? Of what use an eye that lacks understanding?

582. It’s a king’s duty to know all that befalls each and everyone.

596. Ever think of noble thoughts, because base thoughts come unsolicited.

601. The lamp of home glows less and less when the moss of indolence grows more and more.

616. Efforts bear fruits divine; from effortlessness springs decay.

621. Just laugh when misfortune comes, for there is no better remedy.

634. Wisdom in counselling the king on the right course of action is statesmanship.

645. Choose well your words such that your argument knows no refutation.

654. Unswayed by adversity, the deeds of the seer are never base.

664. It is easy for all to say, but difficult to do what is said.

679. Better to make peace with foes than to pamper allies.

682. A messenger’s three essentials are love, intelligence and rhetoric skill.

691. As one keeps warm by the fireside — neither too close nor too far — so remain in the king’s assembly.

706. As a marble reflects that which is before, so the face reflects the emotions of the heart.

714. In the assembly of the wise, be wise; in that of the ignorant, be as blank as the skies.

724. Share with scholars the things that you know, and learn from them if they happen to know more.

738. A kingdom’s five ornaments are health, wealth, growth, weal and security.

750. A glorious fort is no fort if it lacks men of glorious deeds.

752. All spite the poor and honour the rich.

763. A serpent’s hiss can silence a sea of rats.

772. It is sweeter to aim at an elephant with a spear that fails than at a rabbit with an arrow that succeeds.

788. As a hand to a slipping garment, so friendship hastens to help a friend in need.

796. Even adversity has its use, for it serves as a scale to measure friendship.

802. A lasting friendship bestows privilege, and it is the duty of the wise to season it with the salt of wisdom.

819. A friend whose deeds match not his words brings grief — even in a dream.

824. Fear the hypocrite who has a smile on his face and treachery in his heart.

834. Nothing is more foolish than the life that’s steeped in wisdom’s lore and yet not governed by it.

841. Lacking wisdom is a lack indeed; the world spites not the lack of anything else.

854. The cessation of the pain of all pains called hatred yields the pleasure of all pleasures.

864. He who is ever angry and unsteady can be easily overcome by all at all times and all places.

872. Even if you antagonize him who ploughs with arrows, never antagonize him who ploughs with words.

889. Though small as a crack in a sesame seed, dissent in one’s ranks may bring about ruin.

899. The rage of a sage brings about the ruin of a king.

905. He who fears his wife will even fear to help the good.

918. In a siren’s clasp indeed are those who cannot grasp the wiles of a temptress.

922. Be a teetotaller; let others drink who wish not to be deemed wise.

931. Love not to gamble though assured of victory, for it is like the bait that hooks the golden fish.

942. No medicine is required if you eat only the food that nourishes the body.

959. A blade of grass reveals the nature of the soil; a person’s speech, his parentage.

967. Better pronounce him as dead who has to slave for foes.

975. The truly great accomplish wonderful deeds.

986. Accepting defeat, even at the hands of lesser mortals, is the touchstone of nobility.

992. Cultured ways spring from love and noble birth.

1005. Wealth is fruitless if the rich neither give nor spend.

1020. Those without modesty live even as puppets pretend to at the end of a string.

1022. Excellent deeds borne of persistent effort and intelligence advance household glory.

1033. They only live who plough the field; the rest follow as slaves for food.

1041. What is worse than poverty is poverty itself.

1052. Even begging is a pleasure, if what is sought is given without rebuke.

1062. If it has been ordained that some must beg and live, let the creator of this world beg and die.

1071. The mean-minded seem to be like humans, but in truth there’s none like them.

Part III: Love

1089. What more ornaments does a maiden need besides her doe-eyed glances and modesty?

1091. Two looks spring from her dark eyes: one look, the cause of my ailment; the other, its sure remedy.

1104. Whence got she these flames that at parting burns and at meeting cools?

1114. The lily bows its head in shame knowing that it equals not the beauty of a maiden’s jewelled eyes.

1125. I will think of her only if I ever forget, but I have never for a moment forgotten the bright-eyed maiden’s virtues.

1139. No one knows my love for him, but passion reveals herself as she whirls at the door with longing glances upon the street.

1147. My growing passion is manured by town gossip and watered by my mother’s rebuke.

1158. Living in a town without relations is misery enough; still worse is a lover’s separation.

1166. My passion’s pleasure is as vast as the sea; still vaster is the pain of separation.

1176. The eye that caused love’s malady — O ’tis sweet to see it shed bitter tears.

1183. My beauty and modesty he has taken away in return for this sallow and pining self.

1196. Bitter is unrequited love that tilts the scales; sweet is mutual love well balanced.

1201. My passion is sweeter than toddy, for just a thought of him makes my heart leap with delight.

1215. Seeing him with my eyes is sweet; and so is it in my dreams.

1226. Evenings never made me sick when my wedded lord was by my side.

1232. My tear-filled eyes seem to tell the world that my parted lord is yet to return.

1248. Worried that he comes not, my foolish heart goes after him.

1253. I strive to hide my passion, but it springs unexpected like a sneeze.

1267. Will I sulk or embrace or do both when the apple of mine eye comes before mine eyes?

1278. My lover parted from me only yesterday and yet my body has sallowed as though he left a week ago.

1281. The ecstasy of thought and the delight of sight belong not to toddy, but to passion.

1295. My mind troubles me for ever: it fears that he may not come; and when he comes, it fears that he may not stay.

1301. I will not embrace him, but sulk a little and watch awhile his passionate grief.

1316. “I often remembered you,” I said. But she sulked: “So you often forgot me?”

1329. Let my jewelled love sulk on; and as I plead with her, let the dark night lengthen.

Seven Songs From Andal's Thiruppavai

1. In December, on the sacred full moon day,
O ye who art adorned with jewellery,
O ye charming maidens of Thiruvaipady!
Come to bathe, who wish to fast and pray
To the dark-bodied and radiant-eyed One —
Slayer of foes with the sharpened spear
And cub of charming Yashodha and Nandagopan —
Whose face shines like the Sun's and Moon’s rays.
For he, Narayana, will his blessings shower.
Arise, O maidens, him to worship and praise!

2. Hear of noble deeds for fast assigned,
O ye who have made this Earth your seat!
To sing of him, and his lotus feet,
Who in the milky ocean lies reclined;
To take neither ghee nor milk for repast;
To bathe at dawn, and shade not eyebrows
Nor locks with flow’rs deck and plait nor bindfast;
Nor speak hurting words nor indulge in vice;
Give gifts and alms. And with joy which o’erflows,
To continue our noble fast — arise!

3. If we of him sing, who the world with his feet
Measured, and if we while fasting be baptized:
Our months would be with showers three comprised,
And blessed Earth with sheaves of corn replete;
And scaly breed in the waters leap and play,
And fireflies lie in calm and sweet repose
On flow’rs which on shores their beauty display,
And liberal cows, standing straight, from udders twain
Yield exceeding milk which in vessels overflows.
Such prosperity comes — arise and be fain!

4. Forsake us not but plunge into the sea,
O Varuna (thou with the Ocean's might),
And ascend in vapours to a great height,
For a thundering dark cloud thou must be!
Like Padmanabha’s chakra — flash and glow!
Thunder with might like his right-whorled chank!
And rain like the arrows from his well-wrought bow!
Not for us thou shouldst moderately rain,
But that the world may thrive and be not sunk! —
For this we maidens are risen and fain!

5. If we of him the mysterious One,
Of him who dwells in northern Madurai,
Of him who resides on the banks of the Yamunai,
Of him who amid shepherds sprung like the Sun,
Of him who his mother’s womb made proud;
If we of him sing with a pure heart
And offer flow’rs pure with fragrance sweet endowed,
And worship and think of him all the time,
Then shall he burn our sins that are to be and art.—
O ye maidens, let’s praise his name sublime!

6. The risen birds have twittered. Hearest not
Thou the sound of the conch in the temple
Of him who hast Garuda for a vehicle?
O maiden, arise! Filled with the thought
Of his mystery are the yogis and sages;
Of him who suck’d venom-milk from the breast
And eke the breath of the demoness!
Of him who smash’d to pieces with his feet
Sakada, and on serpent-bed lay in rest.
Their cry “Hari!” soothes us — arise, maiden sweet!

7. Hearest thou not the twittering of birds?
Hearest thou not the tinkling jewels, O maiden,
Of those (whose tresses art with scents laden)
Who with tiring hands churn the milk for curds?
Hearest thou not our chants of Narayana?
Or, O thoughtless maiden, dost thou pretend
To hear not our songs in praise of Kesava?
In such thoughtless fashion do not abide.
Arise, O charming maiden: put an end
To thy sleep and open the portals wide!

Kavimani Desika Vinayagam Pillai’s Temple Worship

Part I

I saw the temple’s every spot,
I climbed the temple’s highest tower;
But the God of gods, dear maid —
Though I searched, I found him not.

And I beheld the temple tank,
The surrounding car-streets too;
But to see my coffer, dear maid,
Mine eyes were poor and blank.

I saw the temple sculptures lined,
I saw the designs on the wall;
But that wonderful Lord, dear maid,
My searching eyes could never find.

I beheld gems and I beheld gold,
I beheld the fragrant garlands;
But my sire and deity, dear maid,
Mine eyes are yet to behold.

I saw the censer swing out incense,
I saw the lamp-tray rotated too;
But my guardian, dear maid,
My mortal eyes could not sense.

Lord Shiva’s idol in Tillai lies,
And there I see the dancing stage;
But he who ripens the stone, dear maid,
Appears not before mine eyes.

Part II

You may behold the things sublime,
But if you the Lord worship
With a wandering mind, dear maid,
Prayers aren’t worth a dime.

He is in the heart and soul, dear,
And that you must understand.
And if you can behold him there,
You can behold him everywhere.

Two Poems Of Subramanya Bharati

1. Hymn To Mother Divine

A piece of land,
A piece of land,
Mother Divine,
With a mansion dight
With marbled pillars bright,
On me enshrine.

And place, beside yon well
To form a shady dell,
A few cocopalms.
And here on this shady bed,
The mystic moon should spread
Its pearl-like charms.

And the cuckoo’s mellow sound
Should come with notes profound,
Mine ears to please.
And when mine heart doth rejoice
At the babbling cuckoo’s voice,
In must flow the breeze.

And these sweet songs to share
Provide me a maiden fair,
And sweet thoughts instill.
And when the heart mirth do finds,
Do, both our souls and minds,
With sweet verses fill.

And in that deep woody plain,
O Mother! — against all bane
With thine care defend.
And mine art of singing strong,
Which not to all belong,
Should the whole world bend.

2. The Lady To Her Maid

Whence springs this sound-so-sweet, my maid!
Made by whom springs this sound, my maid! (refrain)

I
Does it spring from a little hill,
Or from the branches of a tree?
Or does it spring from outer-space? —
It throws my mind to ecstasy!

II
Does it spring from the beating waves
Of Yamuna the blest river?
Or does this nectar-like sound spring
When the leaves together shiver?

III
Does it spring from the wild woods?
Or brought by wind from the moon,
Or by breeze from a distant land? —
Melteth me this melodious tune!

IV
Is there perchance a bird nearby
Which singeth this song sweet-as-wine?
Or does this music spring from strings
Plucked by Kinnaras divine?

V
Ah, ’tis the sound of Kannan’s flute —
Nectar to ear, poison to heart!
To have all maidens pine with love,
Aim’d with a song is that lovely dart!

A Poem Of Bharathidasan

Wherever you see,
There’s Goddess Shakti.
And all the seven seas
Are her hues and harmonies.
And galaxies, at her command,
Roll on like a ball from her hand.
It is but her laughter — hark —
The clouds that thunder in the dark!
And what is the forked lightning?
It is but her ornaments shining.

With thoughts to feel and measure
A youthful poet’s treasure,
She strides across the blue
And inspires ancient wisdom new.
Should you wish to cleave the world indeed
With a keen sword’s whirling speed —
Be that thought for long your penance
And in shoulders feel her puissance.

A Poem Of Namakkal Kavignar Ramalingam Pillai

Sans sword sans gore a battle is about to be.
Join the ranks if you have faith in truth's eternity.

No stealth, no tryst, no bomb to take one's life away;
Never this world before had seen such a novel foray.

Nor a horse, nor a tusker, nor any desire to slay.
Nor a wish to waylay and seize, nor foe in fray.

Nor thirst for revenge, nor ire, nor a single curse;
Nor thoughts of evil deeds in our hearts we nurse.

Never seen and never heard a fight like this before.
What now is seen is the fruit of kind deeds of yore.

Sage Gandhi's wisdom chose and showed us the righteous way.
Each evil thought in mankind's heart this creed divine will slay.

S.D.S. Yogi’s Before Moonrise

Not even a tender moon in sight — Radha, Radha
All alone in this ghoulish night — Radha, Radha
Timorously here-and-there glancing — Radha, Radha
Who is that you are seeking? — Radha, Radha

The town’s bustle has died down — Radha, Radha
The world too sleeps like the town — Radha, Radha
The rainy season has ripened — Radha, Radha
Yamuna’s banks have darkened — Radha, Radha

Is it Kannan that you seek? — Radha, Radha
Surreptitiously for a peek? — Radha, Radha
Your secret will be out — Radha, Radha
This night without a doubt — Radha, Radha

A lightning creeper thou art — Radha, Radha
And a rainbow apart — Radha, Radha
This night if you twinkle so — Radha, Radha
Will not this whole world know? — Radha, Radha

Bathed in milk-moon’s nectar beams — Radha, Radha
Your face, like milk-moon, gleams — Radha, Radha
Even the milk-moon will swoon — Radha, Radha
For thou art the ripened moon — Radha, Radha

In the blue-dark expanse — Radha, Radha
As the darkness expands — Radha, Radha
If you come like the beauteous moon — Radha, Radha
Out will be your secret soon — Radha, Radha

Thou art a flower of light — Radha, Radha
Deity of the lotus bright — Radha, Radha
Kannan’s face for to desire — Radha, Radha
Is it right this night to aspire? — Radha, Radha

His body is that of darkness — Radha, Radha
And darkness is his essence — Radha, Radha
This darkness will hide him — Radha, Radha
Then how can you find him? — Radha, Radha

Can a shadow in shadow be found? — Radha, Radha
Or darkness in darkness profound? — Radha, Radha
To find Nandagopan’s son this night — Radha, Radha
Darkness must yield to light — Radha, Radha

Wait for day’s early hour — Radha, Radha
When the sweet moon will flower — Radha, Radha
And when there is light to see — Radha, Radha
I will send word to thee — Radha, Radha

Three Poems Of M.L. Thangappa

1. My Job

For gathering the grain in the field,
For netting the fish the sea may yield,
For winning on the stage a new award,
For offering worship unto the Lord,
For helping the world with a wonderful deed,
For winning with books a scholar’s meed —
Many about their tasks have gone;
But having no job, left am I alone.

Slowly I come and sit at the threshold,
Mine eyes would flit and dreams would unfold.
The clouds would gather and graze in the skies,
The white-necked kite would spiral as it flies.
A butterfly would sit upon a blade of grass,
Suck nectar from a flower and pass.
Along the street lies the shiny sandy bed,
And Neems bow their heads and flowers shed.

Within a house across the street,
A child would roll its toy chariot.
Around him lie many other toys too:
Dancing doll, rabbit, bear and jumbo.
“Come to play, uncle!” he cries with joy,
Pointing his finger at many a toy.
I became a bard at once with a sigh;
Now who can say no job have I?

2. What Paari’s Wife Said

Just a jasmine creeper;
If one tree supports it not,
Another tree certainly would.
Or you could have propped it
With a couple of sticks.
What’s the need to support
With a chariot?
Sheer vainglory.
A clever ploy to earn
The name of ‘Great Giver’!

3. My Song

Should my song be sung into the ears
Of a temple horse of clay,
It would open its eyes, prick its ears,
And gallop straight away!

Should my song be sung beside
A sapling that is small,
It would shoot forth blossoms sweet
And brighten up the hall!

Should my song be sung into the ears
Of a boy who crippled lies,
He would leap over the fence and moon
And fly higher in the skies!

Should my song be sung into the ears
Of a woman with a wrinkled face,
Straight would she become a maiden young
And hold thee in a sweet embrace!

Should my song be sung amidst
A score of corpses in the night,
They would spring to life all at once
And dance and sing with delight!

I surely would the people persuade
To grasp the Truth with my verse.
And my song would cross galaxies
And merge with the universe!

Nirmal Selvamony’s Shadow

“Hail the foot of Him who is
The essence of the Vedas four!
Hail the sacred Lord who made
This wide and lovely world!
That great text Chirtpa Sastras,
Authored by sinless Mayanar,
Seek I to eternalize
And justify with words sweet.”

Scene I (a)

Asan: Who be it? Kalan? Or his shadow?
Kalan: His true shadow.
Asan: (Ironically) You look energetic like the west-facing shadow! Would not the shadow require energy to raise itself when it falls in a pond or on a hill?
Kalan: It looks as though you are brimming with joy!
Asan: (Pointing his head with a finger) All joy lies here in the mind. Can rags hold toddy? How can my body hold joy?
Kalan: Asan, till now I thought you were respectable, but now I find that you are Appusamy’s —
Asan: No, no, I’m not his admirer. He who does not know how to build with hard stones and sand has perhaps spread that tale. People who run to dwell in such houses … O my goodness!
Kalan: That’s right. Our people don’t know how to build at all. A crack has fallen on stories, why, even on weddings!
Asan: If you ask me why, a building will stand only if it be properly built to stand. Why will it not stand if it be built in accordance with the place and season?
Kalan: I became energetic as I raised this point in college.
Asan: What did you say?
Kalan: We study this and that in the name of Engineering. Afterwards we build using techniques which have no bearing on what we have learnt. We wish to see France and Rome in our country. If we say Gothic, they say Romanesque. But, as you said, we don’t think to build in accordance with the nature of the soil. Why, who knows that there are such books as Dravidian Architecture, Chirtpa Sastras and Manaiyadi Sastras? Even the professor knows it not. Pshaw! Shameful!
Asan: How will all these fall into their ears? Yes ... how much more such camphor did you dissolve in the sea?
Kalan: I told them at the Students Union meeting that the foundations of Civil Engineering and the art of Indian, especially Dravidian, architecture ought to be taught.
Asan: Really?
Kalan: But, but I knew all this would end in shadows.
Asan: When you proposed what did they say?
Kalan: What will they say?

Scene I (b)

Narrator: A union meeting took place in Kalan’s college.
Professor: Even if there is a book on Dravidian architecture, as Kalan says, the truth is that it cannot be as good as the western books on the subject. Moreover, if it ought to be taught in a university college, there ought to be sufficient scientific material relating to the subject in question.
Nijamu: Sir, already we are unable to study the lessons prescribed ...
Professor: Correct. It seems to me that what Nijamu says is the general opinion of the students. As far as I know ‘Dravidian Architecture’ cannot become a department. And even if it becomes one, there are not enough books on the subject. In such a state, if we prescribe this, it would be like the blind leading the blind.
Kalan: I needs must say what the professor says is wrong!
Principal: Kalan, if what you say be true, you have to speak with evidence.
Kalan: Sir, the professor hasn’t spoken with evidence!
Professor: What do you mean?
Kalan: But I can show evidence to prove my stand.
Professor: Mm ... what evidence?
Kalan: (shows a few books) Here ... a few books. There are more and more pamphlet leaves which are yet to take the printed form.
Professor: Where?

Scene II (a)

Narrator: The people thought that a boy of their village would return with a degree in Engineering. The results arrived. But on the contrary, Kalan failed. The village was shaken by the news.
Student1: Eh, how can it be that Kalan failed? He who gave his life for Engineering! If the light of Engineering leaves him, then it would lose its breath and die! If he should fail — he who studied Engineering atom by atom, and tasted it as one tastes rasam — then what would be our state?
Student2: Eh, you speak as though you know nothing. In this age who gives marks for what you write? Even if they read what you write, would they give marks? Only money can speak. Along with the answer sheets it should go and catch their tails. That alone is not sufficient. One ought to hang bags of money on their horns. That is called paper chase and academic jallikattu!
Student1: It looks as though ’tis easier to tame the black ox than to tame the ox of Education.
Student2: Kalan knows nothing. The professor made a note of him at the Students Union meeting itself! Had he immediately met him and set it aright, it would not have gone so far!
Student1: Why do you beat about the bush?
Student2: Ah, had he pushed a thousand or two ...

Scene II (b)

Woman1: Oh, they say Kalan has failed. Is it true?
Woman2: Whatever it be, every human being is subject to his fate. Why bother?

Scene II (c)

Landlord: Eh cashier, do you know the story of Kalan’s failure?
Cashier: Should not the principal at least enquire about the details?He just sits doing nothing.

Scene II (d)

Daughter: Mummy, mummy, get me a new pen.
Mother: Getting a pen alone is not sufficient. One must get marks also. You must not fail like the next door brother Kalan. Only then will I get you a pen.

Scene II (e)

Little boy: 	A little chick on the roof top,
			Kiyam kiyam;
		Brother Kalan has failed and gone,
			Kiyam kiyam.
Little girl: 	A little sparrow in the cage,
			Kuiyam kuiyam;
		Brother Kalan has failed and gone,
			Oiyam oiyam.

Scene II (f)

A threnody is heard while Kalan lies reclined.

Mother: 	A golden cycle it is, my boy!
		A cycle which goes to college.
		It takes thee there, and I thought

		You were a-studying.
		Your studies over
		And degree flown,
		I lamented aloud!

		O my boy, whom I begot when young,
		Did I cradle and fondle 
		And give milk to thee
		For thee to fail?

		O thou, whom I begot in penance,
		They would say we art
		Descendants of the Sun!
		They would say we art
		From the warriors line!
		They would say we bear
		The shape of the lovely moon!
		And they would say meek we art!

		If one stands in the village road
		With eyelashes darkened,
		They would fondly embrace
		And kiss the honey’d lips! —
		What will they in college give?

Scene III

Narrator: Kalan has returned home. The storm that rages in the village also rages at home.
Mother: Alas, alas! I can’t show my head anywhere. How did you fail? You always had books in your hand. Had you worked with greens in the kitchen, we would now have had a side dish at least! What’s the use? The whole world has begun to speak in a meaner and fiery way. Alas, I ...
Kalan: Mother, why do you unnecessarily worry? What has happened after all? Has the world darkened or what?
Mother: No, no, it is full of light.
Kalan: Which is important and which is not, you have not clearly understood. Even I till today did not understand. But now I do understand.
Mother: What are you saying?
Kalan: Yes. The day they failed me, I understood this clearly. There is no truth in this reality. But truth ever rests in the shadow of reality. My outward self alone have they failed. Only my structure of bones and flesh have they failed. But they cannot do anything to Kalan’s mind and thoughts!
Mother: Shadow — reality — it looks as though you will become mad.
Kalan: Nay — I think Studies, Degrees, Position, Pseudoculture and the like which cast no shadow like the devils, have taken possession of you!
Mother: Eh, do you at least understand what you say?
Kalan: Mother, do you know that I love your shadow more than yourself? I love the shadow more than reality. This shadow is more beautiful and full of life and truer than the flowers of a tree and plumes of a peacock!

		On the mountain the cloud’s shadow,
		On the hill that of the sparrow;
		On the field the shadow of the train,
		And that of the ship in the main!
		These shadows, mother, let them be mine;
		Them shall I adore and hold as divine.

		The shadow no falsehood knows,
		Nor on stage its greatness proclaims.
		’Tis that which accepts no bribe!

		No poison hath a snake’s shadow,
		The tiger’s shadow hath no hunger.
		Why, even if a priest the village loots,
		His shadow would likewise do never.

		Even if the temple the village loots,
		Its shadow would likewise do never.
		Even if the officer’s lap with bribe be weighed,
		His shadow would free remain for ever!

		Caste is for a man of religion,
		But not for his shadow!
		Mother, how can I its greatness …

		FINIS

Five Poems Of Bharathiputhiran

1. The Forms Of Tears

A tear
Has talons and a beak;
It
Waits on Time’s branch
Famished.

A tear
Has a mouth and a tongue;
It resides in the ears
With words.

A tear
Has eyes and lips;
It
Blossoms in joy
At heart.

A tear
Has sharpness and shine;
It
Springs like a sword
With might.

2. Epigram

Computers, they say, can songs indite!
Still may I starve morn, noon and night —
But no more need I sing my plight.

3. The Gardener

Daughter! Were you playing in that mansion’s garden? There do not go! Did you go thinking ‘My father digs the soil, sows the seeds, waters the plants and tends the flowers’? Go not there, my child!

Should the light of those bright flowers sparkle in your eyes, a longing may lure your fingers to touch them. Then … the mistress of the mansion will rush out and beat you, saying, “How dare you pluck a flower for your unkempt hair?” —

Never go there, darling!

4. Bonsai

When I was in the seed, dreams within me had grown. Being bathed in light ... A gentle shower from the clouds ... Tickled by the waters at the root ... The moon’s nectarine utterance ... These were my dreams.

I am dying of thirst! Consumed by hunger! Who is that who digs the soil? Stop it! That is my womb! Who dares to scissor my roots? Stop, man, stop! Those are my feet. Oh! Slice not my stomach!

The breeze will love … Birds will sing songs of gratitude, having eaten the fruits … Monkeys will swing on the hanging roots … Ah, mother, who feeds me on your lap!

Look at my twisted feet. Look at my tragic state, standing bare without those leaves that glisten in the sun. Is this little pot my world? And this roof my sky? My fruits are small as mustards, my flowers as worse as mosquitoes. Look at my wounds! Look at my shame!

My stunted growth may appear a thing of beauty in your deadly eyes. But one thing is sure: I am no plaything of yours. Step aside! My glory is to be rooted in the heart of the earth and to spread my branches across the skies. My glory is the glory of a thousand flowers and a thousand fruits. Step aside! The birds are famished.

5. A Dialogue With The Emperor

“Citizen! Listen to this, if your heart has ears. She who is buried on the banks of the Yamuna was not only a king’s wife but also a woman.” —

“Emperor! Listen, if yours is a conscientious heart. If you were not the monarch of the Mughal empire to which even waves pay obeisance … if you were merely a famished citizen in this vast realm ... what could you have done for Mumtaj?” —

“Only Love shaped the monument.” —

“But it was Authority that accomplished it.” —

“Is not my Love immortalised in marble?” —

“It was our sweat that immortalised it.” —

“But does this not yield eternal beauty and bliss?” —

“Even the brightness of silk is obtained at the cost of lives.” —

“Flowers are for decoration.” —

“Yes, perhaps, but the skull is not a vase.” —

“She who died now lives in this.” —

“But those who lived were killed for this.” —

“Fed with the milk of the moon, lulled by the waves, Mumtaj lies at ease in the cradle of the grave.” —

“But where can we bury those whom you whipped — whose thumbs you chopped off?” —

“This is a poem of my dream.” —

“This is but our lamentation.” —

V. Mariappan’s The Candle And The Cigarette

Cigarette: Your saintliness has bowed me into silence. I, who convert lungs into chimneys, have come seeking your forgiveness.
Candle: You are seeking gems in a land of waste. Feeding fire with milk, I lie in a pool of whitish blood. I am but frozen tears. Fire is my breath! What saintliness can be in this?
Cigarette: No! You are the nobler of us both. You do perish like me, but in the hands of your Death there are no ashes. Consumed by fire, you are Joan of Arc since your thoughts are focussed on God. But I am Satan’s incense-stick. I am the silent sigh of a courtesan. I lie like a stone quickened by the touch of the hallowed feet of fire. Not to maidenhood – but to ashes! My body itself is Death. They let the offsprings of fire play on me. So I steal a few gem-like seconds of their lives! I am a sinner! I am born to intoxicate! But you are the epitome of sacrifice. You store your wounds in the form of tears at your feet. You are the only rose whose petals wither when the wick is lit.
Candle: Sister! You make my sorrows divine. You are not meaner than I! In truth, both of us are of low estate. In the tyranny of fire, we languish like the stomachs of poor mortals. Though placed at the feet of the Lord and sanctified by custom, I lie like a barren corpse. Even you live to go up in smoke caught between intoxicated fingers. Here, what talk can be of high and low? Whether on a courtesan’s cot or on a temple icon, are not the flowers the offsprings of Sorrow? The fire that makes you a sinner, makes me not a saint … Come, let us strive ...

APPENDIX: TWO POEMS OF NIRMALDASAN

1. The Birth Of Mozhi

The sacred dwells within the seeds of time
And sprouts and grows into a balmy tree;
The sacred spreads its roots to every clime
And lifts across the skies a green canopy,
Shedding leaves or bearing fruits seasonly.
Beyond the tree also is sacred space,
Within the rustic heart of simplicity,
Glows like a halo in Patarkkai’s face
And joins Tanmai to Munnilai in sweet embrace.

I sing of Tanmai, maiden beautiful,
Whose tresses dark to slender waist do flow,
Whose eyes shine bright like stars and moon so cool.
She loves to wander on with footing slow;
Sometimes across the lake she likes to row.
I sing of Munnilai too, handsome lad,
The only person Tanmai came to know;
They fell in love with hearts exceeding glad
And pleasure great in each other’s company had.

While nature’s sounds made music such as jazz,
Tanmai conceived and gave birth without pain
To Mozhi, who became a charming lass,
With voice of dropping dew or pouring rain.
Her voice would also ring like bell in fane
Or sound like twittering birds across the skies,
Or just like waves that rise and fall in main.
And she was filled with the wisdom of the wise,
A joy to hear but never seen by mortal eyes.

Unarvu and Arivu and Ullam
Are sisters three and friends to sweet Mozhi.
They love to sport with her and form the sum
Of feeling, reason and divinity.
Unarvu likes to smell a flower or see,
Or touch or taste a fruit, or hear a song;
Arivu likes to talk impressively,
Asserting certain things as right or wrong;
But Ullam likes to pray and count the beads for long.

My song is ended, no tale have I told;
Call it allegory or dark conceit
Whose meaning may not easily unfold
To those who dislike a Spenserian treat
And dismiss this song as an idle feat.
But those who like and really wish to know,
Must know that Tamil is a language sweet
That flows from native tongues, as fountains flow,
In literary, music and dramatic show.

NOTE: Composed between 25 and 28 October 2004, this poem owes its form to Edmund Spenser’s Faerie Queene and content to Dr. Nirmal Selvamony’s writings, especially ‘Moli: The Personaic Nature Of Language’ and Tamilkkatchi Neriyiyal.

The Tamil term for language is Mozhi, which comes into being thanks to Tanmai (speaker/first person), Munnilai (listener/second person) and Patarkkai (remote listener/third person).

The English equivalents of Unarvu, Arivu and Ullam are feeling, reason and will respectively. The concluding line of the poem refers to the threefold division of classical Tamil (Muthamizh) — iyal (literature), isai (music) and natakam (drama).

2. Ennum Ezhuthum; Or, The Importance Of Literacy

In Konrai Venthan crafted fine
Is poetess Avvai’s famous line:
Ennum ezhuthum kannena thagum.

When up you wake or go to bed
Just store this saying in your head:
Ennum ezhuthum kannena thagum.

July hot or cold December
Just remember, just remember:
Ennum ezhuthum kannena thagum.

En are numbers one two three
Four five six to infinity:
Ennum ezhuthum kannena thagum.

Ezhuthu are letters spread
From a b c to x y z:
Ennum ezhuthum kannena thagum.

Kan are your two little eyes
That make you see and become wise:
Ennum ezhuthum kannena thagum.

Thagum is that neat equation
Between kan, ezhuthu and en:
Ennum ezhuthum kannena thagum.

In Konrai Venthan crafted fine
Is poetess Avvai’s famous line:
Ennum ezhuthum kannena thagum.

Nirmaldasan’s Poetry

Print
An Eaglet In The Skies (1996)
A Pocket Book Of Rhymes (2006)
Silver Jubilee & Other Poems (2008)
Borrowed Robes (translations, 2012)

Online
Rocking Pegasus (2002)
Literary Trivia & Curiosities (2004)
A Quiver of Arrows (2007)

Nirmaldasan is the pen name of N.Watson Solomon, an independent Communication Consultant. His long association with Dr. Nirmal Selvamony resulted in the tinai series 1-3 (2001-04), in which some of his best poems are published. He is a co-author of Understanding News Media (2006) with Dr. I. Arul Aram and a contributor to Plain Language In Plain English (2010), edited by Cheryl Stephens.

Here are links to his literary and other writings:

* nirmaldasan home page
https://www.angelfire.com/nd/nirmaldasan
* readability monitor
http://strainindex.wordpress.com
* journalism online newsletter
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/journalismonline
* media studies
http://nirmaldasan.blogspot.com