By Kollengode S Venkataraman Written October 2000
The large compendium of early Bhakti poetry in Tamil composed between 6th and 10th centuries by the four Saivite and the twelve Vaishnavite savants is well known to the initiated.
But another large body of Tamil literature, generically called the Sangam Literature, predates even this. This corpus of work (actually an anthology) is dated between the third century BC and the third century AD.
The themes of Sangam poetry are secular, with religious motifs staying only in the background. Aga-nanooru (literally internal-400) and Pura-naanooru (literally External-400) are the two important sections. Romance is the central theme of Aga-naanooru, while the poverty of the bards, and the valor, generosity, and even the cruelty of kings are the motifs of Pura-naanooru. In Sangam poetry, Tamil is in its pristine form, with very few Sanskrit words.
About six months back, Alarmel Valli, a talented Bharatanatyam artiste, in her recital at Sri Venkateswara Temple, performed for a poem number 37 taken from Kaliththogai, part of the Sangam works. The secular storyline in this Tamil poem, written as a first-person narration by a young maiden to her bosom friend, is sensuous, gentle, and subtle, which only made it all the more romantic. This is what the maiden says to her friend (my freestyle, nonliterary, nonliteral rendering):
O My Dear friend with eyes like dark lily in a pond,
A man, with a bow on his shoulder, came my way
as if tracking an elephant’s foot mark
He looked at me. I saw his face, but he went his way.
I was fascinated by him. For many days, I lost sleep,
and was afflicted with torment thinking about him.
He’s gentle, and won’t look into my eyes and speak.
When he himself doesn’t speak, how can I, a girl, speak out?
Thinking that this may not go beyond mere gazing,
my shoulders wasted away [in the anguish of unfulfilled love].
So, one day, gathering my composure, and did a shameless thing.
You know, we chase away parrots [from eating the millet grains]
while going back and forth on the swing.
When he came near, shamelessly, I asked him,
“Sir, will you push my swing a little?”
Saying, “Fine, girl!” he pushed the swing, standing in front.
[The swing was swaying back and forth.]
Then, pretending to lose my grip, I fell on his chest.
Thinking I really fell from the swing, he rushed to hold me tight.
I was in his embrace, as if I had fainted. I did not open my eyes.
If only I had opened my eyes, he would’ve moved away at once,
telling me, “Young girl, now you go home.”
He is such a gentleman.
Incidentally, the author of this verse is Kapilar, a man.
Here is the Tamil original:
கய மலர் உண் கண்ணாய்! காணாய்; ஒருவன்
வய மான் அடித் தேர்வான் போலத், தொடை மாண்ட
கண்ணியன், வில்லன், வரும்; என்னை நோக்குபு,
முன்னத்தின் காட்டுதல் அல்லது, தான் உற்ற
நோய் உரைக்கல்லான் பெயரும்மன், பல் நாளும்!
பாயல் பெறேஎன், படர் கூர்ந்து, அவன் வயின்,
சேயேன்மன் யானும் துயர் உழப்பேன்; ஆயிடைக்
கண் நின்று கூறுதல் ஆற்றான், அவன் ஆயின்;
பெண் அன்று, உரைத்தல் நமக்கு ஆயின்; ‘இன்னதூஉம்
காணான், கழிதலும் உண்டு’ என்று, ஒரு நாள், என்
தோள் நெகிழ்பு உற்ற துயரால் துணிதந்து, ஓர்
நாண் இன்மை செய்தேன், நறு நுதால்! ஏனல்
இனக் கிளி யாம் கடிந்து ஓம்பும் புனத்து அயல்,
ஊசல் ஊர்ந்து ஆட, ஒரு ஞான்று வந்தானை,
ஐய! சிறிது என்னை ஊக்கி’ எனக் கூறத்,
‘தையால்! நன்று’ என்று அவன் ஊக்கக், கை நெகிழ்பு,
பொய்யாக வீழ்ந்தேன், அவன் மார்பில்; வாய்யாச் செத்து,
ஒய்யென ஆங்கே எடுத்தனன்; கொண்டான் மேல்
மெய் அறியாதேன் போல் கிடந்தேன்மன்; ஆயிடை
மெய் அறிந்து ஏற்று எழுவேன் ஆயின், மற்று ஒய்யென,
‘ஒண் குழாய்! செல்க’ எனக் கூறி விடும் பண்பின்
அங்கண் உடையன் அவன்!
Obviously, this 2000-year-old Tamil will be difficult to understand even to college-level Tamil graduates, not to speak of today’s Tamils with barely working familiarity with the Tamil language. Kapilar, Kaliththogai verse no 37
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