On Authors, Critics and Readers
Some leave behind a hard-won name
Others only fame
A few the sweat and tears of their passage
Snatched from the rigours of their age
Yet none the folly of the game
Fiction is licensed perjury
The coward's excuse for character
Courage revelation originality veracity
All conspire to make for a writer
All mirrors distort
Reviewers like haïr-dressers retort
And mistake the fall of water for the harp
A mere critic can only carp
If what you see is repugnant
close your ever envious eyes
and you'll even see in darkness
and the reason for your blindness
(© T. Wignesan, Paris - 2006. Pub. in T. Wignesan. Rama and Ravana at the Altar of Hanuman: on Tamils, Tamil Literature and Tamil Culture. Chennai: Institute of Asian Studies,2006 & Allahabad: Cyberwit.net,2008.)
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Related quotes
Blood' Brothers or 'Bloody' Brothers under the Banner
"A dying people tolerates the present, rejects the future, and finds its satisfactions in past greatness and half-remembered glory."
"A strong man makes a weak people. A strong people don't need a strong man."
John Steinbeck (Nobel Prize 1962)
for the DEAD in the Struggle for EELAM
I
Ages from now, let it not be said:
Blood spills only as brother dies.
Ages from now, let not peace be bled
By chances lost now in sighs.
To the high nor low slams the door
To him who seeks the Law and more.
Take, take the Golden Mean way!
Truth your only key, don't ever slay!
Where the elephant roams un-tethered free,
The familiar myna will echo carefree
Words of yore buried in sacred memory:
One breed, one species carved in ivory.
No greater fear simmers in the lowlands
Than the stealth of brother against brother;
No higher disdain festers in the highlands
Than vengeance lying in wait for the other.
II
Think not of the promises made and broken,
Think only of the time lost and forsaken.
Every hour, every day, a life blown or taken;
Every month, every year, a people woe-driven.
To the high nor low slams the door
To him who seeks the Law and more.
Take, take the Golden Mean path!
Truth your only key, never the lathe!
Think of Prince Paranirupasingham who to succour
King Jayavira's queen, to Kandy, fled his throne:
Abandoned to court intrigue, schemes and wiles encore:
A princely retreat, a physician's penance alone.
First governor, then regent, the last Jaffna King Cankili
Learnt best the conqueror's cruel art of slaughter;
Then, fired by the local converts' iniquitous treachery,
Revolted too late, his head the butt of lofty laughter.
Think of C.P. Ramanathan the island's cause to defend
Sailed over choppy seas past wild submarines
To raise the nation's flag in the court of the Empire's den,
His homeward chariot drawn by one peoples' teens.
III
What shame if might measures not with muscle?
What disgrace awaits those who fail?
Should wanting life be held lèse-majesté to a tussle?
Should a nation thrive as in a sundered jail?
To the high nor low slams the door
To him who seeks the Law and more.
Take, take the Golden Mean road!
Truth your only key, never the sword!
Decades from now sawn men will in right ask:
Had we then no will to attend to our wounds?
Should not the White Master be called back to task
To bear the burden of our graveyard mounds?
What guidance should wise men need
More than their own tested counsels?
Lay, lay aside the pride of higher breed
Like two strong men upright in councils!
IV
People are made to feel their lives rendered great
By what their leaders do to invoke fate;
Destiny asks not who may stand in as its fated mate,
When all around lives are lost through hate.
To the high nor low slams the door
To him who seeks the Law and more.
Take, take the Golden Mean way!
Truth the only key, no, never slay!
If the Lion strays from its prescribed domain,
The Tiger will seek to sink its fangs in flanks.
Two kings bide their time in a land full of bane,
While the common folk lie razed by tanks.
V
Seek not to replace life with conundrums.
Seek only a life-giving solution.
Herald not the arrival of the enemy with drums.
Let only your heart speak in absolution.
The mountain cannot reach up to the sky.
The lake at the summit is full.
If monsoons come, calling cranes will cry.
Kindred spirits will rally in full.
To the high nor low slams the door
To him who seeks the Law and more.
Take, take the Golden Mean way!
Truth the only key, no, never ever slay!
Can a people simply grow strong in broken places
While strong men before the hour vacate places?
"Man can be destroyed but not defeated.
Man can be defeated but not destroyed."
(©: T.Wignesan - September 21,2005; from the Sequence: 'Words for a Lost Sub-Continent', Paris, France. Pub. in T. Wignesan. Rama and Ravana at the Altar of Hanuman: on Tamils, Tamil Literature and Tamil Culture. Chennai: Institute of Asian Studies,2006 & Allahabad: Cyberwit.net,2008.)
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Check if you are a Tamil
To be a Tamil, to be born to Tamils
And to speak Tamil as mother tongue
Aren’t alone a sufficient proof.
You must speak vowels tearing apart and
With nouns in English and verbs in Tamil.
You must have a hero higher than God
And read, if at all, the news of movies.
You will do public nuisances at length
And must be insensitive to them.
You shall respect Tamil and ignore Tamils.
You celebrate festivals by watching
In TV Tamil debates and stars’ talks.
You seek south Indian restaurants abroad.
Then you can boast you are a true Tamil.
19.10.2008
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Tamil New Year Day,2009
Today is ‘Tamil New Year Day’ –
A day of joy and happiness,
That fills the hearts of Tamilians,
Wherever they may be, they say!
Let Tamil foster friendship, love;
Let Tamil ignite hearts and minds;
Let Tamil bring new hope to all;
Let Tamil thrive and fill the world!
Let Tamil serve not to divide;
Let Tamil bond only unite;
Let Tamil grow in leaps and bounds;
Let Tamil live to make all live!
Let wars all cease and peace prevail;
Let love of brethren become prime;
Let Tamils live with dignity;
Let Tamil rule the world some day!
Fondly dedicated to Tamilians all over the world!
Copyright by Dr John Celes 4-14-2009
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The Urchin in Dr. Radhakrishnan Rd.
Still the din dashes about in his dreams
now louder in the spaced quiet:
an occasional auto-rickshaw backfiring revving
spluttering
too close for chancy comfort
some blaring tv hoisted above craning necks
Over the squeezed out crackling mud sidewalk
his head buried in the crook of his charred bony arm
his right elbow crusted in a masked-eye pattern
his left spindly leg knotted at the knee
jauntily splayed in a triangle on his right
the mud-soaked sole inturned at the angle
as if to cushion the prickly grains on bare scorched skin
a defensive gesture against cold dust wind noise pain
the slight lukewarm breeze lifting from Marina Beach
teasing the settled dust the strangled pores
he had for a blanket
Through the dropped jaw rosy-pink at the bled bitten lips
his breath wheezed through stained craggy teeth
his broken nose stopped by blobs of bloody phlegm
a hovering fly or two keeping undisturbed guard
His hair streaked in plaited dusty strands
lost in the sidewalk's trampled mud
On his loins some tortured rags bound at the hips
bulged at the dryblown stomach
the nombril unfurled like a budding ear
to where the hardly heaving contorted ribs
held the will to awaken
the evaporating carcase of a steamy engine at the works
He woke to the mocking streaking laughter of the magpie
calling out to its mate across the slipping concave-tiled roofs
across the dense mango green weighted clusters
where they had slumbered for the night
to the mangy scavenger dog digging its nozzle in the splodges
of decomposing leaves paper and tins larded with leavings:
turds dung urine phlegm and menstrual foam
that the parched earth gulped during the day
to the bluebottles festering on the peeled shin-bone
to the hordes of tinkling bicycles piercing his unquiet drums
to the buses and taxis top-heavy creaking and near toppling
and the sharp clipped voices of servants
urgently preparing the exit of their master
in a polished limousine through laundered lawns
Some fifty yards away across the road
a low saffron roofed-box of a stone shrine
lay crushed and sagging on the tarmac against the mud-sidetable
from which sprawled the scaly frame of a dust-throttled tree
the garland of mallikai on the dark stubby slippery shrine
of a squat Ganesha
a hardly flickering oilwick open trough lamp lighting limply
other framed coloured pictures of Ganapati
two half-empty troughs of kunkunum and vibhuti
on the half-opened cicatrised shrine gate
traces of twirls of white chalk on the road
reminders of mandala and disrespectful feet
a bleak reminder to the departed donor's culpability
To the boy now awakened
looking through dazed poolai-stuck eyes
the obeisances of hurrying office workers
and the coins they reverently pressed in a cement platter
at the saffron-robed shrine's feet
strewn with fading frangipani
and shrivelling kernel in split coconut-halves
all these were on a reel spun high on a screen
the lad could neither fear
nor partake of the proferred fare
his only Right was his right hand
stretched long but never touching
the deadened fury of his looks
softened only by the lowered eyes
The day was long or short
depending on his cavernous gastric growls
and according to how he laid himself out in some public place
to shut out the important world of poets and politicians
shout-shooting around him
into the Twenty-First Century
towards wild parties and fun-conferences
to shore up their sagging petty images
to bombs and cars that fly
to other worlds won on stars
to shrines adorned like filmstars
and filmstars adorned like shrines
Just a privileged lingerer
allowed to watch a while the magic lantern show
behind burning fearful eyes
that dreamt of steamy coco-shavings-crusted puttu
a second stomach thunderbread and chapati
ladiesfingers and drumsticks
pumpkin in hot sambar
stringhoppers in coti
masala tosai
and a tumbler of buttermilk
Notes
1.Dr.Radhakrishnan Rd.: Boulevard in Madras (Chennai, India) where are to be found some posh hotels
2. mallikai: Tamil for a variety of the jasmine.
3. splodges: a blend of 'splotches' and 'lodges' (in the sense of "to serve as a receptacle for") , meaning a great heap of splotches
4. kunkunum and vibhuti: Hindus streak their faces with these powders either for customary or religious reasons
5. poolai: Tamil for rheum in the eyes
6. magic lantern show: a reference from Omar Khayyam's Ruba'iyat.
7. puttu, sambar, coti, stringhoppers, masala tosai: Indian Tamil cuisine, usually taken as part of breakfast
___
(©: T.Wignesan 1993 (January 4,1993) , from the Sequence 'Words for a Lost Sub-Continent' in the collection: back to background material (1993) ISBN 2-904428-11-9 Pub. in T. Wignesan. Rama and Ravana at the Altar of Hanuman: on Tamils, Tamil Literature and Tamil Culture. Chennai: Institute of Asian Studies,2006 & Allahabad: Cyberwit.net,2008.)
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Culture Diffuses By Osmosis.
Tamils settled in Kerala
Feel shy to speak Tamil
And want to hide their race
From their tongue and looks.
.
Tamil Brahmins proudly use it.
They keep it as their mother tongue.
They speak, sing and dance in Tamil,
Generation after generation.
Tamils, save Brahmins, are held as black.
In a culture, inferior dissolves in the superior.
10.11.2002
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Krishna's Advice to Arjuna
14: If the soul meets death when Sattva prevails,
then it goes to the pure regions of those who are seeking truth.
15: If a man meets death in a state of Rajas,
he is reborn amongst those who are bound by their restless activity;
and if he dies in Tamas, he is reborn in the wombs of the irrational.
The Bhagavad Gita, XIV, transl. Juan Mascaro.
« It is incorrect to assume that Hindu thought strained excessively after the unattainable and was guilty of indifference to the problems of the world. We cannot lose ourselves in inner piety when the poor die at our doors, naked and hungry. The Gita asks us to live in the world and save it. »
S. Radhakrishnan, The Bhagavadgita.
When Thodti was born at Nelveli in the latter half of the XXth century
his ancestors had been living out-of-right
for the past XXX centuries
hovering
on never-never land under villages with-out-back twenty-hutments
now overgrown to two one-thousand hovels in towncentre marshalling
yards
no sewers gurglecourse under their feet
nor piped potable water flush their long-curdled alimentary canals
nor showers chase the clinging cloaca stench
nor even un-broken drains
tarred roads
garbage removal vans
find mouth on election platforms
the towncentre = the bus-terminal churning flipping putrid mud after
three-day drubbing storms
and bulging humanfleshed trains
run on forgotten time
the lav's stinging week-long turds splashvomits the feast of flies
temples carved with mantric-mouthed hands from the VIIteenth &
VIIIteenth
gopurams in congested tiered runaway curlicue rococo-baroque
fantasy
rose chalk kunkumam ripe mango yellow pitch black indigo
bulging fuming thick mascara eyes Zapata moustaches dangling over
burgeoning bellies
lithe white cows gracing Ganesha's flanks
garlands of roses hibiscus jasmine
identical buxomy lasses ballooning commodious backs ample thighs
their sarees
a deliberately clasped transparent veneer of pudeur
the jingling nautch girl anklets
vain reminders of Kannagi
bangles bracelets armlets tiaras talis earrings noserings fingerings
toerings kolusus
the prancing stained eyelashes the full lascivious lips
and that eternally round-eyed vacant supercilious stare
past the invisible sanctum sanctorum
the vast sinking steps of the holy tank murky with blodok
torn bookmatches ceremonial paper ferns water-lilies lotuses and
centuries-old ooze
caked ulcerous washing feet and tick-milling matted hair
see how trailing reams of wishes and private wants
rise in pre-paid puja-thin mantric magic smoke to high heaven
for Thodti trailing barefeet his dried coconut-stick broom on cracked
macadam
in the gutter festering oozing fresh month-old drying turds urine remains of fed-up banana-leaves skins withered jasmine garlands drained motor-oil from scooter-taxis overfed flies lean stray kids fowl cows
all that was wonder from afar
magic mythic mystery the lingo of gods on earth
the brahmin vegetarian clattering-pans over order shouting eating-
hotels
as though the heavens deigned to camp down on his doorstep
derailed on their celestial inter-galactic circuit
his mind if he cared to exercise one was of little use to him
nor were they to his ancestors
called upon only to clean the bottoms off those who
shat upon his forefathers for ages
his only use for his intelligence
is to know his place
minus the alphabet
minus arithmetic
minus the patinenkilkkanakku
minus the grandold Vedic mystic gods and rishis
minus the right to think for himself
only the dullard's right to die daft dull damned
and be reborn in the womb of ignorance
So much for your Godly advice Charioteer Krishna
For don't Gods only talk to Gods on Earth
Detach yourself first then
KILL
Do not feel for those you kill
For what lofty ideal the Mahabharatha
pitted mythically gambling polyandrous cousins
Is India today a magical-realist myth
or a cranking up Indo-Pak Armageddon
Sattva Rajas Tamas
Sattva Rajas Thodti
Notes
Sattva: pure intelligence and goodness
Rajas: impure mental energy and restless passion
Tamas: dullness and inertia
Blodok or belodok (also beluduh) : Malay for large-eyed goby, found in tropical or
equatorial muddy flats
Gopuram: the tiered, sculptured towers over the main entrances to Hindu temples
Kannagi: heroine of the medieval Tamil epic Cilappatikaram
Kolusu: ornamental anklet chains with bells worn by Tamil women
Kunkumam: saffron (yellow or red) powder serving as adornment marks of
auspiciousness on women's faces
Patinenkilkkannakku: the traditionally collective name for eighteen Tamil classical
works
Tali: usually gold chains worn by married Tamil women round the neck or tumeric-
stained cords in lieu of
Thodti: a caste name for Night Soil Men
(© T.Wignesan May 26/27,1997 Revised June 2002 - Paris; From the sequence "Words for a Lost Sub-Continent" in longhand notes (a binding of poems) . ISBN 2-904428-14-3 Pub. in T. Wignesan. Rama and Ravana at the Altar of Hanuman: on Tamils, Tamil Literature and Tamil Culture. Chennai: Institute of Asian Studies,2006 & Allahabad: Cyberwit.net,2008.)
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A tribute to M. Karunanithi
You stood for Tamil and for Tamils.
You did well for them a long while.
In you runs Tamil blood, not an Aryan’s.
You are who made Tamil to its throne.
You are who weeded Tamil clean.
Paradoxically you are out thrown.
Who can beat you in oratory skill?
You are a caste-less, religion-less jewel.
The one who weeded Tamil was weeded of Tamils.
The presence of mind is out of presence.
Once you were thrown for an intruder.
Now you are thrown for an invader.
You were not thrown for misdeeds.
You were thrown by caste and creed.
You were not shut for ineptitude.
Then why had you been an outright reject?
Sheep do not want a sheep as their master.
Slaves do not want a brethren as their master.
Sheep mind not the master slaughtering.
Slaves worry not the master plundering.
Both want a merciless hand to rule over,
In whom the slavery is bravery.
Tamils hail Tamil but not Tamils.
How can you expect their granary?
Emotion rides where the rational slides.
If a bone is given, the tail is shown.
It is sad that you were born a Tamil.
Tragic events with a happy end-
Happy events with a tragic end:
I weep you are slated as vagabond
Though you entail a peaceful end.
I suggest you denounce politics.
27.05.2001, Pmdi
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Classical Tamil World Conference (Semmozhi Tamizh Ulaga Manadu)
Through you, I came, Mother;
Lucky was my birth in Bharat, my Motherland;
I was nurtured and grew up by mother’s milk;
I drew strength from my mother’s love.
I knew the world through my mother-tongue;
I learnt most things by mother-tongue;
Thanks to my dear earthly mother;
Thanks to my Mother, Tamil!
The place where I was born was Tamilnadu;
Tamil is my mother-tongue;
Tamil was my first breath;
My first cry was in Tamil.
My last breath shall be Tamil;
My life will be for Tamil;
I am proud of my mother-tongue, Tamil;
I am proud to be a Tamilian!
Tamil is a great language;
Tamil is a popular language;
Tamil is an ancient language;
Tamil is a classical language.
Tamil is a world language;
Tamil is a language of Gods!
Dedicated to ‘Classical Tamil World Conference,2010, Coimbatore’
Copyright by Dr John Celes 23-06-2010
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Siluroid
I am the prize catch
I live in an artificial lake
fed by a nappe phréatique
I was put there to keep
lesser fish: carp
from taking up too much space
I live to be caught
and caught again
and be let loose as rain
I protest only to attract attention
Twenty minutes to make things look good
for the fresh-water sportsman
I know now well how to play the game
My almost fanless tail
A slithering mermaid mass from my puffed-up head
where overcoat-button eyes
sunk on either side
of my gaping gasping mouth
shell-fish fins for hands
Seven beige whiskers under my gawking chin
make me the butt
of dare-devil diving click-clucking coots
Even the slender-necked darting grebe ignores me
I stay low when the wild geese gather
with their young:
duckling swan barnacle
I make no sound to call my own
Only the crunch of carp
between two rows of filed-down molars
It is not my duty to swagger around
even under my metallic raincoat camouflage
I hide where the yarrow stalks grow thick and deep
or where the weeping willows dip their loaded plaits
Every Sunday I await the sporting hameçon
The tear makes the wear more ludique
Only the side of my underlip looks like a harelip
It doesn't much matter
for the fun-loving trotters and rovers
like to marvel with pride at my side
in the fishing-club picture of the week
Meantime I gorge myself with carp
That's why I hardly ever wish to carp
(© T. Wignesan - Paris - 2012)
Note: The Siluroid, one of the largest fresh-water fishes, sometimes two metres and a half in length and weighing anything between a hundred and a hundred and fifty kilos.
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He who creates re-creates himself
for René Passeron
You may not grow old too soon
if
Things you have known will come back to you again
No revision nor recall need put them back in place
Time was when you knew the time
the place the face
Even the scarce women in prized moments gone in pain
Who would care nor what would it matter
in which life upon what water
you have trailed your fingers
upon waves of papers
Let your mind brush
some canvas in a rush
Left your mark
upon some bark
Wed some wanton women
spawned wholesome omens
Made as if the artier your words
held some moment in a perennial frame
Never to be banged away by fading suns
collapsing quasars
asteroid storms
puncturing galaxies
usurping black holes
Can this act of writing seize the moment
Or is it your way of saying
What else is there to be done?
Let the unknowable undermine the unknown
Here on this planet
we have made our sinuous conventions
stick to paper and canvas
stone and sound
And words that are haloed
by the sickness of the poet
though all is not lost for the pen
whose blood will
possess
anchor
expose
our futile justifications
explications
ratiocinations
doctoral dissertations
And generations will tremulously grant him
The right to unravel the eternities
For one who dared capture the moment
In the capsule of a poem
Dedicated to René Passeron
(©: T.Wignesan 1987 April 12,1987 [from the collection: back to background material,1993] Pub. in T. Wignesan. Poietics: Disquisitions on the Art of Creation. Allahabad: Cyberwit.net,2008. 'Poem of the Month' at Alongstoryshort site, April 2012.)
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DR KALAIGNAR M. KARUNANIDHI (An Acrostic)
Lovingly dedicated to our beloved Chief Minister of Tamilnadu,
On his birthday,03-06-2010
Dravidian Movement leader of great repute
Ryot by birth and writer in Tamil of scripts and songs
Known for his eloquence in Tamil oration
Author of many Tamil books of high literary quality
Lover of Tamil language and culture and Lyricist
A rare human being who made India and Tamilnadu proud
Inferno that burned off the caste and creed differences amongst Tamilians
Genius and generous giver of awards and rewards for deserving artistes and achievers
Newspaper founder and editor
Anjugam’s son
Renowned erudite Chief Minister of Tamilnadu
Muthuvel’s son; Mayor of Chennai; MLA; MISA detenu;
Keeper of words and promises
Arrested on many occasions on political grounds and for spear-heading social causes
Reputed and revolutionary Indian Tamilian statesman
Unbiased but shrewd politician
Notable legislator
Anti-hindi agitationist
Natural poet-playwright and story-writer
Imprisoned for political reasons
Doctor of Philosophy
Heart of kindness and humaneness
Indian Tamilian patriot, who adored the sacred soil of the Motherland
Copyright by Dr John Celes 03-06-2010
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Classical Tamil
Yes, Tamil has got classical status
Because it is an ancient language great,
That lives and grows midst people globally,
Enchanting, enthralling all equally.
Yes, Tamil makes the Tamilian proud,
And the culture of India to look great,
Amusing scholars of the modern world
Through songs, and dramas; films and poetry.
Yes, Tamil has a history that is old,
And spoken by ten crores of people well,
And makes its progress in a rapid pace,
And has a future that is promising!
Yes, Tamil perhaps could be Gods’ language,
With untold beauty, grandeur and glory,
That holds many a heart dumbfounded with
Immortal works of priceless heritage.
Dedicated to Tamil Chemmozhi Manadu, June,2010
Copyright by Dr John Celes 9-6-2010
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The Death of the Hindu
Chin cupped
on the ancient bone
of his elbow
he spread five fingers to the world:
and like a cat on zither strings
the hoarse voice of his fathers
issues from his forgotten children:
now he picks one tick
from the back of that suckling cow:
his failing fingers
find not the strength to crush
Not a single eyelash twitters
pass him by
pass him
'Wake not a man asleep
And tell him he has
Nothing to eat.'
(©: T. Wignesan - Paris,1957; from T. Wignesan. Tracks of a Tramp. Kuala Lumpur-Singapore: 1961; first pub. in 'Forum Academicum', University of Heidelberg,1957)
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Komori
The komoris' eyes fix the camera
from around
and in the straining double bandoliers' hump
the babies shaven heads strain
The body dares not face the camera
The frontal posture is not for the servant
heads turned bent regards meek and in stress
hair hastily gathered in the dark
now straggly with their loads
and in the eked-out smiles
the years of sleeplessly fading pallid faces
the rough cotton kimono
drab thick resistant to baby-faeces and crachat
And in their stilted sandals
their meagre dignity in a stoop
the bare adolescent feet still showing
Whose mothers are whose children?
Notes
'KOMORI is a generic term that consists of a noun, ko (a child) , and a verb, moru (to protect or to take care of): Japanese use it to refer to any person, male or female, old or young, who takes care of children. (...) Like their European counterparts, nursemaids and nannies, komori began to appear in what Michel Foucault has called the 'discourse of power' in the late nineteenth century...'
from Mariko Asano Tamanoi's 'Songs as Weapons: The Culture and History of Komori (Nursemaids) in Modern Japan', in The Journal of Asian Studies,50, no.4 (November 1991) : 793-817.
[© T.Wignesan - March 9,1992, from the collection: longhand notes: a binding of poems. Paris: 1999]
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Indian actress Padmini
Padmini, an actress from Kerala,
A heart throbs of Tamils for decades,
Breathed her last at 75 in 2006.
She was my sex symbol in my twenties.
She was my sex symbol at her fifties.
Her twenties’ image still lures me,
Even in my sixties and has played longest
In my fantasy. A better homage
She deserved, which Tamils failed to give.
26.09.2006.
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The accustomed to are sweet.
Srilankan tamils aren’t comfortable
With Tamil accent of Tamils
As Indians are with the English of English.
The accustomed, though deformed, is sweet.
16.09.2004
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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The Parrot And The Woodpecker May Return
Kasiananthan's Poem on the Tamil Diaspora and Eelam
[Sung by TEnicayccal Cellappa] Translated by T.Wignesan
mAnkiliyum marankottiyum The parrot and the woodpecker
kUtutirumpa tatayillai their nests to regain nothing waylays
nAnkal mattum ulakattilEyE Only we in all this world
nAtutirumpa mutiyavillai our homeland to seek may not turn
nAtutirumpa mutiyavillai our homeland to seek may not turn
[Above refrain repeated twice]
cinkalavan pataivAnil From skies filled with Sinhalese planes
neruppai alli corikiratu fire tumbles down in seething showers
enkal uyir tamil Elam Our lifeblood our Tamil Eelam
cutukAtAy erikiratu a simmering graveyard on fire
tAykatarap pillaikalin While mothers rave in pain children's
nencukalaik kilikkinrAn breasts the oppressor tears apart
kAyyAkum munnE ilam Long before they might ripen tender
pincukalai alikkirAn the buds crushed from burgeoning
[Refrain]
pettavankal UrilE Those who begot us back home
Enku rAnku pAcattilE tossing turning in their longing for us
ettanai nAl kArttiruppOm For how many days might we linger on
atuttavan tEcattilE in the other man's refugee land
unnavum mutiyavillai Without proper food
urankavum mutiyavillai without sufficient sleep
ennavum mutiyavillai Unable rightly even to think
innumtAn vitiyutillai when will the day dawn for us
[Refrain]
kitti pullu atittu nankal We who played at kitti pullu*
vilaiyAtum teruvilEyE joyously in the heedless streets
katti vayttuc cutukirAnAm There now tethered others lie felled
yAr manatum urukavillai no no hearts pain for us
Ur katitam patikkayilEyE When our eyes light on letters from home
vimmi nencu vetikkitu sobs prise open our brimming breasts
pOrpulikal pakkattilEyE By the flanks of battling Tigers
pOkamanam tutikkitu there to be our hearts throb and yearn
[Refrain]
Note: * A competitive game played by hitting a small stick with a bigger one, the goal being to cover the greatest distance. Also called in Tamil Nadu and Malaysia: kavuntA kavunti.
Analysis of the above poem
It is not an overstatement/hyperbole to say that - from the point of view of diction, rhythm, rhyme, that is, where the sense lies perfectly bound up with the sound - this poem comes as near to capturing the ultimate sense of loss of the Eela diaspora and may not be easily excelled by the poet, himself, in any other of his verse compositions for song.
Before we take a look at the prosody in the piece, let's admit that the transcription/transliteration of the poem was undertaken without heed to the dialectical pronunciation of the singer Chellappa who is a Tamil Nadu Tamilian. The musical version of the poem incorporates a spoken form of the language that constricts many similar but not the same postpositional endings in an uniform end-rhyme which may be designated by the phoneme: « e », such that, although each of the seven quatrains have only different two similar end-rhymes, like the second quatrain: defe, there are no less than fourteen « e » end-rhymes. Excepting the fifth quatrain where all lines end in the same rhyme: bbbb and the same number of syllables affording a uniformity of the rhythm in successive lines and where the Tamil prosodic rules of etukai (initial rhymes) also apply almost uniformly, especially in the first three lines: the first words being: unnavum/urankavum/ennavum, the end-rhyme scheme in the rest of the quatrains is typified by the following order: abab, for example, in the last quatrain where first rhymes, semantic and phonic correspondances exist between lines.
First rhymes include ur and por; patikkayi and pakkattile; vetikkutu and tutikkutu; and semantic correspondance between nencu and manam, meaning breast and spirit or mind. Besides, there are eight syllables (in the sung version) in each line.
The last quatrain resembles prosodically the quatrain-structure of the Malay pantun, another argument of the Indian literary influences bearing down on the form of the latter genre. [Cf. T.Wignesan, « The Poïetics of the Pantun » in Journal of the Institute of Asian Studies, vol. XII, n°2 (Tiruvanmiyur, Madras) , March 1995, pp.1-15.] In fact, the refrain can almost pass for a pantun. There is the sampiran, the first two lines, on which the second two, the maksud is hung as on a clothes-line, though the first two lines serve as a metaphor by contrasting the perilouis situation of the Tamils in diaspora: the parrot(of the mango tree) and the woodpecker may return to their nests without hindrance, but the Tamil refugee may not.
One of the major characteristics of Tamil poetry is its concision, rather an economy of words which is strengthened by the use of ellipsis. Here in this poem, there is ample evidence of this. Kasianantan makes effective use of this device to enhance the amplitude of his narrative which here is the unenviable plight of his people at the mercy of the Sinhala government in Colombo, and through the exposition of this situation as epitomised in the second and third quatrains, he empathises with the Eela diaspora while invoking their sense of responsibility for those they have left behind even against their will: how long may we stay in another man's land when we have neither proper food, sleep or even peace of mind! So, in the final two quatrains, he manages after virtually wringing the hearts of the Tamils overseas to make out a case for them to dropp everything and to go to the aid of the Tigers who are defending their homeland. All this is achieved - as it can be seen from the translation above - through a few deft touches in lines of two or three words, each of two or three syllables, and by juxtaposing two lines at a time which constitute a consummate depiction of the perilous situation in the homeland, for instance, as when he says in the sixth quatrain: there where we played kittu pullu heedlessly in the streets, now turned to killing fields, whose hearts pain for us?
Of course, it might be added as well that the musical version of the poem, sung by a musician who lends appropriate fervour to the words and lines, and the particularly catchy orchestration, does indeed enhance the communicability of the poem, especially since the dialectal pronunciation of the inflexions/endings makes the poem available to the greater masses of the Tamil population. The poem does not certainly make out a case of attempting to appeal to the literate masses or the intelligentsia only. Besides, it is said of Kasianantan that he himself insists on the manner in which his poems ought to be sung. So, at least, we may be certain that the dialectal version of the song which emerges is not what Chellappa might have wanted by himself alone.
© T. Wignesan - Paris,1995. From the collection: "Words for a Lost Sub-Continent" (2001) . Excerpted from "Kasi Ananthan: Poet Laureae of Tamil Eelam" by T. Wignesan in Hot Spring: A Journal of Commitment, Vol.3, No.9 (London) , December 1998, pp.17-18.
poem by T. Wignesan
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Happy Tamil New Year,2012
May the Tamil New Year twenty twelve bring
Peace, prosperity, happiness to all
Tamils living around the globe this day.
May Tamilians work hard for self and their state,
Country and world in all their endeavours;
And realize their dreams for kith, kin, brethren.
May love of life and human values guide them;
May they keep their rich cultural heritage;
May they place God above their earthly wants.
May God bless their homes, work-place, families;
May they make the world a better place for all;
May they bring glory to their Motherland!
"Happy Tamil New Year,2012! "
Copyright by Dr John Celes 13-04-'12
poem by John Celes
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Prathibha Cauvery
To Tamil Nadu
Karnataka denied Cauvery.
To Tamil Nadu
cyclone Nilam
brought Prathibha Cauvery!
It was with Tamil Nadu
for eleven days
from 31st October 2012
regaling the people
from far and near.
Now it too has been salvaged!
poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
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Tamils and Tamil
All the villages connect to their town
And poorly connect one another.
All the Tamils hail Tamil
But ignores one another.
Villages and Tamils will not progress
27.02.2000, Palakkad
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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