No introduction can do full justice to Kalaignar’s entire
oeuvre for during his seventy year writing career he has produced countless collections of poetry, numerous novels, and a torrent of critical and aesthetic essays. But what may depress and frustrate a critic undertaking such a venture is the incredible phenomenon of his effortlessly moving back and forth between verse and prose, between fiction and poetry, between oration and writing and between page and stage. Victor Hugo, who, interestingly, had an extremely productive seventy year writing career, is reported to have referred to his work as “an ocean whose horizons were ever-receding and where depths were undetermined.” Kalaignar may, equally justifiably, make the claim and also add,
When I behold how black, immortal ink
Drips from my deathless pen-ah, well-away!
Why should we stop all for what I think?
There is enough in what I chance to say.
(From Ezra Pound’s “Silet”)
Like Hugo, Kalaignar is also “a figure of extreme contrasts as opposed to simple contradictions.” He has a tendency to generalize as well as an eye for the particular; his writing oscillates between swelling rhetoric and clinical precision; a taste for the overtly threatrical goes hand in hand with psychological and social realism; prosaic description is mixed with lyricism; starry-eyed wonder may alternate with harrowing anxiety. Such stormy swings in tone and manner lend a peculiar charm to his diverse writings.
These contrasts have to be related to his multifaceted personality. As observed by K.S. Subramaniam, Kalaignar is at once “a fighter for social justice and against caste-based inequity, a rationalist battling againt religious obscurantism and superstitions, a master political strategist of uncommon acumen, a dauntless leader of his party, each political adversity spurring him to redoubled vigour in galvanizing his party out of political dejection, a strong crusader for more powers and autonomy for the states in the Indian polity, a strongly committed journalist, with his uninterrupted contributions to his journal Murasoli for over 50 years – particularly his epistles to ‘siblings’ (DMK colleagues and cadre).”
This is naturally reflected in his essays and speeches on a vast variety of subjects over a long period of time. We come across bewitching vignettes addressed to the moon, the river, the mountain and the green parrot – each ending with a stinging social comment. There is in Tamil the age-long Tolkappiyam – Sangam tradition of appealing to birds and animals and even to inanimate things like the cloud to serve as one’s ambassador of love. Such Akam poems are only too well-known to Kalaignar. From his prison cell, he is able to apprecite the charm of the moon but then he is not going to stop with describing its captivating beauty.
Oh! Crescent moon! Foam from the sea of the sky!
Why are you peeping through the latticed window of this prison cell and casting a smile on me? I am able to listen to your whisper, ‘Ye Prisoner’. As if you are circling the globe in a chariot of liberty! Do you enjoy unlimited freedom? Your right is circumscribed – not crossing the course charted, eyes open in external vigil, treading your path like a mere prison guard!
True it is that I cannot jump over the prison walls and reach the eager arms of my beloved. Is your situation any different? You too cannot stretch your hands beyond your scripted boundary and touch the star damsels winking at you ….
Oh! Crescent moon! Lovely boat of the sky ! Why don’t you carry unto me my colourful peahen? Bring to my side my lovely beloved languishing in yearning for me. Let me savour her sight through this latticed window. Bring unto me my queen of liberty…. You are a prisoner! Me, a prisoner too!
Evidently the immediate source of inspiration for such poems must have been Bharatidasan’s anthology called The Smile of Beauty in which there is a celebration of the panoramic beauty of landscape, seasons, flora and fauna in exquisite lyrics. In a poem on the beauty of nature itself, he says,
In the tender rays of the dawn I saw her;
In the expanses of the sea, in the flood of light,
In the grove, in the flowers, in the sprouts
She made herself visible wherever I touched;
She shines in the ruby lamp
That glimmers in the sky in the dusk,
In the roads, in the parrots of the branches,
Dame Beauty offered the gift of poetry.
—
Again I saw Beauty and I found joy;
See, she is the pulp behind all that is green;
See the virgin unravished by antiquity
Look with love; she is everywhere
If you submit to her charms, sorrow there is none.
Where nature poetry is concerned, besides Bharatidasan, tradition is there for Kalaignar to draw upon. Whether in verse or prose, Kalaignar’s pieces on the sights and sounds of nature bear the stamp of his personality in the apt inclusions of striking topical allusions as well as in the language and style.
The description of the Aadi wind, for instance, goes for beyond the realm of nature.
Oh! The roaring wind of the Aadi month ! why are you shaking the trees so viciously? Why, like a magician manoeuvring a devilish dance? Why, like these ministers manipulating the helpless people? Why do you torture these trees? What crime have they committed? They flourish, and is it a crime? Their grace, a crime? Their lush resurgence, a wrong? Donning fragrant flowers in their crests and dazzling like paragons of beauty, is this a crime? What is their crime? Why torment them? Oh! The Aadi wind!...
Oh! The Aadi wind! Do you imagine that we will be browbeaten by your throwing dust and sand into your eyes? Are these sprays of sand more vicious than the bursts of tear gas? You have jumped over the massive prison walls and are dancing like a monkey. Should you be persecuting me even after I am trapped within the prison? With no trace of a reply, why are you hissing so fiercely?...
Go, go. Whip and scatter the sand and flee!
Apostrophising the ocean, he asks a series of questions not with a view to getting answers for the questions themselves highlight the issues he wants to raise:
The toiling worker, the flourishing capitalist, the savant dispensing truth, the poet sharing his lofty muse, sculptor, painter, intellectual – everyone gets a rest. But, why no respite for you? Are you taunting the compulsive idlers with a teaser,
‘See how I keep toiling ceaselessly!”
Mixing the gruel with her candy hands and handing over the pot to her lover… planting a sweeter kiss and waving ‘farewell’ to him… ‘the sun has sunk into the ocean, but he hasn’t returned yet’ – the beloved wife waiting yearningly outside her hut, with lingering eyes and tired legs…the young belle with all her hopes pinned on you. Saving her from gloom, from despair, are you ferrying back her husband daily on your blue shoulders?
Resposing their trust in the Ocean Mother, these humble huts have sprouted on your shores, and you toss them away. You too have joined the band betraying toiling workers?
Trapped as I am in prison, the atrocity you unleashed on a day long past, flashed on my troubled mental radar. Kavirippoompattinam – a town of great beauty, the garden of Eden of the Tamils – you devastated it with your ruthless wave – arms. I am not asking you why you had indulged in such a mindless cruelty. I am not suing you for that.
But, oh ocean ! you laid our dear town to waste! Likewise, can your arms not burst forth on Kallakkudi and wipe out the vicious symbol of the North?
Endless tributes have been paid to the river Kaveri by almost every generation of Tamil poets beginning with the Sangam period. Ilango Adigal’s is the most memorable of these and there is reason to believe that Kalidasa himself was impressed with it. Even though the Kaveri has no role to play in the story of Kampan’s epic, he manages to insert a line or two in praise of it wherever possible. The saint poets of the Bhakti movement considered it superior to the Ganges in holiness. It has endeared itself not only to the people living on its shores but to the entire Tamil – speaking world. Kalaignar has a soft corner for it because besides making the land of his birth fertile, it has become a symbol of the supremacy of Tamil culture.
When Kalaignar writes about the river, all the encomiums on its hoary past naturally have their way into his mind and heart.
Oh! River! Dancing damsel! what bewitching beauty – Your charming wriggle resembling the expressive fingers of a dancer! A flood of surging foam! Can even the piercing silver gleam be your peer? Rhythmic rustle recalling the music of a dancer’s tinkling anklets, graceful gait all colourful splendour, a form bringing glee to the farmers’ hearts – this great blend, Queen Ponni ! Praise unto you! Oh! Beloved! Damsel Kaveri! Beauty with ruddy coral lips! Alluvium – is it the betel cud you’ve deposited in the soil – lover’s mouth out of overwhelming love? You nurture with eagar nourishing hands the tiny lisping infants. In your loving embrace, you cast your benign look on the infant paddy seedlings swaying their 24 – carat bodies and flashing their ruby smiles.
Though the river is often compared to a belle, to a queen and to a goddess, Kalaignar chooses to include an unusual comparison with a king and a nation’s government and ends the sketch with a note of warning which is thoroughly unconventional and revolutionary.
You toil constantly for public good, you are a benign government. Oh king River, wending your way to the ocean after performing your duty! Pray, don’t imagine that you’re the exclusive source of the waters of the ocean. That’s how the wielders of governmental power tend to think. As the waters of the oceans turn into rain-laden clouds, you are travelling as a sandal – hued river. A government is also like a river. The creation of the ocean of humanity ! If you run haywire, Oh river, you’ll be tamed by a dam. A government in power too shares the same fate.
Though Western readers of such essays may miss the topical allusions in them, contemporary Tamil readers will certainly find them delectable.
In one of his wittiest of poems, Donne reprimands the sun asking him not to be unduly duty-conscious and impudent:
Busy old fool, unruly sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
call countryants to harvest offices;
Love all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Kalaignar has his own complaints against the dawn, which has received the praise of numerous poets and even philosophers like Thoreau. Championing the cause of the poor labourer, who rarely enjoys the “honey – heavy dews of slumber”, Kalaignar tells the dawn,
In between, why are you in such umseemly haste to bang the toiler’s door? He had been tossing in pain all night on the mud floor, and is only now closing his eyes in utter exhaustion. Do you imagine he is sound asleep?
Disdain for the poor seems to have infected you too. That is why you are thumping the door of those curled up in fatigue in their huts? Are your legs afraid to negotiate the steps of the palaces? Or are your hands scared of touching their ornate doors?
‘Hey! Pick up the plough’ – how superciliously you order the poor worker! Have you ever, once, even with the rhythmic charm of a veena, whispered through the windows of the mansion”
‘I believe it is time’?
The day you don’t wake up the poor man – is it not the day he has passed away? You don’t wake up corpses. You don’t wake up the walking corpses of the mansions.
I have now understood your meaningful ways.
Dawn! Greetings to you!
Kalaignar’s salutation to the mountain introduces certain subtle changes in the conventional descriptions of hills.
Many find in your unreleting resolutions an apt simile for the hermit beyond the lure of the voluptuous entreaties of women. But, I well know your ways. I do know how you stretch your cool arms to mollify the passion of the cloud – lasses embracing your shoulders… how, at your mere touch, these damsels drool over you, are unable to rise any higher, dissolve into rain and clasp you with ardour with myriad arms of rivers! Only thereafter, I proclaim to the world what the hermits, who have renounced everything, cannot keep of ‘that’ attraction.
That the mountain may be viewed as a strong-willed lover would have fascinated even Kalidasa, the acclaimed laureate of sringararasa! He would have been tempted to rewrite some of the stanzas in Meghadoot describing the cloud-messenger, and to include a few stanzas in his description of Himavan, the father of Uma, in the early sections of Kumarasambhavam!
But Kalaignar is not going to leave it there. The mountain deserves to be praised as a poet, as a benefactor of mankind and as an artist.
As a dispenser of gold and wealth, you are the world’s benefactor…as a provider of succour and support, you are a social worker. You are a bejeweled throne of the earth. You are an artist too. Without you can we think of the massive sculptures of Egypt? And the Ellora caves? The bewitching art of Ajantha? Can our eyes feast on the glory of Chitthannavaasal or the grandeur of Mamallapuram?
The writer, having thus glorified the mountain, feels sad that there is a blemish, which, unfortunately, cannot be glossed over:
But, Mountain, there is but one blemish. You have become the raw material for the millions of gods crowding the four corners. But, you are nobler than the humans. Though man tramples up your crest, you are greater than man. Reason: As per man’s religious tenets -‘God created mountain!’
It is only out of a bead of the mountain that man creates god!
An effortless use of numerous organic metaphors makes such vignettes particularly charming. A great parrot, likened to a golden voiced damsel, trembles like a worm caught in a fishing cook, when it is trapped in a cage. In order to get a nod of appreciation from it he tries all the poetic skill at his command to portray it.
Tender, green bottlegourd as head; red chilli planted as beak; jasmine leaves as feathers; flat leaves of fragnant screw pine as tail.
It is the child that inspires the artist in him to paint its beauty in choice colours.
Setting eyes on a jasmine bud – ah! What ecstasy! A seedling in the field! A minnow in a colourful pond! A fawn in the forest, an infant at home.. An unfading lamp! A tiny crescent! Wealth ineffable! Pure gold! Delectable honey! Sangam Tamil!... The Kural characterized your lisp as sweeter than the flute and the lyre… and your charming lisp has scored even over the kural……
Balming cool
Rising Sun!
Sprouting shoot!
The beauty of a natural object or scene recaptured in choice images spurs Kalaignar’s mind on to profound meditations on philosophical issues relating to man and life. The idea that the child has no thought of God interests and intigues his rationalist mind and perspective.
You have no thought of God. You are an atheist too. A good mind is called a child’s mind; so atheists are endowed with good minds. Atheists have good hearts. As you play with a serpent, some grown-ups play with disaster – they worship God, go into raptures about God, and sing God’s glory! Does it mean that their mind is marked by clarity? In the nature of playing with a serpent, aren’t you and they the same, baby?... You are a tender sprout with a good heart. The elders are hardened leaves with a good heart. You play with serpent? They play with ‘sin’! But…You harm no one. So you have no need for a god.
The star is a lustrous heavenly body that has kindled the fancy of many an artist. Kalaignar’s train of thoughts leads him to reflections on what is happening in the vanity fair of this world.
Oh Star! You, a speck of light splintered from the full-moon diamond on its impact with a cloud hill! An offspring of a leaping lightning! A scatter of rubies from a fallen, bejeweled crown! The nature-mason has thatched the sky – roof with gems aplenty! Are you the flowers laid out on the sky-couch by the moon damsel eager in wait for her lover?...
Lamp of the cloud niche! Fragrant ape-flowers scattered in the shade of the full-moon tree! The golden shower of light poured down by the sky! Flower of sheer gold… You are a great painting in the earth’s eyes. An epic yielding new fancies.
Looking at the twinkling presence of the star in the sky’s vast expanse, a firefly would convene a conference of its kin on the branch of a tree. This contest of imitation is not the presence of only the insects and birds; some among the humans have also entered the fray!
Certain casual asides and observations made in the course of an essay or a speech may prove to be extremely illuminating and thought-provoking. While defending the freedom of thought at a book release function, Kalaignar warns researchers in the fields of literature, history and sociology against undertaking negative research which will turn out to be harmful in the long run.
We have identified Kattabomman as one among the freedom fighters from Tamilnadu. This has also been celebrated in plays and films. Against this backdrop, in the name of doing research, should a researcher try to establish that Kattambomman was a mere local chieftain, a brigand, that there was a feud between him and the foreign ruler only because he refused to pay tax, and that he was no freedom fighter… What do we gain by such research? Do we not suffer a collective loss?
We should bestow thought to this aspect. The spirit of freedom nurtured over a long time may get devastated by this kind of research. I am of the view that researchers should stay clear of such research endevours.
Kalaignar’s speech inaugurating the Ooty flower show in 1971 reminds us of a poem called “The flower” by George Herbert.
How fresh, O lord, how sweet and clean
Are thy returns! Even as the flowers in spring;
To which, besides their own demean,
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasures bring.
Grief melts away
Like snow in May,
As if there were no such cold thing.
Who would have thought my shrivl’d heart
Could have recovered greenness? It was gone
Quite under ground; as flowers depart
To see their mother root, when they have blown;
Where they together
All the hard weather
Dead to the world, keep house unknown.
If flowers are to Herbert symbolic of the evanescence of beauty and transitoriness of life, they bring to Kalaignar’s mind the lot of ‘the wretched on earth’.
Among flowers, some are endowed with fragrance, and some others are not. Some flowers are beautiful, but without fragrance. Some flowers have fragrance, but do not have alluring looks. When we reach out to pluck the flowers, both fragrant and lovely, we encounter thorns. The poor, lowly and oppressed people in our land languish as flowers bereft of fragrance. But they are blessed with noble hearts. Our government has taken on the responsibility of infusing fragrance in their aroma-free lives.
Kalaignar’s convocation addresses are as learned and as full of wisdom as those of any of the Indian academics and intellectuals of our time. They witness to his intellectual as well as intuitive understanding of the process of education and of its aims and objectives. He stresses that one’s education should be of benefit to the nation and that mere bookish education is not going to be of much use if native intelligence is not enhanced. “We need an education which converts pebbles into diamonds, and not one which dims diamonds.”
His views on the proverbial ‘generation gap’ are worth pondering over:
Every passing generation has been accustomed to chastising the new generation. This has been happening since the day of Plato.
“This generation is not like those of the old days; standards have declined.” This has been a constant refrain over many generations. When the tuft gave way to a cropped head, there was resentment; on seeing the figure-hugging dress of today, there is rancour too… There is no harm when there are differences between two succeeding generations. What is significant is that this should lead to the flourishing of constructive growth.
In another address, he discusses the name and nature of philosophy. What should be the role of philosophy in university education?
Philosophy can be handled in many different ways. It is like a piece of iron. It can be made into a sword for a brave warrior, can be shaped into a hammer, can be used to make nails. Likewise, philosophy can be made use of by people to suit their nature and predilection. Many savants of the world have utilized philosophical systems in different ways – as paths leading to god, as a position hitched to a religion or as a system exclusively used in line with a rationalist perspective. The students who study philosophical concepts should learn all these schools. We are told that honey has extra potency because the bees collect honey from all kinds of flowers. Likewise, the students should delve into concepts and systems and hone their skills.
When should students involve themselves totally in politics?
The students in colleges and universities and schools are like the seedlings in a nursery. You should get nourished and gain strength at the nursery. Only after you have matured beyond the seedling stage, should you be transplanted into the main paddy field. Fully bearing in mind Anna’s characterization of students as seedlings in a nursery requiring careful nurturing, I feel duty-bound to express this sentiment.
Why should the young aim at living long and take constant care of their physical health?
We should spare a thought as to why they (great musicians like T.N. Rajarathinam) died young. We nurture music, are geniuses, bring joy to every one. But we should also provide our body with requisite strength. We should not destroy our own body. Such self-ruination is destruction of arts, betrayal of society, a wanton abridgement of our potential to serve the society. This awareness dawned, no one would indulge in such senseless self-destruction.
It may be recalled here that the great Tamil Siddhas like Tirumular were not in favour of neglecting the body. Why should one live one’s life with verve and never curse the life as a human being? Avvaiyar, the great Tamil poet, considered it a rare boon to be born as a human being. But the French philosopher Rousseau is reported to have said, “My first regret is that I was born as a human being”. Kalaignar rejects Rousseau’s stance.
It was indeed amusing that the great thinker, who had taught the entire mankind ways to nurture universal birthrights, was sulking, cursing his own birth. Possibly, the situation in his house and in his land, the social and political malaise at the time of his birth would have troubled him. Years later, he might have thought of the milieu in which he was born and lamented, ‘why at all was I born?’
My birthday was not born in such an environment. When I was born, my family was not enjoying opulence, nor were my parents buried in a dark pit of poverty. Likewise, while my motherland was in political fetters, it was not hurtling towards chaos and doom as Rousseau’s birthday - France had been. So I would rather listen to Voltaire, another great French thinker. Voltaire found fault with Rousseau’s position that as man enters the world crying as a baby, he wastes away his life fruitlessly sobbing. I go along with Voltaire’s perspective.
Though Kalaignar does not favour Rousseau’s view of life, he tries to understand it sympathetically and expresses his disapproval firmly.
No less a poet than Milton has observed that “fame is the last infirmity of noble minds.” To Euripides, “toil is the sire of fame.” To Marcus Aurelius, “all is ephemeral, fame and the famous as well”. In Pascal’s view, “the charm of fame is so great that we like every object to which it is attached, even death.” Bacon felt that “fame is like a river, that beareth up things light and swollen, and drowns things weighty and solid.” Thomas Fuller contended that “all fame is dangerous; good bringeth envy; bad, shame.”
Kalaignar, using a series of similes, throws a flood of light on its various dimensions:
Oh Fame! You are but a courtesan! To those who hanker after you, you dispense your favour only after extracting your pound of flesh.
You are the sphere of moon. Many a stalwart has not yet reached success in reaching you (It was so, decades back.) You are the icy peak of the Himilayas. Out of relentless effort, some manage to conquer your heady heights. You are a cube of ice. Even if we hold you in our tight grip, you dissolve into water and disappear. You are a jug of wine. The flies drawn to your bosom fail to break into a flutter of wings again.
You are a shadow! You keep trailing those who care not for you. You are a riddle! Explaining your ways – it is truly beyond me!
In another context, the sweetness of Tamil tries his analytical and descriptive skill but he rises to the occasion:
Oh Tamil!
My heart throbs to call you in myriad ways-Captivating picture! Enthralling epic! Fragrant flower beside the stream! Moon emitting light! Love! Beauty! Nectar! Life! Joy! Salubrious breeze! Cool Mist! Fruit! Peacock of splendid plume! Relish of fruit juice! Dazzling emerald! Splendent ruby! Torch of the valorous army! My mind is brimming with appelations.
But, Oh! Tamil! No word can match the sheer joy I savour by calling you ‘Tamil’.
As K. Subramaniam has pointed out, his essays and speeches “reflect the quintessential elements of Kalaignar Karunanidhi’s personality and orientation – pride in the Tamil language and culture, penchant for social justice, rationalist perspective, combativeness as a political leader, championing the cause of state autonomy, faith and confidence in the youth, a natural flair for humour and gentle sarcasm, and a lyrical quality in his use of words”.
Kalaignar’s essay on political and social revolutions entitled “My Name is Revolution” (En Peyar Puratci) takes the form of an autobiography in which there is a brief but absorbing account of the name and nature of what has been known as ‘revolution’ down the ages. The essayist accepts the need for and the value of periodical revolutions but appeals to the whole of mankind not to think in terms of violent revolutions marked by bloodbaths and massacres but to go in for peaceful, constructive ones which yield positive results benefiting the poor and the oppressed. Significantly written on the first of May (in the year 2005), the essay reminds us of the first great labour upheaval that took place in America, makes passing references to the French Revolution, the Russian Revolution and others and asks all future revolutionaries to throw away the dangerous weapons that destroy men, women and children and to use love, peace and knowledge as instruments of war in order to redeem mankind. The essay is an eloquent plea for a revolution in the conduct of revolutions themselves!
When I rose in revolt against King Louis in France, first I buried fathoms deep the thing called mercy and then only forced the ruling group to stand before the guillotine ….
The Russian Revolution was inspired by the French. Their revolutions have demonstrated that the Russians are capable of making sacrifices even at the moment of achieving success. When that is the case, I can’t understand why I should be buried in today’s context in places that are not conducive.
I, therefore, have come forward to change my nature.
As the first step, I have changed my abode.
I used to roar smelling blood in places where a king will be punished just because he happens to be a king, will be shot dead or felled by a sword even if he falls to his knees. Now I have decided to use another kind of weapon. It is called the weapon of knowledge, the weapon of love, the weapon of peace!
My old nature was to drink off lives emptying the bottles of bodies and to hoist a flag of victory! Now I have assumed the forms of several revolutions –
the intellectual revolution nourished by wise men,
the political revolution that dethrones rulers,
the scientific revolution sustained by experts,
the agricultural revolution conducted by farmers,
the social revolution that destroys caste and religious distinctions,
the revolution of ethnic dignity that drives away the spiders that try to ruin today our race that has been reigning long,
the revolution of knowledge that subdues arrogance, haughtiness and the noise raised by injustice,
the revolution of social reform initiated by Sivavaakkiyar who asked, “ what does the mournful mantra you intone mean, after going round a stone erected and casting four flowers on it?
the spiritual revolution of Ramalinganr who sang that all superstitious customs should be buried and that none should fall into the rubbish of sastras,
the rationalist revolution of Bharati who condemned the stupid that go in search of a thousand gods,
the revolution of self-respect hailed by Bharathidasan who wrote in a poem, “let us find a door that will open for love but close the road to conception” and
the revolution of sacrifice to which one dedicates oneself and is prepared to lay down one’s dear life in a righteous war waged for the blooming of a new society …
A revolution does not consist in killing those who hold an opposite view and are ready to fight for it, heaping corpses and wearing laurels.
Once you called it a revolution!
Today a victorious revolution would mean converting those who hold different views and ensuring their support to our front. Otherwise, we will be blameworthy.
A country needs a revolution of labour!
Labour needs a revolution of knowledge!
Knowledge needs a revolution of rights!
Rights need determination, determination, a revolution of determination!
I will be only on the side of those who are determined!
Till the end, I will be only in the hearts of those who safeguard their ideals!
I, called ‘revolution’, will live for ever –
As fragrance in the flowers.
Patiently, even in the midst of a storm,
I will save you and see to it that you grow!
Kalaignar strongly feels that political and social revolutions are indispensable though they should be peaceful and never take a violent turn whatever may be the provocation.
In another essay called “Power of the Ballot”, he muses about the problems of democracy, a subject on which he is most competent to speak because of his first-hand knowledge of the theory and practice of politics over a long period of time. Beginning the essay on a note of sadness, he regrets the fact that not many seem to be proud of the truth that the power of creating their government in any democratic set-up lies with them. What is more annoying is that they do not enthusiastically come forward to use or express the power or the authority vested in them. What is the reason for this continuing deterioration of the situation? The pillars that people choose to construct the towering edifice of democracy betray them by becoming unstable or by falling on their very heads. Aristotle accepts that of all forms of government – monarchy, dictatorship, oligarchy, and democracy – the last one is the best because it is the least defective as it provides scope for the participation of all in the governance of the state and for the punishment or removal of the rulers chosen if they go wrong.
Kalaignar laments that the very people who are entrusted with the responsibility of choosing their leaders shy away from discharging their duty at the time of elections which are meant to enable them to make their preferences clear by casting their ballots. The cruelest aspect of the scenario is that some of the voters consider going to the booth on the day of the election as a work for which they have to be paid at least a day’s wages! They do not seem to realize that the fundamental principle of democracy is utterly forgotten in such a situation. If we ourselves are not bothered about the potential of the ballot handed over to us in an election, can we claim to be dignified citizens of a nation? Kalaignar’s message to the common people is that they should not think of themselves as mere voters but as the makers of this country, as the saviours of our society and as the leaders who are to decide our future – as, in Bharati’s language, the monarchs of our motherland! Only then will this fast degenerating democracy turn into a properly cultivated, fertile field with far better yields than we have ever had before.
Of the several essays on the art of living, the one on “Strength and Radiance” (Valivum Polivum) will endear Kalaignar to any reader for his fatherly concern for the physical well-being of everyone. In this, he stresses the value of meditation, the act of remaining in a silent and calm state for a particular period of time though he is not willing to accept or recommend it as part of a religious training. He is deeply interested in it because it enables one to lead a healthy life and to deal with the problems and difficulties of everyday life without worrying oneself into a state of depression.
When the practice of meditation was recommended to him, he was told that he would do well to keep uttering “Narayana Namaha!” But being a rationalist who bases his opinions and the way he lives his life on reason and not on emotions or religious beliefs, Kalaignar chose to chant the line from Cilappatikaram, “Gnaayiru Porrutum! Gnaayiru Porrutum!” (Hail the Sun! Hail the Sun!) in his daily practice of meditation, thus drawing the attention of his admirers to the great divide which separates rationalism from superstition. If waking up early in the morning is good for one’s health, having a long walk everyday keeps one’s weight under control; breathing exercises will help one take care of the proper functioning of the lungs, the circulation of blood and of the condition of the heart; yoga will strengthen one’s nerves and bones; dhyana or meditation will bring peace to the mind.
It is what Kalaignar states in the last two paragraphs of the essay that will move the reader profoundly:
Realising that all these exercises are absolutely essential, we who read books on several kinds of subjects, should cultivate the habit of reading with interest books about health. The objective of this essay is to exhort everyone to do this.
Only a society of healthy beings free from diseases can serve as a protective wall to a nation. I will feel that I have attained the purpose of writing this essay, if it has served as a step in this direction. There are ever so many ways of securing good health and happiness which are not mentioned in this essay. Let this be an inspiration to search for such things and to put them into practice.
An essay on the evil of fundamentalism argues that even if it is mixed with honey, poison is poison. Though people may use the word ‘fundamentalism’ or ‘radicalism’ in order to make the ideology behind it appear mild, it does not differ from what is called ‘terrorism’. Both have the same destructive impact on a society or a country. Examining the past history of several leading modern nations, Kalaignar points out that they have attained fame by various ways. They are now known for their culture and civilization, or their paintings and sculptures or their mighty armies, or their achievements in commerce or economics or scientific research. The atrocities of tyrants such as Hitler, Mussolini, the Czar of Russia, Rasputin, and King Louis have caused permanent damage to their countries and the wounds caused by them still remain as scars reminding the future generations of the lessons they have to learn from history. Now it is the role of terrorism which is fast spreading from nation to nation that causes international concern. In order to kill a snake hiding itself in an anthill in a grove, one does not destroy the entire grove. But this is what the terrorists do.
What is the main reason for the coming into being of terrorism? Religious quarrels and border – disputes have led to periodical attacks by terrorists in different parts of the country. Huge buildings, trains and even villages and towns are sacked by heartless terrorists. Who are the people killed? Children are killed as though they were parrots whose necks are wrung. Old men who have lost their physical strength, who are emaciated, who cannot wield any weapons are slaughtered mercilessly. But the irony is that these have nothing to do with the cause of the bitter fight. No Muslim child speaks ill of a Hindu child; nor does a Hindu child speak ill of a Muslim child. This kind of indiscriminate, mindless killing is not going to solve any problem. Can the terrorists not wait till the time comes when exchange of bullets will yield to exchange of bouquets, when no invidious discriminations will be made between religions, when border disputes will be amicably settled? Is not a terrorist attack as foolish as cutting a big branch of a tree by sitting on the thin end of it? It may be wealth or land or power or religion. Whatever may be the target, is it not prudent to follow the path of non-violence even if justice is going to be delayed?
Kalaignar’s advice to all types of fundamentalists and terrorists is that they should understand that it is a foolish and agonizing act to set fire to a house in order to get rid of bed-bugs. Let them throw away the pieces of burning wood they carry and resort to insecticides to cleanse the house. Let us care for internal purity and external cleanliness!
In this essay also, Kalaignar adds a moving note:
Several years later, a time may come when terrorism will be completely wiped out. Neither the author of this essay nor those stunned by the news of terrorist activities everyday may then be alive; they may not see the days when they can heave a sigh of relief and live peacefully. But I passionately desire that this article serve as the stones with which the foundation for that achievement will be laid.
An essay on Hitler by Kalaignar reproduces certain excerpts from V.Saminatha Sarma’s book Hitler : First World War for the benefit of contemporary readers since it presents the notorious dictator in an incredibly new light. Some of the details given in this book are diametrically opposed to the views expressed in the common run of Hitler’s biographies and histories.
Hitler would speak with love and affection to all children irrespective of whose children they are. He would play with them making fun of them.
Hitler leads a disciplined life. He is, therefore, firm, determined and self-confident. He doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, doesn’t touch meat. The vegetarian food that he eats is as simple as the one of ordinary farmers. There won’t be many kinds of dishes. He would be satisfied with one of these – bread, fruit, milk, one kind of cereal. He won’t eat all alone even this simple food; he would always share it with one or two guests.
He would treat women with love and respect. The fact that he had legally provided a dignified position to motherhood shows that he reveres the world of women.
He completely surrenders his heart to fine arts such as music and painting …
When someone goes to speak to him officially or for personal reasons, he would stand up to receive them. When they take leave of him, he would walk some distance with them and then bid farewell to them bowing his head down. If you look at his dress and appearance, you won’t find any difference between him and any last-grade servant of the governments. As in everything else, he would be unostentatious in his dress… Like all historical personages, Hitler too wants to be like a farmer and is satisfied with leading a simple life. Because of this only, he is extremely kind to the poor and the ploughmen. He is eager to win their love.
Kalaignar has an interesting comment on this presentation of ‘the other side of Hitler’:
Don’t conclude that just because even the one who has been described as a cruel tyrant is endowed with such good qualities, those who are praised as noble men in the world will be the very image of magnanimity. Can’t they be mere fakes and pretenders?
Of the numerous eulogies written about the formidable South African revolutionary, Nelson Mandela, Kalaignar’s essay may rank as one of the best. It opens with a touching reference to the announcement Kalaignar made on the occasion of the DMK conference held at Trichy on 11 February 1990. As soon as he heard the news about the release of the black leader from prison, he rushed to the mike ecstatically and told the immense concourse of men and women:
Here is the most heartening piece of news:
The South African black leader kept in prison for twenty – seven years, Nelson Mandela, has been released.
In order to celebrate this delightful event, let all those who have gathered here under this conference pandal accord a long, thunderous ovation.
Kalaignar is delighted to add that the response to his request went beyond his expectations since there was a long burst of applause from the vast sea of audience who didn’t stop till he asked them to do so. Apart from the biographical details that he gives about Mandela, a few thoughtful statements he makes here and there reveal what a wonderful personality the black revolutionary was and what qualities made him unique.
The whole world was talking only about that single individual’s incarceration and was shedding tears all the time. Even though blacks and whites were extremely hostile towards each other, Mandela was very friendly, generous and courteous to the students of both races. He was planning to remove the evil of racism by conducting a righteous war in the Gandhian way.
When he was in prison on account of the numerous agitations he conducted, the South African government of the whites told him that he world be released if he agreed to leave the country. Rejecting the offer, Mandela said, “If we are not going to attain freedom, I will be contented with my life in prison.”
Even though he had to experience untold misery in prison, a gritty upholder of principles, he made the following observation:
“The cruel torment of prison life did not trouble me.
But I cannot bear the agony of my thoughts about the sufferings of my people outside the prison.”
This magnificent life of sacrifice of Mandela’s should be a hearty song not only to the African youth but to all the heroic young men, who, living on this globe, are eager to create a brave new world.
Kalaignar’s essay on the virtue of gratitude belongs to a different type altogether though in this also he organizes and expresses his thoughts with meticulous care. The very title may send some of us back to what F.W.Ellis has written about Valluvar’s chapter on gratitude. Denouncing the Western scholars who have said that there is no word corresponding to ‘gratitude’ in any of the Indian languages and that the very idea of gratitude is unknown to the Indian, Ellis observes: “To this calumny let this chapter of Thiruvalluvar (the one on ‘being grateful’ and the accompaniments to it) be the answer, as in it the idea will be found to be expressed in many varying modes.”
Kalaignar echoes many of the ideas of Valluvar on the subject but stresses the distinction between saying that one is grateful and showing in action one’s gratitude. He mentions various contexts from our day-to-day activities in which many of us simply say, “Thank you” whenever something good is done to us. This has become a formality. Kalaignar feels that it is so mechanically done that we may not mean what we say. His contention is that merely saying “Thank you” doesn’t really express our heart-felt sense of gratitude unless we reveal it in our deeds. It is the gratitude that is genuinely felt, or that proves its existence in action, which will remain forever like letters inscribed on a stone, and which cannot be destroyed by the floods of the sea.
Essays are normally classified into the following categories: moralizing, critical, character, anecdotal, letter, narrative, aphoristic, descriptive, reflective, biographical, historical, periodical, didactic, editorial, whimsical, psychological, outdoor, nature, cosmical, and personal. One would be surprised to note that Kalaignar has to his credit essays of all these types. A different kind of distinction may be made between formal and informal essays: Formal essays are characterized by “sober seriousness of purpose, dignity, logical organization, length.” Informal essays are characterized by “the personal element (self-revelation, individual tastes and experiences, confidential manner), humour, graceful style, rambling structure, novelty of theme, freshness of form, freedom from stiffness and affectation, incomplete or tentative treatment of topic.” Even a cursory examination of Kalaignar’s writings will show that he has authored formal as well as informal essays.
It has been suggested by a critic of Victorian prose that the following questions implicit in one of Walter Pater’s essays may be fruitfully raised when one wants to assess the value of a particular piece of imaginative prose:
1. Has the author taken “a full, rich, complex matter to grapple with”? In other words, does his style have adequate motivation?
2. Has he achieved, in his language, balance between propriety and originality?
3. Has he provided for the reader an intense intellectual challenge?
4. Has he provided for the reader a worthwhile formal challenge?
5. Has he given to his prose work his own (or its own) unique personality?
6. Has he devoted his art to “great ends”?
Kalaignar as an essayist passes muster, the answer to each of these questions being a definite ‘yes’. In Pater’s view, the great ends are (a) “the increase of men’s happiness” (b) “the redemption of the oppressed” (c) “the enlargement of our sympathy with each other”(d)” such presentment of new or old truth about ourselves and our relation to the world as may ennoble and fortify us in our sojourn here” and (e) “the glory of God”. The essays we have analysed here are enough to show that Kalaignar has certainly devoted his art to great ends excepting for the last one in Pater’s list which no rationalist would like to be concerned with.
oeuvre for during his seventy year writing career he has produced countless collections of poetry, numerous novels, and a torrent of critical and aesthetic essays. But what may depress and frustrate a critic undertaking such a venture is the incredible phenomenon of his effortlessly moving back and forth between verse and prose, between fiction and poetry, between oration and writing and between page and stage. Victor Hugo, who, interestingly, had an extremely productive seventy year writing career, is reported to have referred to his work as “an ocean whose horizons were ever-receding and where depths were undetermined.” Kalaignar may, equally justifiably, make the claim and also add,
When I behold how black, immortal ink
Drips from my deathless pen-ah, well-away!
Why should we stop all for what I think?
There is enough in what I chance to say.
(From Ezra Pound’s “Silet”)
Like Hugo, Kalaignar is also “a figure of extreme contrasts as opposed to simple contradictions.” He has a tendency to generalize as well as an eye for the particular; his writing oscillates between swelling rhetoric and clinical precision; a taste for the overtly threatrical goes hand in hand with psychological and social realism; prosaic description is mixed with lyricism; starry-eyed wonder may alternate with harrowing anxiety. Such stormy swings in tone and manner lend a peculiar charm to his diverse writings.
These contrasts have to be related to his multifaceted personality. As observed by K.S. Subramaniam, Kalaignar is at once “a fighter for social justice and against caste-based inequity, a rationalist battling againt religious obscurantism and superstitions, a master political strategist of uncommon acumen, a dauntless leader of his party, each political adversity spurring him to redoubled vigour in galvanizing his party out of political dejection, a strong crusader for more powers and autonomy for the states in the Indian polity, a strongly committed journalist, with his uninterrupted contributions to his journal Murasoli for over 50 years – particularly his epistles to ‘siblings’ (DMK colleagues and cadre).”
This is naturally reflected in his essays and speeches on a vast variety of subjects over a long period of time. We come across bewitching vignettes addressed to the moon, the river, the mountain and the green parrot – each ending with a stinging social comment. There is in Tamil the age-long Tolkappiyam – Sangam tradition of appealing to birds and animals and even to inanimate things like the cloud to serve as one’s ambassador of love. Such Akam poems are only too well-known to Kalaignar. From his prison cell, he is able to apprecite the charm of the moon but then he is not going to stop with describing its captivating beauty.
Oh! Crescent moon! Foam from the sea of the sky!
Why are you peeping through the latticed window of this prison cell and casting a smile on me? I am able to listen to your whisper, ‘Ye Prisoner’. As if you are circling the globe in a chariot of liberty! Do you enjoy unlimited freedom? Your right is circumscribed – not crossing the course charted, eyes open in external vigil, treading your path like a mere prison guard!
True it is that I cannot jump over the prison walls and reach the eager arms of my beloved. Is your situation any different? You too cannot stretch your hands beyond your scripted boundary and touch the star damsels winking at you ….
Oh! Crescent moon! Lovely boat of the sky ! Why don’t you carry unto me my colourful peahen? Bring to my side my lovely beloved languishing in yearning for me. Let me savour her sight through this latticed window. Bring unto me my queen of liberty…. You are a prisoner! Me, a prisoner too!
Evidently the immediate source of inspiration for such poems must have been Bharatidasan’s anthology called The Smile of Beauty in which there is a celebration of the panoramic beauty of landscape, seasons, flora and fauna in exquisite lyrics. In a poem on the beauty of nature itself, he says,
In the tender rays of the dawn I saw her;
In the expanses of the sea, in the flood of light,
In the grove, in the flowers, in the sprouts
She made herself visible wherever I touched;
She shines in the ruby lamp
That glimmers in the sky in the dusk,
In the roads, in the parrots of the branches,
Dame Beauty offered the gift of poetry.
—
Again I saw Beauty and I found joy;
See, she is the pulp behind all that is green;
See the virgin unravished by antiquity
Look with love; she is everywhere
If you submit to her charms, sorrow there is none.
Where nature poetry is concerned, besides Bharatidasan, tradition is there for Kalaignar to draw upon. Whether in verse or prose, Kalaignar’s pieces on the sights and sounds of nature bear the stamp of his personality in the apt inclusions of striking topical allusions as well as in the language and style.
The description of the Aadi wind, for instance, goes for beyond the realm of nature.
Oh! The roaring wind of the Aadi month ! why are you shaking the trees so viciously? Why, like a magician manoeuvring a devilish dance? Why, like these ministers manipulating the helpless people? Why do you torture these trees? What crime have they committed? They flourish, and is it a crime? Their grace, a crime? Their lush resurgence, a wrong? Donning fragrant flowers in their crests and dazzling like paragons of beauty, is this a crime? What is their crime? Why torment them? Oh! The Aadi wind!...
Oh! The Aadi wind! Do you imagine that we will be browbeaten by your throwing dust and sand into your eyes? Are these sprays of sand more vicious than the bursts of tear gas? You have jumped over the massive prison walls and are dancing like a monkey. Should you be persecuting me even after I am trapped within the prison? With no trace of a reply, why are you hissing so fiercely?...
Go, go. Whip and scatter the sand and flee!
Apostrophising the ocean, he asks a series of questions not with a view to getting answers for the questions themselves highlight the issues he wants to raise:
The toiling worker, the flourishing capitalist, the savant dispensing truth, the poet sharing his lofty muse, sculptor, painter, intellectual – everyone gets a rest. But, why no respite for you? Are you taunting the compulsive idlers with a teaser,
‘See how I keep toiling ceaselessly!”
Mixing the gruel with her candy hands and handing over the pot to her lover… planting a sweeter kiss and waving ‘farewell’ to him… ‘the sun has sunk into the ocean, but he hasn’t returned yet’ – the beloved wife waiting yearningly outside her hut, with lingering eyes and tired legs…the young belle with all her hopes pinned on you. Saving her from gloom, from despair, are you ferrying back her husband daily on your blue shoulders?
Resposing their trust in the Ocean Mother, these humble huts have sprouted on your shores, and you toss them away. You too have joined the band betraying toiling workers?
Trapped as I am in prison, the atrocity you unleashed on a day long past, flashed on my troubled mental radar. Kavirippoompattinam – a town of great beauty, the garden of Eden of the Tamils – you devastated it with your ruthless wave – arms. I am not asking you why you had indulged in such a mindless cruelty. I am not suing you for that.
But, oh ocean ! you laid our dear town to waste! Likewise, can your arms not burst forth on Kallakkudi and wipe out the vicious symbol of the North?
Endless tributes have been paid to the river Kaveri by almost every generation of Tamil poets beginning with the Sangam period. Ilango Adigal’s is the most memorable of these and there is reason to believe that Kalidasa himself was impressed with it. Even though the Kaveri has no role to play in the story of Kampan’s epic, he manages to insert a line or two in praise of it wherever possible. The saint poets of the Bhakti movement considered it superior to the Ganges in holiness. It has endeared itself not only to the people living on its shores but to the entire Tamil – speaking world. Kalaignar has a soft corner for it because besides making the land of his birth fertile, it has become a symbol of the supremacy of Tamil culture.
When Kalaignar writes about the river, all the encomiums on its hoary past naturally have their way into his mind and heart.
Oh! River! Dancing damsel! what bewitching beauty – Your charming wriggle resembling the expressive fingers of a dancer! A flood of surging foam! Can even the piercing silver gleam be your peer? Rhythmic rustle recalling the music of a dancer’s tinkling anklets, graceful gait all colourful splendour, a form bringing glee to the farmers’ hearts – this great blend, Queen Ponni ! Praise unto you! Oh! Beloved! Damsel Kaveri! Beauty with ruddy coral lips! Alluvium – is it the betel cud you’ve deposited in the soil – lover’s mouth out of overwhelming love? You nurture with eagar nourishing hands the tiny lisping infants. In your loving embrace, you cast your benign look on the infant paddy seedlings swaying their 24 – carat bodies and flashing their ruby smiles.
Though the river is often compared to a belle, to a queen and to a goddess, Kalaignar chooses to include an unusual comparison with a king and a nation’s government and ends the sketch with a note of warning which is thoroughly unconventional and revolutionary.
You toil constantly for public good, you are a benign government. Oh king River, wending your way to the ocean after performing your duty! Pray, don’t imagine that you’re the exclusive source of the waters of the ocean. That’s how the wielders of governmental power tend to think. As the waters of the oceans turn into rain-laden clouds, you are travelling as a sandal – hued river. A government is also like a river. The creation of the ocean of humanity ! If you run haywire, Oh river, you’ll be tamed by a dam. A government in power too shares the same fate.
Though Western readers of such essays may miss the topical allusions in them, contemporary Tamil readers will certainly find them delectable.
In one of his wittiest of poems, Donne reprimands the sun asking him not to be unduly duty-conscious and impudent:
Busy old fool, unruly sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains, call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers’ seasons run?
Saucy pedantic wretch, go chide
Late school-boys and sour prentices,
go tell court-huntsmen that the king will ride,
call countryants to harvest offices;
Love all alike, no season knows nor clime,
Nor hours, days, months, which are the rags of time.
Kalaignar has his own complaints against the dawn, which has received the praise of numerous poets and even philosophers like Thoreau. Championing the cause of the poor labourer, who rarely enjoys the “honey – heavy dews of slumber”, Kalaignar tells the dawn,
In between, why are you in such umseemly haste to bang the toiler’s door? He had been tossing in pain all night on the mud floor, and is only now closing his eyes in utter exhaustion. Do you imagine he is sound asleep?
Disdain for the poor seems to have infected you too. That is why you are thumping the door of those curled up in fatigue in their huts? Are your legs afraid to negotiate the steps of the palaces? Or are your hands scared of touching their ornate doors?
‘Hey! Pick up the plough’ – how superciliously you order the poor worker! Have you ever, once, even with the rhythmic charm of a veena, whispered through the windows of the mansion”
‘I believe it is time’?
The day you don’t wake up the poor man – is it not the day he has passed away? You don’t wake up corpses. You don’t wake up the walking corpses of the mansions.
I have now understood your meaningful ways.
Dawn! Greetings to you!
Kalaignar’s salutation to the mountain introduces certain subtle changes in the conventional descriptions of hills.
Many find in your unreleting resolutions an apt simile for the hermit beyond the lure of the voluptuous entreaties of women. But, I well know your ways. I do know how you stretch your cool arms to mollify the passion of the cloud – lasses embracing your shoulders… how, at your mere touch, these damsels drool over you, are unable to rise any higher, dissolve into rain and clasp you with ardour with myriad arms of rivers! Only thereafter, I proclaim to the world what the hermits, who have renounced everything, cannot keep of ‘that’ attraction.
That the mountain may be viewed as a strong-willed lover would have fascinated even Kalidasa, the acclaimed laureate of sringararasa! He would have been tempted to rewrite some of the stanzas in Meghadoot describing the cloud-messenger, and to include a few stanzas in his description of Himavan, the father of Uma, in the early sections of Kumarasambhavam!
But Kalaignar is not going to leave it there. The mountain deserves to be praised as a poet, as a benefactor of mankind and as an artist.
As a dispenser of gold and wealth, you are the world’s benefactor…as a provider of succour and support, you are a social worker. You are a bejeweled throne of the earth. You are an artist too. Without you can we think of the massive sculptures of Egypt? And the Ellora caves? The bewitching art of Ajantha? Can our eyes feast on the glory of Chitthannavaasal or the grandeur of Mamallapuram?
The writer, having thus glorified the mountain, feels sad that there is a blemish, which, unfortunately, cannot be glossed over:
But, Mountain, there is but one blemish. You have become the raw material for the millions of gods crowding the four corners. But, you are nobler than the humans. Though man tramples up your crest, you are greater than man. Reason: As per man’s religious tenets -‘God created mountain!’
It is only out of a bead of the mountain that man creates god!
An effortless use of numerous organic metaphors makes such vignettes particularly charming. A great parrot, likened to a golden voiced damsel, trembles like a worm caught in a fishing cook, when it is trapped in a cage. In order to get a nod of appreciation from it he tries all the poetic skill at his command to portray it.
Tender, green bottlegourd as head; red chilli planted as beak; jasmine leaves as feathers; flat leaves of fragnant screw pine as tail.
It is the child that inspires the artist in him to paint its beauty in choice colours.
Setting eyes on a jasmine bud – ah! What ecstasy! A seedling in the field! A minnow in a colourful pond! A fawn in the forest, an infant at home.. An unfading lamp! A tiny crescent! Wealth ineffable! Pure gold! Delectable honey! Sangam Tamil!... The Kural characterized your lisp as sweeter than the flute and the lyre… and your charming lisp has scored even over the kural……
Balming cool
Rising Sun!
Sprouting shoot!
The beauty of a natural object or scene recaptured in choice images spurs Kalaignar’s mind on to profound meditations on philosophical issues relating to man and life. The idea that the child has no thought of God interests and intigues his rationalist mind and perspective.
You have no thought of God. You are an atheist too. A good mind is called a child’s mind; so atheists are endowed with good minds. Atheists have good hearts. As you play with a serpent, some grown-ups play with disaster – they worship God, go into raptures about God, and sing God’s glory! Does it mean that their mind is marked by clarity? In the nature of playing with a serpent, aren’t you and they the same, baby?... You are a tender sprout with a good heart. The elders are hardened leaves with a good heart. You play with serpent? They play with ‘sin’! But…You harm no one. So you have no need for a god.
The star is a lustrous heavenly body that has kindled the fancy of many an artist. Kalaignar’s train of thoughts leads him to reflections on what is happening in the vanity fair of this world.
Oh Star! You, a speck of light splintered from the full-moon diamond on its impact with a cloud hill! An offspring of a leaping lightning! A scatter of rubies from a fallen, bejeweled crown! The nature-mason has thatched the sky – roof with gems aplenty! Are you the flowers laid out on the sky-couch by the moon damsel eager in wait for her lover?...
Lamp of the cloud niche! Fragrant ape-flowers scattered in the shade of the full-moon tree! The golden shower of light poured down by the sky! Flower of sheer gold… You are a great painting in the earth’s eyes. An epic yielding new fancies.
Looking at the twinkling presence of the star in the sky’s vast expanse, a firefly would convene a conference of its kin on the branch of a tree. This contest of imitation is not the presence of only the insects and birds; some among the humans have also entered the fray!
Certain casual asides and observations made in the course of an essay or a speech may prove to be extremely illuminating and thought-provoking. While defending the freedom of thought at a book release function, Kalaignar warns researchers in the fields of literature, history and sociology against undertaking negative research which will turn out to be harmful in the long run.
We have identified Kattabomman as one among the freedom fighters from Tamilnadu. This has also been celebrated in plays and films. Against this backdrop, in the name of doing research, should a researcher try to establish that Kattambomman was a mere local chieftain, a brigand, that there was a feud between him and the foreign ruler only because he refused to pay tax, and that he was no freedom fighter… What do we gain by such research? Do we not suffer a collective loss?
We should bestow thought to this aspect. The spirit of freedom nurtured over a long time may get devastated by this kind of research. I am of the view that researchers should stay clear of such research endevours.
Kalaignar’s speech inaugurating the Ooty flower show in 1971 reminds us of a poem called “The flower” by George Herbert.
How fresh, O lord, how sweet and clean
Are thy returns! Even as the flowers in spring;
To which, besides their own demean,
The late-past frosts tributes of pleasures bring.
Grief melts away
Like snow in May,
As if there were no such cold thing.
Who would have thought my shrivl’d heart
Could have recovered greenness? It was gone
Quite under ground; as flowers depart
To see their mother root, when they have blown;
Where they together
All the hard weather
Dead to the world, keep house unknown.
If flowers are to Herbert symbolic of the evanescence of beauty and transitoriness of life, they bring to Kalaignar’s mind the lot of ‘the wretched on earth’.
Among flowers, some are endowed with fragrance, and some others are not. Some flowers are beautiful, but without fragrance. Some flowers have fragrance, but do not have alluring looks. When we reach out to pluck the flowers, both fragrant and lovely, we encounter thorns. The poor, lowly and oppressed people in our land languish as flowers bereft of fragrance. But they are blessed with noble hearts. Our government has taken on the responsibility of infusing fragrance in their aroma-free lives.
Kalaignar’s convocation addresses are as learned and as full of wisdom as those of any of the Indian academics and intellectuals of our time. They witness to his intellectual as well as intuitive understanding of the process of education and of its aims and objectives. He stresses that one’s education should be of benefit to the nation and that mere bookish education is not going to be of much use if native intelligence is not enhanced. “We need an education which converts pebbles into diamonds, and not one which dims diamonds.”
His views on the proverbial ‘generation gap’ are worth pondering over:
Every passing generation has been accustomed to chastising the new generation. This has been happening since the day of Plato.
“This generation is not like those of the old days; standards have declined.” This has been a constant refrain over many generations. When the tuft gave way to a cropped head, there was resentment; on seeing the figure-hugging dress of today, there is rancour too… There is no harm when there are differences between two succeeding generations. What is significant is that this should lead to the flourishing of constructive growth.
In another address, he discusses the name and nature of philosophy. What should be the role of philosophy in university education?
Philosophy can be handled in many different ways. It is like a piece of iron. It can be made into a sword for a brave warrior, can be shaped into a hammer, can be used to make nails. Likewise, philosophy can be made use of by people to suit their nature and predilection. Many savants of the world have utilized philosophical systems in different ways – as paths leading to god, as a position hitched to a religion or as a system exclusively used in line with a rationalist perspective. The students who study philosophical concepts should learn all these schools. We are told that honey has extra potency because the bees collect honey from all kinds of flowers. Likewise, the students should delve into concepts and systems and hone their skills.
When should students involve themselves totally in politics?
The students in colleges and universities and schools are like the seedlings in a nursery. You should get nourished and gain strength at the nursery. Only after you have matured beyond the seedling stage, should you be transplanted into the main paddy field. Fully bearing in mind Anna’s characterization of students as seedlings in a nursery requiring careful nurturing, I feel duty-bound to express this sentiment.
Why should the young aim at living long and take constant care of their physical health?
We should spare a thought as to why they (great musicians like T.N. Rajarathinam) died young. We nurture music, are geniuses, bring joy to every one. But we should also provide our body with requisite strength. We should not destroy our own body. Such self-ruination is destruction of arts, betrayal of society, a wanton abridgement of our potential to serve the society. This awareness dawned, no one would indulge in such senseless self-destruction.
It may be recalled here that the great Tamil Siddhas like Tirumular were not in favour of neglecting the body. Why should one live one’s life with verve and never curse the life as a human being? Avvaiyar, the great Tamil poet, considered it a rare boon to be born as a human being. But the French philosopher Rousseau is reported to have said, “My first regret is that I was born as a human being”. Kalaignar rejects Rousseau’s stance.
It was indeed amusing that the great thinker, who had taught the entire mankind ways to nurture universal birthrights, was sulking, cursing his own birth. Possibly, the situation in his house and in his land, the social and political malaise at the time of his birth would have troubled him. Years later, he might have thought of the milieu in which he was born and lamented, ‘why at all was I born?’
My birthday was not born in such an environment. When I was born, my family was not enjoying opulence, nor were my parents buried in a dark pit of poverty. Likewise, while my motherland was in political fetters, it was not hurtling towards chaos and doom as Rousseau’s birthday - France had been. So I would rather listen to Voltaire, another great French thinker. Voltaire found fault with Rousseau’s position that as man enters the world crying as a baby, he wastes away his life fruitlessly sobbing. I go along with Voltaire’s perspective.
Though Kalaignar does not favour Rousseau’s view of life, he tries to understand it sympathetically and expresses his disapproval firmly.
No less a poet than Milton has observed that “fame is the last infirmity of noble minds.” To Euripides, “toil is the sire of fame.” To Marcus Aurelius, “all is ephemeral, fame and the famous as well”. In Pascal’s view, “the charm of fame is so great that we like every object to which it is attached, even death.” Bacon felt that “fame is like a river, that beareth up things light and swollen, and drowns things weighty and solid.” Thomas Fuller contended that “all fame is dangerous; good bringeth envy; bad, shame.”
Kalaignar, using a series of similes, throws a flood of light on its various dimensions:
Oh Fame! You are but a courtesan! To those who hanker after you, you dispense your favour only after extracting your pound of flesh.
You are the sphere of moon. Many a stalwart has not yet reached success in reaching you (It was so, decades back.) You are the icy peak of the Himilayas. Out of relentless effort, some manage to conquer your heady heights. You are a cube of ice. Even if we hold you in our tight grip, you dissolve into water and disappear. You are a jug of wine. The flies drawn to your bosom fail to break into a flutter of wings again.
You are a shadow! You keep trailing those who care not for you. You are a riddle! Explaining your ways – it is truly beyond me!
In another context, the sweetness of Tamil tries his analytical and descriptive skill but he rises to the occasion:
Oh Tamil!
My heart throbs to call you in myriad ways-Captivating picture! Enthralling epic! Fragrant flower beside the stream! Moon emitting light! Love! Beauty! Nectar! Life! Joy! Salubrious breeze! Cool Mist! Fruit! Peacock of splendid plume! Relish of fruit juice! Dazzling emerald! Splendent ruby! Torch of the valorous army! My mind is brimming with appelations.
But, Oh! Tamil! No word can match the sheer joy I savour by calling you ‘Tamil’.
As K. Subramaniam has pointed out, his essays and speeches “reflect the quintessential elements of Kalaignar Karunanidhi’s personality and orientation – pride in the Tamil language and culture, penchant for social justice, rationalist perspective, combativeness as a political leader, championing the cause of state autonomy, faith and confidence in the youth, a natural flair for humour and gentle sarcasm, and a lyrical quality in his use of words”.
Kalaignar’s essay on political and social revolutions entitled “My Name is Revolution” (En Peyar Puratci) takes the form of an autobiography in which there is a brief but absorbing account of the name and nature of what has been known as ‘revolution’ down the ages. The essayist accepts the need for and the value of periodical revolutions but appeals to the whole of mankind not to think in terms of violent revolutions marked by bloodbaths and massacres but to go in for peaceful, constructive ones which yield positive results benefiting the poor and the oppressed. Significantly written on the first of May (in the year 2005), the essay reminds us of the first great labour upheaval that took place in America, makes passing references to the French Revolution, the Russian Revolution and others and asks all future revolutionaries to throw away the dangerous weapons that destroy men, women and children and to use love, peace and knowledge as instruments of war in order to redeem mankind. The essay is an eloquent plea for a revolution in the conduct of revolutions themselves!
When I rose in revolt against King Louis in France, first I buried fathoms deep the thing called mercy and then only forced the ruling group to stand before the guillotine ….
The Russian Revolution was inspired by the French. Their revolutions have demonstrated that the Russians are capable of making sacrifices even at the moment of achieving success. When that is the case, I can’t understand why I should be buried in today’s context in places that are not conducive.
I, therefore, have come forward to change my nature.
As the first step, I have changed my abode.
I used to roar smelling blood in places where a king will be punished just because he happens to be a king, will be shot dead or felled by a sword even if he falls to his knees. Now I have decided to use another kind of weapon. It is called the weapon of knowledge, the weapon of love, the weapon of peace!
My old nature was to drink off lives emptying the bottles of bodies and to hoist a flag of victory! Now I have assumed the forms of several revolutions –
the intellectual revolution nourished by wise men,
the political revolution that dethrones rulers,
the scientific revolution sustained by experts,
the agricultural revolution conducted by farmers,
the social revolution that destroys caste and religious distinctions,
the revolution of ethnic dignity that drives away the spiders that try to ruin today our race that has been reigning long,
the revolution of knowledge that subdues arrogance, haughtiness and the noise raised by injustice,
the revolution of social reform initiated by Sivavaakkiyar who asked, “ what does the mournful mantra you intone mean, after going round a stone erected and casting four flowers on it?
the spiritual revolution of Ramalinganr who sang that all superstitious customs should be buried and that none should fall into the rubbish of sastras,
the rationalist revolution of Bharati who condemned the stupid that go in search of a thousand gods,
the revolution of self-respect hailed by Bharathidasan who wrote in a poem, “let us find a door that will open for love but close the road to conception” and
the revolution of sacrifice to which one dedicates oneself and is prepared to lay down one’s dear life in a righteous war waged for the blooming of a new society …
A revolution does not consist in killing those who hold an opposite view and are ready to fight for it, heaping corpses and wearing laurels.
Once you called it a revolution!
Today a victorious revolution would mean converting those who hold different views and ensuring their support to our front. Otherwise, we will be blameworthy.
A country needs a revolution of labour!
Labour needs a revolution of knowledge!
Knowledge needs a revolution of rights!
Rights need determination, determination, a revolution of determination!
I will be only on the side of those who are determined!
Till the end, I will be only in the hearts of those who safeguard their ideals!
I, called ‘revolution’, will live for ever –
As fragrance in the flowers.
Patiently, even in the midst of a storm,
I will save you and see to it that you grow!
Kalaignar strongly feels that political and social revolutions are indispensable though they should be peaceful and never take a violent turn whatever may be the provocation.
In another essay called “Power of the Ballot”, he muses about the problems of democracy, a subject on which he is most competent to speak because of his first-hand knowledge of the theory and practice of politics over a long period of time. Beginning the essay on a note of sadness, he regrets the fact that not many seem to be proud of the truth that the power of creating their government in any democratic set-up lies with them. What is more annoying is that they do not enthusiastically come forward to use or express the power or the authority vested in them. What is the reason for this continuing deterioration of the situation? The pillars that people choose to construct the towering edifice of democracy betray them by becoming unstable or by falling on their very heads. Aristotle accepts that of all forms of government – monarchy, dictatorship, oligarchy, and democracy – the last one is the best because it is the least defective as it provides scope for the participation of all in the governance of the state and for the punishment or removal of the rulers chosen if they go wrong.
Kalaignar laments that the very people who are entrusted with the responsibility of choosing their leaders shy away from discharging their duty at the time of elections which are meant to enable them to make their preferences clear by casting their ballots. The cruelest aspect of the scenario is that some of the voters consider going to the booth on the day of the election as a work for which they have to be paid at least a day’s wages! They do not seem to realize that the fundamental principle of democracy is utterly forgotten in such a situation. If we ourselves are not bothered about the potential of the ballot handed over to us in an election, can we claim to be dignified citizens of a nation? Kalaignar’s message to the common people is that they should not think of themselves as mere voters but as the makers of this country, as the saviours of our society and as the leaders who are to decide our future – as, in Bharati’s language, the monarchs of our motherland! Only then will this fast degenerating democracy turn into a properly cultivated, fertile field with far better yields than we have ever had before.
Of the several essays on the art of living, the one on “Strength and Radiance” (Valivum Polivum) will endear Kalaignar to any reader for his fatherly concern for the physical well-being of everyone. In this, he stresses the value of meditation, the act of remaining in a silent and calm state for a particular period of time though he is not willing to accept or recommend it as part of a religious training. He is deeply interested in it because it enables one to lead a healthy life and to deal with the problems and difficulties of everyday life without worrying oneself into a state of depression.
When the practice of meditation was recommended to him, he was told that he would do well to keep uttering “Narayana Namaha!” But being a rationalist who bases his opinions and the way he lives his life on reason and not on emotions or religious beliefs, Kalaignar chose to chant the line from Cilappatikaram, “Gnaayiru Porrutum! Gnaayiru Porrutum!” (Hail the Sun! Hail the Sun!) in his daily practice of meditation, thus drawing the attention of his admirers to the great divide which separates rationalism from superstition. If waking up early in the morning is good for one’s health, having a long walk everyday keeps one’s weight under control; breathing exercises will help one take care of the proper functioning of the lungs, the circulation of blood and of the condition of the heart; yoga will strengthen one’s nerves and bones; dhyana or meditation will bring peace to the mind.
It is what Kalaignar states in the last two paragraphs of the essay that will move the reader profoundly:
Realising that all these exercises are absolutely essential, we who read books on several kinds of subjects, should cultivate the habit of reading with interest books about health. The objective of this essay is to exhort everyone to do this.
Only a society of healthy beings free from diseases can serve as a protective wall to a nation. I will feel that I have attained the purpose of writing this essay, if it has served as a step in this direction. There are ever so many ways of securing good health and happiness which are not mentioned in this essay. Let this be an inspiration to search for such things and to put them into practice.
An essay on the evil of fundamentalism argues that even if it is mixed with honey, poison is poison. Though people may use the word ‘fundamentalism’ or ‘radicalism’ in order to make the ideology behind it appear mild, it does not differ from what is called ‘terrorism’. Both have the same destructive impact on a society or a country. Examining the past history of several leading modern nations, Kalaignar points out that they have attained fame by various ways. They are now known for their culture and civilization, or their paintings and sculptures or their mighty armies, or their achievements in commerce or economics or scientific research. The atrocities of tyrants such as Hitler, Mussolini, the Czar of Russia, Rasputin, and King Louis have caused permanent damage to their countries and the wounds caused by them still remain as scars reminding the future generations of the lessons they have to learn from history. Now it is the role of terrorism which is fast spreading from nation to nation that causes international concern. In order to kill a snake hiding itself in an anthill in a grove, one does not destroy the entire grove. But this is what the terrorists do.
What is the main reason for the coming into being of terrorism? Religious quarrels and border – disputes have led to periodical attacks by terrorists in different parts of the country. Huge buildings, trains and even villages and towns are sacked by heartless terrorists. Who are the people killed? Children are killed as though they were parrots whose necks are wrung. Old men who have lost their physical strength, who are emaciated, who cannot wield any weapons are slaughtered mercilessly. But the irony is that these have nothing to do with the cause of the bitter fight. No Muslim child speaks ill of a Hindu child; nor does a Hindu child speak ill of a Muslim child. This kind of indiscriminate, mindless killing is not going to solve any problem. Can the terrorists not wait till the time comes when exchange of bullets will yield to exchange of bouquets, when no invidious discriminations will be made between religions, when border disputes will be amicably settled? Is not a terrorist attack as foolish as cutting a big branch of a tree by sitting on the thin end of it? It may be wealth or land or power or religion. Whatever may be the target, is it not prudent to follow the path of non-violence even if justice is going to be delayed?
Kalaignar’s advice to all types of fundamentalists and terrorists is that they should understand that it is a foolish and agonizing act to set fire to a house in order to get rid of bed-bugs. Let them throw away the pieces of burning wood they carry and resort to insecticides to cleanse the house. Let us care for internal purity and external cleanliness!
In this essay also, Kalaignar adds a moving note:
Several years later, a time may come when terrorism will be completely wiped out. Neither the author of this essay nor those stunned by the news of terrorist activities everyday may then be alive; they may not see the days when they can heave a sigh of relief and live peacefully. But I passionately desire that this article serve as the stones with which the foundation for that achievement will be laid.
An essay on Hitler by Kalaignar reproduces certain excerpts from V.Saminatha Sarma’s book Hitler : First World War for the benefit of contemporary readers since it presents the notorious dictator in an incredibly new light. Some of the details given in this book are diametrically opposed to the views expressed in the common run of Hitler’s biographies and histories.
Hitler would speak with love and affection to all children irrespective of whose children they are. He would play with them making fun of them.
Hitler leads a disciplined life. He is, therefore, firm, determined and self-confident. He doesn’t smoke, doesn’t drink, doesn’t touch meat. The vegetarian food that he eats is as simple as the one of ordinary farmers. There won’t be many kinds of dishes. He would be satisfied with one of these – bread, fruit, milk, one kind of cereal. He won’t eat all alone even this simple food; he would always share it with one or two guests.
He would treat women with love and respect. The fact that he had legally provided a dignified position to motherhood shows that he reveres the world of women.
He completely surrenders his heart to fine arts such as music and painting …
When someone goes to speak to him officially or for personal reasons, he would stand up to receive them. When they take leave of him, he would walk some distance with them and then bid farewell to them bowing his head down. If you look at his dress and appearance, you won’t find any difference between him and any last-grade servant of the governments. As in everything else, he would be unostentatious in his dress… Like all historical personages, Hitler too wants to be like a farmer and is satisfied with leading a simple life. Because of this only, he is extremely kind to the poor and the ploughmen. He is eager to win their love.
Kalaignar has an interesting comment on this presentation of ‘the other side of Hitler’:
Don’t conclude that just because even the one who has been described as a cruel tyrant is endowed with such good qualities, those who are praised as noble men in the world will be the very image of magnanimity. Can’t they be mere fakes and pretenders?
Of the numerous eulogies written about the formidable South African revolutionary, Nelson Mandela, Kalaignar’s essay may rank as one of the best. It opens with a touching reference to the announcement Kalaignar made on the occasion of the DMK conference held at Trichy on 11 February 1990. As soon as he heard the news about the release of the black leader from prison, he rushed to the mike ecstatically and told the immense concourse of men and women:
Here is the most heartening piece of news:
The South African black leader kept in prison for twenty – seven years, Nelson Mandela, has been released.
In order to celebrate this delightful event, let all those who have gathered here under this conference pandal accord a long, thunderous ovation.
Kalaignar is delighted to add that the response to his request went beyond his expectations since there was a long burst of applause from the vast sea of audience who didn’t stop till he asked them to do so. Apart from the biographical details that he gives about Mandela, a few thoughtful statements he makes here and there reveal what a wonderful personality the black revolutionary was and what qualities made him unique.
The whole world was talking only about that single individual’s incarceration and was shedding tears all the time. Even though blacks and whites were extremely hostile towards each other, Mandela was very friendly, generous and courteous to the students of both races. He was planning to remove the evil of racism by conducting a righteous war in the Gandhian way.
When he was in prison on account of the numerous agitations he conducted, the South African government of the whites told him that he world be released if he agreed to leave the country. Rejecting the offer, Mandela said, “If we are not going to attain freedom, I will be contented with my life in prison.”
Even though he had to experience untold misery in prison, a gritty upholder of principles, he made the following observation:
“The cruel torment of prison life did not trouble me.
But I cannot bear the agony of my thoughts about the sufferings of my people outside the prison.”
This magnificent life of sacrifice of Mandela’s should be a hearty song not only to the African youth but to all the heroic young men, who, living on this globe, are eager to create a brave new world.
Kalaignar’s essay on the virtue of gratitude belongs to a different type altogether though in this also he organizes and expresses his thoughts with meticulous care. The very title may send some of us back to what F.W.Ellis has written about Valluvar’s chapter on gratitude. Denouncing the Western scholars who have said that there is no word corresponding to ‘gratitude’ in any of the Indian languages and that the very idea of gratitude is unknown to the Indian, Ellis observes: “To this calumny let this chapter of Thiruvalluvar (the one on ‘being grateful’ and the accompaniments to it) be the answer, as in it the idea will be found to be expressed in many varying modes.”
Kalaignar echoes many of the ideas of Valluvar on the subject but stresses the distinction between saying that one is grateful and showing in action one’s gratitude. He mentions various contexts from our day-to-day activities in which many of us simply say, “Thank you” whenever something good is done to us. This has become a formality. Kalaignar feels that it is so mechanically done that we may not mean what we say. His contention is that merely saying “Thank you” doesn’t really express our heart-felt sense of gratitude unless we reveal it in our deeds. It is the gratitude that is genuinely felt, or that proves its existence in action, which will remain forever like letters inscribed on a stone, and which cannot be destroyed by the floods of the sea.
Essays are normally classified into the following categories: moralizing, critical, character, anecdotal, letter, narrative, aphoristic, descriptive, reflective, biographical, historical, periodical, didactic, editorial, whimsical, psychological, outdoor, nature, cosmical, and personal. One would be surprised to note that Kalaignar has to his credit essays of all these types. A different kind of distinction may be made between formal and informal essays: Formal essays are characterized by “sober seriousness of purpose, dignity, logical organization, length.” Informal essays are characterized by “the personal element (self-revelation, individual tastes and experiences, confidential manner), humour, graceful style, rambling structure, novelty of theme, freshness of form, freedom from stiffness and affectation, incomplete or tentative treatment of topic.” Even a cursory examination of Kalaignar’s writings will show that he has authored formal as well as informal essays.
It has been suggested by a critic of Victorian prose that the following questions implicit in one of Walter Pater’s essays may be fruitfully raised when one wants to assess the value of a particular piece of imaginative prose:
1. Has the author taken “a full, rich, complex matter to grapple with”? In other words, does his style have adequate motivation?
2. Has he achieved, in his language, balance between propriety and originality?
3. Has he provided for the reader an intense intellectual challenge?
4. Has he provided for the reader a worthwhile formal challenge?
5. Has he given to his prose work his own (or its own) unique personality?
6. Has he devoted his art to “great ends”?
Kalaignar as an essayist passes muster, the answer to each of these questions being a definite ‘yes’. In Pater’s view, the great ends are (a) “the increase of men’s happiness” (b) “the redemption of the oppressed” (c) “the enlargement of our sympathy with each other”(d)” such presentment of new or old truth about ourselves and our relation to the world as may ennoble and fortify us in our sojourn here” and (e) “the glory of God”. The essays we have analysed here are enough to show that Kalaignar has certainly devoted his art to great ends excepting for the last one in Pater’s list which no rationalist would like to be concerned with.
No comments:
Post a Comment