Scent of a woman

She has a fragrance
this lady called the night.
It's name is silence.

In Tamil

A small poet

Not a great poet you are O Kuvempu!
Where the Tunga runs
and keeps beat to the birds' song
Where the rain cloud
whispers sweet nothings into the darkness of the forest
Had I been born in this Kuppalli
even I would write good poetry!

In Tamil

A woman's vanity

You created the void.
And from it breath.
And in deep breaths,
you formed worlds.
In the world
you carved rocks.
Rocks you ground to sand.
To sand you added
the milk of your breast
and formed life.
Life you nurtured till
I was born.
You kissed me with imagination
and made me sculpt stones.
You guided my hand gently
across aeons of time,
till it sculpted your form.

And then after I became sand
After sand became dust
You looked at the stones
So that you may see
the infinite golden rays of life
that spring from the
thousand suns that arise
from your single smile.

Indeed you are a woman, my Mother!

The setting of the sun

All day the battle went on listlessly. The soldiers on both the Vanara and Asura side were perplexed. Their leaders were facing off each other, but this was hardly the clash of giants that they expected. Rama and Ravana fought like little boys in their school, wary, indecisive and careful not to hurt or to get hurt. Rama's shafts were all aimed at preventing the heavy missiles that Ravana flung. And Ravan's maces and spears if they were spared by Rama's arrows would have landed at least a feet short of his chariot.

The confusion soon spread amongst the ranks. Hanuman having captured the eastern gate of the city, merely camped without pressing forth his advantage. On the other side, Sugriva and Angada were involved in a petty quarrel about who would carry the victory banner, if it came. In a matter of hours, an epic war was decaying into old wive's bickering.

And then it happened. Ravana flung a diamond studded mace at Rama. As it came flying in the air, like a ray of light from the morning sun, Rama drew his bow string as far as his shoulder, calculated to hit the mace precisely.

But a split second before the arrow was released, the chariot ran over a tiny clod of earth on the battle ground. Rama's arm jerked. Before he knew it, his right arm had been drawn as far as his right ear lobe, which caught the faint whistle of his crescent tipped arrow snaking forward hungrily a moment later. The arrow spread with pointed vengeance; impatient and tired of this dispirited war it flew forth, pierced Ravana's golden armour and stayed buried there drinking his blood, like a Yogi buried in Brahman drinking the moonlight.

Ravana staggered forth and clutched his chariot. He might have stood fast and fought against another man despite this arrow, but this was Rama's arrow. He knew this was the end. He put his hand to his navel and felt his blood coursing warm through it.

'Alas! They shall all walk over my beloved Lanka! The beasts, the brutes!'. He gasped for breath which seemed harder every time he breathed.

'She shall be destroyed, ravished. Alas! Alas! My beloved country! I have failed you!' Even as this thought ran in his head, understanding dawned on him. He looked upon and smiled at Rama. He had this sudden inexplicable urge to hold that dark skinned man who had just shot that fatal arrow. He stumbled out of his chariot with his arms stretched towards Rama.

From where he stood, Rama could see Ravana stumble. And as he feel to the ground, he saw the great king's bloodied hands reach out to him. Something changed at that moment. The war, the armies, the songs... even Seetha herself seemed irrelevant. Throwing his bow down Rama ran to that dying king, sat near him, raised his head and put it on his lap. Thus, with Ravana's head on his lap, he cried, this Rama who loved Seetha just like he had a while ago with an unconscious Lakshmana on his lap.

As he saw those tears of love, Ravana felt a great fatigue settle over him. His lungs which drew breath from this world eagerly like a hungry calf suckling his mother die, now seemed cloyed of the very air. Lanka faded before his eyes; so did his carefully built glory, his music, the name of Shiva which was ever on his tongue.

Everything faded.

Everything jaded.

Everything but one.

As breath took reluctant leave of his body in spasms, the king's mouth repeated one word without pause.

'Seetha! Seetha! Seetha! Seetha! Seetha!'

He muttered for what seemed like eternity before dying softly on the lap of Rama; on the lap of the man who was his brother in love.

களத்தே நின்று கடும்போர் செய்து
களங்கமொன்றின்றி காதல் நிறை
மனத்தே நின்ற மாதவள் பெயரோதி
நலமாய் மாண்டான் நல்லிராவணன்
பலர் போற்றும் இராமன் சீதை அனுமன்
எவரும் எய்தில்லை இதுபோல் நல்மரணம்

This king of ours he died
in the battlefield
his chest pierced.
And even as blood poured from that torn chest
her name poured from his lips
till life itself poured out from his heart.

Thus he died, this king of ours
his heart bleeding love, courage and passion.
And a death like this
did not get Rama; nor Seetha
Nor any of them that are praised in life.

- Old Lankan lament for Ravana chronicled by Rama in his journal

The look

No it is not her looks.

...

It is her look.

...

A thousand words of desire
from a thousand nymphs
cannot match the one glance
that this daughter of Videha
gives when I emerge from the river
after my morning bath.

...

Because,

the moon with her million stars
still fades when the sun arrives alone.

- Told by Rama to Guha when asked why he did not take many wives like the kings of his time.

Tyrant

To these timid thoughts
What a tyrant must I be
Caging them in words

Three classical haikus

These 3 poems were part of my reading at the Urban Solace 100th edition of Tuesday's with the bard.

The poems were written with the theme of blending classical sangam Tamil poems with Japanese Haiku. I have been fascinated by how these two cultures look like distorted reflections of the same truth. Both these forms of poetry make use of a seasonal word. Both have strictly set rules of meters. Both rely on telling the reader less. Both rely on leaving their poems incomplete so that millions of readers in the future can complete it in millions of ways possible.

I won't go into technicalities of the forms of the poems. Technicalities bore me, as I am an impatient student. So let's dive straight into the poems.


காத்திருப்பேன் காலமுண்டு
இவ்வந்தியில் துணைவர் மூன்று
கார்மேகம் கருமுல்லை கொஞ்சம் தனிமை

This poem is set in the forest lands, named after the Jasmine flower in Tamil grammar. The forest is the land of separation in Tamil poetry. Women cry in the evening separated from their beloved midst the thick jungles, where the cakravAha bird also cries for its mate who is stranded on the other side of the lake.

The heroine of this poem is a haughty little woman who misses her beloved, but does not want to admit as much. So, this is what she says.

I shall wait, for there is time.
This eve, has wrought me three companions.
The rain cloud; the faded jasmine and just a bit of loneliness.

Hint - The jasmine is faded because she wore it in anticipation of her hero who has not yet turned up.


கார்மேகம் தழுவும் கொல்லிமலை தனிலே
காரிருள் பொழியும் குளிரருவி அருகே
குறிஞ்சிப் பூ பறிக்கக் சென்றாள்

This poem is in the cold mountains named குறிஞ்சி in Tamil grammar. The glittering caves, the full moonlight with flowing nectar lighting the path to the caves, the sweet and sour cry of the peacock for its mate and the biting winter wind that propels men, women and creatures alike to rush to their beloved makes the mountain the place for a romantic rendezvous.

This poem features a dignified friend of the heroine who ensures her dear friend's honour is protected no matter what happens. The hero who has been dogging our pretty heroine has finally won her heart. He aches to meet her, to hold her arms in his, to taste the ripe fruit of her lower lip. The heroine too burns with passion after having relented finally. She now relies on her beloved friend to tell this to her man, while keeping her pride intact.

In the kolli mountains embraced by the rain clouds
Beside the cascade that pours out darkness
She has gone to gather the kurinji flower

Hint - The kurinji flower blooms only once in 12 years. So the subtle hint given while telling where to meet the heroine is, 'her love is as rare as the kurinji flower and has bloomed only for you. So do not let it fade.'


மரமில்லா நெடுஞ்சாலை
மனமெல்லாம் வெறும் சோலை
எரும்பான நான் பிழைத்தால் மனை சேர்வேன்

There is no separate desert land strictly speaking in Tamil grammar. It is defined as the land that arises because the hills and the forests stray from their nature. Thus, when union and separation stray from their nature, we have the desert of discord. So it is that across the scorching heat, fighting ruthless bandits, braving perils as poisonous as serpents and scorpions, the hero and the heroine rue missing each other, missing their family and friends.

This poem is contemporary in setup. For the true deserts of today are our own roads and cities, bereft of life, bereft of imagination. The hero having suffered another day of drudgery at work, tries to rush back home. Alas! He finds his way blocked by a long trail of mechanical monsters. He sees no trees to remind him of his beloved's face. No cool breeze to remind him of her sweet words. So he sends her this SMS.

The road stretches long treeless
My mind is but an empty garden
As I crawl like an ant, if my soul lives I shall reach home/her.

Hint - The word மனை in Tamil can stand for both home and the wife.