Aganaanooru 89 – The change in the child

Sangam Lit

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13d ago 5:54

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In this episode, we listen to a mother’s lament, as portrayed in Sangam Literary work, Aganaanooru 89, penned by Madurai Kaanchipulavar. Set in the ‘Paalai’ or ‘Drylands landscape’, the verse sketches the dangers of a drylands journey.

தெறு கதிர் ஞாயிறு நடு நின்று காய்தலின்,
உறு பெயல் வறந்த ஓடு தேர் நனந் தலை,
உருத்து எழு குரல குடிஞைச் சேவல்,
புல் சாய் விடரகம் புலம்ப, வரைய
கல் எறி இசையின் இரட்டும் ஆங்கண்,
சிள்வீடு கறங்கும் சிறிஇலை வேலத்து
ஊழுறு விளைநெற்று உதிர, காழியர்
கவ்வைப் பரப்பின் வெவ் உவர்ப்பு ஒழிய,
களரி பரந்த கல் நெடு மருங்கின்

விளர் ஊன் தின்ற வீங்குசிலை மறவர்
மை படு திண் தோள் மலிர வாட்டி,
பொறை மலி கழுதை நெடு நிரை தழீஇய
திருந்து வாள் வயவர் அருந் தலை துமித்த
படு புலாக் கமழும் ஞாட்பில், துடி இகுத்து,
அருங் கலம் தெறுத்த பெரும் புகல் வலத்தர்,
வில் கெழு குறும்பில் கோள் முறை பகுக்கும்
கொல்லை இரும் புனம் நெடிய என்னாது,
மெல்லென் சேவடி மெலிய ஏக
வல்லுநள்கொல்லோ தானே தேம் பெய்து
அளவுறு தீம் பால் அலைப்பவும் உண்ணாள்,
இடு மணற் பந்தருள் இயலும்,
நெடு மென் பணைத் தோள் மாஅயோளே?

We get an in-depth tour of the drylands in this trip and listen to the words of a mother, at a time when her daughter has eloped away with her man:

“The burning rays of the sun scorches in the middle of summer, in those wide spaces, parched without any downpour, filled with mirages, and here, the male owl hoots with a soaring sound, akin to that of rocks rolling down the hills, spreading lament in those arid clefts, bereft of grass. In those spaces, crickets chirp around the small-leaved Babool tree, from which ripe pods shed down. As the white and salty layer of soil has been removed by washer-folk from that desolate spread of land, acidic soil is all that remains in that pebble-filled region.

Here, after feasting on fatty meat, highway robbers with bulging bows, pounce upon those strong men with etched swords, accompanying huge paces of puffing donkeys, beasts of burden, whose strong shoulders are laden with goods. Those highway warriors chop the heads of these accompanying guards, making those spaces reek with the smell of flesh. Beating their ‘thudi’ drums, they gather those precious vessels that have been won by battle-worthy men from forts, protected by archers many, and they distribute the booty among themselves, as per their customary order. Not thinking such a dark and dangerous domain is too long to tread, making her soft, red feet suffer, she walks on. Does she even have the strength to do this? For she was one, who would refuse to heed my call to eat the sweet milk, mixed in perfect proportion with honey, and would run hither and thither on the fine sand spread under the canopy. Such was the nature of that dark-skinned maiden with long and soft, bamboo-like arms!”

Let’s brave the scorching sun and explore the drylands! Mother starts with a detailed description of this region and she talks about the scorching sun, illusory mirages, hooting male owls, chirping crickets, and the withering Babool trees. Then, she makes a comment about washer-folk removing the white, salty layer of soil and leaving the land acidic and infertile. This made me pause and wonder what’s the connection between washer-folk and drylands mud. When researching, I came across the ironic fact that in ancient times, people used to wash their clothes with abrasive, salty mud, to wipe away the grime. That’s why these Sangam washer-folk are collecting their weapons of dirt destruction from this mud!

Returning, mother continues talking about this region and turns her attention to the most dangerous element in any place – the people, of course! She highlights how highway robbers are chopping off the heads of soldiers accompanying donkeys carrying precious vessels and other tributes from forts captured. Those valiant soldiers, who were victors in the battlefield, fall to the arrows of these highway robbers, who then happily distribute the loot among themselves, apparently in an orderly fashion. Honour among thieves, looks like!

Now mother comes to the point and says how this is the place her dear daughter was treading on, without worrying about the dangers there, and wonders from where her little girl got the strength to do this. She concludes by describing how her beautiful and delicate girl was such a fussy eater, who would refuse sweet milk and honey, and would be playfully running around, under the sand-filled tents. In essence, this is nothing but a mother’s wonder at how suddenly her offspring seems to mature and change their shades in the blink of an eye!

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