Nirmaldasan's Borrowed Robes

-- This review appeared in the August 2012 issue of the Journalism Online newsletter. --

In this modern world where language has been shrinking owing to the cellphone SMS constraints and also owing to man's tense rush towards everything, I doubt whether poetry is still keeping its own. Anyone nowadays sits alone, staring at the variant configurations happening in clouds, at the half-circular line-up of lovely birds rushing towards the skies as if going to garland the heavens and utters charming lines, assuming the Wordsworthian solitary reaper's tone or the Keatsian nightingale's chirping tone? Modern man will brand as lunatics Wordsworth, Keats or Shelley, if they are reborn (if you have faith in reincarnation).

Well! All these thoughts kept on swarming my mind, when I happened to read my friend, philosopher and guide and poet, Nirmaldasan's "Borrowed Robes", a collection of Tamil poems translated in English. If a Tamilian, who has got some working knowledge of literature in his mother tongue, happens to read this collection, will he have the same feeling, the same appreciatory emotions and the same aroused aesthetic sense as he might have had, while reading the originals?

Despite the doubt which I hope is valid, the author's attempt to reach the charm and quintessence of Tamil literature through some works to the English-speaking world cannot be underrated and should not be discouraged. I, for one, will not do that, for there is a general perception that the greatness of Tamil literature has not been properly taken to the notice of the western world.

Now ... over to the book. First of all, what impressed me most was the way Nirmaldasan brought his profound knowledge of English literature to bear on his work of translation and also his ability of retaining the poetic and aesthetic charm of the originals intact.

For instance, the following version of Kuruntokai can be cited:

O bright-winged bee who wingest thine way
Across flowers of various hue
And dependest on their nectary!
My long-lov'd lady dear
The peacock's gait doth bear
And teeth set in close array.—
Tell me, thou, with soul sincere,
If ever came across thy view
A flower blest in perfumery
As rival to her dark and balmy hair!

If a non-Tamilian reads this piece, he or she will admire the poetic charm. But a Tamilian may miss the original charm. Yet the piece per se is good.

A small correction I would like to point out: it is not a bright-winged bee; it is rather a beautifully winged bee, for the original Tamil word, 'amsirai' means beautiful wing.

A footnote should have been added for this poem, narrating the mythological background of the poem, in which how the renowned poet Nakkeeran in the court of the Pandya king took on Lord Shiva who was said to have ghost-written the piece for the indigent poet, Tharumi.

The poem written by Chembulapeyaneerar, unfortunately, could not capture the mesmeric charm of the opening line in the original: 'Yaayium Gnaayium Yaarohiyaro'. English seems to have killed the Tamil spirit. The only redeeming feature is the simile employed in this line: "Yet as red earth and rain combine, our loving hearts mingling lie."

Nirmaldasan has done his best to anglicise certain Tirukkural couplets. The English version sounds like a far cry from the Tamil original. Though the original has didactic tone, it is submerged in poetic use. But, unfortunately, the translation brings forth to the surface the didactic tone. Yet the most captivating lines are the following:

1316. "I often remembered you," I said. But she sulked: "So you often forgot me?"

1329. Let my jewelled love sulk on; and as I plead with her, let the dark night lengthen.

The Thiruppavai songs have the cadence, charm and colour of the Tamil language. The English translation has quite ably captured the metaphoric magic, quite expectedly burying the native mesmeric language.

Hearest thou not the twittering of birds?
Hearest thou not the tinkling jewels, O maiden,
Of those (whose tresses art with scents laden)
Who with tiring hands churn the milk for curds?
Hearest thou not our chants of Narayana?

How I wish Andal had been alive now and educated in English enough to read the translation of her own work!

Bharathidasan's poem about Goddess Sakthi with its native rhapsodic and rhythmic beauties has been wonderfully captured. Kudos to the author. The metaphor, the similes, the rhythm ... all kept alive at most.

This piece has made me read it umpteen times and I enjoyed the poetic power.

Wherever you see,
There's Goddess Shakti.
And all the seven seas
Are her hues and harmonies.
And galaxies, at her command,
Roll on like a ball from her hand.
It is but her laughter — hark —
The clouds that thunder in the dark!
And what is the forked lightning?
It is but her ornaments shining.

It seems easier to translate free verse rather than conventional metred verses. Nirmaldasan has quite sharply transferred Bharthiputhiran's Tamil new verse to English, the poetic warp and woof remaining intact.

A tear
Has a mouth and a tongue;
It resides in the ears
With words.

A tear
Has eyes and lips;
It
Blossoms in joy
At heart.

About Nirmaldasan's poem, "The Birth of Mozhi" written in Spenserian form, I hope, is his original poem. Not a translation.
My song is ended, no tale have I told;
Call it allegory or dark conceit
Whose meaning may not easily unfold
To those who dislike a Spenserian treat
And dismiss this song as an idle feat.
But those who like and really wish to know,
Must know that Tamil is a language sweet
That flows from native tongues, as fountains flow,
In literary, music and dramatic show.

The above lines seem to have justified his translation exercise. He has also translated into prose what I have written in the name of poem in Tamil about cigarette and candle. It will be quite embarrassing if I make any review of it.

In all, despite some minor faults and drawbacks, the whole volume is a good step, if small, in the right direction.

[The online version of Borrowed Robes: https://www.angelfire.com/nd/nirmaldasan/robes.html]