'a' - SCT Literary Society Magazine - Jan 93
Vicky B. Vigneswaran
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* oru kalai ilakkiya valai malar *
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* S.C.TAMIL *
* Literary Society Magazine *
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* January 1993 *
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Contents
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Literary Profile: Mowni ... ... ... ... 1
Essay
M. Sundaramoorthy
A Loss of Identity ... ... ... ... 4
Short Story
Mowni
Tr. Albert Franklin
thatpa veppam ... ... ... ... 10
Poem
N. Gopalswamy
The Literary Endeavours of ... ... ... ... 11
Eezham Tamil Diaspora
Essay
Su. Navam
Tr. N. Asokan
maRupiRavi ... ... ... ... 13
Poem
Ramesh Vaidhyanathan
aindhu kavidhaikaL ( Five Poems ) ... ... ... ... 14
Poetry
Samayavel
Letters ... ... ... ... 17
Announcements ... ... ... ... 20
-----
Essay
-----
=======================
Literary Profile: Mowni
=======================
M. Sundaramoorthy
S. Mani (1907- 1985), who wrote under the pen name 'Mowni', is
one of the rare writers of 20th century Tamil fiction with his
unique contributions of short stories. He was born at Semmangudi
village in Thanjavur district, home of few other noted artists,
including the famous carnatic vocalist, Semmangudi Srinivasa
Iyer. He had his high school education in Kumbakonam and lived
there for fourteen years, since his marriage. He then moved to
Chidhambaram permenantly to look after his family properties.
Mowni had a Bachelor's degree in Mathematics, but he did not take
up any job. He was very fond of classical music, had very strong
exposure to western literature, and showed deep interest in Indi-
an philosophy. His creative power was enriched by his analytical
ability obtained through science education, his artistic mind due
his love for music, foresight as a result of his deep knowledge
in philosophy and literary awareness from his exposure to western
fiction.
He started writing (in mid 30s) around the same period as
Pudumaipithan and Ku.Pa.Rajagopalan. His earlier stories appeared
in `maNikkodi', widely recognised as avant-grade of Modern Tamil
fiction. The `maNikkodi trio', Pudumaipithan, Ku.Pa.Ra. and Mowni
are considered to be the leaders of the movement that shaped the
art of short story in Tamil. They represented three entirely
different trends of short story writing and left a legacy of rich
writings. However, unlike the other two, who inspired scores of
writers to continue their trends, Mowni stands alone, without any
predecessor or successor, that is considered both as his success
and failure. This is one of the few reasons that brought him
extreme criticisms: some recognize him as a great writer and some
others do not.
1
It is often said that his becoming a writer was accidental. He
himself insisted that he never had any intention of writing,
though he was very much interested in literature and involved in
literary discussions with his friends. It was B.S.Ramaiah who
suggested at their first meeting in 1933, during an informal chat
in a group of friends that Mowni could make a good writer if he
had tried. This suggestion steeped in his mind for more than a
year and wrote five short stories and a long story at a stretch
in late 1935 out of curiosity. He was not keen about publishing,
but gave them to a friend to comment. To his astonishment, his
friend praised them of very high standard and were new to Tamil.
He handed them over to B.S.Ramaiah who was the editor of
`maNikkodi' at that time. The first one `En?' appeared in
February '36 issue with the pseudonyme Mowni, who was originally
S.Mani.
Mowni's stories are based on the uncertainity of human life,
human relations and their manifestations like love, disappoint-
ment, failure, death etc. The theme for most of his stories is
the love between man and woman (to be precise, boy and girl).
Though most of his stories appear to be built on the manifest-
ations of romantic experiences, they pervade through many dimen-
sions of human life. They are not stereotype love stories nor
do they move towards the marriage of the people involved, family
etc., which is commonly the case with the romantic stories. (Only
one of his stories, `kudumbaththEr' is based on family life). The
relationships are beyond physical attraction and sexual appeal,
and there is hardly any physical description of the characters in
his stories. They hide behind the abstract images characterized
by the feelings and thoughts of their inner minds that are beyond
the common experiences manifested by the materialistic life. He
successfully portrays the characters through their feelings and
thoughts and introduces them in the dark or twilight by which he
could avoid the narrations of their physical features. Most of
his stories are set in dawn or dusk. His characters wander in a
world that is in between real and dream worlds, without strong
attachment to the materialistic world. The stories often change
between realistic and metaphysical worlds.
His characters lack strong social identities and hence the
stories as such lack the social character. The characters do not
represent any particular section of the society and the stories
2
do not portray the life of any particular class and discuss any
social issues. Essentially his creative world is romanticised one
and does not have the social and political dimensions. His
stories are synthesis of semi-realism and romanticism. This
brought him strong criticism from left wing critics that he
lacked social concern.
The `form' of his stories is one of the main reasons for their
success. His stories are sculptured meticulously with great
artistic touch. His story-telling techniques and the narrative
power definitely added a new dimension to the prose writing in
Tamil.
Mowni's stories are very difficult to comprehend at the first
reading because of their unique nature both in form and content.
Several reapeated readings are needed to fully appreciate his
stories and with each reading they are capable of unveiling a new
dimension and providing a new experience.
He wrote five short stories in late 1935 and added nine more
between 1936 and 39. He did not write anything for a decade. He
wrote two short stories at the request of his contemporary writer
M.V. Venkatram in 1948 that appeared in `thEnee' magazine. He
stopped writing again till 1954. Afterwards, he occasionally
wrote short stories and the last one `thavaRu' appeared in 'kasa-
dathapaRa' in 1971 (the translation of this story, `Loss of
identity', is included in this issue). During a span of 35 years
of his literary career he wrote only two dozen short stories,
which is surprisingly small.
Mowni's first short story collection `azhiyaac chudar' was
published in 1959, the second one `Mowniyin kadhaigaL' in 1967
and the last one in 1973. A complete edition Mowni's works,
comprising 24 short stories, his only interview (`dheepam',1967),
a memoir about B.S. Ramaiah, the editor of `maNikkodi' ( `enakku
peyar vaiththavar', 'B.S. Ramaiah 60 aaNdu niRaivu malar', 1965),
a memoir on his village ('Semmangudi: than oor thEdal', 'aanandha
vikatan', 1968) and a couple of essays by Ka.Naa.Subramanyam on
Mowni, was published by Peacock Publications, recently (1991).
Described as "Thirumoolar of Tamil Short Story" by his contem-
porary writer Pudumaipithan, Mowni occupies a distinct place in
the annals of Tamil literature.
3
-----------
Short Story
-----------
==================
A Loss Of Identity
==================
Mowni
He awoke suddenly, wide awake in the night, cleanly awake, as
if something had startled him. Trailing across the edges of his
consciousness like tatters of dream were junctures and
disjunctures, meetings and partings of his entire life. Outside
in the breathless dark, the sibilant cry of some nightbird
faded, answered by, or answering, the sharp scolding of the owls.
The steps of a man, perhaps two, passing along the street in that
unseasonable hour before dawn seemed to fade without disturbing
the surface of the silence. Beggars huddled in sleep on the walk
below. Far into the night, till sleep had come, they had
gossiped, now and then shouting uproariously, coughing, coughing
their way toward beggar death. Now they would sleep until
daylight.
Why hadn't his life with *her* ended with the same sweetness
it had had at the beginning? What had made events follow a course
which confirmed the passing suspicion that had fallen between
them? The world indeed blamed her, but was she really to be
blamed for moving about in the world, showing her sweet beauty,
delighting all who might see her wherever she went? He wasn't
sure.
The blackness of the night in his room was overpowering. He
opened the window, pushed aside the shutter, and looked out. The
immense expanse of the universe seemed to extend before him.
Townlights merged with stars, as if the stars had come down from
the sky to parade in long lines in the streets.
He wanted to retrace in his mind just what had happened at
the evening before, to get a clear idea of how it all had gone.
4
To do this, he would have to gather the long shadows cast by
things to come and piece them together with memories of things
long past and forgotten.
* * * * * * *
It had all started evening before last when he had run into
him at the corner of the side street. That had been unexpected.
"Hello there! What a surprise to find you here! I never
dreamed..." There must have been some meaning behind these
excessive reactions. You could tell by his face, his manner, that
he was living on the top of the world. Could it be that *she* was
living with him now? He had asked for his address, noted it down,
promising to call on him the following afternoon at half past
four. Then he had hurried away. The dull yellow of the lowering
sun had glowed for a moment in the street and quickly faded.
His upstairs room was larger than he needed for himself
alone. From up there, through windows looking in all directions,
he could see off into the sky as well as look down to see what
was going on in the village. But he had to stumble and grope up a
long steep staircase to get to his room. The anticipated
difficulty of getting back up usually quenched his impulse to get
out on the street and wander around the village. Holding the
shutter, he gazed out into the distance. He could see the first
gray of the dawn.
The evening before, from four o' clock on, in his excitement
over the expected visit, he had begun to worry that the hour
would come and the visitor not arrive. The effect of this had
been to cause him to cease to focus on the exact time the visitor
had promised to come, as if to console himself with the thought
that it was not yet really late. And, then it often happens that,
when one was waiting for someone, the identity of the person one
is waiting for slips from one's mind.
Couples with their children had been pouring in a flood down
the street toward the seashore. What a fuss they made, and how
they decked themselves out to wash away the humdrum of their
lives with a few minutes in the sea breeze! The sky too, as if
preparing for a celebration in the heavens, held a special
clarity, poised for sunset and the sharp plunge into darkness.
5
The street lights,not yet lit, ranged along the street in regular
files to a distant vanishing point.
The time had come. The silence in the room had become a
torture. It had been impossible to stay there quietly and wait.
He had made his way down into the street. He had moved along
staring intently at each passer-by so that his visitor would not
pass without his seeing him. He had sidled up to a man wearing a
wrist-match and asked, "Sir! the correct time, please?" The man
had given him a side-long glance, looked at his watch, and
mumbled something to the effect that he was always forgetting
to wind his watch and it had stopped. Then the man had said,
"It must be about four-thirty. In any case, it's not after five",
and had gone away.
He had considered going back to his room. Perhaps his vistor
would already be there waiting for him, perhaps even sitting in
his armchair, ready to chide him for having made him wait so long
when he had arrived exactly on time. Walking along, pondering
over how he would answer that the idea of returning his room had
slipped from his mind. The thought came to him that, on coming
out, he had only closed his door, not locked it. He had gone on
walking down the road.
He had come to a house within a garden wall. Walking past, he
had found himself watching a beautiful young woman on the veranda
languidly turning tha pages of a book. Her reading and the play
of her imagination were reflected in her features. It had
occurred to him to walk straight up to her that he had come
exactly six o' clock as agreed, and that if she was bored, he was
not to blame. But a doubt flashed in his mind whether he could
become "him" to her, and he had walked on. It seemed absurd that
life should ensnare one in such hazards through unexpected
occurrences. Cars whizzed past, along the street and across the
crossings, sometimes even grazing him. The street lights had not
yet been lit.
Then the milk woman had come up to him in the street and he
had stopped short. She had smiled at him and spoken "Why Sir!
what on earth are you doing out so early in the evening! You even
forgot I was coming to your room!" At first he had considered
taking her back to the room with him. But what if his visitor is
6
there waiting for him? What if he should see them together? He
had dropped that idea and considered whether to tell her to go
there herself and leave some milk. Then he had said, "I don't
need anything today. You don't have to go to the room", and had
walked off, basking in the sun of her smile, "Poor thing, how she
loves me!"
* * * * * * * *
Aimless wandering, earnestly pursued, finds its own goal
somewhere beyond the limits of intention. The railway station was
there before him, glittering with a thousand lights. He stood
awhile looking at it. Then somehow he was caught in its pull and
became an atom in its bustling crowd.
Railway stations usually give an impression of isolation and
helplessness. Both in their empty moments and their crowded
ones, they are essentially sheds for people coming or going on
the railway. But a great railway terminus is the point of origin
and the point of return for travellers. From here, trains move
out in all directions and return here again. People set out from
this place to everywhere; people come to this place from every-
where to take up new lives, new relationships. In such a place as
this many people become detached from their essential natures,
their souls, and here also those natures become lodged in other
beings. A beginning-ending place, a place of crowds, noise, and
straining, itself unshaken, a lofty, enigmatic shrine. At that
moment there was a great surge in the crowd, an enormous
confusion in which some arriving passengers became thoroughly
mingled with a crowd waiting to leave. Noise seemed to come from
everywhere. One seemed to be part of the noise. Forms seen and
unseen, sound heard and unheard, all these rolled together into
one great confusion, one great undifferentiated mass of noise,
which rose and rose and broke as a wave breaks on the beach. Then
each shap, each sound, each word or name seemed to have lost its
harmony, slipped from its place, so that the senses could not
grasp the message the mind seemed to be trying to convey.
One of the trains about to depart seemed to be waiting,
delaying unintentionally, purposely flaunting the temptation to
travel. Its intended occupants swarmed and whirled about it,
peering into it here and there, looking for a place. Some were
7
already packed sardine-like inside the train, some were clinging
to the steps and windows, others had even climbed onto the roof.
Those who could not find a hold were giving vent to their
frustration by shinnying up the posts, onto the platform
shelter, even onto the roof of the station, like a frolic of
blind monkeys. The engine stood belching smoke in a monstrous
plume, snarling and gasping its exasperation at not being allowed
to move now that it was ready. The cars strung out behind it were
a massive braid of human beings.
Departure was announced and the police moved into impose
order. They dragged those they could reach off the train, beat
them, and drove them away. Some of these circled back to get a
new hold everywhere else. Jolting first back, then forward, the
train lurched to a start, shaking off several passengers. Those
who failed to get a new hold, ran alongside until they dropped
from exhaustion. In all this confusion, somehow or other, he had
got on the train. He was crouched in a luggage rack. He pulled
his knees up, rested his head on them and went to sleep. Whenever
the train stopped or slowed down anywhere at all, passengers who
had gotten on the train apparently for no particular reason,
suddenly found some new reason to get off, and disappeared into
the darkness. Now that he had more room in the luggage rack, he
strectehd out his legs and fell into a deep sleep. He opened his
eyes and raised his body up. Shreds of dream fluttered in his
consciousness; he had the feeling that he himself was a dream-
image.
A mischievous smile on a sleepy face was looking up at him
from below as if waiting to speak to him. Smiling-face said,
"That conductor came through while we were sleeping. He thought
we looked like people who would not be travelling without
tickets, so he didn't disturb us. He won't come back.. "
He patted his shirt pocket. No ticket there! He couldn't
remember either buying or not buying one, or even starting out on
this voyage. He suspected that if he had bought one, smiling-
face had picked his pocket in his sleep. The conductor might
come. He'd better get away from there. He dug his fingers into
his scalp as if he drag himself off by his hair.
The train was crawling past a small flag-stop platform
8
apparently uncertain whether it had been flagged or not. The
carriage he was on came almost to a stop in an open field. He
prepared himself, calculated its speed, and swung down neatly and
expertly before it stopped. He had no luggage to hinder him.
As the train stopped and moved on, he looked sharply about and
sensed, rather than saw that there was no one else there but him.
But in that black void, the darkness itself seemed to glow and
to illuminate objects and forms. Then this strange brightness
would merge again with the dark. He heard a sound like the
searing outcry of a soul parted from its body but still torn by
its involvement, its bondage to earth and the flesh.
This dark, this death, this clarity, all gave the impression
of being what they were not, as if slipping from their true
natures. The severed head of a rooster, unable to find its own
body, seemed to attach itself to whatever was near and unnatural-
ly herald the dawn. A datepalm, a coconut tree, a goat, a cow, a
man: in that eerie half-light might not any of them serve as
cock's body, a crow cock's crow? Even if one were aware of the
cause of this slipping from role to role, how could one avoid it?
Perhaps in perceiving the world itself as just such a slip, just
such a mistake, one could.
* * * * * * * *
A little before full daylight the milk woman knocked and
shouted at his door, but he didn't get up. He lay as if immersed
in the world of his dream, as if bemused with the thought that it
might be an extension of someone else's dream. The milk woman
called so loud he certainly should have heard, but he did not. It
would be a mistake to wait for him any longer, the milk woman
thought, and went on her way.
_________________________________________________________________
- Translated by Albert Franklin
- From "Tamil Short Stories", Selected and Edited by Ka.Naa.
Subramanyam, Authors Guild of India Cooperative Society, First
Edition (1978).
- Contributed by Sundara Pandian
9
----
Poem
----
=============
thatpa veppam
=============
N. Gopalswamy
kaakitham, kaNani, kaappik kOppaiyilirunthu
kidaiththaayiRRu viduthalai.
panchu nilapparappil Odiya
thaar aaRukaLil
'car' padaku mithakkavitta
kaalai nEram maRanthE pOyvittathu.
veNpaniyai adaiththu
mazhaiyaith thiRanthuvittup pOyirunthathu
pakal.
aluvalakach chudukaaRRil
pazhukkak kaayntha nuraiyeeralukkuL
pachchaith thaNNeeraayp paainthathu kaaRRu.
kaaluRaikkuL kaiyaivittuth thiruppuvathupOl
kudaiyai malarththip piyththuvittu
nanainthu kidantha
saruku ilaikaLai
kuruvik koottamaakki
mottaiyaai ninRa kiLaikaLai nOkki
virattiyathu suzhikaaRRu.
veedu nOkki nakarkaiyil
'car'ukkuth thaakam.
'Gas Pump' arukil
kaalaiyil kaNNil patta andhap
paNiyaaLin kaikaalkaL
innum iyangik koNdu...
10
-----
Essay
-----
================================================
The Literary Endeavours of Eezham Tamil Diaspora
================================================
Su. Navam
Due to various social, political and economic reasons, Tamils of
Eezham have migrated to various parts of the world. The works
produced by literateurs among these migrants have come to be
known as the ``Literature of the Tamil diaspora''(LTD). Since
the early eighties, a large number of Eezham Tamils have sought
refuge in Europe, North America and Australia. The Tamil commun-
ities in these places have begun to evolve along a novel cultural
dimension. A principal manifestation of the changing cultural
expression of these communities is the LTD.
Freedom of thought is one of the many rights denied to the Tamils
of Eezham. The writers among the Tamil diaspora have quickly
taken advantage of the freedom of thought and expression avail-
able to them in their countries of domicile. They have boldly
produced creative literature with the current political and so-
cial problems of Eezham as their themes. Further, the superior
technological environment in these countries makes it much easier
for these writers to see their works in print. A significant
financial investment is not needed in order to be producing news-
papers and magazines. They are also encouraged by the reception
accorded to their literary initiatives by the Tamil diaspora.
Hampered by their inadequate language skills and the artificiali-
ty of the mass media in their adopted countries, the diaspora has
shown a willingness to welcome literature produced in Tamil. Be-
cause of such reasons the LTD has now reached a state that merits
discussion.
Over sixty newspapers and magazines are being published by the
Tamil diaspora. From Germany, 'thooNdil', 'pudhumai', 'chin-
dhanai', 'chamar', 'thEnee', 'agni', 'namadhu kural', 'chiRuvar
amudham' etc. are being published. The various Tamil diaspora
11
magazines include the following. From Norway: 'shakthi', 'chuva-
dukaL'; From Australia: 'marapu', 'akkinik kunychu'; From
Switzerland: 'manidham', 'viduthalaip paadhai'; From the Nether-
lands: 'chumaikaL'; From Denmark: 'chaNYcheevi'; From France:
'Ochai', 'thEdal'; From England: 'pani malar' and from Canada:
'thEdal', 'paarvai', 'thamizh ezhil', 'kaalam'. A further stage
for Tamil authors are the newspapers being published from Canada
(like 'thaayakam', 'chendhaamarai', 'thamizhOchai', 'ulakath
thamizhar') and other countries. In addition, from time to time,
anthologies and collections of the various works published in
these magazines and newspapers are eventually published in book
form.
Initially, these magazines and newspapers were started as instru-
ments of propaganda when the militant groups fighting back home
in Eezham needed support and succor from the Tamil diaspora.
However, the freedom of expression in the adopted countries even-
tually paved the way for the emergence of newspapers and maga-
zines that did not hesitate to offer scathing criticism to the
ways of the militant movements. On one hand, one group of maga-
zines justified the actions and policies of the militant move-
ments while chiding their opponents. On the other hand, there
are magazines that criticize the shortcomings they see in all the
militant movements. A third group disengaged themselves from
these political wranglings and have concentrated on providing re-
lief for their brethren back home living on the edge of death,
suffering from hunger and hardship. By and large, the LTD is the
expression of the authors of their experiences, thoughts and
feelings that their counterparts back home are not allowed to ex-
press. Further, the new life experiences in the adopted coun-
tries are also given literary expression. The diaspora litera-
ture depicts experiences in foreign societies against the back-
drop of the cultural heritage of the Tamils. The clashes and
conflicts, struggles, victories and defeats that inevitably show
up when two cultures collide give shape to another unique aspect
of the LTD. Other central themes in the LTD include the con-
flicts arising out of their inability to dissociate themselves
from the political turmoils back home; the frustrations encoun-
tered in their adopted countries: racism, language difficulties,
new ways of life; the cultural baggage that they carried with
them to their new homes: bitter rivalries among militant move-
ments, casteist and religious bigotries in new forms; emerging
facets of male-female relationships and so on.
12
It is indeed a healthy sign that a literature capable of causing
social change has emerged and is growing among the Tamil
diaspora. However, such literary endeavours face an uphill
struggle against the third-rate entertainment apparatus (which
the average Tamil expatriate seems to show a great penchant for)
present in the West. It is not an easy task to popularize and
foster good literature among a people immersed in the blissful
stupor of Tamil video culture. In such a hostile climate and in
spite of the mechanized day-to-day life which keeps people con-
stantly on the run, it is indeed commendable that the writers
among the Tamil diaspora have engaged in literary activities.
The new lifestyles and the exposure to literature in other
languages will lend a new strength to the LTD. However, despite
the present popularity of it, if the LTD were to thrive across
generations, Tamil itself has to live across generations in these
adopted countries!
_________________________________________________________________
Original Tamil article: Kanavu-17, August 91, Secundrabad, India
(ed. Subrabharathimaniyan).
Translated by: N. Asokan
_________________________________________________________________
----
Poem
----
==========
maRupiRavi
==========
Ramesh Vaidhyanathan
kaathalin geethaththai naan
thanimaiyil isaiththa pOthellaam, nee
mownamaay suruthi koottiyirukkiRaay
enbathu ippOthu thaanE purikiRathu ...
13
un manathai naan padikka muyanRa pOthellaam
un mownaththaal ennaik kurudanaakiyavaLE!
inRu nee un manathai "braille"yil maaRRikkoNdu
vanthu padikkach cholli niRkiRai, aanaal ...
nee udaiththu eRintha en manathai eduththu
otta vaiththu ozhungu paduththinaaL innoruththi.
intha senmam muzhuthum avaLukku naan
kaNavanaay irukkak kadamaip pattuLLEn ...
manam thaLaraathE peNNE, naam
maRupiRavigaLil nambikkai vaippOm!
________________________________________________________________
------
Poetry
------
==================
aindhu kavidhaigaL
==================
Samayavel
--------------------
1 sudhandhirap payaNam
--------------------
thodarndhu koNdirukkum
maaberum iyakkaththuL
innoru thuLiyaay
naan vandhu vizhundhEn
idhil ennai mattum
cuththigariththup piriththukkoNdu
naan naanE aagi
nadandhEn theruvil
oru thalai thadukki
nooRu thalaigaLin mEl vizhundhEn
"sorry, sorry" ena
latchak kaNakkil mannippuk kEttEn.
14
------------------
2 agginik kaatchigaL
------------------
suRRilum vetta veLik karisal
vatta vanaandhiraththil oruvan
veyyil mudhugil viyarvaiyaai vazhiya
thannanthaniyE uzhudhu koNdiurkkiRaan
saal saalaaga adi adiyaaga
poRumaiyaaga ovvoru kOdaay
uzhudhu koNdirukkiRaan
vilaa elumbu therigiRa maadugaLOdu
ciRiya kalappaiyaal karisal uzhavan
uzhudhu koNdirukkiRaan-maNNai
kaRuppu maNNai uzhudhu koNdirukkiRaan
engaL naveena vaazhkkai paRRiyum
viNYNYaana vivasaayam paRRiyum
endhira "electronic" vindhaigaL paRRiyum
kavalaiyinRi uzhudhu koNdirukkiRaan
reNdu varushamum peyyaadha mazhai
indha varusham peydhuvidum enRu
veLLai mEgangaLai nambi
uzhudhu koNdirukkiRaan
iduppil oru kOvaNam
thalaiyil oru thuNdu
karu `boomiyin' mElE
kaLimaN uruNdaiyaay
oorndhu uzhum karisal uzhavanE
azhagil ooRiya en kavidhai varigaLai
Odaiyil kotti vittu
un kaaladiyai nerunga muyaRchikkiREn
mudiyavillai mudiyavE illai.
15
---------
3 oru mukkuk kal kooda
dhisai kaatti iyanga
uyir nirambiya naanO
veRum kallaanEn
arththamaRRa perundhaLaththil
iyakkaminmai thaan iyakkam.
----------
----------
4 vERu vERaa
----------
kuttigaL kunchugaL kuzhandhaigaL
sadhaa piRandhu kummaaLamadikkinRana
marangaL pookkaLOdum pinchugaLOdum
kulunguginRana
paaloottum annaigaLin eerak kuralgaL
ulagam muzhudhum olikkinRana
kuzhandhaigaLO vaLarndhu pOr veeragaLaagi
kuzhandhagaLaich chuttaargaL
"biscuit" thinRu vaLarndha kuzhandhaigaL
inak kalavarangaLai moottinaargaL
kaNNaamoochchi aadiyavargaL
uLavaaLigaLaayinar
sadhaa paal kudiththu vaLarndha kuzhandhaigaL
thaaygaLaik kaRpazhiththanar
eninum
paaloottum annaigaLin nEsak kuralgaL
enRenRum olikkinRana
16
--------------
5
ivvaLavukkup piRagum
naan indha boomiyil
irukkaththaan virumbugiREn
adhuthaan en
saaraamsam.
_________________________________________________________________
From: 'kaaRRin paadal', Samayavel, KaRpagam veLiyeedu, 46 Avudai-
yapuram Street, Tuticorin 628 002, Tamil Nadu, India.
This is the debute poetry collection of Samayavel. His poems are
on simple themes in simple words. He derives his themes from
daily life and tries to give the meaning to human life. They are
not loaded with abstract philosophical arguements or burdened
with ideological leanings. He speaks for himself, but his poems
speak for the comman man too.
_________________________________________________________________
-------
Letters
-------
The short story "iruppu" by SP reminds me of K.Balachandar's
movie `unnaal mudiyum thambi' a lot. Hope this doesn't deter him
from writing more stories. Kudos to everyone involved.
- Venkatachalam Aruna
ven...@tree.egr.uh.edu
* * * * * *
In `a', there was this definition of poetry (by
Urithiramoorthy a.k.a. Mahakavi):-
`...... kavithai kadalaLavu paranthu paddathu. kadavuLaiyum
kaathalaiyum pORRuvathu mattumanRu athan paNi. kOdpaadukaLai
vizhungi vidduch chemiththuk koLLa mudiyaathavarkaL mOnthu
17
muNumuNuppathaRkaaka ezhuthappaduvathumillai athu. athu
chaathaaraNa manitharkaLin uLLaththil paayap piRappathu...'
(Poetry is as broad as an ocean. Its purpose is not limited to
praising God and love. Nor it is for soothing of people who have
trouble with principles. It is born to penetrate the heart of the
common people).
There is a dearth of true poets in Tamil Nadu. I have always
wondered why. There is a hint toward this in the article titled
`Mass Media' [Page 6]:-
".......Radio and TV regularly feature interviews
with writers, criticism etc. Sri Lankan newspapers accord the
same privileged position to writers that Tamil Nadu newspapers
accord to movie stars."
On another note, S.G.Punchihewa's theme "mistake" - looks
like an appreciation of what Periyar did.
- S_Bala
b...@cs.wustl.edu
* * * * * *
Vigneswaran's profile of Mahakavi is great!! Vigneswaran's
article should have included Mahakavi's satire of social evils.
Nadesayyar reminds me of Thiru. Vi. Ka.
Sundara Pandian's short story reminded me of Babri Masjid. The
hundreds of thousands of people mobilised to build a home for
Rama some how do not realize the plight of crores of homeless
hindus. I see the kar sevaks as SP's venkatrams.
Somehow I find it hard to enjoy Abbas' poems. Even after
reading many times, I still lack the ability to grasp the poet's
mind. I can get a reflection " kaRRathu kai maNNaLavu" in paRan-
dhu mattum. "than pOkkil" fits with the comments of Devathasan
(or Devathachchan?). However it reminds me of another poem by
Gnanak kooththan(?) about a foot ball and the players.
-N.Gopalswamy
gop...@astro.umd.edu
18
One positive aspect of this magazine `a' is that I am getting
to know more about the Srilankan Tamil literature and literary
figures. So far I have known about the literature which came
during the last decade because of the intensity of the ethnic
strife in Srilanka. I am very happy to know something about the
literature which has not centered around the ethnic problem.
Thanks to Vicky's introduction to Mahakavi. The poems given
as samples in his profile are very simple and has an intersting
rhythm which we get in reading `kuRRaalak kuRavanchi'.
`iruppu' - Sundara Pandian's short story. I like this better
than his first one in the previous issue. This style of writing
is very suitable for a `good short story'. Though I like this
theme better than his last one, it still reminds me somewhat
related themes in a few other short stories. I wish him keep
this spirit.
Gopals' poem `suvai' reflects the general `manappOkku' and
`muraNpadu' in our people in very simple sentences. This
reminds me many of the `Vaira muthu - Mu.Metha' verses and that
is why I feel that we should come out of their influence. Because
we will be writing so many like this and go in the same wind.
Jeyakanthan's story given in this issue is really very good.
He presents an ideal man which is not a reality. But he has
created this character to talk through him about the realities of
our society. I am sure this must have been written atleast twenty
years back but will be suitable for the realities for ever. Why
man has become corrupted in thinking and why we always live with
a falseness.
Among the five poems by Abbas, `ulagam', `paRanthu mattum'
and 'than pokkil' are good. Does `eppOdhum' have a few transil-
teration mistakes ? Since reading the poems (compared to prose
or essay) in transliteration is very difficult it should be
better to make them completely free of typos. It is better that
it should be run and viewed in Tamil before publishing it. I am
sure the editors may be doing this already.
- S.Sankarapandi
ssan...@magnus.acs.ohio-state.edu
[ The transliteration mistakes in the five poems by Abbas and in
the poem by Mahakavi are regretted. - Editors. ]
19
=============
Announcements
=============
Articles pertaining to Modern Tamil literature and related art
forms are invited for publication in this electronic magazine.
* The articles should be formatted to 65 columns.
* ADAMI transliteration should be followed wherever applicable.
For more details on ADAMI scheme, please contact the author of
ADAMI software, Dr.K. Srinivasan, sr...@ireq-num.hydro.qc.ca.
* The articles may be sent to any one of the editorial committee
members and will be scrutinised by all the members to decide
the suitability of the article for publication.
* If the articles are not authored by the contibutors, a proper
reference should be provided.
* The short stories may be submitted in translation. However, it
is suggested to submit poetry in Tamil in transliteration,
preferably accopmanied by the translation.
* When submitting a short story or a summary of a novel, it is
suggested to include excerpts for about a page from the
original Tamil work, such that the readers can have a feel for
the style, power of expression etc. of the original author.
* Articles received till 20th day of every month will appear in
the following issue.
* Comments about the articles are welcome.
* Jan 93 issue will be 'Pudumaipithan' special. Translations of
his short stories or critical essays on his work or any other
piece of article about him or his works are welcome.
20
* Back issues (from Nov 92) of `a' are available by anonymous FTP.
They are stored in the anonymous FTP site.
ftp wuarchive.wustl.edu
Login name: anonymous
Password: your e-mail address
Directory: /doc/misc/thiruppaavai/a
Files: nov.92 etc.
_________________________________________________________________
This issue is contributed by:
Asokan, N. nas...@yoho.uwaterloo.ca
Gopalswamy, N. gop...@astro.umd.edu
Ramesh, Vaidhyanathan vaid...@ecn.purdue.edu
Sundaramoorthy, M. sun...@indigo1.hsis.uci.edu
Sundara Pandian s...@cec1.wustl.edu
and edited by:
Arul Suresh GR8...@SIUCVMB.SIU.EDU
Ramesh, Vaidhyanathan vaid...@ecn.purdue.edu
Sundaramoorthy, M sun...@indigo1.hsis.uci.edu
Sundara Pandian s...@cec1.wustl.edu
Vigneswaran VIGN...@ecs.umass.edu
Posted for SCTamil LITERARY SOCIETY by M. Sundaramoorthy
_________________________________________________________________
Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in the articles of this issue
are of the authors of the respective articles and have nothing to
do with the institution it is posted from.
Note: This issue is partly prepared from the copyrighted
materials, reproduced without permission, and so may not be used
for commercial purposes.
_________________________________________________________________
21
Badrinarayanan Seshadri
* A Loss of Identity ... ... ... ... 4
* Short Story
* Mowni
* Tr. Albert Franklin
[...]
* ==================
* A Loss Of Identity
* ==================
[...]
Albert Franklin translated two of the short stories by mowni
and published them in the `New Yorker' magazine. He had planned
to translate ALL the short stories by mowni. Since there was
not much response from the readership to the ones he published,
he gave up.
I decided to search through the backvolumes of New Yorker over
the 60s & 70s in an effort to get them, but the task was too
immense, forcing me to give it up:-)
The problem in the translation is that, mowni uses `avan' and
`ivan' to identify the man and his "shadow" in the original. A
blanket translation of "he" in place of both in the English
version makes the translation very confusing.
I wouldn't rate this as one of mowni's best stories.
--badri
--
--------------------------------------------------
S.Badrinarayanan
Graduate Student
Department of Mechanical and Aerospace Engineering
Cornell University
--------------------------------------------------