During these Covid times, practically every morning I face the same question over and over again as if I am playing a role in Groundhog Day. It is the question that Kannadasan poetically phrased it in this phenomenal song in Apoorva Ragangal: காலை எழுந்தவுடன் நாளைய கேள்வி, which roughly translates to "After waking up, one ponders about the day."
A couple of mornings ago, I didn't have to think about that question only because I woke up with this Kannadasan song from an old movie playing in my mind.
After breakfast, I emailed a few in the extended family about it. "YouTube helped me pull it up in no time, and I have already played it three times ;)" I wrote to them.
When it comes to Kannadasan's songs, I pay attention to the lyrics, which otherwise I rarely ever do. The man always spoke to me, though I couldn't figure out why. It was well into my life in the US, decades ago, a chance conversation with a colleague who taught English helped me understand the connect.
Poetry is about emotions, she said.
Aha!
Poetry does what prose often does not, and it does that in a mere few verses, sometimes even in a few lines. A poem conveys the emotions that we feel, or want to feel.
Kannadasan did that well for me and millions of other Tamils.
Like in the following two lines in that Apoorva Ragangal song:
ஏன் என்ற கேள்வி ஒன்று என்றைக்கும் தங்கும் மனிதன் இன்ப துன்பம் எதிலும் கேள்விதான் மிஞ்சும்
("Why?" will forever be a question in the mind
Through all sufferings and joys, questions will always remain!)
A few years ago, back in 2013, I blogged about Kannadasan, which, for whatever reason, continues to draw readers. I quoted from Kannadasan's lyrics in this old song:
வாழ்க்கை என்றால் ஆயிரம் இருக்கும் வாசல்தோறும் வேதனை இருக்கும் வந்த துன்பம் எது என்றலும் வாடி நின்றால் ஓய்வதில்லை உனக்கும் கிழே உள்ளவர் கோடி நினைத்து பார்த்து நிம்மதி தேடு
If only I had the abilities to translate that into English!
I suppose Kannadasan's poetry appealed to many of us because we didn't read them, but listened to the verses. Poetry is to be heard. If English is your language, then you might want to head here, which is my favorite site to listen to poetry in English, some of which are translations. (This post from a couple of days ago was triggered by the poem that I listened to.)
To listen to Kannadasan's poems, well, there is Youtube.
When recalling old stories with people, with many of the narratives resulting from others' less-than preferable action and words, father used a line from an old Tamizh film song, authored by the prolific poet, Kannadasan, which wonders why the mind that can think can't figure out how to forget.
But, he was barking up the wrong tree. The more unpleasant an experience, the more I seem to clearly remember that.
Further, I am in the memory business, so to say--education is about understanding and remembering the important things. Not "remembering" as in cramming for exams and forgetting everything the day after, but remembering out of a deep understanding. Not to forget is, therefore, a professional hazard, and here was my father wondering why he can't seem to forget and expecting me to say anything other than chiming in resonance!
Thus, neither the father nor the son easily forget--not the lessons in school and not the lessons at hard-knock-university. And we both find that old film song line to be poignant.
Knows how to forget!
But could It teach it?
Easiest of Arts, they say
When one learn how
Dull Hearts have died
In the Acquisition
Sacrificed for Science
Is common, though, now —
I went to School
But was not wiser
Globe did not teach it
Nor Logarithm Show
“How to forget”!
Say — some — Philosopher!
Ah, to be erudite
Enough to know!
Is it in a Book?
So, I could buy it —
Is it like a Planet?
Telescopes would know —
If it be invention
It must have a Patent.
Rabbi of the Wise Book
Don’t you know?
But, by the same token, we also know really well that there is more sorrow than we cannot even begin to imagine if to forget it all becomes real. A more recent poet wrote about this, which I have blogged before:
The name of the author is the first to go
followed obediently by the title, the plot,
the heartbreaking conclusion, the entire novel
which suddenly becomes one you have never read,
never even heard of,
as if, one by one, the memories you used to harbor
decided to retire to the southern hemisphere of the brain,
to a little fishing village where there are no phones.
Long ago you kissed the names of the nine Muses goodbye
and watched the quadratic equation pack its bag,
and even now as you memorize the order of the planets,
something else is slipping away, a state flower perhaps,
the address of an uncle, the capital of Paraguay.
Whatever it is you are struggling to remember,
it is not poised on the tip of your tongue,
not even lurking in some obscure corner of your spleen.
It has floated away down a dark mythological river
whose name begins with an L as far as you can recall,
well on your own way to oblivion where you will join those
who have even forgotten how to swim and how to ride a bicycle.
No wonder you rise in the middle of the night
to look up the date of a famous battle in a book on war.
No wonder the moon in the window seems to have drifted
out of a love poem that you used to know by heart.
All it takes is a casual comment by a friend for me to turn nerdy. Houston, I have a problem!
At dinner table conversations (well, other than when I dine alone, that is!) I often find myself consciously staying away from a nerdy seriousness. After all, social conversations are not classroom seminars, though, ironically, often academic seminars feel like they are dinner table conversations!
So, anyway, a friend commented about the poetry in Indian movie songs, "i like the old ones... Only tamil poetry a lot more" I wanted to launch, yet again, into that frustration of mine that I can rarely ever find anything like a book-reading or poetry evening in Chennai anymore, when I visit India. It is a shame that a culture with a rich literature past has practically abandoned prose and poetry in everyday life that has been transformed into a never-ending pursuit of material comforts and entertainment.
My schooling didn't prepare me to appreciate poems. Thankfully, that has not prevented me from exploring at least a little bit of poetry. One poet, whose mastery always amazed me when young--and more so now-- was Kannadasan.
While famous as a lyricist for movies, Kannadasan, to me, was a poet in the old traditions--highly creative in being able to distill the emotions and mysteries of our existence into verses. Great poets are able to get to those emotions inside, even if we didn't know we had them in us.
Thus, a few minutes after the friend made those comments, given my interest in autoethnography, the nerd in me wondered whether researchers have tried to psychoanalyze Kannadasan via his writings. After all, even from my own writings, a friend concluded that I am charming, attractive, witty, seeking millionaire beauties, ... nah! Anyway, Kannadasan seems to be a prime candidate for such analysis given the quantity of his work and with his sharp deviations from the norm of the day. Stories were in plenty about his fondness for alcohol, drugs, women, and whatever else, while always producing nothing but brilliant literature, sometimes produced within minutes.
The web is phenomenal. It is truly the oracle that the old societies wished they had--you ask questions and the web answers. And to think that I accessed this essay via the US' National Institute of Health! I have to be careful when I describe this as "mind blowing" in case any of those psychiatrists then come after me :)
The essay, published two years ago, is exactly what I was after:
It is proposed to study the extraordinary creativity of poet Kannadasan, who lived from 1927 to 1981, with regard to the psychiatric factors. He was an outstanding poet, lyricist, novelist, journalist and devout writer of Hindu philosophy. He was the "Kavi Arasu" (poet laureate) of Tamil Nadu and recipient of the first National Film Award for the best lyrics of Tamil in 1969 and Gnanpith Award of the Sahitya Akademi for his historic novel about the Chera kingdom (the present Kerala state) in 1980.
Kannadasan was a prolific writer of varied interests; he has 3000 lyrics and the scripts of more than a dozen films to his credit. His religious writings include “Meaningful Hinduism” with an introduction by Jagadguru Sankaracharya Chandrashekarar Swamigal, whose orations Kannadasan compiled as a book “God's Voice,” an exposition of the Bhagvad Gita, some translations of short works of Adi Sankara, the epic of Jesus and more than 40 books of poems, dramas and plays. Kannadasan's autobiography deals extensively with his political activities and there is also a biography written by his close associate, relative and friend, Thiru Muthiah.
The creative genius of Kannadasan is assessed by analyzing his life and works.
How did the oracle know that I would look for this?
On analyzing Kannadasan's biographic and autobiographic details, we can reach the indisputable diagnosis of cyclothymic temperamental disorder.
So, was Kannadasan's genius a result of this disorder? Without the disorder, would Kannadasan have been as prosaic as I am? If he hadn't suffered from this temperamental disorder, would Kannadasan have been even more prolific than he was? The essay does not address those questions. The author does note the creative process in Kannadasan's own words:
Kannadasan introspects:
“Whenever I sit to write I don′t feel I am writing. An unknown energy, force possesses me. A new sensation arises from head to foot when new words, new similes fall in. There is gooseflesh without my knowledge. Telling becomes bliss.”
It certainly was bliss for lesser mortals like me to listen to his lyrics that were masterfully rendered by musicians.
Wonderful lyrics by the poet Kannadasan, this includes the following lines:
வாழ்க்கை என்றால் ஆயிரம் இருக்கும் வாசல்தோறும் வேதனை இருக்கும் வந்த துன்பம் எது என்றலும் வாடி நின்றால் ஓய்வதில்லை உனக்கும் கிழே உள்ளவர் கோடி நினைத்து பார்த்து நிம்மதி தேடு
Easier said than done!
Here are a couple more from my many favorites by Kannadasan:
I suppose one would need to know Tamil to understand why this song here is appropriate in my life now :)
Wonderful lyrics by the poet Kannadasan, this includes the following lines:
வாழ்க்கை என்றால் ஆயிரம் இருக்கும்
வாசல்தோறும் வேதனை இருக்கும்
வந்த துன்பம் எது என்றலும்
வாடி நின்றால் ஓய்வதில்லை
உனக்கும் கிழே உள்ளவர் கோடி
நினைத்து பார்த்து நிம்மதி தேடு
Easier said than done, buddy! (editor: why don't you translate it as best as you can? Nope, am not keen on screwing it up)
P.B. Srinivas is the male "playback" voice here. Growing up, I was a big time Srinivas fan--his voice was/is simply awesome, and is so smooth.
I wish I hadn't read this, and looked at the photo there :(
In a couple of months I know I will have this, and dad's favorite, thavala vadai, that he gets from a tiny restaurant run by a daughter of Kannadasan's ... she has this special only one day of the week :)
