Kannadasan – A Realized Master (Part 15)

 

During my school days, I neither understood nor liked the concept of 'cross pollination' when it was taught in science class. However, when Kannadasan sang about the flower and the bee, I felt I grasped the essence—albeit vaguely—at that young age, and I loved it. Even though the poet penned thousands of songs featuring themes like Krishna, Radha, Meera, Veena, Rama, Sita, Ganges, Yamuna, rivers, boats, waves, Brindavan, and the moon, he certainly did not neglect the imagery of the bee seeking the flower. 

We earlier looked at the veteran lyricist Maruthakasi’s lines: "Like a bee swarming over a jasmine blossom" (“Mullai Malar Meley”) (from the film *Uthama Puthiran*). He continued with, "Like a carp leaping upon silver waves, I saw your lily-like eyes darting towards me." “Following a similar path but with a unique touch, the 'King of Poets' (Kaviarasar) continues thus (from the film *Iru Vallavargal*) (“Naan malarodu thaniyaaka en ingu nindren?”): 

"Why did I stand here all alone with a flower?

Oh, my queen, I came running here just for you." 

Kavignar Jayalan described a lover waiting eagerly for his beloved as a "hunter who has ensnared a maiden" (“Kannikku KaNNI vaitha vedan”) After vividly describing his beloved, he continues (I leave that portion to your imagination. If I were to write the entire poem, it would fall victim to the editor's knife! 

"Beep Beep Beep......Upon seeing the eyes

Of a startled doe—

I lost my composure and forgot myself;

Bereft of reason, I became a wretched, lowly soul—

Babbling that nothing could match your grace

Yet, with your priceless chastity, you scorched me;

With words sharp as stone-tipped arrows, you pierced me.

You declared that our love was far apart—

Yet you turned me into a hunter lying in wait by the snare!" 

[Poet Jayalan was not just my brother; he was the mentor who taught me the art of writing and the editor of the handwritten magazine 'Vadikaal' that we ran together. In the 1980s, after our college days, he encouraged the youth of Thiruvidaimaruthur to read and write beyond school syllabus. S. Muthukumar, the editor of TDRTimes, was the artist for our handwritten magazine, while I handled the writing, binding, publishing, circulation, and various other odd jobs. We were heartbroken to learn later that after we had moved away to other towns in search of work, our dear father had sold all the issues of 'Vadikaal' as scrap paper. I wonder if any reader in TDR still remembers 'Vadikaal'? If, by some stroke of luck, we were to find a copy of 'Vadikaal' fifty years later, we would all become like the fox that tasted honey—overjoyed and captivated. My mind has wandered off again; let us return to the actor Jaishankar, who waits for love with a flower in hand. By the way, our own younger brother Jaishankar was nicknamed 'Chinna Jeyes' (Little Jeyes) back then! Hmm... my mind is wandering again]. 

"As a golden beetle mistook my face for a blossom and brushed against it,

And I gently shielded it with my bangle-adorned hand,

My dark tresses came undone and billowed like clouds;

Startled, I ran to you to tell you the truth." 

Pugazhendipulavar has sung this very scene in his poetic Tamil in Nala Venba. In the next Malar-Vandu song, poet Kannadasan says this (Film: *Veettukku Veedu*) (“Angam Puthu vitham..”): 

"A form unique, a beauty distinct—

The maiden's face, a moon reflecting every emotion."

"Golden-hued beetles amidst pomegranate blossoms—

Enchanted and reveling in such beauty." 

In the following lines, the poet applauds his own work: "Imagination is wondrous, love itself is a painting; a mere touch or brush, and an epic poem is born!" (“Karpanai arputham”). Kannan is a mischievous fellow. Would Kannadasan hold back? In the film *Vietnam Veedu*, when the innocent-as-a-child husband Raja asks, "What is *Shanthi* (marital intimacy)?", the Palakkad *Ammanji Mami* tactfully explains it to him like this: 

"He saw a pond where the beetle sleeps within the flower;

He saw the Lord’s resting place amidst the Goddess's worship;

He saw two squirrels frolicking on a tree branch;

And Raja felt a brand-new experience stirring within his heart;

Tell me, why is that so?" 

We can save for later the story of how this Palakkad Raja—who finally understood at the end of the song that "Raja Padmanabhan held his Queen close to his heart"—eventually lost that *Shanthi* and wandered about searching for a "New Bird" (*Puthiya Paravai*), asking, "Where is peace?" (“Engey Nimmathi?”). However, the new heroine in that same *Puthiya Paravai*—having gained this understanding—sings of a "sparrow planting a kiss," (“Sittukuruvi Muthham koduthu sernthida kandeney”) describing how "I saw a beetle immerse itself in a blossom that had just unfurled." If we switch the leading pair, the "South Indian James Bond" uses the famous song "Hey Paranthu Sellum Chittukuruvi" from the film *Selvamagal* to teach his beloved something similar: 

"Shall I play like a beetle upon the jasmine flower?

Shall I swoon in its spell? Shall I float upon it?" 

He himself employs the simile of a beetle visiting a flower in the song "Innum Paarthu Kondirundhaal Ennaavadhu, Indha Paarvaikku Thaanaa Pennaanadhu" (from the movie *Vallavan Oruvan*): 

"Like a beetle alighting on a *Shenbagam* flower to drink its nectar and frolic,

Yearning to live by gathering what is meant to be gathered and gazing upon what is meant to be seen,

I shall not part from you henceforth, nor shall I ever let you go." 

There, when the "temple bell" (Film: Aalayamani) is rung—amidst the spectacle of the “deer dance, the golden peacock dance, the flower dance, the colorful chariot procession, and the maiden’s graceful *Sadhir* dance” (“Maanaattam thanga mayilaatam”), and where "bees hover over the floral bouquet, drawing the gaze of onlookers"—the hero appears in all his splendor. Kannadasan further sang to welcome the "royal king and queen" (“Raja raja sree rajan vanthaan”) (Film: *Ooty Varai Uravu*), subtly conveying the sentiment: "Eyes that have met are not merely eyes; the blossomed flower is not merely a flower; the bee that has settled is not merely a bee." To those who felt they "had no time for love" (Film: *Kadhalikka Neramillai*), he offered words of encouragement: "Let the flower-like face smile today; let the heart—that black bee—take flight; let the spirit yearn for love and the moonlight; let the world be forgotten for a moment." (“Malarendra mukamindru malarattum”). Moreover, Vaali has written: "A bouquet that embraces you when butterflies circle around" (“Pattu poochikal vattamadithaal kattiyanaikkum poochendu”) (Film: *Maalai Soodava*). 

Flower & Bee is one of the oldest and most enduring images in classical Tamil love poetry. The woman's face (or eyes) is compared to a lotus, while the man's eyes (or sometimes his mind) are compared to a bee irresistibly drawn to that flower. For example: Poet Iraiyanar in Kuruntokai says “The hero addresses a bee, asking whether it has ever known any flower as fragrant as his beloved's hair.” Here, the bee symbolizes the enamored lover. 

Our respected Valluvar in Thirukkural, while not mentioning the bee, repeatedly compares the heroine's eyes to the blue lotus:"The lotus itself would bow its head in shame, saying it cannot equal her eyes." In Kalithogai several love poems describe bees hovering around lotuses and use them as metaphors for lovers approaching beautiful women. The association of lotus, bees, love, and desire is a recurring poetic convention. "The maiden's face is a lotus; the young man's eyes are bees that keep circling it" is a conventional Sangam poetic image. Later poets—including Kambar, Arunagirinathar, and many medieval poets—used the same imagery extensively. 

Let us now look at the West for the use of flower–bee metaphor for lovers. It appears as universal as love itself as it is seen in Greek, Roman, Persian, English, and Romantic poetry.  William Shakespeare repeatedly compares beauty to flowers and lovers to creatures attracted to them. Although he does not often use the bee directly, the imagery of flowers drawing admirers is common in his sonnets and plays. Shelley also associates bees with flowers as symbols of love, beauty, and mutual attraction. Another poet, John Keats's work is replete with bees visiting flowers to suggest sweetness, desire, and the intoxication of love. Again, Robert Burns sometimes links a lover to a bee seeking nectar, emphasizing the irresistible pull of beauty. Persian Rumi often uses the image to take it to a spiritual level: "The bee seeks the flower because it knows where sweetness lies", the bee symbolizing the soul, and the flower, the Divine. 

In the songs of the 'Kaviarasar', the themes of eyes and women frequently appear together, much like a flowers and a bee. For instance, in the song "Engae Nimmadhi?" (Film: *Puthiya Paravai*), the protagonist laments, "Cruel is the God who created eyes and then created women." (“Kannai padaithu pennai padaitha iraivan kodiyavane!”) Another protagonist wails thus (“Kankaley kankaley kaadal seivathai vittuvidungal”) (Film: *Vaazhkkai Padagu*): 

“Oh eyes, oh eyes, give up the act of falling in love;

Oh women, oh women, let young men live a little” 

Shifting from sorrow to joy, the heroine of that same *Vaazhkkai Padagu*—in the song "Unnaithan Naan Ariven Mannavanai Yaar Arivar?"—cleverly deflects the burden of the 'sin' committed by the eyes onto her mother-in-law: 

“If falling in love is a sin, aren't the eyes sinful too?

If the eyes are sinful, isn't womanhood itself a sin?

If womanhood is a sin, then who is the King's mother?” 

Kannadasan has sung that the eye commits no sin when the lover applies medicine to his beloved's eye. Another instance where the pairing of "feast" and "medicine" appears is in the song "Vizhiye Vizhiye Unakkenna Velai?" (Film: *Puthiya Bhoomi*): 

"If it is a feast, one might come...

If it is medicine, one might administer it...

What does 'tomorrow' matter? What does 'an auspicious moment' matter?

Here, as our four eyes commune..." 

It is unclear what the medicine is. People speak of "throwing dust in one's eyes" (deceiving someone), but that is unlikely here. Could the medicine applied by the lover be a love potion (“marunthu”)? In another delightful song, "Hello Hello Sugama?" (Film: *Dharmam Thalai Kaakkum*), the couple engages in a playful exchange of questions and answers: 

"Shall I come in the morning? Shall I apply medicine to your eyes?

Is applying the medicine enough? Will it cure the swoon?

I shall cure it! Just tell me what you need!

Will it be available in time? Will the mere thought of it be sweet?" 

Similarly, Kannadasan never ran short of poetic inspiration when it came to the themes of "cheeks, thoughts, and beauty" (“Kannam, Vannam, Ennam”). Many speakers, YouTubers, and writers have already thoroughly analyzed threadbare and discussed the song "Paal Vannam Paruvam Kandu" (The colour of milk, the bloom of youth); let us not tread that path. Since the word *vannam* (colour/hue) implies the artistry of a painting, let us consider this song instead (“Paarvai Yuvaraani Kannoviyam”) (Film: *Sivandha Mann*): 

"A princess in her gaze, a portrait of eyes; a portrait of a woman whose modesty never wavers.

Grace in her gait, artistry in her playful hands—

Oh, golden hue of the South!

Whether likened to the grace of a deer or the bloom of a flower,

Tamil itself would deem such comparisons inadequate.

I sought new words to sing of her beauty;

Searching everywhere, gazing at her face, I composed these verses." 

Here, the Kaviarasar playfully mocks himself, suggesting that the Tamil language itself complains that his verbal wizardry falls short: 

"Whether likened to milk or to fruit,

Even honey would wither in envy, asking 'Why?'

Her waist—slender as a thread—remains delicate as ever,

Like the majestic grace of a temple chariot procession, even after a hundred years.

Who is the reason I became a poet today?

It is those eyes, where four distinct emotions play." 

There is no need to explicitly name "those four". They are the four traditional feminine virtues—*Achcham* (fear/timidity), *Naanam* (modesty), *Madam* (innocence/naivety), and *Payirppu* (reserve/ shyness)—that dance within a woman's eyes. 

Let us return to the flower-and-beetle analogy. Pollination is fine for flowers, but humans need a ceremony where a "wedding garland is placed upon the heart," don't they? Only then can one sing the lines from the film *Engal Thangaraja* (Iravukkum Pakalukkum Ini Enna Velai?”): "What use is there now for night or day? The moment has arrived for intimacy and the right to belong; the world has become a vision of bliss for us; the concept of 'two' no longer exists—the truth is that we are one." 

“To gaze upon wounds in the morning light

And feel the ache—that is the essence of poetry;

What the poet spoke of was but a prelude,

For what lies ahead is the bed of rest.” 

In this song (from the film *Idhaya Kamalam*) (“Malarkal nanainthana paniyaale”), Kannadasan touches the heart with simple, delightful words: 

“Flowers were drenched by the dew,

and my heart was soothed by the moonlight;

The day dawned thanks to the sun,

And a sense of bliss welled up from the memories.” 

The poet is a master at describing the joyous act of union—and the intimacy of love—delicately and without a hint of vulgarity: 

"We came together in joyful passion;

after grooming and bathing,

I gazed at my cheek;

 the mirror revealed the mark of love’s sweet encounter." 

How about the classical Tamil literature’s take on this mildly mischievous expression? There is a famous expression in Sangam love poetry where the heroine, after a night of union, looks at herself in a mirror to examine the marks left by her lover—such as nail marks, or the disarray of her hair and ornaments. This pattern appears in multiple poems and is elaborated further in later classical Kalithogai – especially the Kurinji Kali poems attributed to Kapilar. These poems vividly describe lovers after their secret union, including the heroine noticing and reacting to the physical signs left by her lover. Akananuru and Kuruntokai also contain poems where the heroine's body bears visible signs of union, although the mirror itself is not always explicitly mentioned. The explicit image of a wife or heroine looking into a mirror to inspect love marks is more prominent in post-Sangam and medieval Tamil literature, viz., Seevaka Chintamani, Kamba Ramayanam & Periyapuranam. Later Mu. Varadarajan, Puliyur Kesigan, or Ki. Va. Jagannathan in their discussions of Tamil love poetry. They often cite this scene when explaining classical Tamil aesthetics. 

Let us set aside external wounds for a moment and look at the 'inner' emotional wounds that couples suffer in the gamble called marriage….in the next episode.

-J Jeyes (www.jeyes.in)