Romanticism is the intoxicating elixir that the poet sips, gulps and bathes in. A simple blacksmith going about his daily business becomes immortalized in the words of a Longfellow:
Under a spreading chestnut-tree,
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands
The sight of colorful blooming daffodils sends Wordsworth into raptures:
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Needless to say, a majestic tiger with its chiselled physique and chilling glare would have to have its own tribute:
Tyger, tyger burning bright
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
These poetic flights of imagination can, however, be dragged down into the pedestrian world of gravity by cold factual information. The information possessed by the sociologist, botanist or a zoologist only makes them all the more poorer as it deprives them of the spine-chilling thrills that Longfellow, Wordsworth and Blake experienced in their moments of wonderment.
Bharathiar had to make a choice. He had to choose between the black- and-white view of the world provided by philosophy or the exploding spectrum of colors that his poetic vision had blessed him with.
Bharathiar was well versed in philosophy- the hard-core philosophy of Advaita where the very existence of everything is questioned; the entire creation is a mirage, a figment of imagination, a dream. God alone is Real; the World is illusory; there is no difference between the individual soul and God
ब्रह्म सत्यं जगन् मित्य जीवो ब्रह्मैव नापरः
To a poet, this brings in to question everything that he cherishes– the lofty peaks, the roaring rivers, the majestic animals, the melodious birds. He thus wonders
நிற்பதுவே நடப்பதுவே பறப்பதுவே
நீங்களெல்லாம் சொப்பனந்தானோ
பல தோற்ற மயக்கங்களோ
Ye, who stand and walk and fly
Are you all just a dream?
Just a delusory form?
கற்பதுவே கேட்பதுவே கருதுவதே
நீங்களெல்லாம் அற்ப மாயைகளோ
உம்முள் ஆழ்ந்த பொருளில்லையோ
Ye, that is learnt, that is heard, that is thought
Are you all mere illusions?
Is there nothing deeper in you
If the enchanting garden of the world outside, and the mysterious forests of the world within are to be scythed ruthlessly by the uncompromising blade of cold reasoning, "What about my very existence?" as he enquires later in the song.
போனதெல்லாம் கனவினைப்போல்
புதைந்தழிந்தே போனதனால்
நானும் ஓர் கனவோ
இந்த ஞாலமும் பொய் தானோ?
If what is past, like a dream
gets buried and disappears
Am I also a dream
Is the world also just a lie?
But what about that magical moment?– that was tangible, the thrill that was felt, even if only fleeting, that which was majestic in its grandeur, albeit for a moment, before disappearing into the depths of the invisible abyss of the past. Was that moment unreal just because it has disappeared, never to be seen again?
Bharathiar begs to differ. He uses a reverse logic to justify his viewpoint.
காண்பவெல்லாம் மறையுமென்றால்
மறைந்ததெல்லாம் காண்பமன்றோ
If everything that is seen would disappear
Hadn't everything that disappeared been seen?
காண்பதுவே உறுதிகண்டோம்
காண்பதல்லால் உறுதியில்லை
காண்பது சத்தியமாம்
இந்த காட்சி சத்தியமாம்
What we see, we feel firm about
If unseen, it is not proven
What is seen is the truth, we aver
This sight we see is true, we aver
Bharathiar decides to make a choice. He has his feet firmly planted in the world even as his heart soars to the clouds and beyond. He is of this world; he breathes its air, sucks the nectar of its blooms, partakes of its fruits, and serves it with the last ember of his spirit.
While talking about the tangible world as the truth, Bharathiar does not decry God or a Higher Truth. In fact, he sees Him everywhere. How do we know? Every fan of Bharathiar knows what comes next. Let us discuss that in our next post
Under a spreading chestnut-tree,
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands
The sight of colorful blooming daffodils sends Wordsworth into raptures:
I wandered lonely as a cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden daffodils;
Beside the lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.
Needless to say, a majestic tiger with its chiselled physique and chilling glare would have to have its own tribute:
Tyger, tyger burning bright
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye
Could frame thy fearful symmetry?
These poetic flights of imagination can, however, be dragged down into the pedestrian world of gravity by cold factual information. The information possessed by the sociologist, botanist or a zoologist only makes them all the more poorer as it deprives them of the spine-chilling thrills that Longfellow, Wordsworth and Blake experienced in their moments of wonderment.
Bharathiar had to make a choice. He had to choose between the black- and-white view of the world provided by philosophy or the exploding spectrum of colors that his poetic vision had blessed him with.
Bharathiar was well versed in philosophy- the hard-core philosophy of Advaita where the very existence of everything is questioned; the entire creation is a mirage, a figment of imagination, a dream. God alone is Real; the World is illusory; there is no difference between the individual soul and God
ब्रह्म सत्यं जगन् मित्य जीवो ब्रह्मैव नापरः
To a poet, this brings in to question everything that he cherishes– the lofty peaks, the roaring rivers, the majestic animals, the melodious birds. He thus wonders
நிற்பதுவே நடப்பதுவே பறப்பதுவே
நீங்களெல்லாம் சொப்பனந்தானோ
பல தோற்ற மயக்கங்களோ
Ye, who stand and walk and fly
Are you all just a dream?
Just a delusory form?
கற்பதுவே கேட்பதுவே கருதுவதே
நீங்களெல்லாம் அற்ப மாயைகளோ
உம்முள் ஆழ்ந்த பொருளில்லையோ
Ye, that is learnt, that is heard, that is thought
Are you all mere illusions?
Is there nothing deeper in you
If the enchanting garden of the world outside, and the mysterious forests of the world within are to be scythed ruthlessly by the uncompromising blade of cold reasoning, "What about my very existence?" as he enquires later in the song.
போனதெல்லாம் கனவினைப்போல்
புதைந்தழிந்தே போனதனால்
நானும் ஓர் கனவோ
இந்த ஞாலமும் பொய் தானோ?
If what is past, like a dream
gets buried and disappears
Am I also a dream
Is the world also just a lie?
But what about that magical moment?– that was tangible, the thrill that was felt, even if only fleeting, that which was majestic in its grandeur, albeit for a moment, before disappearing into the depths of the invisible abyss of the past. Was that moment unreal just because it has disappeared, never to be seen again?
Bharathiar begs to differ. He uses a reverse logic to justify his viewpoint.
காண்பவெல்லாம் மறையுமென்றால்
மறைந்ததெல்லாம் காண்பமன்றோ
If everything that is seen would disappear
Hadn't everything that disappeared been seen?
காண்பதுவே உறுதிகண்டோம்
காண்பதல்லால் உறுதியில்லை
காண்பது சத்தியமாம்
இந்த காட்சி சத்தியமாம்
What we see, we feel firm about
If unseen, it is not proven
What is seen is the truth, we aver
This sight we see is true, we aver
Bharathiar decides to make a choice. He has his feet firmly planted in the world even as his heart soars to the clouds and beyond. He is of this world; he breathes its air, sucks the nectar of its blooms, partakes of its fruits, and serves it with the last ember of his spirit.
While talking about the tangible world as the truth, Bharathiar does not decry God or a Higher Truth. In fact, he sees Him everywhere. How do we know? Every fan of Bharathiar knows what comes next. Let us discuss that in our next post
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