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Songs Of Love And Longing

The Tirukkural, the highly regarded 2000-year-old text composed by the Tamil poet Tiruvalluvar, has three parts. Each kural in the book has two lines: the first consists of four feet, and the second, three. Meena Kandasamy’s feminist translation of the third part of the Tirukkural carries powerful messages about female sexuality, agency and desire

For all my misgivings over the text, I want to fundamentally distinguish between the first two parts of the Tirukkural .—dealing with morality and materialism, society and statecraft—and the third, which is love poetry. Given the underlying fact that the institution of the family is of ultimate importance to the institution of the state, the first two sections demonstrate adherence to the structure of a household, the roles of husband and wife. The third part does not suffer these notions. It is a world that two lovers conjure together: gossip and social censure do not interfere with their sexual passion; instead, they feed its flames. Society does not separate the lovers; it exists outside of them. Love and sex are acts of equality and democracy—without any inherent hierarchy, they are available to everyone.

‘Chastity’ is not what the original text intends, and so to use it there is an imposition of post-dated cultural values on a classical text. As a poet, translator, a woman and a feminist, I wanted to avoid the burden of regressive ideas foisted onto a text that actually burns with longing, only ever concerning itself with shame in order to speak of the shame itself.

So, when my turn came to translate nirai in this kural., I chose ‘unwavering mind’—after all, nirai means fullness, strength, containment. I wanted my translation to incorporate a sense of self-fulfilment, of something that does not have to wander or waver, to challenge the lazy patriarchal notion that women have fickle minds. Here is my rendering of Kural. 1251:

The heroine is caught in the whirlpool of passion, a battle-axe that breaks through to her—and as much as it is a metaphor, it is also about a mental state

The battle-axe of passion breaks down the door

of my unwavering mind, bolted with my coyness.

Like its close cousin virginity, ‘chastity’—upon which most translators have fallen back—denotes something physical, the classification of relationships as chaste or unchaste implying something situated in the woman’s body. But the heroine here is caught in the whirlpool of passion, a battle-axe that breaks through to her—and as much as it is a metaphor, it is also about a mental state of being.

In my bid to create a feminist translation, I also took the decision to avoid words that have often been rendered in English as ‘husband’ or ‘wife’. I wanted to stop burdening this text of love with a social custom whose contemporary connotations may be far removed from how they were employed in Tiruvalluvar’s time. Instead, I have used the words ‘man’ and ‘woman’, and wherever possible, the gender-neutral ‘lover’.

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I believe that feminist translations of classical texts like this one are necessary interventions, correcting the course of what has been happening with the Tirukkural. for the past several centuries

Longing for Sex

1281

Not wine

but it is sex that gives

sheer delight at thought

and such pleasure at sight.

1282

No, not even a little-millet pout –

total non-sulking is essential

when sexual desire overflows

and stands as tall as a palmyra.

1283

He does not care for me,

he does just as he pleases;

yet my eyes know no peace,

not having seen my man.

1284

Petulant, I went to pick

a fight, dear girlfriend –

but my heart forgot that,

and ran after him for sex.

1285

Like eyes that cannot see

a kohl-liner while it defines them,

I do not see my lover’s faults

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when he is in front of me.

1286

When he is with me,

I see no faults at all.

When we are apart,

I see nothing but faults.

1287

Like those who dive, aware

they will be dragged away,

I learnt the futility of anger

by fighting with my lover.

1288

Like drink, that reduces

the drunk to objects

of ridicule, so does the

chest of this charmer.

1289

Softer than flowers

is making love...

Few obtain

its elegance.

1290

Her eyes held tears

as she sulked–we hugged,

trembling with desire;

her haste surpassed mine.

A Lament for Lost Self-Control

1251

The battle-axe of passion

breaks down the door

of my unwavering mind

bolted with my coyness.

1252

What goes by the name of love

is blind, is unkind, and runs

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the business of controlling

my heart even at midnight.

1253

I try and conceal

this lust of mine—

With no intimation,

it materialises like a sneeze.

1254

I am perfect, I have such

self-control, I would say,

but my hidden-away lust

betrays me, proclaiming itself publicly.

1255

Those suffering from lovesickness

shall never know the magnanimity

of not running behind those

who (now) hate us.

1256

So graceful of you,

my dearest grief,

that you run after

the one who scorns me!

1257

That something called shyness

remains a stranger

when desire drives lovers

to indulge in the excess.

1258

This sly enchanter and

his artful words, are they

not the army that breaks

into our womanness?

1259

I went, in a mood to quarrel.

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I hugged him,

seeing my heart melt

for our coming together.

1260

Having just had sex,

is it possible to brood

and bicker, for these hearts

that melt like fat in fire?

(This appeared in the print as 'Songs of Love and Longing')

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