Bharati had a number of friends in Pondicherry.  They admired him and helped him. There were some whose company simply delighted the poet. A few helped him at difficult times, providing support, and a few others made important contributions to the growth of his personality.  There can be no doubt that the realisation of the self came to Bharati through his many relationships with friends, disciples, and relatives. At the same time, Bharati’s influence on those around him was profound, and the force of his writing and personality helped to unleash a Renaissance in Tamil literature. Bharati belongs to the category of Renaissance thinkers and poets, a special group of great individuals who are products of unique historical forces that appear rarely in civilizations. In Bharati’s case, the tremendous call of the National Movement and the fight for Indian independence catalyzed his growth, and transformed him into one of these leaders of human thought.

Some of his friends became characters in Bharati’s writings.  He gave them nick-names, which were partly truthful and partly humorous.

Vilakkennai Chettiar (Sabapati Chettiar), the owner of the house where Bharati lived was a loving, compassionate man; smooth as castor oil (“vilakkennai”), he would never ask Bharati for payment of the rent. He would drop by with the intention of collecting it, but he was satisfied to listen to Bharati singing a song and invariably left without asking for money.  There were “Vellachu” (jaggery piece) Krishnasamy Chettiar, “Elikkunju” (mouse) Arumugam Chettiar, “Valluru” (kite) Naicker, “Brahmaraya Iyer (Professor Subramania Iyer) to mention a few.

Among his close friends, Bharati was fortunate to count Sri Aurobindo, with whom he conducted research on the Vedas. Bharati enjoyed the company of V.V.S. Iyer, a great critic and writer; of the siddhas who lived in Pondicherry, such as Kullachami and Govindasamy, the Swamy from Jaffna; of his own disciples, such as Kanaga Subburathinam (Bharati dasan), Va. Ra. (Va. Ramasamy Iyengar,) Kuvalai Kannan; and a great many other, loyal friends.

In her book Bharatiyar Charithiram, Chellamma writes, “There were about 35 disciples (sishya kodikal) in the house.  . . . Each one was different in his own particular way.”

Among these remarkable friends, a special place was held by the fellow-poet whose love for Bharati and devotion to him were so immense that he adopted “Bharati dasan” as his own pen name.  This follows the poetic tradition of Kalidasa, and of Bharati himself, who once assumed the pen name “Shelley dasan.”

In the picture above, I am seated across from Bharati dasan.  Also present were my aunt, Shakuntala Bharati, Bharati’s younger daughter,  R.A. Padmanabhan, and Bharati’s disciple, Kanakalingam.

The meeting of Bharati dasan with Bharati was an interesting one.  Bharati dasan gives an elaborate account of the incident in his own book:

Venu Naicker (kottadi vathiar), a disciple and friend of Bharati, was getting married, and Bharati was invited to the wedding.  A musical performance had been arranged for 3 o’clock in the afternoon at the wedding reception.  About 30 people, friends and relatives of Venu Naicker, were gathered under the canopy (pandal) at the reception.  Subburthinam, who later came to be known as Bharati dasan, had agreed to sing.

Subburathinam was sitting in the front row, and he turned around to look at the people at the gathering.  There were a few familiar faces, and among them he recognized a man that he had seen before, somewhere in Pondicherry.   The person he saw was very attractive,  with a fair complexion, beautiful and majestic features, and  eyes of great depth that seemed to be filled with love – an appearance that was so divine, he looked like a painting! Indeed, Subburathinam thought to himself that the person was the very picture of Paramasivam (Lord Shiva) as painted by the celebrated artist, Ravivarma.

The performance started and Subburathinam began to sing: Vira Suthandiram, and the audience was listening with great enjoyment.  When he finished the song, Venu Naicker asked him to sing a few more songs.  When Subburathinam started again with Thonru nigazhnda danaithum, many members of the audience began to turn their heads to look at the Ravivarma Paramasivam, who was present there.

When the concert was over, Venu came to Subburathinam and took him to the person. Venu asked Subburathinam, “Do you know this man?”

Before Subburathinam answered, Bharati turned directly to Subburathinam, and asked, “Have you studied Tamil?”

“A little,” he responded.

To which, Bharati remarked, “You sing with emotion.”

At this point, Venu turned to Subburathinam and said, “This is the person who wrote all of the poems you just sang.  His name is Subramania Bharati.”

Subburathinam’s face turned pale, and, as the Tamil expression goes, became exactly like the face of “a monkey who has eaten ginger.”  He was overwhelmed by shame, fear, and happiness.  Everything became a blur.

As Bharati turned to leave, he asked Venu, “Why have you not brought this man to our house?”

Subburathinam was excited by this invitation and filled with overpowering joy.

The relationship that began thus developed into the most important relationship of Subburathinam’s life. Subburathinam was fascinated by Bharati and became an ardent follower. His decision to change his name to “Bharati dasan” signified his affection for Bharati as a person and poet.  Subburathinam became immersed in Bharati’s poetry, and involved in his life. The members of Bharati’s family came to see him as one of their own.

Thangammal, Bharati’s elder daughter, remembers a poem that Bharati dasan wrote early  in his career, which she published among her own writings. This poem , which remained unpublished in Bharati dasan’s collections of poetry shows that, in his early years, Bharati dasan was totally absorbed in Bharati’s poetry. He believed in Bharati’s way of life, his revolutionary ideals, and his principles.  Bharati dasan considered Bharati his guru, and respected him enormously, not only for his poetry, but also, as an exceptional person.

You can read this poem by clicking here. It  shows how passionate was Bharati dasan’s love of his country, as well as his belief in appealing to Parashakti.  The influence of Bharati is apparent in the style of writing, in the words that Bharati dasan used, and in the nationalistic fervour and emotional heights that the poem reaches – undoubtedly inspired by Bharati.

In fact, the foundation for Bharati dasan’s entire development was laid by his association with Bharati. Bharati was a passionate believer in equality, and constantly argued for justice on behalf of the disempowered groups in Indian society – notably, women and the disadvantaged castes, as well as for the equality of Indians with other citizens of the world. Bharati dasan was originally involved in the Indian Independence Movement, opposing the British and French governments in India, and consigned to time in prison by the French government, for his pro-Freedom views. He later became involved in post-Independence revolutionary movements, joining the Dravidar Kazhagam, founded by Periyar E.V. Ramaswamy, whose original goal was to eradicate the evils of the caste system. The ideas behind the movement were equality and self-respect, ideals that Bharati stood for throughout all his life and writings.

Bharati was a Universal poet, in the sense that his poetry encompassed everything in nature. He wrote about the animate and inanimate objects of the universe – the sun, the moon and the stars – the sky, the wind, the fire, the earth and the waters – the mountains, the rivers, are all part of his life. He had a deep relationship with all the objects of creation.  Because of this, his poetry belonged to all three times, the past, the present, and the future. His poetry was preoccupied with truth, in a cosmic sense, which is the essence of life.

As illustrated by Bharati, the characteristics of a Universal mind, I think, are faith in God ,who created the universe, and Love, by which the Universe functions.

Bharati was a Renaissance poet who revived our culture,  and shaped and styled the Tamil language and literature.  Like Shakespeare, there was no subject matter that he left untouched, or failed to deal with in his writings.

Bharati was a Revolutionary whose goal was to completely remodel society, and give it new lustre.  Through the power of his creative imagination and insight, he was able to uproot the age-long ideas and thinking of society and completely change the direction of its future.  Over time, society at large was influenced by this great personality.

Bharati dasan was totally absorbed in Bharati, in his poetry first of all, and in his revolutionary ideas and principles at large.  In fact, I would even go as far as to say that Dasan’s personality had been developed in the foot-steps of Bharati, of course, had been shaped by Bharati’s poetry, 

Bharati dasan’s literary works have earned a place in the canon of Tamil literature alongside Bharati.  He wrote on various themes – from political and social, to purely literary, and on the Tamil language.  He wrote plays, short stories, essays, and film scripts.

My personal recollections of Bharati dasan remain among my most treasured memories.

In fact, I was first introduced to Bharati dasan as a teenager, by my aunt, Shakuntala. She  took me with her to Pondicherry to attend a Bharati vizha (celebration), organized by Bharati dasan.  I can’t exactly remember the year now.  On the day preceding the celebration, I met the poet.  At that time, I had already read and enjoyed Bharati dasan’s poetry before and used to sing a few of his poems at home.

When we met, I sat down respectfully in front of the poet, and suddenly he asked me to sing a song.  I started singing Bharati dasan’s song Thunbam nergaiyil, which had been beautifully sung in a movie.  Bharati dasan was deeply affected.  He then asked me to sing a Bharati song, which I did – the poem starting vendumadi eppodhum viduthalai.

The following day, at the grand vizha, hundreds, perhaps thousands, of people were gathered. The poet  asked me to sing Thunbam nergaiyil as the first order of business, to inaugurate the event. I was deeply touched by the love he showed towards myself, and towards my aunt Shakuntala, as the members of Bharati’s family.

Talking about Love, I have a firm belief that Love is, in fact, the underlying quality of a poetic personality and without love, poetry cannot be created.

This, I arrived at, after studying Bharati a lot, and reading some major poetry in English literature under the guidance of my late husband (a professor of English).

In the light of these reflections, how startling and wondrous it is to note that Bharati dasan was an Atheist. Apparently, during an Atheists’ Conference in Chennai, he signed a document bearing the words, “I am an undying atheist.”

An Atheist does not believe in the existence of God. On the other hand, Bharati was an impassioned devotee of Parashakthi. From what I have read in Bharati, I understand that a person who has faith in God believes in his Creation, and Love is the essence and theme that unites all of God’s Creation. Any expression of hatred towards other human beings cannot be part of the flow of Creation, or meaningful to life.

I expressed my theory earlier about Love as the underlying quality of a poetic personality, and without love, poetry cannot be created.  I have no question in my mind about the validity of my conviction.

Bharati dasan was a believer in goodness as opposed to evil, a supporter of justice as opposed to injustice, and  undoubtedly a worshipper of Love – a divine quality that permeated his heart and soul.  Perhaps, he denied “God” as expressed in religion, an imagined figure and form. Regardless of whatever “label’ he applied to himself, the fact that he believed in goodness, justice, and love makes him easily recognizable,  just like his guru, as a devotee of truth.

When Chellamma died, C. Rajagopalachari, (Rajaji), then the Governor General of India, wrote a letter of condolence to my mother, Thangammal Bharati:

“At a time when the whole nation is celebrating Bharati’s birthday, your letter conveying the sad news arrived.  She fed me one day in Puduchery – me and R.V. Krishnayyar.  When the meal was done, Bharati danced and danced (kudithu kudithu) and dancing, sang a song too for us.  Look, what a very fortunate woman she was! How many women in this country have such a celebrated husband? There is no grief in reaching the feet of Narayana.”

As Rajaji said, Chellamma was truly a bhagyavati. How many women in this country would have had such a celebrated husband?

 Perhaps, Kasturba, Mahatma Gandhi’s wife, also had the good fortune to live with a celebrated husband  and enjoy an extraordinary life with him! And yet,the lives of these two women were not “enjoyable” in the normal way – normal in the sense that they lived a “comfortable,” and “happy” life with no worries, enjoying their status as the wives of “celebrated” husbands.

 No – the life that Kasturba and Chellamma lived could not be called an “ordinary” life.  Both the women encountered enormous difficulties, in both their personal and social lives.  Their lives were full of hardships, and they suffered unimaginable mental anguish. As both the Mahatma and the Mahakavi were dedicated to the freedom struggle and social reforms, these women had to bear the consequences of their actions, and, married to idealists, the subjects of their husbands’ extraordinary “experiments with truth,” in Gandhi’s own phrase.  At times, the two women had to tolerate their husbands’ extraordinary behaviour, even at its most demanding and apparently irrational, at home.

As their lives became “public,” it was a struggle for both women.  They not only had to deal with the British government, but also had to deal with the resistance and, indeed, antagonism, of the members of their own society.  In Chellamma’s case, her experience was probably more difficult: she belonged to the oppressive Brahmin caste, came from a relatively poor background, and was herself restricted by the backward environment and thinking of the people of the village from which she came. She therefore had little or no support from the general public of her, and Bharati’s, times.

And there was an important difference between the lives of the two women.  Chellamma  was the wife of a Poet.   This was a blessing! But, what kind of life fell to the lot of Challemma as the wife of a Mahakavi?

She married him at the age of seven when he was fifteen and still in school. She came from a south Indian middle-class Brahmin family, their financial status bordering on the affluent, and the social status certainly in the upper rungs of society in the village of Kadayam.  As a young girl, Chellamma enjoyed life as a passing spectacle of religious and social festivals, entertainment of musical and theatrical events, and the numerous celebrations in a large joint family, of birthdays of children, upanayanams, weddings and more weddings, and even the passing of the old, a cause for sadness, nevertheless full of ritual-bound celebration.

The young Bharati visited Smt. Nivedita Devi, the disciple of Swami Vivekananda, on his way back from attending the meeting of the Indian Congress in Calcutta.  This experience proved to have inexplicable and extraordinary dimensions for Bharati, in which Nivedita revealed to him the sampurna rupa of the Bharata Shakti and taught Bharati the meaning of true service to the Nation.  Chellamma describes this meeting in her path breaking biography of her husband, Bharatiar Charithiram. As Chellamma relates, Sister Nivedita asked Bharati why he had not brought his wife to the Congress and he apparently answered, “We do not usually bring our wives to meetings; moreover, of what use would it have been to bring her to the Indian Congress”? Nivedita explained to Bharati the greatness of women and the importance of recognizing that women are free beings, like men, and that woman should be  treated as the equal of man.

At that very moment, Bharati’s vision of a “New Woman” (pudumai penn) was born in his poet’s heart.  And who else could this new woman be, but his own wife, the embodiment and personification of his pudumai penn? In this sense, Chellamma became Bharati’s goddess.  Chellamma was immediately aware of the profound change that had happened in Bharati.

“The wife who loves is Shakti and immortality is attained through her,”

was Bharati’s conviction, and Chellamma knew in her heart that her husband was undertaking something new and wonderful, and felt the imminence of freedom, not only for the country, but for the women of India. “Nalla kalam varuhuthu!”

In those days, Chellamma and her household were well-provided for. Bharati was settled in Madras and worked as a sub-editor of Swadesamitran magazine.  But, alas, this situation was not to endure. Chellamma’s financial comfort and security were ultimately destroyed when Bharati’s nationalist engagement was to have extreme consequences. In order to continue his struggle for an independent India, Bharati  was forced to leave British India for the French territory of Pondicherry..

 Thus began a life of privation and severe financial hardship.  How Bharati related to this situation has been widely written about – it is largely speculation! It is reasonable to agree – because we really do not understand what makes a poet a poet – that Bharati’s mind moved continuously on an  ecstatic plane, and he took little notice of the practical demands of a household of a wife and two daughters.  Accordingly, it became Chellamma’s sole responsibility to manage the household, and to feed and clothe the family– the start of a struggle that would not end until her death in 1955.

 Chellamma talked about her life with her poet husband on All India Radio, Tiruchy:

 “It seems that poetry is the property of a poet; it is true that he lives in his own world of poetry. But, unfortunately it is his wife who has to find food for the family! Once my husband entered into his poetic mode, even a sage could not be compared to him.  But, could the wife also be in the nishta and not worry about the household? What am I to do if the poet who worships his wife as his “queen of love,” (kaadali Rani) does not realize that he must also feed her? Can the bird which soars in the vast blue sky on the wings of imagination be compelled to live an ordinary life, in the dark house of the earth?

It is acceptable for the poet to live his own life, with his  strange habits, idiosyncrasies, and idealistic attitudes; but who would think that the wife would want to live a life of worry?”

Chellamma was totally dedicated to Bharati.  Her husband was a god to her.  She had absolute faith in her husband’s beliefs, values and principles  She respected him so much that she followed his principles verbatim, not only in their life together, but also, after her husband’s death, and until her own death.

In due course over her life with Bharati, as the thread that binds jasmine flowers together acquires the fragrance of the flowers, she became a “fragrant flower” herself.   She divested herself completely of the old attitudes she had acquired from a young age, and had developed the true qualities of Bharati’s ideal woman.  And later, she came to see the outside world from her husband’s perspective.   The freedom that he envisioned, for women and for everyone, became her own life’s goal.  From the time of her husband’s death, Chellamma lived her life with extraordinary courage, and maintained an unshakable faith in God.  She acquired the ability to execute the important things that mattered in life, and she impressed upon the minds of the children of the family, including myself, her unwavering focus on the higher and finer things in life.

She became the embodiment of Bharati’s poetry– the embodiment of her husband’s ideal woman – and the embodiment of our best cultural values: love, sacrifice, courage, valour, faith in God and Truth, and an attitude of optimism towards life. 

The biographers of  James Joyce talk about the “great poverty” in which the great  writer lived towards the end of his life.  What “great poverty” meant to the author of Ulysses, in 20th-century Britain, is hard to estimate from this distance in time.  Although I lived with my grandmother until I turned 17, I have very little comprehension of what it was to be a “have-not.”  My grandmother certainly would have been incapable of thinking in those terms. How does one reconcile the life of great poverty and material deprivation with the privilege of living the life of the mind and the spirit?

 In “great poverty,” Chellamma Bharati lived and died, and attained immortality!

My grandmother brought me up and made me the person I am today.  I have seen her handling all kinds of situations in life: the happy occasions, the sorrowful moments, unimaginable sufferings, society’s differential treatment, injustice – to name only a few.  She surpassed all of these “rasas,” the manifestations of Parashakti’s, through faith in God, and with her husband’s guidance!

 A few words about Chellamma’s final days and hours.

It was 1955.  I had returned to Kadayam, my grandmother’s birth place, from Tirunelveli, where I was studying, after completing my exams at College.  I was surprised at the state in which I found my grandmother.  As I came in, she embraced me and said that she had been “waiting” for me to come back home; apparently she had advised my mother not to disturb me at College by communicating to me that my grandmother was unwell.

Over the next week or so she became worse, and finally fell into an unconscious state.  The doctor advised us that “the time had come”.  Shakuntala, Bharati’s younger daughter, had now arrived at her mother’s bedside from a distant land, and a couple of our friends had come as well.  The village house was my grandmother’s own house, and it was quite large and comfortable.  She was surrounded by her daughters, grandchildren, and friends, but she was in a coma, unable to recognize the people around her. 

But, at length, we were wonderstruck to hear, once again, the sound of my grandmother’s gentle voice.  From the bed of the unconscious woman, we could hear her singing two lines from my grandfather’s poem, Kannan-en-Arasan (Kannan my King):

 “I came as his servant, to sweep the floor and the porch.

He made me his minister, who was worthy of the country’s praise.”

The poem continues:

 “I came to serve, to earn my daily bread,

He gave me with wealth unequalled.

I was bereft of learning and wisdom,

He made me understand the subtleties of the Vedas.”

This singing, in Bharati’s original melody, continued a few times.  We were shocked and surprised to hear her murmuring these lines repeatedly.

Obviously, these lines from Bharati’s Kannan Pattu must have affected Chellamma deeply.They related to her own experience.  She only murmured the first two lines, but the other four lines continue the feeling of the first two.  She relates her own feelings about herself in comparison with the great person – that she was fortunate to have him as a life-mate, and that by this association, he made her “wealthy” of riches that were impossible for her even to think of.

What was happening to her? What was she thinking in her “unconscious” state? Were the memories submerged in her subconscious mind coming out to the surface at this time of departure from the world? Was she meeting with her husband again, and talking to him about herself? Did she want to thank him for the life – an enriched, ennobled, and worthwhile life – that he provided for her, as she was leaving the world?

Complete silence reigned for a time.  Then again, she continued,

“Tirumal came and fully occupied my heart”.

(I have recorded the lines that she sang; to listen, click here.)

Yes, it was Bharati himself who was fully occupying her heart all those years; he was the companion who guided her throughout her life; he was the guru who gave her clarity of mind; he was the magician who removed all the meaningless tangles of her heart and made it strong and fearless!

I asked Dr. Bradley Vines, Ph. D. a cognitive neuroscientist,  if he could help me to understand what was happening during Chellamma’s extraordinary, spectacular, final moments in this world. In response to my questions,  he provided the following commentary:

 “The incident of Chellamma’s singing from the depths of a coma presents a remarkable case that, to my knowledge, is unique in history.  However, this profound event exemplifies principles of cognitive neuroscience that are common to us all.  By considering the way the brain functions, we may gain insight into how and why it was that Chellamma sang the poetry of her late husband, after losing consciousness, with her final breaths.

Singing is a complex behavior that involves the coordination of a number of different areas of the brain.  To sing, we must engage motor systems that control the movement of vocal muscles, access memories that encode melody and words, and process the sound of our own voice to make adjustments over time.  Seen in this light, singing is a miraculous phenomenon on its own, let alone the act of singing in a state of coma.  But, from a neuroscientific perspective, it is the very richness of singing, in terms of the recruitment of a wealth of neural resources, that makes such a deep and lasting impression on the mind.

Both music and poetry facilitate human memory.  Taken together, music and poetry form an ideal mnemonic device.  Through the ages, people have used combinations of music and poetry to remember lengthy narratives, as in bards’ epic tales, or to grasp important information, as in the case of the oral tradition of ayurvedic medicine.  This is because music, with its melodic contours and rhythm, is rich with salient features that are ideal for the brain to encode.  Poetry, similarly, offers a variety of handholds for the mind to grip, like metric structure and patterns of rhyme.  Furthermore, music and poetry both engage systems of the brain that are associated with emotion and reward.  Research has shown that experiences that are associated with strong emotions become more deeply engrained in memory and are easier to recall.  It is for these reasons that the neural networks reinforced by music and poetry are so robust.

Chellamma had sung Bharati’s poetry throughout her life, and she was deeply moved by the words of her husband’s song. It is therefore understandable that the music would be deeply engrained in her memory.  Science, potentially, could even explain the fact that she sang the words of her husband’s poetry from a special state of awareness so far removed from day-to-day consciousness that she was unresponsive even to her most beloved family and friends.  What transcends the current reach of neuroscientific explanation, however, is Chellamma’s personal experience.  Neuroimaging tools provide insight into the associations between brain activity and behavior, but they cannot give us access to the very experience that the human brain makes possible.  For now, we can only imagine what Chellamma’s experience may have been as her final consciousness in this life became completely filled with poetry.”

 Some of the facts that Dr. Vines points out in his analysis are surprising to me.  First of all, I had not realized that Chellamma’s experience might be a “unique”  incident, and not an ordinary occurrence in a human life.

I would explain further that the person we are talking about was not an ordinary person.  Chellamma’s experiences with her husband – as a poet and as a unique personality – must have been so powerful that they created “unusual” emotions and processes in her brain.  These strong powerful and unique emotions, associated with her experiences with her husband, must have been deeply ingrained in her memory until they were recalled at the very end of her life.

 Dr. Vines talks about how music and poetry are  structures that support memory and cognition, helping us to remember lengthy narratives and epic tales, and to grasp important information. In our country, it is true that the “oral tradition,” was perhaps the only method by which lengthy narratives, epic tales, and poetry were traditionally taught.  Dr. Vines also talks about the means by which both communicate, music by “melodic contours and rhythm and poetry by “metric structures and patterns of rhyme” which are appealing to the human brain. Both music and poetry provide “footholds” for the brain to remember. The arts of music and poetry are so powerful that they engage systems that not only remember the facts of a given incident, but also maintain the experience that it is associated with – the emotions and feelings.

 Dr. Vines points out that Chellamma’s brain must have been functioning in a “special state of awareness,” as she was removed from her normal, conscious state.  I understand the limits of modern science, when he says that “the neuroimaging tools provide insight into the associations between brain activity and behavior, but they cannot give us access to the very experience that the human brain makes possible.”

Where science stops, philosophy may step in. If this is the case, I do have a philosophical explanation for what happened, whether or not it can ever be proven by science!

In death, or in a coma,, the functioning of the brain ultimately stops completely and the awareness of the outside world becomes nil.  At this stage, the brain shuts down all its activities and becomes a vegetable, a “nothing.”  It is a wonder – no matter how deeply her memories were ingrained into her brain – that Chellamma remembered and murmured two lines of Bharati’s poetry clearly, and the one last line (I don’t know where it was from) which so beautifully expressed her state of mind at the end of her life.

My theory is, that as the brain shuts down its day-to-day activities, there still remains the soul which, as the Gita says, is immortal and can,  never be affected by the five elements (see Bharati’s Tamil translation of the Bhagavat Gita)– the glowing ember, which existed in “this body” all these years and witnessed the activities of life in “this body.”

Perhaps, this was the final expression of Chellamma’s soul before leaving its bodily existence – to become reunited with her husband’s soul!

Poets through the ages have written about love, and Bharati, a Romantic poet and a true Renaissance man, was no exception. Love occupies a central place in all of his poetry. Romantic love was especially celebrated by him in wonderful poems that he wrote for his own beloved. In the West, Petrarch had his Laura, Dante his Beatrice, Shakespeare had the “Dark Lady” of his sonnets; and Indian literature and mythology (puranangal) is full of romantic tales, including the amorous adventures of heroes and gods. Like these other poets, Bharati, too, found

Ardhanareswarer

poetic inspiration in the person of his own wife, Chellamma. But, tragically, through the alteration – dare I say mutilation – of Bharati’s poems, the record of their relationship has been, at least partially, erased from history. In particular, his three poems, entitled Chellamma Pattu, were re-titled Kannamma Pattu for publication after Bharati’s death. Chellamma was thus deprived of the only of thing of value that she had from her husband, and the only thing that she apparently ever desired of him as a legacy: immortality through his poetry. How was Chellamma so cruelly dispossessed of her treasure, and why? And how can we now restore her to the place of honour that Bharati freely chose to accord to her through his magical words?

Bharati’s elder daughter Thangammal writes: “When people heard the news that the poems written by Bharati about my mother were included under  Kannan Pattu, they wanted to know ‘which poems they were.’  They are “Ninnaiye rati enru,” “Peetathil erikkondal,” and “Engal Kannamma nagai pudurojappu.” Our father wrote Chellamma on these poems, and not Kannamma.  We do know that when the poems were published, my uncle Appathurai Iyer, Chellamma’s elder brother, changed the name from Chellamma to Kannamma; perhaps, he thought that his sister’s name was not ‘sophisticated’ enough to be worthy of publication.”

Bharati’s younger daughter Shakuntala writes: “My father wrote a few love songs.  In these songs, the name Chellamma was written, and not Kannamma.  My father never even thought about any other woman, except his wife Chellamma.  He said that he wrote his love poems just for his wife.  When these poems were published, the name was changed to Kannamma; the name was taken from Bharati’s Kannan songs, Kannamma as the ‘beloved.’”

After Bharati’s premature demise, Chellamma was left on her own with Shakuntala, who was yet to be married.  Chellamma, as a young woman of 32 in that far from progressive era,  faced great pressure from her community, and from society at large. She had no formal education, little life experience, and no experience with journalism or publishing.  Nevertheless, she had a great ambition after Bharati’s death: to publish her husband’s works. Chellamma’s elder brother, Appathurai, took it upon himself to help her in this project and, more generally, to help her to continue with life and plan her future after her husband’s demise.

People should be aware of the intensity of Chellamma’s struggle to get Bharati’s works published, in spite of her disadvantages in life, and in defiance of the immense obstacles that she faced after her husband’s death.  She had no support of any kind, not from the Government or any other source, at that time. Only the love of the general public for Bharati’s poems sustained her. In response, she announced that it was her intention to bequeath the copyright in Bharati’s works to the public, after her death.

Chellamma created a publishing house called Bharati Ashramam and started publishing Bharati’s poetry.  In this endeavour, she was assisted by Appathurai.

Appathurai, too, was a nationalist who abandoned his employment to enter into political life.  He supported Bharati in his national activities. He, himself, was a great speaker, and had some journalistic experience.  When Bharati first entered into the freedom struggle, he apparently told Appathurai that, “[I]t is customary that the deep-sea diver who plunges deep into the ocean in the pursuit of pearls (muthukkuli) entrusts his brother-in-law to take care of his wife in his absence; so am I entrusting you to take care of Chellamma.” Appathurai was deeply involved in Chellamma’s publishing endeavour, and he was totally responsible for  administering the financial, printing, and practical side of publishing Bharati’s works.

The process surrounding the editing and publishing of Bharati’s works in these early years remains somewhat obscure to me. I don’t fully understand who was involved in selecting the poems, organizing and editing them, undertaking responsibility for any changes that were made, and publishing them.  Chellamma brought out 2 volumes of Bharati’s poetry. The first volume consisted of 90 poems,  which included the poems that Bharati himself had published during his lifetime (in the books Swadesa Githangal, Janma Boomi, Nattu Pattu and Mada Manivachagam), most of them national poems, and a few new poems from manuscript versions.  The second volume comprised 80 poems which included poems from the first volume, while some new poems also appeared.  The three poems about Chellamma were NOT included in either of these volumes.

At this point, C. Viswanatha Iyer, Bharati’s half-brother (the son of Bharati’s father, Chinnasamy, and his second wife, Valliammal) bought the copyright of Bharati’s works from Chellamma for a small sum. He created a new publishing house, called Bharati Prachuralayam, and began to publish Bharati’s poetry. He was initially joined in his efforts by Harihara Sharma, a distant relative of Bharati, and K. Natarajan, Shakuntala’s husband (she had married by then), but they eventually dropped out of the business. C. Viswanatha Iyer became the sole owner of Bharati Prachuralayam.

The three Chellamma poems appear for the first time in the Prachuralayam edition, and here, Chellamma’s name has already been removed and replaced by “Kannamma.”  As Bharati’s daughters observed, in the excerpts from their works noted above, the name change was  probably made by Chellamma’s brother Appathurai Iyer, and must have been approved and published by C. Viswanatha Iyer.

What were the reasons behind this radical change? As noted above, Thangammal thought that Chellamma’s name was removed because it was  “unsophisticated” (“nagariga kuraivu”).  But I am not sure that this is true. Most likely, there were other forces at work. Appathurai may not have wanted to include “personal” and “intimate” matters in Bharati’s poetry. Perhaps he did not want his sister’s personal life to be openly known to the public. But, why not? Is it shameful that a poet describes his wife’s beauty in detail and shows his appreciation of her? Were there other reasons that he wanted to draw a veil of secrecy over his sister’s relationship with Bharati using the name Kannamma as, in Dante’s words, “a screen for the truth”? Why did he decide to print the poems at all?

Whatever the reason, the pity of it is, that people still do not know that Bharati wrote about his wife. The public has been led to believe that these three poems, in particular, belong to the idealized “Kannamma,”  as in his other “Kannan” songs.  Chellamma was deprived of the signal and hard-won honour of appearing in her rightful place, as the heroine of his poems.

Bharati elevates Chellamma on the pedestal of his heart and worships her.  He is fascinated by his wife’s physical beauty, and writes:

“her laugh is like the full blown rose,

her eyes are blue like indra neelam,

her face is a lotus flower,

her forehead the early-morning sun (bala suryan).

“Her beauty is a lightning-bolt.

Her eye-brows are the bow of the god of love [Manmadan],

Thick and dark is her hair, like a snake that covers the moon,

Her nose is the sesame flower.

“A fountain of ever-lasting happiness is in her words.

Nectar is her mouth and lips,

Her musical voice sounds like Saraswati’s veena,

Her divine bearing and movement invoke the beautiful arambai and ayirani.

“You are Rati, the goddess of love .  .  .  I surrender myself to you.

As the sage Suka saw Lord Shiva in all things surrounding him,

I see you in everything.”

“Gold is her colour, lightning her bearing – the immortal maiden is Nappinnai, Kannan’s beloved.”

“The mere thought of her golden body is sweet as nectar

She is queen among women

Her beauty is magnificent

She is the pupil of my eye

She is the rati of my love

Her words are sweet as music

Her lips are a fount of nectar.

He talks about Chellamma’s love as something that purifies his mind, which is muddled, confused, and bewildered, and makes it the abode of immortality, a peaceful and happy place to live on earth.

“She is the enchanting woman who enters into my heart which is crowded with bushes, thorns, and shrubs – a forest of thoughts, and unruly imagination – and transforms it to an abode of happiness – which the devas eagerly seek and where they long to live!”

“She is the Goddess Lakshmi who became one with Kannan, enthroned within his heart,

She is Parvati, the feminine half of Shiva’s own body, (Ardhanareswarer) who is worshipped by the devas.”

“In the twilight of the evening, when the crimson sunset faded and the moon’s honeyed light was spreading throughout the sky, my beloved came upstairs; with a smile on her lips, she captured the moon out of the corner of her eyes! She sang in her veena-like voice:

“The universe entire is a form of Para Shakti!

We will light the lamp of wisdom

In the temple of love,

And worship her for ever!”

These poems fundamentally affirm Bharati’s nature as a Romantic poet, in the sense that he longed for an idealistic life and society, based on love, a new era which he called kruta yugam. He aspired for immortality, not only spiritually but also physically, and he describes that state in his Chellamma poems as a condition of perpetual happiness and peace, made possible by her.

For Bharati, once again, love is the all-pervading force that unites all lives – the animate and inanimate – and the poet is blessed with the capacity to experience this fundamental principle of life. And his poetry is the expression of his vision of this great truth, love.  Bharati called this power Shakti.

Bharati writes in an English article, “Rasa – The Key-Word of Indian Culture,” that  “Rasa is the form of Shakti, the feminine aspect of the Supreme Being.  For God is two-fold – Being and Energy, Masculine and Feminine, Absolute and Relative, Purusha and Shakti. In the unity of these two aspects, Existence becomes.  And in the manifestations of Shakti, Existence moves and acts.”

He explains this further in another article: “Indian devotion has especially seized upon the most intimate human relations and made them stepping stones to realize the superhuman.  God the guru, God the master, God the friend, God the mother, God the child, God the self, each of these experiences – for to us these are more than mere ideas – it has carried to its extreme possibilities.”

For Bharati, human relations are the forms of Shakti, and they are stepping stones to the realization of God.

Bharati writes:

“The loving wife is Shakti herself, and the state of godliness is attained through her…

“She is the daughter of Kali, she is the abode of Power (Shakti Nilayam), and she is the heroine of the poet’s home! She transforms the meaningless events of everyday life – the empty grind of incidents which destroy the human spirit like thorns that grow in the barren desert – into my life’s fruitful experiences.  She gives life to what is  lifeless, shines light  on what is dark,  and beautifies each occurrence in my life – making it meaningful.”

“Manai thalaivikku vazhtthu”!

Co-author: Mira T. Sundara Rajan.

Nearly a century after his death, Bharati’s fame has grown beyond all bounds. As Bharati becomes increasingly well-known, Bharati research is growing, with a large number of books and articles on Bharati being published every year. The growing interest in Bharati makes it more important than ever that the basic texts with which the public is familiar should be the pure, unadulterated literature written by Bharati, and nothing else.

One of the peculiar difficulties surrounding Bharati’s works is the challenge of trying to find the writings published by Bharati during his lifetime. Because Bharati was a journalist, his published writings were scattered throughout various magazines published in the pre-Independence era in India. These include Swadesamitran, where he worked as a sub-editor, and various other publications. Scholars have therefore been intent on retrieving Bharati’s writings from these publications, like searching for diamonds in a mine, and have gone ahead to publish whatever they found.

Over the past several decades, Bharati scholars and researchers have attempted to locate Bharati’s works. They have sought to trace Bharati’s works by traveling to the places where he lived, spoken to Bharati’s relatives, friends, and acquaintances, and noted their recollections. They have taken photographs of the people in Bharati’s life, and of the houses where he lived.

Personal conversations and interviews, in particular, lead to a number of problems. For various reasons, the recollections of those Bharati knew are not always factually correct – sometimes even as a result of over-enthusiasm! I wrote about some of these issues in more detail in an earlier essay in this blog.  On some occasions, poems were also given to researchers by Bharati’s relatives and acquaintances.

I fully support the efforts of scholars attempting to locate Bharati’s works, wherever they may be available; these efforts are commendable. But, these findings must be substantiated by thorough examination, credible proof, or approval of a group of Bharati-scholars. Otherwise, the validity of these findings is highly questionable.

The “found” works attributed to Bharati have generally been published with prompt eagerness – with little attempt at corroboration. To me, as a Bharati scholar with many decades of experience, and as a member of Bharati’s family, there are a number of works which have become accepted as part of Bharati’s canon, but simply do not belong there. This problem has distressed me for a number of years, as I feel that it is damaging to Bharati, and to Bharati’s future – as scholarship grows around his works, and as researchers make judgements of the quality of his writings based on questionable works. And the dissemination of these works continues apace. The well-known film on Bharati, made in Tamil Nadu in the year 2000, even features a popular “Bharati” song that was actually not written by Bharati!

I have gradually come to understand that a very clear way of describing this problem is offered by the legal concept of authors’ “moral rights.” According to this concept, what has happened to Bharati would be called the mis-attribution of Bharati’s work. This problem has various dimensions, affecting Bharati’s right to be named as the author of his own, and only his own, work, and his right to choose which of his own works should appear before the public, and in what publication circumstances. Moral rights allow us to describe and understand this problem in a clear, precise, and systematic way. The moral rights involved are “disclosure,” “attribution,” and “integrity.”

Mira T. Sundara Rajan has written an article about Bharati’s copyright, in which she defines the legal concept of moral rights and explains how it relates to Bharati’s works:

“The expression, ‘moral rights,’ is itself a somewhat awkward translation into English of the original term in French law, “droit moral.” The connotations of this French expression are quite different from its English equivalent, evoking, rights of a ‘personal or spiritual’ nature, above all.

“The two main types of moral rights are the rights of attribution and integrity.  The right of attribution allows an author to assert authorship of his work, and to prevent another person from claiming authorship of his work. In addition, an author may prevent the attribution of works to him which he did not create.

“The right of integrity allows the author to protest any distortion, mutilation, modification, or other treatment of his work which is, in the language of the Berne Convention, ‘prejudicial to his honour or reputation.’  In contrast to the highly specific right of attribution, the right of integrity is a broad right which allows authors to object to a wide range of practices – including editing, publishing, performance, and possibly exhibition – which may not be compatible with the intentions of the author.

“In addition to these two types of moral rights, three other moral rights are recognized in some Continental jurisdictions, notably France. The right of disclosure or publication allows the author to decide whether his work is to be published or otherwise brought before the public, and how this should be done. The right of withdrawal allows an author to recall a published work from circulation on the grounds that it has ceased to represent his views.  Lastly, the right to prevent excessive or vexatious criticism is also a recognized moral right. .  .  .  .  .

“Many of the problems involving Bharati’s works may effectively amount to violations of the author’s moral rights. The false attribution of the works of other authors to Bharati contravenes his right of attribution.”

To summarize these principles:

I. The moral rights of Bharati: his rights are of a “personal or spiritual” nature.

II. The right of attribution is the basis for asserting Bharati’s authorship: it prevents another person from claiming authorship for his work; it also prevents other work from being attributed to Bharati, which he did not create.

III. The right of integrity allows Bharati to protest any “distortion, mutilation, modification, or other” treatment of his work which is, “prejudicial to his honour or  reputation.” The right of integrity is a broad right which allows authors to object to a wide range of practices – including editing, publishing, performance, and possibly exhibition – which may not be compatible with the intentions of the author.

IV. The right of disclosure or publication allows the author to decide whether his work is to be published or otherwise brought before the public, and how this should be done.

V. The right of withdrawal allows an author to recall a published work from circulation on the grounds that it has ceased to represent his views.

VI. The right to prevent inappropriate criticism, such as criticism that is ill-informed,  is also a recognized moral right.

I have attached a file to this post, “Bharati’s Moral Rights” (please click here), in which I have made a detailed analysis of the poems that are currently in circulation and included in Bharati’s Poetical works.  I have categorized the poems into 2 groups: one violating Bharati’s Authorship (False Attribution), and the other, violating Bharati’s right of Disclosure or Withdrawal.

A. Bharati’s Authorship (False Attribution)

1. Under this category, I have listed the poems that were taken from books on Bharati, written by biographers and various others.
2. The poems that were collected by researchers from: friends and relatives of Bharati – individuals who had recorded them in their (journal) notes – individuals who had  reported from their memories – and Bharati’s  (supposedly) original hand-written manuscripts.
3. Poems published in magazines as Bharati’s after his time by various persons.

B.  Bharati’s  Right of Disclosure 

1. Poems taken from Swadesamitran and India magazines from 1904 to 1909 and published.

These were the poems written from the year 1904 to 1906, during Bharati’s lifetime.

Bharati himself did not include these in his first publication, Swadesa Githangal (1908) in which he publishes a collection of his poems, most of them national.  There may be reasons why Bharati did not publish these poems that were written between 1904 and 1906; but, the fact that he did not disclose these poems to the public when he published his poems in book form indicates that he had decided not to include these poems in his body of work.

However, P. Thooran, in his beginning college years (intermediate), took an interest in copying these poems from Swadesamitran periodicals and published them in his book Bharati Tamizh.  There is no record or back-up for these poems, except for Thooran’s copies.  At this point in time, it may or may not be possible to verify these poems, as the original papers would have deteriorated or been destroyed by now.

2. (Supposedly) completed version of Bharati’s poems – published in books and magazines.  Additional material (stanzas) found in previous publications or originally published by Bharati in magazines which he himself changed, removed or modified to publish in his first book of poetry Swadesa Githangal.  Researchers have brought them back for inclusion among his poems.

Thanjavur Research Edition

Many of these cases are illustrated by the Thanjavur “research” edition of Bharati’s works.

When Bharati’s birth centenary was celebrated in 1982, the Chief Minister of Madras called for the preparation of a “special edition” of Bharati’s works. 3 lakhs of rupees (Rs 300,000) were allotted for this work, and the project was given to Tanjavur University. The Editorial group chosen  for this work included Chu. Chellappan, Pa. Chidambaram, Chini Vishwanathan, T.N. Ramachandran, and T.V.S. Mani. The Editor of the book was Ma. Ra. Po. Gurusamy. The first edition of this book was published in 1987; the second in 1989; and the “corrected,” third edition appeared in 2001. As far as I am aware, no further editions have appeared since then.

I am deeply troubled by this book, which raises various, serious concerns. The sources for the Thanjavur edition include all of the questionable items that I have listed above. They were not the original publications, from Bharati’s own lifetime, Bharati Ashramam, Bharati Prachuralayam, or the first Government editions. As a result, poems of questionable authorship are included in this book, and appear alongside those which are certainly Bharati’s (the book is organized chronologically). Overall, there are about 50 such poems in the book.

The establishment of the text of Bharati’s poems, as it appears in this edition, also presents certain grave problems. The authoritative sources of Bharati’s poems are not given priority in the establishment of the text. Rather, these sources are indicated only in the footnotes to specific poems. For example, a given poem might be reprinted in the Tanjavur edition as it appeared in a journal (eg. Swadesamitran): the text would not be taken from Bharati’s own book publication, or from any of the authoritative publications brought out after his death. As the editor  of the Thanjavur edition says: “The first  version in which the work is published is the one that has been used. Even if Bharati himself has corrected it, those corrections are only indicated in the footnotes” (“Specialty of the Edition,” in the Front Matter of the Thanjavur Edition, 3rd edition 2001).

The editor also says that he has done this in order to give researchers the opportunity to read various versions of the poem, and “choose” whichever ones they think are “best.” He notes: “In order to accomplish this goal, it is sure that the edition will be helpful.”

…From the point of view of the rightful attribution of Bharati’s authorship, this is a nightmare! This attitude will only promote the proliferation of works wrongfully attributed to Bharati, and doubtful judgements about Bharati’s works. If we give researchers the opportunity to “select” versions of Bharati’s works, the original versions are likely to be lost. Each researcher will favor his or her own “findings.” In my opinion, this should absolutely not be allowed. It interferes fundamentally with the establishment of authenticity in Bharati’s texts. What is needed, is just the opposite: a “standard” version of Bharati’s works, based on accurate principles of establishing their authorship and authenticity. Otherwise, the publications are based on, and promote, the false attribution of works not by Bharati to him, and the persistence of words and phrases not approved by him – an inaccurate and shameful situation.  I find some of the poems “atrocious;” and I am absolutely sure that they harm Bharati’s  reputation.  Adding insult to injury, the text of the Thanjavur book is full of mistakes, so that Bharati’s poems are presented to the public flaunting wrong words and other lamentable errors.

The Standard Edition that I am currently publishing is very carefully based on publishing Bharati’s poems – only those poems that are written by him, and in the authoritative versions established by him or featured in the early editions of Bharati’s works that were published after his death. The guiding principles of my Standard Edition are those of moral rights – disclosure, attribution, and integrity. This approach is unprecedented in relation to Bharati-literature. And I believe that this may be the first time that an author or editor has ever adopted moral rights explicitly as the basis for an edition.

The reason that I have undertaken this elaborate work is to prevent any further mis-attribution of works to Bharati, or the publication of inauthentic versions of his works that may happen in the future. I am afraid that if we do not address this problem now, it is going to grow larger and larger as Bharati research grows; and will ultimately present Bharati to the world in a wrongful light.

The efforts of researchers who have sought out and published such questionable material – whether through over-enthusiasm, negligence, or without realizing the consequences – do not do any service to Bharati. Instead, they cause harm to his fame.

When the great Russian writer, Fyodor Dosteoevsky died, in 1881 – the year before  Bharati’s birth –  his funeral became a national and “historical event – thirty thousand people accompanied his coffin, seventy-two delegations carried wreaths, fifteen choirs took part in the procession.” (Pevear & Volokhonsky, translation of Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov (Farrar, Straus & Giroux, 1990), xii). Could the contrast with Bharati, the National Poet, the People’s Poet, the “Supreme Poet” (Mahakavi) of the Tamils, be greater?

“When Bharati’s body was taken to the Cremation ground, there were only 13 people in the procession” − laments the film, Bharati, a biopic of the poet’s life.

“A wonderful genius who is born once in several centuries ended up like this.  The Tamil world did not recognize that a Mahapurusha lived among them.  Only a few friends and intellectuals understood Bharati’s greatness” – A biographer expresses his feelings of despair when describing the end of Bharati’s life.

When Bharati died, Parali Su. Nellaiyappar, Lakshmana Iyer, Kuvalai Krishnamachari, and V. Harihara Sharma – two friends and two relatives – carried Bharati’s body to the Cremation ground.  The names of the others who followed the procession are not known, but they were probably Duraisamy Iyer, V. Chakkarai Chettiyar, Surendranath Arya, Mandayam Srinivasachari, S. Tirumalachari, and Nilakanta Brahmachari, about 10 people in all.

I am bothered by this outcry of the biographers and the people of Tamil Nadu that Bharati was not honored at his funeral by a large number of people, including those who were celebrated and well-known in society.  I want to deal with this important issue.

I can understand the feelings of Bharati-lovers, that there should have been hundreds of people at the funeral procession. Why not? Was he not the Mahakavi, a nationalist, and a great man?

The reason provided by Bharati’s younger daughter Shakuntala, in her book En Thanthai Bharati (Bharati, My Father), is that there was not enough time for friends or relatives to travel to Madras from other parts of South India. The people who could come to the funeral were those who lived locally, in Madras. A further consideration lies in the fact that, in those days, it was not customary to keep a dead body in Brahmin houses for an extended period.  In Triplicane, in a street where the Brahmin community lived, it was not possible to keep the body until all the friends and relatives could arrive from different places.  There was simply no time!

The practical considerations given by my aunt make sense.  But they leave some unanswered questions.  After all, Madras was the epicenter of British South India. Would there not have been many, many people – politicians, journalists, and the intellectual elite – living in Madras who knew about Bharati and his work?

This is a more troublesome issue. I believe that Bharati’s funeral procession reflected the prejudices of his society. In particular, why was Bharati neglected by the elite of his times?

As far as Bharati is concerned, everybody talks about the great “poverty” in which he lived (rather like James Joyce!). My grandmother, Chellamma, says in her book, Bharatiyar Charithiram:

“Sometimes, there was no rice to cook in the house.  Bharatiyar would be upstairs, immersed in discussions with his disciples. …. If we had four annas in our hands, we would buy some bananas and satisfy our hunger.  We would receive milk from the milk woman in advance, without payment. …We spent two or three months like this.”

Apparently Bharati did not even want to hear the word illai (“there is not”). There was a strict rule in the house that his family should not even mention the words, “There is no rice in the house.”  Instead, he said jokingly, “say Aharam Iharam,” to signify arisi illai.

Bharati talks about the miseries of poverty in his poem, Lakshmidevi Saranpuguthal.  What concerned him was the demoralizing nature of poverty: “the mind that hates even the Vedas, the demeaning behavior of the lowly, association with the unworthy, all the efforts that go to waste (like a lamp that is submerged in a well), gaining nothing even if you cross the ocean,” and so on.

But it is essential to remember why Bharati was “poor.” He was a man at odds with the government. He was a “Swadesi,” sought after by the British police and the government wherever he went; the publication of all his magazines and newspapers was stopped; all his writings were proscribed; all of his contributions were looked upon with suspicion. He was a writer, but the British said that it was illegal for him to publish anything. How could he earn a living?Whatever the reason, society’s attitude towards poverty is the same now as it was in Bharati’s times, or even before. It has never changed.  More than sympathy, poverty generates dislike, contempt, carelessness, and neglect.

This attitude was in evidence when Bharati met Mahatma Gandhi in Chennai.  Va.Ra. describes this memorable incident as follows:

“At the invitation of Kasturiranga Iyengar, the Mahatma came to Chennai to discuss the  Rowlett Committee’s Report. He stayed in Rajaji’s house. Gandhiji thought that the Report was not acceptable to any self-respecting human being; he wanted to take action against it.

The Mahatma was surrounded by a group of people. He was in the midst of a discussion about organizing a nation-wide satyagraha (passive resistance) demonstration as he thought that it was necessary to do so in order to accomplish his goal.

This group of people included the Madras elite personalities, such as Adi Narayana Chettiyar, Rangasamy Iyengar, Satyamurti, Rajaji, and Va. Ramasamy Iyengar.

Bharati came to see Gandhiji. He went straight to the Mahatma, and asked him if he would be able to preside over a meeting at the Marina beach, where Bharati would be giving a lecture that evening.  Gandhiji turned around and consulted with his secretary, Mahadev Desai, as to his program for that evening. As he was not free that evening, he asked Bharati whether he could postpone the meeting for another day. Bharati said “No, he couldn’t,” “blessed Gandhiji’s ‘new Movement,’” and left the group.

Note the treatment of Bharati by the elite group of people who were attending the meeting at Rajaji’s home in Chennai:

Not inviting Bharati for the meeting, whereas the rich and “important” were invited.

When Bharati entered, nobody introduced him to the Mahatma.  He had to thrust himself forward to the Mahatma to talk to him, interrupting the meeting.

Reasons?…

Because Bharati was poor?

Did they think that Bharati would behave inappropriately in the meeting, as members of the group thought he was a “crazy” man?

…Or, did they fear that Bharati’s intelligence and imagination would offer solutions for the problems that concerned the Mahatma? For this reason, would the Mahatma choose to include Bharati in his own circle and elevate him to a higher position?

If that were to happen, would their own power and position in society be affected?…

In her book, my aunt, Shakuntala, says that Bharati’s close friend Surendranath Arya gave a speech at the poet’s funeral, and that this speech resembled the famed speech given by Marc Antony in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar. I have always wondered why she compared Arya’s speech with Marc Antony’s.  Nobody has a record of Arya’s speech.  But, I wonder if the speech was cleverly presented, in the sense that he had to repeat certain facts, in order to clarify certain points, and yet avoid an open condemnation of certain facts, people, or experiences that happened in Bharati’s life!

Society never changes.  Time and again we make the same mistakes; we think in the same way; we act the same. We are greedy for money, position, and fame, without asking ourselves about our own talents and qualifications, our real entitlements.  Because of this, little opportunity is given to talented people to do good work.  They have to struggle and suffer in life, and attempt to rise up in the midst of ordinary talents.

It appears that it takes a long time for a genius to be recognized, understood, and appreciated.  The current situation in India is that the Government and other Organizations have a number of programs, awards of titles, grants, and other help to recognize and support talented persons. Unfortunately, by the time the work of a person is recognized, he or she might be dead and gone! Isn’t this the trend?

The current situation in Tamil Nadu is as follows: Titles and Awards are presented in the name of Bharati, on the stages that celebrate Bharati’s birthday, for example. Yet these awards often seem not to reflect real achievements or talent in research, writing, music, public speeches, or service in the dissemination of Bharati’s works.  It seems both parties, the “giver” and the “receiver,” gain popularity and other benefits from these arrangements. Bharati is simply forgotten here. Bharati would have called this kind of “recognition” “poi mathippu,” false praise.

With this background, I would like to present an article written by my late husband, Professor P. K. Sundararajan, entitled, “The Reputation of C. Subramania Bharati – 1921 to the Present.”

Professor Sundararajan was an English scholar who was trained in Canada as well as India.  He was both expert in the English language and literature, and knowledgeable about modern Tamil literature.  His reading was comprehensive, and he had read everything of significance that was written in Tamil over the past few decades.  He had close associations with distinguished writers, including Mouni, La. Sa. Ramamirtham,  Na. Parthasarathy, Ku. Azhagirisamy, T.N. Viswanatha Iyer (Shyama), A.S. Raghavan, Thriloka Sitaram, and so on.

In his Article, Sundararajan explores Bharati’s “reputation” − how Bharati was viewed and approached by his friends, acquaintances, and biographers. He discusses how Bharati’s “reputation” has been built from the time of the poet’s death, in 1921, to the present. He reviews the Bharati “phenomenon” that has developed in the past 25 years, and expresses his deep concern about the current situation in Tamil Nadu.

In her Preface to the Biography of Bharati, his daughter, Thangammal, writes:

“Bharatiar’s Biography needs no introduction.  He is known as the Mahakavi throughout our country.  But, just as he was not understood when he was alive, people continue to be uninformed about his life, even after his death.  Imaginary stories and mistaken notions about Bharati are often published in the newspapers and books.  People believe that these stories or notions are actually true.  .  .  . Whenever my mother (Chellamma Bharati) read such anecdotes, she was distressed and asked, ‘How am I going to communicate the truth about the Mahakavi’s life to the Tamils?’ ”

(The first Biography of Bharati, Bharatiar Charithiram , was dictated by Chellamma Bharati, the poet’s wife, to her daughter, Thangammal.) 

No wonder my grandmother was distressed. Her experiences with the poet were extraordinary, unique.  When such experiences were distorted and brought to a mundane level by others, she became naturally upset, and was concerned about the untrue image that was inadvertantly perpetuated by the people.

Leave alone some of the extraordinary experiences that Chellamma had with the poet; even the apparently “ordinary” incidents that occurred in the poet’s “everyday” life were far from ordinary. In fact, the “every day” incidents of Bharati’s life  were precious and deeply significant experiences that both reflected and shaped the history of the nation and the culture.

Fortunately, the somewhat inaccurate picture drawn by the people of their Mahakavi is balanced by his powerful poetry, which overcomes any false image of the poet.  But, as time goes by, I am afraid that the imaginary stories may grow so large that we become unable to  see the poet’s true self!

In my own life, I have come across untrue stories which are actually harmful to the poet’s memory and image.  A friend of mine, a colleague, described to me Bharati’s visit to her house to see her grandfather and have dinner with him.  Her grandfather was a friend of Bharati and an eminent scholar.

She recounted, “Bharati ate dinner in our house, and he enjoyed the meat served there.” I was simply shocked! Bharati was, of course, a vegetarian. Yet my friend told this tale with no hesitation, even to me, the granddaughter of the poet, who would be thoroughly familiar with the poet’s food habits and his belief in vegetarianism.

When Bharati scholarship was in its infancy, biographers of Bharati  carried out extensive research: they visited the places where Bharati lived,  took photographs of Bharati’s friends and acquaintances, conducted interviews with them, and wrote down the stories that they narrated. Such research was essential, as there was simply no better way to collect information about Bharati.

However, the trouble with this kind of research is that its reliability is not beyond question. Human memory fails, or, for any one of a myriad reasons, a story may be embellished in the re-telling. A researcher must carefully sort through material that is gathered in this way, and consider its significance. One cannot simply report  everything that is said without some attempt at verification or corroboration.  There is no doubt that the stories of eyewitnesses – their experiences with the poet, what they saw and heard – are valuable.  But not all of them are actually true. A few of the stories are told from memories which may have faded in due course; a few are purely imaginary.One has to undertake further research, to examine the integrity of the information that is collected in this pursuit.  And, indeed, as Bharati is greatly respected and loved by people, there is a tendency to build imaginary stories about the poet.  People would like to associate themselves with him, and talk about him in familiar terms, out of affection.

When biographers write an account of Bharati based on interview research, they should be aware of these facts and take them into consideration.  One simply cannot report such material verbatim.  The biographer should use his or her scholarly judgement and discretion..

In order to clarify the main events of Bharati’s life, remove misconceptions, and shed light on curious incidents such as the manner of the poet’s death, I  have prepared an Annotated Biography of Bharati: please click here for the PDF file.  This type of analysis has never before been applied to Bharati’s life.  The existing biographies generally offer a casual listing of the main events of Bharati’s life, in chronological order.  This Annotated Biography is based on extensive research on Bharati’s life that I have conducted over the past decade, in particular. The sources are Bharati’s autobiographical articles and poems, and other reliable resources.  The biography situates Bharati’s life in the context of each historical event that occurred in Bharati’s times, each incident in the national Freedom Movement, and his meeting and association with political leaders and great personalities.

Over the past decade, I have had the opportunity to attend and enjoy the December Music Season in Chennai on an annual basis. There are some truly great talents on today’s Carnatic stage, but many new challenges also face our musicians. In particular, there are a few issues that I would like to discuss, regarding Bharati’s poetry and music and how they are handled by musicians at this juncture.

I am a trained musician myself.  I started learning Carnatic music from the age of 8; beginning with a music teacher, I later continued to learn with giants like T. K. Rangachari and M. Dandapani Desikar.  I have sung Bharati songs on All India Radio Tiruchy and Chennai stations, and in countless gatherings of small and large audiences throughout the world.

In our family, my grandmother Chellamma, and my mother Thangammal, although not trained formally, were excellent singers.  I, my two elder sisters, and two brothers, were taught how to sing Bharati’s songs as Bharati composed and sang them himself.  Bharati’s songs were passed on through the generations, in a format that exemplifies  the oral tradition of learning from the guru that is traditional in our culture.  Bharati’s musical compositions were passed on by the poet-musician Bharati, himself, to our grandmother, to their children, and to the grandchildren, even up to the present generation.

My grandmother, who was a great critic, appreciated certain musicians highly. Not only were their renderings musically great, but the musicians also took care to maintain the integrity of Bharati’s poetry.  Bharati’s poetry was respected and there were no changes made to his words, no mishandling or mutilation of the original poetry.

Bharati’s musical compositions were guided by the same aesthetics that shaped his poetry. They show simplicity, great novelty, and innovation. He uses Carnatic and Hindustani ragas, but they are sometimes so cleverly disguised that they are impossible to identify!

Today, ideas have changed. There exists a notion that Bharati’s songs should be made more “Carnatic” in style,  for concert performance, as the kucheri audiences do not appreciate “simple” music such as the original melodies composed by Bharati.  For these and other reasons, some musicians believe that it is appropriate to change Bharati’s music to suit a Carnatic audience.

When Bharati, himself, sang his poems to his friends, or in public meetings, people appreciated his music, as well as his poetry, enormously.  His music was captivating, inspiring, fascinating, magnificent, and awe-inspiring.  Friends, such as V.O. Chidambaram Pillai, were fascinated by Bharati’s singing and would ask him to sing more and more. After hearing Bharati singing three of his national songs, V. Krishnaswamy Iyer, a staunch nationalist and leader of the moderate party in the Madras State, published those poems and distributed them to all the schools. V.V.S. Iyer, a great scholar and critic of Tamil literature, in his introduction to Bharati’s Kannan Pattu, writes:

As a member of the Bharati family, I have always found that, when we sing his songs in the original melodies, the public shows immense appreciation!

I can see the logic in the thinking of the musicians.  A few of these “forms” and “metres” are repetitive in nature.  Bharati’s focus was on the words, and for this reason, he sometimes sang the same melody for several stanzas which could be monotonous for the audience. But Bharati’s originals are truly captivating, charming, and attractive. They are not only appealing to the “common man”; they are also aesthetically pleasing.

But, I have an overwhelming concern, which is so important that it dwarfs everything else: the integrity of Bharati’s poetry.  Generally, the musicians pay more attention to the music than to the poetry – perhaps a professional hazard.  The words are glossed over quickly, while detailing and elaborating the music.  In the process, however, Bharati’s words are often “distorted, mutilated, or modified,” whether by mistake, by negligence, or, dare I say it, on purpose.

Why would anyone do these unimaginable things with a purpose? Let me explain:

These changes are, as I noted, deliberate. I can only suppose that they were made with the purpose of “improving” the rhythm for singing purposes. But they change the meaning of the words completely!

I am distressed to see that, more and more, these kinds of errors are creeping into the performance of Bharati’s poetry.

Apart from attitudes, I see another, underlying problem: there are actually no error free publications available, and musicians therefore have to depend on whatever editions of Bharati’s works that they find. It is possible, even likely, that the musicians are using editions that are NOT authentic, nor edited with care, taking words from them verbatim.

As far as Bharati’s poetry is concerned, I do not quite understand the attitude of certain Bharati scholars towards the preservation of national treasures such as Bharati’s poetry.  I had an unexpected encounter with a Bharati scholar.  In the course of conversation, I pointed out that many editions of Bharati’s works contain errors in typing or printing, sometimes due to negligence or carelessness.  I gave an example. In the publication of Bharati’s spiritual writing “Vedarishikalin Kavithai,” (Poems of the Veda-Rishis) a careless mistake occurred: the title was printed as “Vedarishikalin Kathai” (Stories of the Veda-Rishis). The scholar’s response was, “That could actually be correct.”  I was amazed to hear this remark, doubted whether he had read the spiritual piece at all, and wondered at his comprehension of Bharati.  If you had read “Vedarishikalin Kavithai” you would clearly see that Bharati was fascinated by the poetry of the vedic sages.

My edition work is perhaps the only literary work to be directly inspired by a legal principle. My daughter, a scholar, introduced me to the concept of an author’s “moral rights.”  I quote here an excerpt from Mira’s article which explains these essential principles:

“The expression, “moral rights,” is itself a somewhat awkward translation into English of the original term in French law, “droit moral.” The connotations of this French expression are quite different from its English equivalent, evoking rights of a “personal or spiritual” nature, above all.

The two main types of moral rights are the rights of attribution and integrity.  The right of attribution allows an author to assert authorship of his work, and to prevent another person from claiming authorship of his work. In addition, an author may prevent the attribution of works to him which he did not create.

The right of integrity allows the author to protest any distortion, mutilation, modification, or other treatment of his work which is, in the language of the Berne Convention, “prejudicial to his honour or reputation.”  In contrast to the highly specific right of attribution, the right of integrity is a broad right which allows authors to object to a wide range of practices – including editing, publishing, performance, and possibly exhibition – which may not be compatible with the intentions of the author.

In addition to these two types of moral rights, three other moral rights are recognized in some Continental jurisdictions, notably France. The right of disclosure or publication allows the author to decide whether his work is to be published or otherwise brought before the public, and how this should be done. The right of withdrawal allows an author to recall a published work from circulation on the grounds that it has ceased to represent his views.  Lastly, the right to prevent excessive or vexatious criticism is also a recognized moral right.”

These principles are recognized in countries the world over, including India. They are a legal expression of what matters most to literary scholars like myself – the preservation of literature, which is simply a form of truth.