Mahatma and the Mahakavi

On this day, October the 2nd, we celebrate the birth anniversary of the Mahatma. This brings to us the memory of our past – the struggle we went through, the miseries we tolerated – for more than a century under British rule. The memory is impossible to bear when we think of the enormous suffering of our leaders – physically, mentally and morally – individuals who sacrificed their lives to set us free from slavery and ill- treatment. Today, we can perhaps console ourselves with the thought that their struggle and sacrifice were worth it, as it succeeded in opening up a new future for the present and future generations, enriching our lives and making India one among the Nations of the world. Was it not the same goal that our ancestors had striven for and accomplished in our glorious past?

In their human characteristics, the Mahatma and the Mahakavi were astonishingly similar. Determination and perseverance in the pursuit of accomplishing their goals – imagination, creativity, and clarity of mind – truth and loving-kindness – were the striking qualities of these two extra-ordinary personalities. As true patriots, their Vision of the country, their ability to foresee its future, and their optimistic view of human life were alike. Both visualized India as the Mother Shakti and Her people as the children of God. Both were devout Hindus and whose faith in God was unshakeable. Their perception of creation, life, and humanity were based on the Advaitic principles, that all beings are the forms of God and, therefore, equal. Their treatment of Harijans and their rejection of caste prejudice were based on this Advaitic ideal.

Neither Bharati the Mahakavi, one of the greatest poets in the world, nor Gandhi the Mahatma, the great soul and peerless leader, was awarded the prestigious Nobel Prize.

What could be the reasons for this oversight? Perhaps in those days, Bharati as a Tamil poet, was unrecognized by the world; perhaps the world did not know either the language of his poetry or India’s greatness at the time that she was still a subject nation. With few exceptions, Bharati’s poems were not translated into English or other European languages.

On the other hand, a poet like Bharati, Rabindranath Tagore, the poet of Bengal, did gain the world’s recognition and was awarded the Nobel prize for literature in the year 1913. Tagore was well-known, not only in India, but also abroad. He had written a substantial volume of poetry, translated into English with the help of a powerful friend, W.B. Yeats. He traveled across continents on lecture tours, and, in fact, Bharati wrote about, and celebrated, Tagore’s remarkable trip to Japan.

Tagore lived a long life of 80 years; Bharati died when he was 39. Tagore was wealthy; Bharati lived in poverty for most of his life. While Bharati was totally involved in the Indian National Movement and lived all his life fighting for India’s freedom, Tagore, although he participated in the National Struggle, was largely involved in writing and traveling around the world, spreading India’s great culture.

The Mahatma had been nominated for the Nobel prize several times. In 1948, following his death, the Nobel Committee declined the award to the Mahatma on the ground that “there was no suitable living candidate that year.” Later, when the Committee awarded the Peace Prize in 1989 to the Dalai Lama, the members of the Committee expressed their regret for the omission of the Mahatma, and the Chairman said that the award was “in part a tribute to the memory of Mahatma Gandhi.”

Bharati and the Mahatma met once; it was an exceptional and memorable incident. Gandhiji visited Chennai and stayed in Rajaji’s house to discuss the Rowlett Committee’s Report. The Mahatma thought that the Report was not acceptable to any human being who had any self-respect. He wanted to take action against the Report, and sought to organise a nation-wide satyagraha (passive resistance) to oppose it.

The Meeting of the two is described by Va. Ra., (a disciple of Sri Aurobindo and Bharati) who was present when it happened:

[The] Mahatma was surrounded by a group of people . . . In this group, the elite personalities of Madras were present, such as Adi Narayana Chettiyar, Rangasamy Iyengar, Satyamurti, Rajaji, and Va. Ramasamy Iyengar.

Bharati came to Rajaji’s house to see the Mahatma. As soon as he entered, he went straight to Gandhiji where he was conducting the meeting. He asked him if he would be able to preside over a meeting at the Marina beach, where he was giving a lecture. Gandhiji turned around and consulted with his secretary Mahadev Desai as to the details of his program for that evening. It turned out that he was not free that evening, and he asked Bharati if he could postpone the meeting for another day. Bharati said that this would not be possible. He then “blessed” Gandhiji’s new Movement, and left the group.

Mahatma asked the group who the man was, and Rajaji answered, “He is a Tamil national poet.” Gandhiji remarked, “You should take good care of this man.”

Obviously, upon Bharati’s appearance, and witnessing his majestic behaviour, the Mahatma was immediately able to recognize the value of the Mahakavi and he was clearly concerned that it was important that he should be “taken care of.”

Why was Bharati not properly introduced to the Mahatma? The incident happened so quickly, and perhaps, there was not enough time. There was no other reason why Bharati should not have been introduced to the National leader.

For, Bharati was more than qualified to meet the Mahatma. First of all, he was a true Nationalist. He had attended the nationally organized Congress meetings in the North. All his life, he was a journalist and the editor of nationalist newspapers and magazines. Indeed, he was the first person to introduce “nationalism” to the people of Tamil Nadu. He had worked hard towards educating the people of the Tamil Land about the greatness of their own country and its age-long culture. He had taught them the value of freedom, and how it was important to live a life of dignity as an equal with all other human beings.

Why, then, was Bharati not included in the efforts of the Mahatma towards achieving their great, and shared, goal?

I am not seeking to awaken the old grievances at this time, after so many years. But, I think that Bharati’s intelligence and acuity in making political decisions could have helped the Mahatma, perhaps a great deal, if the “important” people would have given him the opportunity to meet the great leader.

The Mahatma’s insight, both spiritual and political, was true, in that Bharati was not exactly well taken care of in those days. It was not that people of his times did not recognize his value. On the contrary, India’s first Governor General Sri. C. Rajagopalachari was his friend; he had visited him at his house a couple of times, and enjoyed Bharati and Chellamma’s hospitality. He had read Bharati’s poetry, and commented on the man and his work in newspapers. Co-nationalists such as Sri Aurobindo, the great spiritualist and writer – V.V. Chidambaram Pillai, the Kappalottiya Tamizhan who launched a Swadeshi Steam Navigation Company against the British – G. Subramania Iyer, the founder and editor of the “Hindu” in Tamilnadu – V. Krishnasamy Iyer, a staunch Nationalist and leader of the “Moderate” party in Tamilnadu (Bharati belonged to the “extremist” party), and other patriots such as Subramania Siva, Surendranath Arya – all these individuals sought Bharati’s opinions and ideas on national matters. A few of the great leaders of the North, including his political Guru Bal Gangadhar Tilak – respected him. As a Nationalist and a poet, the Tamil-speaking public respected him enormously and loved his poetry and writings.

But, in spite of this wide recognition – why was he not in the front row along with the Mahatma and his circle?

As two Nationalists working towards one goal, there may have been a few natural differences between them in their approaches to unity and their methods of fighting the British. Indeed, Bharati was not always positive about the Mahatma’s methods in the Struggle. Some of the issues – such as voluntary submission, or the sacrifice of human lives at gunpoint and in the face of violence were difficult for him to accept. I am sure, that these methods were also difficult to accept for the Mahatma. But, in any case, these incidents happened in the history of the Freedom Movement. As a humanitarian, Bharati was anxious to avoid the loss of innocent lives. And Bharati examined and critiqued certain ideas of the Mahatma, including his approach to social issues such as widow re-marriage – Bharati elaborates on this in his own writing, providing statistical data to support his points.

At the same time, Bharati realized that, when a large scale “non-cooperation” movement is involved, mistakes can occur. As a result, the loss of human life was a possibility. Bharati was clear in his mind that Mahatma’s political scheme of satyagraha was an effective tool to use in this struggle; indeed, he came to believe that this was the only method that could be successful for the achievement of freedom for India. Applying this method carefully, it might be possible to protect human life and still be successful.

Bharati, sings of the glory of the Mahatma, who came to revive the down- trodden people of India who suffered under British rule. In his poem saluting the Mahatma, Mahatma Gandhi Panchagam (5 stanzas), Bharati compares him with the historical heroes of the Hindu scriptures: from the Ramayana War, Hanuman, who brought a medicinal herb from the Sanjivi mountains to alleviate the effects of the nagapasa and save the life of Lakshmana, the brother of Rama; and in the Bhagavatam, Krishna, who shielded the lives of people and cattle with the Govardhan giri (mountain), from lightning and thunder caused by the fury of Indra.

Bharati pays homage to Gandhi for creating a powerful strategy which was New and Simple, to treat the debilitating and cruel “disease” of foreign rule. He praises the Mahatma for introducing the basic principles of Advaita – the revelations of the Hindu thought that all beings are embodiments of God and, therefore, equal – into politics, which is filled with war, killing, and cruelty.

Bharati quotes Tagore in his poem Bharata Mata Navaratna Malai, “The Mahatma is the leader of the men of the world and he is the embodiment of dharma.”

He assured the people of India that they should follow the path shown by the Mahatma and be successful. He declared freedom and invited people to celebrate the victory: “Let us blow the conch to celebrate our success!”

 

 

Immortality (Sept. 11, 1921)

Just before his death, Bharati made a trip to Karungalpalayam near Erode. He had been invited to speak at the anniversary celebrations of the local library. The topic that he chose to address was a curious one: the possibilities of eternal life while living in this body. Following his trip, he wrote an article in Swadesamitran on August 4, 1921, describing his visit and transcribing parts of his speech on conquering death and gaining eternal life.

Death came to him within a month. Perhaps, being a great soul himself, he was unconsciously aware of what was going to happen to him. Perhaps he wanted to let the world know of his findings on the theory of immortality, and his new definition of the word.

The word “Immortal” means “living for ever (not mortal),” “divine,” “worthy of fame for all time,” “a person of enduring fame,” – says the dictionary. Bharati used such words as “Devan,”“Amaran,” “Amaranilai” to encompass a whole new concept, and one of unfathomable depth. It comprehends the timelessness and continuity of creation – the continuity of time which has neither beginning nor end – is essentially unchanging – and eternal in the widest sense of the word. It is more than what the dictionary specifies as eternal – that a person’s name and fame last forever.

Nor is Bharati’s concept in the immortality of Hindu thought, which is clearly explained in the Bhagavad Gita as the “eternal” existence of the soul (atman). In “Sankya Yoga,” Bhagvan says to Arjuna:

Atma lives for ever; it is indestructible; it is immeasurable. Even so, they say that its ‘forms’ have an ending.”(Ch. 2; slokam 18)

“It is not born, nor does it die at any time. . . when the body dies, it is not killed.”  (Ch. 2; slokam 20)      

“Like discarding old clothes and wearing new clothes, the atma discards worn-out bodies and takes new ‘forms.’ ” (Ch. 2; slokam 22)

But Bharati, in his Introduction to Bhagavad Gita, takes Sri Krishna’s advice, “the brave hero who treats joy and sorrow equally does not deserve to die,” (Ch. 2; slokam 15) and explains that the essence of the Gita is, “eternal life – to live eternally in the body like Markandeya.”

He further insists: “Immortality; this is the secret of the Vedas.”

Bharati was fascinated by the concept that the limitlessness of “time,” which is infinite, could be captured in the physical body of the human being. He thought it was possible to accomplish that possibility in human life. His in-depth studies of the Vedas and other religious scriptures – his associations with the Siddhas in Pondicherry – and the findings of the great scientist Jagdish Chandra Bose – made him believe in this theory, and he dedicated his life to investigating the possibilities of living forever in the physical body. These concerns preoccupied him throughout his life.

One day, Bharati heard a beggar walking in the street and singing a song:

“The breath that stays regular and constant in sleep, may turn its course and never come back”

Bharati’s immediate reaction was one of intense concern:

“If the body is so unreliable as this, how can anyone begin anything great in one’s life and complete it in one’s life-time? We must accomplish a great deal in life: we need to acquire knowledge – we need strength of heart – we need education, fame, and wealth. . . we need to live a happy life. We have great desires in our hearts. To fulfill them, we need to establish a strong foundation and build them over a period of time. . . But, we need to wait for the ripeness of time to do this. If the next minute is uncertain, what can we possibly achieve?” (Bharati’s Essay: “Amirdham Theduthal”)

In my mind, considering myself a relatively ignorant person, not knowing anything much about matters related to spirituality, the following question arises: Did my grandfather not know about the realities of life? Was he not aware of the inevitability of death? How could he have the idea of conquering death and becoming immortal in the body? Especially when he had seen his mother die when he was five, and his father die when he was fifteen, witnessed these deaths with his own eyes. He knew that our ancestors had lived and died, that their bodies were buried, that their ashes were dispersed throughout the soil. He knew that human history had proved that all living beings, human and non-human, were mortals. In Hindu thought, there is supposed to be a three-fold process of creation (beginning), protection (existence), and destruction (the end) of the world itself; three “eras” occupied a specific, pre-determined time frame, and all existed. An ending of all creation would inevitably happen at the end of kali yuga – on schedule.

Then, how could Bharati sing,

“Oh, Yama, I consider you a slender blade of grass, just come close to my foot, I will push you a little”?(Bharati’s Poem: “Kalanukku uraitthal)

Yet Bharati, in his essay, “There is No Death for Man” (Manidarukku Maranamillai), notes that his convictions were totally agreed upon and approved by the scholars in the meeting at Karungalpalayam.

“I only know one thing . . . that is, men can live eternally without encountering death. . . I proved this theory with supporting evidence: the Vedas and Puranas, religious scriptures, European scientific findings, and from the conclusions of the great scientist Jagdish Chandra Bose.” (Bharati’s Essay: “Manidarukku Maranamillai,”

Of course, what gave him the conviction to say this, were the stories of Markandeya, Prahlada and the helpless elephant who was caught by the crocodile. And he had read the experiences of the Vedic rishis, Siddhas in Pondicherry, who were believed to be living deathlessly in forests, mountains and caves, especially Kullachamy, who showed him immortality (amara thanmai); and the new findings of the scientist Jagdish Chandra Bose.

Bharati raised an interesting question:

“It is possible to control the body; is it possible to control life (uyir)?”

He also provided an answer:

“Control the body; you could control life.

Control life; you could control the mind.

Control mind; you could control Shakti.”

He explained this further with an example:

“There is a cotton pillow in front of me.

It has got a shape – a standard ‘form’ (niyamam).

Shakti is keeping it in its form, protecting it from behind – without destruction.

The same pillow can be protected as long as the human race exists.

If the pillow is renewed every now and then, Shakti will remain in the

shape of the pillow.

If it is not renewed, its shape will change.

A dirty, torn, old pillow – remove the cotton from inside and put it in a new case; throw away the old case.

Now, the “form” is destroyed.

If the form is protected, Shakti will be living in the form.” [Bharati: Katchi, 2. Shakti (5)]

Bharati emphasizes here the importance of maintaining the body by which controlling the mind and capturing the soul (atma) in the body is possible. The temple of Shakti, the body – is destroyed only when it is not protected from the clasps of demons (asuras : ignorance, fear, sorrow, sickness, doubts, worries, ego etc).

In Bharati’s drama Viduthalai – the devas assemble together and discuss the problems of the mankind, and try to resolve them; the Brahma had ordained that this be done; the devastating situation on earth must be changed and the strings that tie the humanity be untangled.

The drama takes place in the Heavens, and the time of action is the end of kali yuga, and the characters are Indra, Vayu, Agni, Light (the Sun) and a few other powers.

The devas are determined to destroy demons and “free” humanity from their suffering. They decide: “let us find someone on earth and assign this task to him; we will give him our powers and he will deliver the humanity from danger and destruction.”

The divine powers found the “deserving” person named Vasupati on earth, in the land of Bharat, in the Pandya kingdom and was born in the Brahmin class, which was void of dharmas.

Vayu gave him “life” (uyir);

Indra gave him strength in mind;

The Sun gave him light in his intelligence. (Bharati: Katchi, 6. Viduthali)

The man was, Bharati!

He writes in his Journal of Thoughts, the “mantras on the plane of Self”:

“I am God, I am God, I am God. I am Immortal. The hours may pass, the days may roll, the seasons change, and the years die away, but I change not. I am firm, fixed, ever alive, ever real, ever happy. I do believe in all this, for I know all this to be true. I know myself to be Immortal, because I am God.”

“I shall not die. I have no Death. No, not even this body shall know death. How can my body die, when it knows no illness? How can it die, when it is ever recuperated, ever refreshed, ever quickened by the deathless Me? How can it die, when I am God? Do the Gods die? They do not.”

“And I am a Sada-Nishta (a mystic). Hence I cannot conceive of Death. I can only think of an endless joy, the joy of existence. And this joy is mine for ever and ever.” (Bharati’s English Writings: “Bharati’s Journal, Thoughts”)

 

 

The Legacy Continues . . .

It was 1920. Just about a year and a half earlier, Bharati had been released from the Cuddalore jail. He had been living in Pondicherry, a French territory, for 10 years or so – a life of seclusion and imprisonment – where all his efforts at running a magazine called “India,” in which he promoted his ideas of India’s freedom and sought to educate the British Government and public about India’s needs – were curtailed.

Longing for freedom, he suffered mental agony in the last years of his life in Pondicherry. He knew that, if he did return to British territory, he would be arrested and put in jail. But his agony finally reached a point when Bharati, in disregard of the probable consequences, simply decided that he had to leave Pondicherry and move back to British India.

And indeed, immediately upon his re-entry into British territory, Bharati was caught and imprisoned. This was how the poet of Freedom ended up in Cuddalore jail.

After twenty days, with the help of his friends, Bharati was released; he had signed an agreement with  the British that “in the future, he would not publish any of his works, without showing them to the Police Deputy Inspector General.”

Upon his release, Bharati went to Kadayam, the birthplace of his wife Chellamma. It was a beautiful place that well suited his poetic nature. But, as soon as he arrived there, he realized how much he had to do: first of all, his first duty was to work towards the freedom of India. And yet, his hands were tied; he had been compelled to sign that absurd contract with the British authorities. How was he going to accomplish his goal? Not only there was no possibility of publishing anything through the newspapers or journals, but he was also living in a small village which was far away from the activities of the nation. Most importantly, he had no means of publishing the works which he had written over the past decade in Pondicherry.

Bharati became restless: the creative products of those ten years of labour– the gems of his writings – were sitting in a trunk; they were going to waste without reaching the public. Bharati sorted out all of his works into 40 parts, and he thought that the solution might be to publish them in the form of small books. But, how could he publish them without money? He decided to write a letter to his friends, seeking their support in this important endeavour.

On June 28, 1920, almost exactly 94 years ago, Bharati sent a letter in the form of a circular to all his friends. It was written in English, and read as follows:

“All my manuscripts – the accumulated labour of my 12 years’ exile – have arrived here from Pondicherry. They are to be divided into 40 separate books; of each book I print 10,000 copies for the first edition. This work will cost me an initial outlay of Rs. 20,000. And, within one year, or at the most, two years from the date of publication, I shall certainly be able to get a net profit of a lac and a half rupees.

“Most of the works which I have now selected for publication are prose-stories, sensational and, at the same time, classical: very easy, lucid, clear, luminous and all but too popular in style and diction and, at the same time, chaste, pure, correct, epic and time-defying. The fact and (2) the ever-growing increase of Tamil-reading men, women and children in the Tamil land and the Tamil world overseas; (3) the historic necessity of my works for the uplift of the Tamil land which, again, is a sheer necessity of the inevitable, imminent and Heaven-ordained Revival of the East; (4) the novel and American-like improvements which I propose to make in the printing, binding and get-up of my editions-which, aided by the beautiful and suitable pictures illustrating the interesting events occurring in the stories, will make them a tremendous attraction to our public and such a wondrous surprise; (5) the comparatively low prices of my books; for I am going to sell my prose-works uniformly at eight annas a copy and my poems at, so far as possible, four annas a copy; and (6) my high reputation and unrivalled popularity in the Tamil-reading world due to my past publications – all these are bound, most evidently, to make my sales a prodigious success.

“Please send whatever you can, send as loan towards the printing expenses. I expect from you at least Rs. 100. Kindly induce at least twenty more of your friends to lend me similar and much larger sums, if possible.

“I shall give stamped ‘Pro’ notes for the sums I receive from you and your friends, paying the generous interest of 2% per month, in view of my large profits. Expecting very eagerly, your kind reply and scores of money orders from your side and praying to God to grant you a long and joyous life.

“I remain,

“Yours faithfully,

“C. Subramania Bharati”

A wise business planning indeed, well thought through from start to end; an honest, intelligent way to get his work done.

And yet, no one replied!

As my daughter Mira Sundara Rajan, reiterates in her article about her great-grandfather’s letter:

“. . . In this letter, Bharati argues that the publication of his works would respond to ‘the historic necessity … for the uplift of the Tamil land which … is a sheer necessity of the inevitable, imminent and Heaven-ordained Revival of the East.’ . . . He expected his “high reputation and unrivalled popularity in the Tamil-reading world “to generate a large volume of sales.”

Mira further explains what happened to Bharati’s project of publishing his books:

“Unfortunately, Bharati’s efforts to publish a definitive edition of his works did not bear fruit during his lifetime. After his death, the project was taken up by his widow, Chellamma. Chellamma published notices to the public in several Tamil magazines. In these notices, she stated that she was going to establish a printing press to publish Bharati’s works, and she sought the help of the public in her undertaking.

“Chellamma, with the help of her brother, established a publishing company called Bharati Ashramam in Madras. She advised the public that she intended to publish twelve books. The first volume appeared in January of 1922, and included ninety “National Poems,” patriotic songs in the cause of Indian independence and cultural revival. Chellamma wrote a preface to this volume. She expressed her ultimate intention to publish all of Bharati’s works, and to bequeath these publications to the people of Tamil Nadu as public property upon her death. Bharati Ashramam brought out five volumes. However, Chellamma’s personal commitments prevented her from fully realizing her goal of bringing out a complete edition of her husband’s works.

“In 1924, another publishing company, Bharati Prachuralayam, was formed by Bharati’s brother, C Viswanathan, his son-in-law, and one of his friends. While Chellamma retained the copyright in Bharati’s works, Bharati Prachuralayam went on to publish almost all of his writings. In 1931, the company purchased Bharati’s copyright from Chellamma for what can only be called the ‘astoundingly small sum’ of four thousand rupees.

“When two of the partners in the Bharati Prachuralayam eventually withdrew from the company, the copyright in Bharati’s works became the property of his brother. In 1949, the copyright was purchased from Viswanathan by the government of Madras. Interestingly, the government also paid Chellamma and Bharati’s two daughters five thousand rupees each at this time.

“The government began to publish Bharati’s works in 1950. It established a publishing committee to oversee publication. The committee was composed of the members of Bharati Prachuralayam, as well as two leading post-Bharati poets. This committee attempted to establish definitive texts based on Bharati’s manuscripts and earlier published versions of his works. Any doubts as to content were primarily resolved by incorporating suitable additions at the discretion of the most literary members of the committee.

“The copyright in Bharati’s works was made public by the government of Tamil Nadu state in 1954. From this time onwards, anyone in India was free to undertake publication of Bharati’s works. Members of the public were to enjoy complete freedom to publish. Subsequent publishers of Bharati would not be required to pay a copyright fee, or to submit their editions to the government or any other agency for approval.

THE CURRENT SITUATION

“Over the past seventy-five years, numerous editions of Bharati’s poetry have appeared. His works have been translated extensively, and both his works and his own personality have been featured in a number of films. However, the expansion of public access to Bharati’s works has been matched by a decline in the quality of publication, from both technical and critical points of view. . . .

“The problems that have accumulated over the years in the publication of Bharati’s works include careless printing that incorporates both typographical and interpretative errors into the final texts; false attribution of the works of other poets to Bharati; inaccurate and inappropriate translations; misleading representations of the poet’s personality; and erroneous statements about his life and works. A simple example is the routine misspelling of Bharati’s name – strange when we consider that Bharati was quite particular about the way his name was written in Latin letters. . .”

This situation actually led Mira to become interested in authors’ rights for the first time. As a legal scholar, deeply disturbed by what has happened, she asks:

“How can such problems be resolved legally? Copyright law should provide a framework for regulating both the dissemination of literature and the integrity of literary works. The pursuit of one goal at the expense of the other – in this case, widespread dissemination and minimal concern about integrity – can only result in the impoverishment of cultural heritage as a whole.”

After 93 years, I now find myself in a situation that is very similar to my grandfather’s. While I am proud of my legacy, I am also concerned that this cultural heritage in the form of literary treasures is not being protected as it should be – not by myself, nor by the government or anyone else. But our intention is to do so. Just as we take steps to protect our monumental treasures, such as the Taj Mahal, the Ellora  caves or the Mahabalipuram temples – we should undoubtedly seek to protect and preserve Bharati-literature, and, if we possibly can, to maintain this literary inheritance without allowing deterioration of any kind.

The legacy – the name, the relationship, the property itself which became public in due course – continues. What my grandfather handed down to me – and, of course, to the world – is precious; it is extraordinary,  special – a gift that God has ordained that I, a little person, as his granddaughter should be given!

When I inherited my legacy, I also inherited a few of his own problems – maybe of a different kind, yet similar. Just as Bharati had problems in publishing his Works, for certain reasons, I also encountered problems in the publishing industry, for certain other reasons!

My grandfather had to face the British Empire. And, as a result, he had to face poverty and oppression throughout his life.

In my grandmother’s case, the poverty continued . . . After the demise of her young husband, a still  younger woman of thirty two, with the responsibility of a daughter who had to be married – living in a village which was oppressive – Chellamma was left alone to live her life without any concrete help. She had no education, and no experience in the publishing industry. It was amazing that she had a great and profound understanding of Bharati’s poetry, and nothing short of a miracle that she managed to publish some part of Bharati’s editions successfully after his death!

In the second generation came Bharati’s daughters. His elder daughter, Thangammal, herself became a writer, and published, among other works, a number of articles and books where she wrote about her father and her experiences with him. She spoke to the Tamil public, in India, and attracted huge crowds who came to listen to her in Malaysia and Singapore; his younger daughter Sakuntala, wrote a memoir on her father and spoke to tamil audiences as well.

In the third generation, his granddaughter, myself, undertook, for the first time, scholarly research on his Works, wrote a number of books on his life and poetry, taught Tamil and Bharati literature in various universities around the world, and travelled to many countries to speak about Bharati, his life and literature, to large audiences.

In the fourth generation, a study of Bharati’s English Writings has been undertaken by his great-granddaughter, my daughter, Mira Sundara Rajan; this book (co-edited by myself) is waiting to be published at the desk of an eminent publisher; and a book of translation of Bharati’s poems into English is on her agenda. Mira has been speaking to international audiences about her great-grandfather for the past decade or so.

Now, my goal is to produce STANDARD, DEFINITIVE editions of Bharati’s works. All of Bharati’s poetry is divided into 4 volumes, and my goal, based on my grandfather’s own plan, is to produce:

-       a high quality work that will be the basis for future publications to conform to,

-       publications that will show Bharati’s Works as true “classics,”

-       publications that would be totally error-free, authentic, authoritative,

-       editions that are based on recognized principles of the author’s moral rights, and,

-       books that are reasonably priced, so that the general public will be able to have easy access  to     Bharati-literature.

In the past ten years or so, as far as publishing goes, I encountered great difficulty in accomplishing these goals. There was no cooperation whatsoever from the publishing industry in India. The legacy continued – from my grandfather to myself – in trying to publish his Writings, the cultural and literary treasure of India, challenges were everywhere.

But now, the time has come!

With the advent of modern technology, I am almost ready to publish the four volumes of Bharati’s poetry: 1. Desiyam, 2. Deivam-Thathuvam, 3. Kannan Pattu, Panchali Sabatham, Kuyil Pattu, 4. Bharati’s Autobiographical and other poems of Love, Nature, Vazhtthu and Katchi – all at the same time, followed by his prose-works. With the click of a button, the public can have access to these books via the most modern providers of literature online.

I will let you know as soon as these books are ready to order. There have been innumerable inquiries on my blog as to the availability of Bharati’s works… for which I am delighted to offer this reply, which I could not offer before. I firmly believe that the intervention of my grandfather, and his own determination to see his Works published, after nearly a century, will now make the inevitable possible, and a wonderful reality!

S. Vijaya Bharati

 

 

 

Bharati, the “Romantic /Mystic”

 “Moonru Kaadal”

I have always been fascinated by my grandfather’s poem “Moonru Kaadal” (“The Three Loves”)   – from a young age, even before I started reading Bharati for my PhD at Annamalai University in Chidambaram.

My admiration of the poem originated from listening to my mother singing this song beautifully, in her melodious voice, exactly the way that her father had sung it and taught it to her. Bharati himself composed the music for the song: three ragas for the three parts of the poem – the first part, his love for Saraswati, the Goddess of Knowledge in raga Saraswati Manohari, the second, his love for Lakshmi the Goddess of Wealth in Sriragam, and the third, his love for Kaali in Punnagavarali. Clearly, he set the first two ragas bearing the names of the Goddesses with a specific purpose in mind.  Punnagavarali, the last one, was quite exceptional, bringing in the depth of his unusual experience with Kaali. When my mother sang, as a young, musically inclined person, I would be melting to hear her singing with great intensity of emotion and wonderment in her voice.

I simply couldn’t explain what it was that attracted me to this poem. I didn’t have enough life experience or experience reading poetry to understand. Even later, after I had read and studied Bharati, I still couldn’t understand the magical hold of the poem on me. I was unable to sort out the emotions I felt or understand what the poem conveyed.

The poem is autobiographical; it elucidates how Bharati’s personality developed at various stages in his life. As a young boy, he fell in love with Saraswati, the Goddess of knowledge; as he grew older he developed a passionate love for Lakshmi, the Goddess of wealth. He was absorbed totally with his first love – thinking and dreaming about her all day and all night – until he was twenty-two, an age that could be full of imagination and dreams of a special kind. At this stage, he again fell in love with another beautiful maiden called Lakshmi; he was fascinated by the beauty and richness of the wealth around him.

The poem starts with the phrase “at a young age” (pillai pirayatile). This reminds me of an anecdote that my mother wrote in her book “Pillai Pirayatile” (Thangammal Bharati Padaippugal), about her experiences with her father at a young age. She narrates:

“A friend who came to visit Bharati casually asked him, “What would be your age?”

Bharati replied, “I am five years old.”

The friend was shocked, but somehow collected himself and asked, “Are you forty -five or so?”

Bharati repeated that he was “five years old.”

The friend’s face expressed surprise. At that time, Chellamma was passing by; Bharati pointed to her and said, “I am five years old; and she is two and a half years old.”

The friend decided to change his line of inquiry. He asked, “What do you think my age would be?”

Without hesitation Bharati replied, “You would be seventy-five years old.”

The friend was under thirty years old, and he was annoyed to hear Bharati’s assessment.

But, finally, Bharati explained: “Dear brother, don’t be annoyed. At the age of twenty=two, you are wearing heavy, thick glasses – one for reading, and one for normal seeing; your back refuses to sit without leaning on a support; your legs are unsteady when you walk.  With all these debilities, one would think that you are seventy- five.”

The friend was ashamed. After a while, he said, “You are right. I have been noticing that you move around happily like a five year old; your wife is running around to serve you. I am so amazed to see you both. I will also try to be like a child.”

Bharati laughed and said, “You must understand that when I said one should be like a child, I didn’t mean that you should drink mother’s milk or cry like a child. What I meant was that you should develop the heart of a child – a mind that is uncluttered and happy, and rid of all the debris associated with adulthood.”

Thangammal concluded by saying that she understood what her father meant: one would have to have determination and practice in order to maintain a young mind. She could never forget the days that she spent with her father; those were the best days of her life.

As a young boy, Bharati played joyfully in the streets of Ettayapuram, in spite of his father’s “order” that he should pay attention to his school work. Indeed, in his autobiography, “Kanavu” (“Dream”), Bharati laments that he could not enjoy childhood as much as he would have liked to; while the other boys were running around in the streets, swimming in the river and pools, and climbing  the trees,  he was unable to participate in their activities. His father insisted that he should not “waste” his time with the other boys.

But soon, Bharati realized that something was happening to him: a sudden awakening of the youth blossoming within him, he found himself in love with a beautiful maiden. The experience was totally new, unique, captivating, and wonderful for him!

The maiden was none other than Saraswati herself – she who sits on the white lotus flower with a veena in her hands – the Goddess Herself, whose face emanates wisdom.

“She stood at the corner of the street holding yedu[1] in her hands and reading a verse. When I eagerly approached her, she spoke words of wisdom and made me happy. When I said, “Let us make love,” she disappeared with a smile flashing at the corner of her eyes.

“While I was sitting on the steps of the manadapam by the river enjoying the Southern breeze, she brought me a poem. With my heart overflowing with joy, I accepted it and asked her to marry me; with a smile on her lips, she disappeared yet again.”

An unquenchable desire burning in his soul, the poet became dysfunctional –  thinking about her all day, and dreaming about her all night.

At the age of twenty-two, the poet encountered another experience similar to the one that he had had before:

“A beautiful damsel came and stood in front of me in the garden; looking at her luminous face, I lost myself entirely. She said that her name was Chentiru; since then, I have been haunted with the desire to embrace her to my heart’s content.

“She smiled at me, and the whole day became bright and happy.

As she stood before me and looked at me, I felt dizzy with intoxication. And, for some reason, she would find fault with me, ignore and leave me; my heart would be broken into pieces.

“She would reappear in forest ways, in mountains, and in waterfalls; in the countryside, in towns with bright buildings.

She would be seen in hunters, heroes and kings.

And I would be the happiest to see her in all things that are beautiful around me.”

In these two experiences, the poet encountered what was “romantic” in the true sense of the word. They were “new, unique, captivating and wonderful” –  the divine descended to earth to participate in the poet’s life, and to fulfill the aspirations of his heart and mind. The deities who would normally be on a pedestal to be worshipped by men became the beloveds of the poet who enriched his life, enabling him to perceive the Truth and Beauty of creation before his very eyes.

Bharati’s unusual experiences with the deities appear to me to be “romantic,” in the true sense of the term. As such, they may be compared with the experiences of the “Romantic” poets of the West. The lyrical ballads of Wordsworth and Coleridge, the poems of Shelley and Keats, expressed a new perspective on life and Nature which stood distinct from earlier classics. They portrayed an idealistic view of nature and the workings of the human heart, overflowing with spontaneity, great power, and inspiration. Visionary experiences of love, too, appear in the poems of the Romantics,  though in a different cultural context.

Romanticism was an idealistic movement; and one of the fundamental ideals that it represented was the importance of human individuality.  The foundation of Romanticism is the true development of the individual nature, which depends on the thinking, culture, country, and forms of artistic expression available to any given individual. The expression of the Romantic spirit varied greatly among individual poets. For example, the Romantic experience of Wordsworth was different from that of Shelley or Keats, while still sharing some essential commonalities of spirit. Wordsworth’s poetry depicted a romantic vision of Nature; the “free spirit” was predominant in Shelley’s poetry, while Keats was exquisitely devoted to Beauty and (for him, the same thing) Truth.

In Bharati’s case, his genius longed passionately for freedom – freedom of the human spirit and everything needed for its glorious fulfilment, of life and of creation. He called himself “Shelley-Dasan” (his pen name) to express his admiration for Shelley; at the same time, like Keats, he also pursued Truth and Beauty as ideals of creation. Bharati was a true Romantic in the sense that he introduced the perfume of Romanticism into the age-long Tamil tradition, and was followed in this path by a new generation of artists and poets inspired by him. His ultimate goal was to build an ideal society, a place where equality and freedom could exist in all aspects of life.

He was a revolutionary, in the true sense of the word. His perception of the world and creation was based on love – an advaitic principle – and freedom of the spirit – whether that meant national freedom, philosophical ideals, or social issues such as womens’ freedom, caste, religious differences, language, arts, and literature.

In nationalism, for example, his vision of India as the Bharata-land virtually amounted to a divinely revealed vision. Bharata-Shakti was the Goddess Parvati Herself, the daughter of Himavan, the wife of Shiva, and the sister of Mahavishnu. Yet, his vision was new – the Shakti that he saw had thirty crores of faces animated with one “life”– she had sixty crores of arms with which she performed dharmas (arangal nadathuval) – she spoke eighteen languages with one common ideal – and she displayed the contrasting characteristics of Parvati and Kali – loving and compassionate on the one hand, and inexorably destructive of evil on the other.

Romantic love, a focus of both individuality and idealism, has a special place in the spirit of Romanticism.

Looking at Bharati from this point of view, Romanticism, as expressed in his poetry, differs greatly from the age-long Tamil tradition.

The Sangam poets (600 BCE to 300 CE) divided life into two basic themes – love and heroism (agam and puram). These two concepts were split into many divisions, according to the varied landscapes and life-styles of the people. They wrote about love and heroism in the minutest detail, representing their attitudes towards these ideals, and how they perceived human experience. All Sangam poetry was “Classic,” in the sense that it was written under specific constraints regarding form, content, imagination, ideas, and even emotions.

The Alwars, the Vaishnava Saint-poets of the 6th to 9th centuries AD, come next in the history of Tamil literature. For the Alwars, the pursuit of God through the most intense emotional commitment was the goal. The Alwars “pursued, embraced, sang with . . . exultant passion of [the] intimate realization” of God, the Lover. “It would seem as if this passionate human symbol were the natural culminating point for the mounting flame of the soul’s devotion.” The poetry of Nammalwar and Andal, the modern poetry of Rabindranath Tagore (Gitanjali), and the 14th century love songs of Mira Bai express this devotion, “sung out by the rapt heart of a woman to the heart of the universe.”

The depth of love and devotion of the human soul longing to become one with the Great Soul, is expressed in the legends of the Gopikas as depicted in Bhagavatam. The expression seems “Romantic.” But in the context of Indian tradition, this “love” may be classified as bhakti, devotion, rather than “romantic.” In perceiving and approaching God, it is never entirely possible to transcend the distance between the human and the divine. The Alwars’ relationship with God – their admiration, devotion and wonderment at God’s qualities (gunas) – experienced by them from the angle of the beloved – is simply not as close as it would be in a romantic experience.

Bharati’s approach is quite different from the Alwars’. His experiences with the Goddesses Saraswati and Lakshmi  in “Moonru Kaadal” – and, indeed, his approach to Krishna as the Lover and the Beloved in his Kannan-Love Songs – are the most intimate and close imaginable. The Poet’s love affairs with Saraswati and Lakshmi are “aesthetic,” “imaginative,” “emotional,” and “visionary.” The prevailing sense of “wonder” and “mystery” in the heart of the poet was typically Romantic.

But, to return to Bharati’s poem, the third experience that the poet encountered, and described in “Moonru Kaadhal,” was quite different from his  previous experiences with Saraswati and Lakshmi.

One night, a “Black Beauty” appeared before the poet. Intoxicated by the very idea that this was another young woman like the other two, the poet approached her with great excitement.

But, ah! The Poet was in for a surprise. This “Black Beauty” was not a maiden as he had imagined; she was someone else altogether. She was the Mother of the universe, Adi Parashakti Devi – who permeates Nature (prakriti) and moves the world around day and night with her finger!

At this juncture, I have to say that words don’t come to me easily to describe the Poet’s experience. This is far from my imagination, my reach, or my intellectual capacity. But … I will try…

It is clear, at least, that this experience of Bharati’s was a “mystical” experience, and far beyond the range of normal human experience. This experience could not have been attained by imagination, intellect or any other inner faculties of the human soul. It was simply given – received as a direct communication from above. It was deeply religious, and so intimate that it could not be sorted out or explained in words.

A mystical experience such as this does not ordinarily happen to any human being. First of all, the person would have to be deserving, and would have to be ready, equipped, and mature, in order to discern the vision. Just as Lord Krishna chose Arjuna to reveal his Visvarupa (the infinitesimal aspects of the Great Soul) – the poet was chosen to have the dharsan of Mahashakti.

This vision of Shakti and Her benevolence would enrich the human soul with wisdom. The Poet’s mind would be clear; he would be able to capture the whole world in his hands; all good things and the treasures of the world would come to him without asking, as a matter of course!

If the first two experiences described in Bharati’s poem could be called “Romantic,” this last one surely deserves to be described as “Mystical.” And here, Bharati resembles the mystic poets and devotees of the West – William Blake, who saw the soul of his dead brother “ascend heavenward clapping its hands for joy” – Henry Vaughan, who speaks of the “deep but dazzling darkness” in God. But Bharati is something very special – a Poet who combines the Romantic and Mystical into a single poetic vision. As such, he is an expansion of the marvelous Indian culture that preceded him – a brilliant synthesis of historical currents into a single mighty channel.


[1] A thick leaf from the palm tree, dried and cut-out, which was used to write on with a sharp tip, centuries ago.

“Andal, the Vaishnava Poetess” – Essay from Bharati’s English Writings

supra

supra

“Om Namo Narayanaya” – September 11, 1921

Today, the 11th of September 2013, is the death anniversary of C. Subramania Bharati (1882-1921). It is a religious observance in our custom to celebrate the death anniversary of our ancestors. I would like to dedicate to my grandfather, the last chapter from my book Amaran Kathai, a biographical novel about his life, as a tribute to his memory. I believe that nothing could be more appropriate than offering him my appreciation in this way.

Amaran Kathai is a novel based on Bharati’s life, and presented against the historical background of the Indian Freedom Movement, which he helped to ignite in South India. I would say that the novel is actually more of a biography than a novel, in the sense that it is more factual than imaginary. Most of the important events in Bharati’s life that are described in this novel – political, social, and personal –are factual, recounted with a touch of the imagination of the artist.

The genesis of this novel is an interesting story. Having written short biographical works on Bharati before, I wanted to write a truly detailed biography of this extraordinary man who was a Mahakavi, and also a personality of dazzling colours – a nationalist, hero, historical figure, revolutionary, social reformer, humanitarian, mystic, and above all, visionary who “saw” the future of India and the world. But I realized that it would not be an easy task; it would be challenging to portray such a personality in the usual form of a biography, which has certain inherent limitations. I was afraid that a mere narration of the incidents in the life of the poet, or a descriptive elaboration of his social background and the historical events of his times, might not be enough to understand the extent of his genius or his greatness as a poet. I was concerned that a traditional biography might end up as a kind of news reporting, purely informative, rather than portraying a complete picture of the poet’s personality.

I therefore decided not to pursue the idea of writing a biography in the traditional sense, but, instead, to write a novel about his life. I thought that, in a novel, I would be able to bring out all the different shades of his multifarious genius – the different aspects of his personality – his craftsmanship as a poet, his longing for freedom as a nationalist, his emotional force as a revolutionary, the depth of his faith and devotion as a bhakta, his love and compassion as a humanitarian, and his visionary insights as a gnani.

The Chapter in Amaran Kathai that I am posting today narrates the last day of Bharati’s life in his physical body. As my mother, Thangammal, recalled, “In those days, he was always thinking of Narayana and was always chanting Narayana namam (name).” He wrote his last poem, “Om Namo Narayanaya,” at this time, which reveals his disposition or state of mind in his last days. Both the poem and the last chapter from Amaran Kathai are attached to this Article (see links).

In this final chapter, I have incorporated Bharati’s poem “Om Namo Narayanaya,” a few excerpts from his writings (“Katchi”), and the fascinating story of the demon king Hiranya and his young son Prahalada. The poem is written as a dialogue, a samvadham, that occurred between the father and the son. Hiranya threatens his little son with unimaginable cruelties, but Prahlada, in return, answers only, “Om Namo Narayanaya.”

“What would you do if I killed you,” roared Hiranya;
“Om Namo Narayanaya, Om Namo Narayanaya,” said the little boy (siruvan).

“I will topple you down from the top of the mountain,” said Hiranya;
“Om Namo Narayanaya, Om Namo Narayanaya,” said the little boy.

“I will thrust you into the mouth of the whale, in the midst
of the frigid ocean,” said Hiranya;
“Om Namo Narayanaya, Om Namo Narayanaya,” said the little boy.

“I will break you apart at the hip and eat you, said the evildoer.
“Om Namo Narayanaya, Om Namo Narayanaya” said the little boy.

The two contrasting characters – the violent, tumultuous, stormy, fierce, raging, wild Hiranya stands in striking contrast to the calm, peaceful, fearless young bhakta. The difference accentuates the intensity of their confrontation. The repetition of the single phrase “Om Namo Narayanaya” highlights the fearlessness of the young boy and his unshakable faith in God.

Finally, Hiranya points to a stone pillar in front of him, and demands of his son, “Show me your Narayana in this pillar.” Prahlada answers, “Narayana exists in this pillar, and he also exists in the tiny twig of a tree.” Hiranya, becoming fierce with violent anger, kicks the pillar with his foot. To his astonishment, Narasimha, one of the ten avataras of Mahavishnu in the ferocious form of the Human-Lion, springs out and tears the evil king into two pieces.

In the explanatory remarks at the start of this Chapter, I have analyzed how an extraordinary event from history could appear to be happening at the present time. Was it just the imagination of the poet in his heightened state of mind? I do not believe so. I believe that these unusual occurrences were real, not imaginary, and that they were actually experienced by the poet.

I translate, below, my introductory remarks to the chapter. These passages are from Bharati’s own translation and commentary on the Patanjali Yoga Sutras:

In his commentary, Bharati uses a few musical terms to explain certain phenomena of creation that the human mind cannot grasp. He wants to emphasize, perhaps, that, in the vastness of creation, the limited human mind and physical senses are incapable of perceiving the wonders of nature to their full extent.

The musical term that Bharati uses to illustrate the levels of the human mind is Sthayi (range). There is also the order with which the human mind functions – the ascending and the descending: in musical language, Arohanam is ascending notes (swarams: s r g m p d n) and Avarohanam is descending notes (swarams: s n d p m g r).

“The phenomena of creation are infinite. . . .

“The Ocean of Sound: the limitless, unthinkable, unending range of variations of sound are infinite. From the sound of the young parrot’s cry to the sound of the moon colliding and collapsing onto the earth – the noise of the wind blowing on doomsday – the roaring of the planets crashing into the Sun and disintegrating into powder – if we can imagine such things happening – of all this varied range of sounds, the human ear can hear only seven Sthayis (the theory and calculation of Jagdish Chandra Bose).

“The Ocean of light:  in the limitless, unthinkable, unending range of light – humans can only accede to seven Sthayis. What man discerns as dark, the owl perceives as light. In the matter of ‘light,’ the owl has familiarity with the ‘lower’ ranges whereas the eagle is able to access the ‘higher’ ranges. The eagle has the power to look directly at the sun.

“Similarly, the ‘Subconscious’ (chaitanya) is made up of infinite ranges of which the human mind, in its usual state, can only reach two or three ranges. Even within these ranges – in its ascending and descending Sthayis – in its various combinations of Swaras – in the variations of Ragas – it is possible to achieve strange and amazing experiences. A few men are able to reach even eight or nine Sthayis, and we call them mahatmas and avataras.

“For those who have ascended a few steps in yoga siddhi, the lower part of the subconscious world opens up and reveals ‘visionary’ sights and wondrous experiences. As the torrent of the river Ganga flows from the originating mountaintops, gushing over the earth, and descending to the nether world (padalam), the wonders of the upper levels of Chaitanya pass through the normal consciousness and descend into the lower Chaitanya, creating unimaginable and wondrous experiences – as the fire that lies in a dormant state below the surface of the earth, climbs up through the mountains and bursts out through the summits – in great men (mahans), the wonders that were dormant in the lower levels of their own subconscious minds, emerge on occasion and create visions or experiences which would ordinarily seem impossible.

“These visions are clearer than the dreams that occur when we are asleep. They are as ‘real’ as the little parrot’s cry, or the owl’s experience of the ‘light’ of ‘darkness,’ or the eagle’s experience of the brilliance of the sun.”

Arya Dharsanam

“Oh, what a dream!

The dream happened in my conscious state,

when my eyes were wide awake”

Despite Bharati’s renown as a poet, his involvement in Hindu philosophical studies remains little known.  His poetry is deeply rooted in Hinduism and in its philosophical principles.  He studied the Vedas and undertook painstaking research to explore these sources of Indian thought.  He not only studied the Hindu scriptures, but he also read the scriptures of other religions, such as the Bible and the Koran.  In fact, his philosophical and spiritual research was among the most significant influences on the development of his poetic personality.

The significance of the word Arya is generally misunderstood and interpreted in the context of Bharati’s writings. An unbiased and objective look at Bharati’s writings, to explore where and how he uses the term Arya, clearly shows the poet’s scholarship in the Sanskrit language, his wide reading of both Tamil and Sanskrit literatures, and his understanding of history and culture.  The word occurs in so many expressions, and is so richly endowed with myriads of  meanings, that it may have to be understood according to its particular context. To Bharati, the meaning that the word Arya conveys is “highly esteemed, respectable, honourable and noble,” whether it is of a nation, or man.  He definitely does not mean Brahmana, probably one of the original races which immigrated to the Tamil land, from the North.

Arya dharsanam, the poem that is available at this link, occurred in what the poet calls his “conscious” dream.  In normal dream, when the dreamer is asleep and in an “unconscious” state, the sub-conscious mind enters into diverse realms of experience and imagination, and interprets them in any which way it pleases, bringing various things and sights into contact, relating the most unrelated objects, and creating a “story” of its own.  The human mind, in its conscious state, is unable to grasp the inner meaning of these stories.  Even the study of the mind’s workings can hardly decipher these stories, or provide explanations for the occurrence of the dreams.

A poet’s “conscious” dream is, perhaps, the poet’s “vision,” where the poet’s eyes and all his inner faculties are “wide open,” and he willingly, purposefully brings the story of his imagination to mind.  It may not be possible to explain what exactly a poet’s “vision” is.  But I am conjecturing, in this case, that the preoccupations of  the poet’s mind rose to the surface of consciousness, and created a “screen” of vision in which he could see a wonderful “drama” taking place. As Bharati describes in his poem, characters who play in this “drama” of consciousness are the leaders of two great religions, the Buddha and Krishna, and a heroic warrior, Arjuna.  It took place under a banyan tree, and on the plains of a field of battle.

As this drama unfolded, Bharati was found himself in the midst of a forest where there was a golden little hill surrounded by little pools (sunai) and a pond.  The light of the round moon was shining in the sky.  On the hill, there was a banyan tree (aala maram), under which, the Buddha was seated.  His face was shining with wisdom, emitting brilliant light and illuminating all around him.

And, what a wonder! The Buddha’s light disappeared and a sudden darkness extended over the place!

On the top of the hill, there was a battlefield, the kurukshetra in which there was a chariot and horses.  Bharati was wonderstruck to see a magnificent person who was seated in the front of the chariot.  The charioteer was magnificent – beautiful as the love-God Kaman (Manmadan), blue in colour, his eyes overflowing with benevolence, in valour like Bhima (one of the Pandava brothers), holding a discus (tihiri) in his hand which would rouse fear in the hearts of evildoers.  He realised then that he looked upon Kannan, Lord Krishna, the mountain of wisdom (gnana malai).

The battlefield was crowded with horses, elephants and chariots, in the midst of which stood Arjuna in front of Krishna, with distressed heart.  What a figure! It was surprising to Bharati that he appeared to be fatigued! The great warrior, the hero of Mahabharata

Bharati listened to the conversation between the two warriors:

Arjuna, his heart burdened with distress, said to Krishna: “I do not want success in this war; even if I die, I will not touch the Kauravas.  Would I kill my own relatives? What would be the sovereignty of the kingdom to me after losing all my relatives?”

A smile appeared in the beautiful face of Lord Krishna.  He said: “Do not talk like “ignorant” men who blabber the truths of wisdom.  Do not lose your vitality like a wilted flower.  Take your Gandipam (bow and arrow) and destroy the Kauravas, the crowd of evildoers.”

At this juncture, “the first and foremost scripture in the gnana shastras,” originated; “the highest literature in the line of the kavyas” was created.

Bharati translated the Bhagavat Gita into Tamil and wrote a detailed introduction to it.

Mahatma Gandhi gave his blessings to Bharati’s translation, as he felt that the Gita was essential reading for each and every Tamilian (click here to view).  The former Governor-General of India, Sri C. Rajagopalachari, wrote an introduction to a collection of Bharati’s prose works, which included his “Introduction to the Bhagavat Gita”  (Bharati Prachuralayam, 1940) (click here to view).  Bharati’s translation may be considered the best that has ever been made into Tamil. Its language and style is unique and in a few places, it is poetic and original.

Bharati was impressed by the Bhagavat Gita for many reasons:

First of all, the Bhagavat Gita  was written to explain the principles of the Vedas, and, as such, it was what Bharati understood as the “culmination” of the Vedas.  For this reason, it becomes the gnana shastra, leading man to immortality.

Bharati studied the Vedas with Sri Aurobindo, a nationalist who ultimately became a seer and philosopher, who was Bharati’s great and esteemed friend in Pondicherry. Both men were learned scholars in the Sanskrit language, and were capable of deciphering the more than two and a half millennia-old Hindu scriptures. They undertook research on the vedas and wrote in detail about their findings.

Secondly, Bharati was fascinated by the dramatic opening of the battle of Kurukshetra, where Lord Krishna, driving a chariot in the midst of the feuding Pandava and Kaurava clans, taught Arjuna the essence of the Vedas. Bharati’s philosopy is based on the principles of the Vedas, and the Bhagavat Gita explains this in a dramatic context.  This drama introduces two great personalities – the great soul Krishna, the incarnation of Mahavishnu, and a human being, Arjuna, an embodiment of Indian culture. Krishna is paramatma, and Arjuna, the kshatriya king, is jivatma; Duryodanas are impious, evil spirits, (kama krodhas) that are the root cause of ignorance, sorrows, worries, doubts, laziness, and forgetfulness.

As a poet, Bharati enjoys the mantras of the Vedic sages and calls them “the poetry of the Vedic rishis” (vedarishikalin kavithai).  These mantras from the Rig Veda describe the constant battle of the devas (immortals) with the asuras (demons). Bharati’s poetry in Tamil (Agni Sthomam) which describes Agni and the sacrifice (yaga/velvi) that the rishis perform at the altar, is a dramatic masterpiece.The sacrificial fire in which the sages pour ghee roars towards the sky, and drives the asuras, the evil spirits, to far away forests – as Milton’s Satan and his allies burn unforgettably in hellfire.  The never-ending battle of the devas and asuras is an allegory of the human spirit struggling to fight against evil – sorrows, worries, fear, and ignorance.

Thirdly, the  Bhagavat Gita is one of the three treasures of Hindu dharma – the other two being the Upanishads, and the Vedanta sutras. Sankara, Ramanujacharya, and Madvacharya  who established three religions, wrote interpretations of the Bhagavat Gita, and established the place of the scripture as one of the foundations of the Hindu religion.  Bharati was impressed that the great religious leaders proclaimed the Bhagavat Gita a foundation of the Hindu religion.

Fourthly, Bhagavat Gita is one of the treasures of Indian thought and represents thousands of years of culture – a culture of great aspirations and spirituality.

Finally, and most importantly, the Bhagavat Gita preaches the goal of Immortality, which was also Bharati’s goal, and, indeed, his religion.

Bharati’s poem, “Arya Dharsanam,” touches the essence of the Bhagavat Gita, simply, in four stanzas. In his “Introduction to the Bhagavat Gita,” Bharati offers a detailed discussion of what the scripture preaches in its eighteen chapters. He examines the various theories that inform the study of the Gita among Hindus and others, and clarifies their doubts and fears about the doctrine of the great scripture.

In the wide spectrum of Bharati’s personality, his experiences with the two great religions, Buddhism and Hinduism played an important part as he determined his own philosophy of life. In the past the two religions had engaged in a frightful battle in the Tamil land. Hinduism succeeded, not only by maintaining its own principles and ideals, but also, by adopting certain aspects of the other religion that appealed to the South Indian public.  While Bharati was attracted by the ideals of equality (sarva jana samatvam) and love (jiva karunnyam), proclaimed by the Buddhist religion, he was totally against the pursuit of asceticism, promoted by Buddhism as a way of life. He appreciated the great personality of the Buddha, and his principles of humanitarianism and service, spreading these ideas throughout India.  That is probably the very reason why Bharati’s  dharsanam of the Buddha takes place in this poem.

“At the awakening of India from its long slumber, the first figure, the light that appeared in  Bharati’s vision, was Krishna” (Introduction to Kannan Pattu, 2nd edition – V.V.S. Iyer).  Bharati wrote two poems on Krishna. In these, he pleaded to Krishna, the king of the Aryas, who created the great Bharatam (“Sri Krishna Sthotram”) to bestow success and fame on the people of India (“Krishnan Midhu Sthuti”).

Bharati is fascinated by Arjuna, the other character who appears in this dream. Arjuna was a hero of the great epic, the Mahabharata; although Dharmaputra was the eldest of the Pandava brothers, Arjuna was the leading figure in all respects.  He was a friend of Krishna; in his song “Kannan –My Friend,” Bharati transforms himself into Arjuna and talks about his experiences with Krishna, as a friend.  Krishna practically led Arjuna through life, helping him at difficult times – most importantly, on the battlefield of Kurukshetra.  Krishna became Arjuna’s charioteer – preached the Bhagavat Gita to him at a time when he found himself confused and distressed – gave him the eyes of wisdom (gnana), as Arjuna was the deserving and qualified personality – showed him his visvarupa, the dazzling atma of the Lord Himself.

Bharati yearns to be like Arjuna – the beautiful, strong, heroic personality, above all, a gnani.  He sings to the Mother, “She would make me like my brother (annan), Arjuna” (“Kannan-En Thai” – Bharati).

Bharati explores the Bhagavat Gita from all angles: to him the great Hindu scripture is “moksha shastra, bhakti shastra, karma shastra, yoga shastra, amrutha shastra and gnana shastra.”

Immortality is Bharati’s goal in life, and he believes that Bhagavat Gita shows the path to this goal.  He believes that the Bhagavat Gita reflects the conviction of the Vedic  rishi, in the purusha sukta of the Rig Veda, which he interprets as follows: “You are God.  All your deeds are God’s deeds. Once you realize this fact, it will be ignorant to bind yourself with chains of illusion, that you are the one who does everything.  Therefore, surrender all you do to God and do your work dispassionately.”

The last four stanzas of Bharati’s “Arya Dharsanam” distil the essence of the Bhagavat Gita, which elucidates the vision of the Vedic rishis in eighteen chapters.


A Circle of Friends, Part II – V.V.S. Iyer

Thangammal, Bharati’s elder daughter, introduces V. V. S. Iyer in an article on Bharati’s family and friends:

“In those days, the name Bharati meant Subramania Bharati, and Iyer meant V.V.S. Iyer.  Although he was born in a Brahmin family in Tamil Nadu, a Rajaputra’s blood was running in his veins.  With a strong physique and unwavering mind, he opposed British rule in India.  He followed in the lineage of the ancient rishis.  He was a hero throughout his life and even in death.”

In many respects, Bharati and Iyer resembled each other. First and foremost, they were both Nationalists; they loved India and were determined to fight for the Freedom of their country from British rule.

In fact, the Indian Congress, fighting against British rule in India, was split into two parties, the “Extremists” and the “Moderates.”  There were great leaders like Dadabai Naoroji, Gopal Krishna Gokhale and Firosshaw Mehta on the “Moderate” side, and  Lajpat Roy, Bal Gangadhar Tilak, Bibin Chandra Pal, Shri Aurobindo on the “Extremist” side. In the South, there was V. Krishnaswamy Iyer, a “Moderate” who printed Bharati’s three first national songs, V.O. Chidambaram Pillai, Subramania Siva, G. Subramania Iyer, and Surendranath Arya, as well as Bharati himself, as “Extremist” members of the Congress party.

The goal of both parties was “Freedom.”

Even within each of these two groups, there were many differences of opinion. For example, both Bharati and Iyer belonged to the Extremist faction of the Indian Congress; but their approaches to securing India’s freedom from the hands of the British were rather different.  Bharati’s personality was fiery. As an “Extremist,” he was impatient to obtain freedom.  He was passionate, not only about achieving national freedom, but also, in the pursuit of his personal goals in life – establishing Kruta Yuga, an era of happiness, free from hunger and inequality.  His approach was that this goal had to be achieved “immediately” and “right now!”

As far as the Nation was concerned,  Iyer’s desire, too, was for immediate freedom; but the method that he espoused was different from Bharati’s, and aggressive. He was prepared to pursue this goal by any means, any means at all, even adopting violence.

Bharati, on the other hand, did not advocate or promote violence.  Ahimsa (non-violence) was his dharma, and “love thine enemy” (“pagaivanuk karulvai”) was his message to the world.

“Think lovingly of the tiger that comes to eat you, O my good heart,

It is the form of Parasakti. Salute Her there!”

As an advaitic philosopher, all beings, living and inanimate, were forms of Parasakti in Bharati’s eyes.  He writes that “the crow and the sparrow” belonged to his “class”; the vast ocean and the mountains were part of his community.

Bharati’s approach to the national struggle was to “educate” the Indian public about the importance of freedom and self-government, and to talk to the British about India, her people and culture, explaining India’s stature and position, and analyzing the current situation under British rule.  Writing was his instrument, which, in his hands, was more powerful and effective than violence.

Iyer studied in London to become a Barrister-at-Law.  While there, he became involved in India’s Freedom Movement.   He was greatly influenced by Savarkar, an Indian Revolutionist.  His association with him  at the “India House” in London, may have contributed to his “militant” attitude towards India’s Freedom.

When Iyer returned to India, he worked with a “terrorist” group, guiding them in an  aggressive fight against British rule.  He was a hero in that sense, and he believed that by adopting this method, India could achieve Freedom in the immediate future.

While Iyer was studying in London, he was a reporter for India magazine, published from Pondicherry and edited by Bharati.  At times, the reports written by Iyer were not agreeable to Bharati, and he would write a comment objecting to the “aggressive” views of the reporter.   For example, Iyer covered a terrible fire accident at a cotton mill in Glasgow, commenting: “This incident occurred to avenge a British act – the hanging of the Revolutionist Madan Lal Dhingra, and the refusal to allow his body to be burnt by Hindu methods (achara). It is the anger of the Fire God, Agni, which has destroyed the cotton mill.”

Although Bharati printed this information in India, he wrote in his own editorial that he “did not agree with the views of the London reporter.”

The British Government issued a warrant for Iyer’s arrest, alleging his involvement in Madan Lal Dhingra’s activities.  Iyer, disguised as a “wanderer” (pakkiri) escaped to Pondicherry, where he met fellow-patriots Bharati and Shri Aurobindo,  and continued his revolutionary activities.

Bharati and Iyer became close friends.  Both were intellectuals, interested in Indian culture, religion, literature, and arts.

Iyer was fascinated by Bharati’s writings.  He wrote an Introduction to the Second Edition of Bharati’s Kannan Pattu,  in which he appreciates Bharati’s poetry as gems, “each word worth a lakh” (akshara laksham).

Bharati visited Iyer quite often. Thangammal writes in her book, “Whenever Bharati wrote something new, he would first read it to his wife, Chellamma (and the children), and then he would read it to his friends, particulalry Iyer; he wouldn’t be satisfied otherwise.” (Thangammal Bharati Padaippugal (Articles), ed. S. Vijaya Bharati.)

Iyer was a writer himself, a literary critic and a pioneer of the short story form in Tamil. He translated the Tirukkural into English and wrote a book on the Kamba Ramayanam.

The families of Bharati and Iyer became friends, as well. Thangammal says, “When my father visited Iyer, he would take the children with him; I had an opportunity to listen to the short stories that Iyer read to Bharati and would become immersed in them.”  Thangammal had a close association with Iyer’s family, and later, Thangammal and Iyer’s son, Dr. V.V.S. Krishanamurti, became good friends. And Thangammal, herself, became a remarkable short story writer. (Thangammal Bharati Padaippugal)

My mother wrote a funny anecdote about Krishnamurti:

“On one occasion, when Bharati visited Iyer, Bharati sang a song he wrote on Shakti (“Shakti Shakti Shakti enru sollu”).  The young boy was listening attentively and was emotionally affected by the words and music of the song. He asked Bharati whether he might be allowed to sing it.  When permitted, he sang, “Katthi Katthi Katthi enru sollu.”

Both Iyer and Bharati laughed, and Bharati said, “The boy is born in a heroic family, and he therefore sings Katthi (sword) instead of Shakti.”

In fact, at that young age, the boy could not pronounce “sha” but instead, pronounced the syllable “ka”!

I attach a beautiful narration of Iyer’s adventurous and tragic journey to the top of the podigai mountain, written by my mother, Thangammal; please click here. Iyer went in search of the source of the river Tamravaruni (Papanasam) with his friends and his young daughter Subatra…

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.