In this episode, we perceive words of hidden persuasion, as portrayed in Sangam Literary work, Aganaanooru 192, penned by Pothumpil Kizhaan Venkannanaar. The verse is situated amidst the lush millet fields of the ‘Kurinji’ or ‘Mountain landscape’ and presents intriguing images of wild life from this domain.

மதி இருப்பன்ன மாசு அறு சுடர் நுதல்
பொன் நேர் வண்ணம் கொண்டன்று; அன்னோ!
யாங்கு ஆகுவள்கொல் தானே? விசும்பின்
எய்யா வரி வில் அன்ன பைந் தார்,
செவ் வாய் சிறு கிளி சிதைய வாங்கி,
பொறை மெலிந்திட்ட புன் புறப் பெருங் குரல்
வளை சிறை வாரணம் கிளையொடு கவர,
ஏனலும் இறங்குபொறை உயிர்த்தன; பானாள்
நீ வந்து அளிக்குவை எனினே மால் வரை
மை படு விடரகம் துழைஇ, ஒய்யென
அருவி தந்த அரவு உமிழ் திரு மணி
பெரு வரைச் சிறுகுடி மறுகு விளக்குறுத்தலின்,
இரவும் இழந்தனள்; அளியள் உரவுப் பெயல்
உரும் இறை கொண்ட உயர்சிமைப்
பெரு மலைநாட! நின் மலர்ந்த மார்பே.

In this vibrant trip to the mountains, we get to hear the confidante say these words to the man when he arrives for a tryst with the lady:

“Akin to the shining moon, is her flawless, glowing forehead, and now it has taken on a golden hue. Alas! What will become of her? Having a fresh band, akin to the sky’s striped bow that launches not arrows, and a red beak, the little parrot plucks from the tall, coarse crop ears, ruining it, and then unable to bear the weight, drops down the seeds, leaving these for the flock of wild hens with curving wings to peck on. The millet fields have now birthed such an yield of crops, bent over by its weight. If we consider that you will come grace in the middle of the night, she has lost the night too, because glowing gems, spit by snakes, which have been brought down by resounding cascades that have stirred within dark caves, before coming down those high mountains, lights up the streets of our little hamlet in the huge ranges. She’s to be pitied indeed, O lord of the soaring peaks in the huge mountains, filled with heavy downpours, accompanied by roaring thunder, for she has no way of embracing your wide, blooming chest!”

Time to trek on those mountains of yore! The confidante starts with a bang, coming right to the crux of the issue, talking about how normally the lady’s forehead would glow like the moon, without flaws any. However, at the moment it was coated in a golden hue. ‘Having a golden hue is a good thing, isn’t it?’, one might ask with the lens of this fairness-obsessed, modern world. The fact of this particular past is somewhat different and the lady’s dark skin taking on a golden hue implied that the disease of pining had afflicted her and that pallor had covered her head. So, it was by no means, a good news.

After lamenting the state the lady is in, the confidante turns to remark about the state of her father’s millet fields. These were brimming with so much yield that a parrot, which is said to have a rainbow-like neck band and red beak, would come and raid those crop ears, and bite a big one. Later, unable to carry that weight, the parrot would drop it down, leaving the scattered millet grains to be feasted upon by clucking wild hens. A moment to relish the imagery of the ‘sky’s bow that never aims arrows’, in other words, a rainbow on a parrot’s neck. Searching I found this could most probably refer to the ‘Indian Ringnecked Parrot’, also called as the ‘Rose-Ringed Parakeet’, one that has a dark blue to pink band around its neck. Moving on, there must be further, hidden significance for this image, which we will see in a moment, but outwardly the confidante says this, only to highlight the crops have grown so much that it’s time for the harvest, and because it’s time for harvest, the lady would no longer visit the fields, an event that had previously been so conducive for her trysts by day with the man.

The confidante continues the line of thought by saying to the man, ‘If you are thinking, day tryst is not possible. So, I’ll come by night, then think again’. She explains this is because their streets are lit up by the sparkles of the many gems, spit by snakes, which have brought down by cascades from the dark caves of the mountains. This tells the man that there was a danger of discovery by night too. Here again, the confidante echoes that familiar belief of Sangam folks that snakes had the ability to spit gems. I’m wondering what’s the origin of this bizarre belief? Could it be that those regions were so rich in precious gems, and quite close to the surface too, that these were revealed by the slithering movement of snakes, and somehow people associated the two? Just a theory! But imagine the kind of wealth that was strewn about in that ancient land, if at all this was true! 

Returning, we find the confidante clarifying to the man that nightly tryst was thus not possible. She concludes by expressing sorrow that the lady seemed to have no way to embrace the man’s chest, day or night. In that scene of the ring-necked parrot dropping the millet grains and leaving it to be pecked on by wild hens, the confidante implies that the man had been intent only on trysting, and not carrying his relationship with the lady to its end of marriage, and he had left that to become an object of slander among the womenfolk of their town. Through this, the confidante intends to make the man see the error of his ways, learn that the lady had been confined within her house owing to these effects, realise that she was in much suffering and understand that the only way forward was to seek the lady’s hand. All these inner transformations in the man the worthy confidante achieves even as she treats us to the dynamic wild life that teems in these mountains of the past! Like those brimming crop ears, even this song seems to bend with its delightful weight of carrying so much in a few lines and leaves us with the thought, ‘Isn’t it our duty to stay the course and carry on, so as to finish what we have begun?’