In the history of southern India, the Sangam period (300 BCE to 300 CE) is known for its glorious ecological poetics that portrayed nature and humanity’s connection to it and love and war through heroic and romantic poetry. The period saw the rise and fall of three major dynasties, the Cheras, the Cholas and the Pandyas. Manoj Kuroor sets his story, The Day The Earth Bloomed, translated from the Malayalam by J Devika, in this classical period. Divided into three parts narrated by Kolumban, Chithira and Mayilan respectively, the novel is remarkable for its gripping prose and characters whose thoughts come across as strikingly modern.
In Part 1, Kolumban introduces his tribe as “paanar who sing and koothar who dance.” Extremely poor, they leave their lands behind to make a living by performing in the courts of kings. They are also in search of Mayilan, Kolumban’s eldest son, who, despising their poverty, left early on. As the paanars cross the forests and mountains, they meet many tribes who invite them to dine with them and rest for the night. They also come across one of the “great masters of song”, Paranar, a fellow paanar, who rose to wealth by singing praises of kings. He advises them on the workings of the court: “Cruelty and compassion are twins born of the same womb. Separating the two in the act of ruling is difficult. Compassion towards one may be cruelty towards another. When you make songs about the powerful, remember this.”
Part 2 is narrated by Chithira, Kolumban’s young daughter. It is through her observations of the life in a village that accepts them as their own, that Kuroor questions many patriarchal norms. Along with the social practices of the time, the reader learns of Chithira’s romance with a soldier who refuses to reveal anything about himself lest it put the kingdom in jeopardy.
{{/usCountry}}Part 2 is narrated by Chithira, Kolumban’s young daughter. It is through her observations of the life in a village that accepts them as their own, that Kuroor questions many patriarchal norms. Along with the social practices of the time, the reader learns of Chithira’s romance with a soldier who refuses to reveal anything about himself lest it put the kingdom in jeopardy.
{{/usCountry}}Part 3 comprises Mayilan’s account of his life where he describes his journey from the time he fled home in search of wealth and power, his tutelage under dacoits, and stints at spying for the king. As he encounters his family as a result of a series of cruel events, he is forced to look within and seek respite from the feeling of betrayal that haunts him.
In Sangam poetry, location or the backdrop, called the tinai, played a huge role. The five ecological tinais include kurunji (mountains), palai (arid lands), mullai (pastoral lands), marutham (agricultural lands), and neidhal (coastal region). Karoor beautifully uses these landscapes to convey the mental state of his narrators. As the tribe finds itself on an uncharted path in the mountains, Kolumban states, “The resonant wail of a waterfall — that fell hard on the rocks before it became a river — turned into a roar that sounded louder still in the silence of the night.” As with Sangam literature, the author ensures that readers, even those unaware of the poetic tradition, can sense the mood of the story through his presentation of the changing landscape.
Kuroor creates a feminist figure in Chithira who questions the gender dynamics of the prevailing time. For instance, she questions the practice of Jallikattu in which a boy had to defeat a bull in order to marry the girl of his choice. She also reflects on warmth of female friendships, something a contemporary reader can identify with. “Humble acts of care, to ease small fears. Little acts of kindness, revealed in a look or a hug. Their value sometimes inestimable, I felt,” she says. “I saw there was something special in the friendship of women, something that a male protector could never give.” She speaks of consent and declares her choice of life partner to her tribe, instead of asking for permission. Kuroor layers the feminist aspect of the story by adding a ruthless killing of a girl and its impact on Kolumban’s youngest daughter.
Though the regions of Kerala and Tamil Nadu are separate states today, they have a shared history and linguistic heritage. In the Translator’s Note, J Devika discusses the Tamil and Sanskrit origins of Malayalam emphasising that while people are more fluent in the Sanskritised language, there continues to be a deep sense of familiarity with the Tamilian roots of the language. “Malayalis write closer to Sanskrit, but speak closer to Tamil. Our Tamil roots still sustains us, yet something keeps us from acknowledging them. But when they burst upon us, we are overcome with joy.” She believes Kuroor’s books mesmerises readers as “it suddenly brought to our minds many lost treasures. It is a treasure trove of words which are no longer in Malayalam or which were never there – but could have been, if only new layers [of cultural domination] had not smothered them so.” Sadly, this beautiful aspect of the text remains alien to the English reader despite the translator retaining many words from the original text.
Despite this unavoidable loss in translation, Kuroor’s work is a page-turning story of the empathy and kindness prevalent at a time when the caste system hadn’t yet set in. It is rhythmic and the tempo rises and falls as the action unfolds. A story of a concerned father filled with longing for his son, a loving daughter coming into her own in the absence of male protectors, and of an ambitious boy coming to terms with the consequences of his thirst for wealth, this is a tale of common people trying to make a living in a world of abundance. As with their modern counterparts, they are often caught in the crossfire of battles within states. The Day the Earth Bloomed is an engrossing novel that brings alive an unsung people and a forgotten language, and provides a peek into the long-ago world of classical India.
Akankshya Abismruta is an independent writer.