Sunday, December 14, 2008

Mixed opinions!

Inspired by a couple of real life incidents (not in mine), I decided to write a story a couple of days back; and being a Sujatha fan who loved the "Amudham" story that he wrote for Kannathil Mutthamittal, I thought I should be writing such a short, one page story that has a comparatively similar writing style. This is what I came up with...

மூடிய கதவு

மறையத்தொடங்கிய ஆதவனின் பொன்னிறக்கதிர்கள் முயன்றும் நுழைய முடியா இருட்டறையில் இருண்ட நெஞ்சமொன்றும் இருப்பதன் அறிகுறியாய் ஓர் அழுகைக்குரல். மூடிய கதவும், இருள் சூழும் இருளும், முட்டித்தெறித்த கதறலும் அப்பாவையின் வலி உயிர் வரை ஆழ்ந்திருப்பதை உணர்த்தின. முப்பது வயது தாண்டியும், முடிகளில் சில வெள்ளிகள் முளைத்தும் மனைவியாகி முழுமை பெறாத முதிர்கன்னியின் மனச்சுமையை சமுதாயம் ஏனோ புறக்கணித்தே விடுகிறது. காதலித்தவனை காரணங்கண்டு பிரிய வைத்து, காரணத்தின் காரணமாகி, நம்பிக்கையை இழக்க வைத்து, ஆயிரம் பேர் சுற்றத்திலும் தனிமைச்சிறையில் அடைய வைத்து கை கொட்டிச்சிரிப்பதும் ஏனோ அதன் பண்பாடும் ஆகிப்போனது. ஆண் போல் இருப்பதாய், அழகிற்குறைவதாய் ஆயிரமாயிரம் காரணம் கேட்டு தன்னையே வெறுத்தவளின், வெறுப்பவளின் வேதனை பொங்கும் வாழ்கையை வார்த்தைகளால் விவரித்து விட முடியாது.

இருளும் இன்னலும் மட்டுமே நிறைந்த அத்தருணத்தை இரவிற்பூத்த மின்னல் கொடியாய்க்கலைத்தது சிணுங்கிய அவள் கைத்தொலைபேசி. கண்ணீர்த்துளி வழியே அழைப்பவன் பெயர் மங்கித்தெரிய மனதை இறுக்கி மூடி வாய் திறந்தாள். இதயத்தரையில் இருந்து அவன் மேல் ஈர்ப்பிருந்தும் இன்முகம் காட்ட ஏனோ இயலவில்லை அவளுக்கு. பயம் - தன்னையே நம்ப மறுக்கும், வாழ்க்கையில் தடுமாறித்தோற்ற, தனிமைப்பட்ட, தனித்து விடப்பட்ட ஒரு தாரகைக்கே உண்டான பயம். பல முறை உடைக்கப்பட்டு ஒட்டப்பெற்ற நெஞ்சம், மற்றுமோர் விரிசல் தாங்காதெனும் கலவரம். தனித்தும் தோற்க்கக்கூடாதெனும் அவள் வைராக்கியம் ஏனோ சில நிமிடங்கள் கூட நிலைக்கவில்லை. அன்பை வார்த்தைகளாக்கி, அரவணைப்பை வாக்கியங்களாக்கி, தாய்ப்பாலின் நேர்மையுடன் "எனை மணந்து கொள்வாயா?" என ஏக்கமாய்க்கேட்ட அவன் குரல் திறந்தது மூடிய அவள் அறைக்கதவை மட்டுமல்ல, மூடப்பட்ட அவள் மனக்கதவையும் தான்.

As my own critic, I actually liked this story a lot especially considering the target I had in my mind. I thought I played with the right words to create the impact in the reader; and I forwarded this to a few of my friends for review and comments. To my surprise, this one got the credit that none of my previous works got - the opinion was greatly mixed up ranging from "I got goose pimples reading the last few lines... Awesome would be an understatement" to "Is this what you call a story? It's just a maze of complex, round about words". I was seriously baffled by the variations in taste and somehow I found it hard to digest such a level of diversity within a very small sample that I chose.

Some amount of thought behind the comments just made me realize one undeniable fact - "Tamizhini mellacchaagum". Almost all of the recepients of this story are Tamizhians - born and brought-up in Tamilnadu. But still, almost 85-90% of them were not able to follow the content fully; because their Tamizh was not up to the mark. I don't blame the readers and I completely understand how infrequently we use written Tamizh these days. But even after I understand the reason behind it, it's hard to believe that the number of people who can fluently read and write good Tamizh (need not be the puranaanooru style Tamizh... just a proper Tamizh prose) is reducing drastically. In the next generations, this is even sparse considering the ratio of parents who put their kids into French and Hindi classes right from elementary school. I don't know if the so-called Tamizh protectors have something to do about this!!

The second part of it is the Tamizh that we cultivate. I'm not against the Pudhu kavidhai form of Tamizh poems and I do agree that the reader should understand what the poet is trying to say. But ever since the emergence of Pudhu Kavidhai in which only the concept matters, prose has become poetry and corrupted Tamizh has become prose. In other words, if I write one proper sentence in Tamizh and break it into three lines, it is considered a poetry these days. No wonder many of them told me "This is so poetic for a short story". If that is the case with poetry, prose has worsened into absolute colloquial language which is much simpler to understand but almost completely different from the actual Tamizh. Take any Tamizh magazines... the stories published would be of this sort... characters speak slang and the rest of the sentences are made too simple. Unfortunately, this has made readers shun away from well written Tamizh and when there is a story written using some expressive words, it becomes legacy, untouched and taboo. In one simple sentence, readers don't expect anything more than spoken Tamizh in the written form. Taking my own work as an example, I'm sure it isn't 'bad' but I did get comments that called it complete pointless crap and that understanding this level of Tamizh is an overhead to the reader. I'm not a Kalki or Kambar or Bharathi to use the mightiest and the most perfect Tamizh word to be used in a context; but even with my level of Tamizh (the last time I actually studied Tamizh was in my seventh grade), people say it's too much for the reader to take. Will this situation change for the better? GOK!

P.S: I feel it's hightime to start my Tamizh blog and I believe I'd be starting it pretty soon... :)

3 comments:

ஸ்ரீனிவாசன் said...

maapla...other day, i connected net from house and it got disconnected every min....kadupaaiten...

then i got a chance to read it...apidiye mei maranthu..oru chinna punnagai matrum inside konjam vazhiyoda ukaandu irunden...unnai paaratalaamnu gtalk open pannuna....DISCONNECTED !!!!!!

but then, inniku online vaa neradiya pesalaam !!!!!

Rams said...

Sure, a very sad state of affairs.. that we cannot appreciate true thamizh and that a lot of slang has crept into the spoken one that that has become the norm and the legacy is being lost. It was interesting to note taht u've studied thamizh till 7th only. Similar is the case with me, 8th. Not that I am well versed in thamizh prose and poetery and grammar etc etc, but still i can at least read and write thamizh to an extent, which, much to my shock, i find other friends of mine, who had studied thamizh till their 12th, not to possess. It indeed pains me at times that we are neglecting what is native to us: every parent MUST ensure that their children DOES learn the language, in both the written and spoken form, apart from other languages that they deem necessary for the situation and ambitions... Do being one tamizh blog and I definitely will make use of it as an opportunity to be in better touch with the language :)

p.s: BTW I did realise the KM effect, but then dismissed it off as I thought it was just my mind that was pulling a trick off, as that was one of the few poetic prose it remembers...

Agni said...

@Srini

Thanks da... Chat pannittaa paocchu... :D

@Rams

True. Everyone should do something about this... I'm not expecting people to know the difference between the varieties of Venbaas; but at least as you said, everyone should be able to read and write pure, non-colloquial unadulterated Tamizh. Even my level is up to that only...

And regarding the KM effect, glad that you had the feeling. Actually, I was dumbfounded by the masterpiece and it really left a deep impact in me. The situation was nothing too complex - a mom parting her newborn... But the pain explained in her perspective was simply mind blowing. I wanted my readers to have a similar impact and I should say I succeeded 15% in my mission for the rest didn't get it at all!! :D :D