Dreamtime of Minmini-G. G. Murugan aka Siddhartha :: Part 1 ------------1,2
Publication, March 1993

Editorial
Almost four years ago. Mr. Co. Our friends were amazed to see that Murugan (G. Siddhartha) the demonic form inside him sprouted and branched out within a few months. My friend Murugan completely absorbed the subtle vibrations of the music and vibrated along with him. Somewhere through his fingers and brushes, modern paintings took a beautiful shape on the spread sheets in a way that amazing friends could appreciate. His journey was natural in the deep spaces that artists such as Pudumaipitthan, Mouni, Sundara Ramasamy, have spread within themselves. He studied the books and articles in Tamil about organization as if he were re-learning something he had forgotten.
Now he stands in front of the Tamil readers with a rare novel worth studying deeply. His novel is suitable for the name of modernity as it broke itself from the tradition and incorporated new energies within itself. Murugan breaks himself and finds his ancestors, his heritage within himself, and tells the story in virulent language.
The 'old man', who has become a legend in many works, also has a unique charm in his novel. There is no doubt that it is a novel that needs to be read deeply and multifaceted. He also joins the new forces emerging in Tamil. His friends are very happy to publish his novel. We greatly appreciate the support of our readers. A big thank you to Jenniram Press for the beautiful prints.


Tama

 Gnani
123, Kaliswarar Nagar Coimbatore-9 Part 1


"What kind of goblin is in your master's house? How did that man lose his wits? He fell into sin with a girl. How her green hair would have burned! Will the blame go away?" Her grandmother was telling Siddharth the story of his dynasty.

1
A night after the rainy season. Countless fireflies were symbolizing these. They were sitting on plants and grasses and wandering around. The moon was hiding between the clouds. for what The stars were scattered around it. The fire that caused the old man's house to burn did not fall from these stars or miniminis. It fell from the inside of Gangadharak Counten. The old man's house was burnt to ashes. His daughter Mariammal was also burnt in the fire. The old man ran into the house to save her and bring her out. When he opened the door, he saw her burning, clinging to the tree, and came out, trembling like a ghost, and fell. The heavy footsteps of the fire could be heard throughout the house. ,

Some people picked up the fallen old man with burns on his face and legs and laid him in the yard of the opposite house. Some were pouring water from household pots to extinguish the fire. Some women and children were crying. The children's panicked faces were still sleepy. Someone was trying to wake up the old man by splashing water on his face. Everyone was waiting for the fire to die down. The red light of the fire painted irregular scarred waves on their bodies.''

The fire that was spreading on the roof was still burning. The wind was not strong so it burned calmly. The giant darkness was sitting around and chilling. The bamboo burst and laughed as if the fire was mocking the impotence of those genas.

The shophouse on the street is an old man's house. The house next to it stood as a small wall so the fire did not spread. Fire caught in their dreams while the city was fast asleep. They woke up startled. The yelling and confusion was increasing little by little and they were developing an atmosphere of hostility towards each other. Their clothes were in disarray as they ran outside. The children ran behind them screaming. Dogs ran here and there and barked at this rush of people. Some domestic dogs ran away with their masters.

People came from all over the inhabited streets to see the noise of the commotion and the horrible appearance of the fire. By the time they all arrived, the entire roof of the house was engulfed in flames. There are only three streets in the slum. All the Gentiles have gathered there. The fire was burning the house despite all their strength, and they threw the water they had caught in the gutters. After drinking all the water, the fire started to burn even more fiercely, and the bamboos belched loudly.



Gangadhara was running along the way. Only the light of the fire and the shadows of the trees followed him. He was relieved that no men had come. He ran restlessly in the dark, leaving his feet in the mud of the fields and in the rat-nets. Breathing.

His misfortune of falling into another fault to destroy one fault began to hit him. He ran towards his cowshed in the garden. The voices of the slum dwellers still listening in the distance added to his fear. He fell on the rope bed. He pressed both hands on his chest. Chest heaving as if heart bursts out and falls. The legs were still throbbing. He closed his eyes and tried to relax.

Mariammal spat on Gangadharan. When she ran away telling her father that she would take his honor, he hit her on the head saying, 'We laid hands on this Saniya'.

That old man!

Gangatharan was nervous. The old man does not like seeing Gangadharan. He asks questions without hesitation.

'Ae Mari, Ae Nillume' he shouted. She left Karupang Kolai and went out.

The * old man' would have gone to the market today. Cattle Brokerage. . He will come to the page in the middle of the night. If the matter reaches his ears, he jumps like a little bunny, and tomorrow the whole village will pour milk for the counten's house and perform a ritual. Everything will go upside down.

'The result should not be like that. Tomorrow should not dawn for the old man'

Gangadharan did not go to his house at night. He stayed in the shed. did not eat He was sitting on a rope bed. He smoked a cigar in his hand. Mind fluttered. 'Nothing should happen'
Instead of smoke he inhaled fire and smoked. Outside the shed, sparklers were trying to paint the sky on the ground.. Frogs screamed inside Gangadharan's head. He threw away the end of the cigar he had burned in his hand. -

Ki Shavan's house was engulfed in flames.

Gangadhara tried to fall asleep like this. Can you? How to sleep The forest of Mariammal, which had been standing tall for a long time, was pushing Gangatharan. Until this day, she was riding as a horse that could not be controlled by him, today she burned her forest in the fire.

The bundle swung on the shoulder of the old man returning from the market. He kept it in pieces. He brokered four Jati cows. Don't get excited? 'Pulna Ondia will wait'

He saw it only when he returned to the street corner. The firelight behind the house lit up the branches of the drumstick tree in the garden. He ran down the street shouting 'Aayyyo'. The winding bundle on the shoulder fell somewhere. The old man's weak legs did not know where this power came from. Mariammal's cry rose from the burning house.

When sleep engulfed Gangadhara, he saw Mariammal's naked body. She was lying on the mat. Both of her large breasts bulged towards the ceiling. The walls of the room were bathed in yellow light.

The old man was lying on the bird. Both of his eyes flashed blue like the eyes of a cat. He watched unblinkingly as he walked down. Gangadharan also takes off his clothes and sits next to her. Sadness flowed in her eyes. He presses down on her body. Her stiff body was a challenge to his frenzy. He moves his hand on her stomach. His body trembles. There is no hole. Just a pile of flesh. It shoots his fingers. Bathing is disgusting. He pinches her nipple with his thick lips. The straw sticks to his lips. He spits. It ignores it. Long also plucks the nipple from his labia. His lips are torn and his tongue is bleeding. The smell of burning hair pierces his nostrils. From Paran. The old man jumps down. Gangadhar looks up at him and trembles. The old man's eyebrows and beard, glowing in the yellow light, make him panic. The old man did not take his eyes off him. The smell of vagina spreads throughout the room. He tries to get up from her gasping for breath. One of her emaciated hands grips her hair. Then he realized that death had overtaken him. She also came clinging to him as he stood up. He pushed her with both his hands. She didn't fall. The old man smiled. He pushed her with only his strong hands. Her body fell against the wall. The old man did not take his eyes off him. The smell of vagina spreads throughout the room. He tries to get up from her gasping for breath. One of her emaciated hands grips her hair. Then he realized that death had overtaken him. She also came clinging to him as he stood up. He pushed her with both his hands. She didn't fall. The old man smiled. He pushed her with only his strong hands. Her body fell against the wall. The old man did not take his eyes off him. The smell of vagina spreads throughout the room. He tries to get up from her gasping for breath. One of her emaciated hands grips her hair. Then he realized that death had overtaken him. She also came clinging to him as he stood up. He pushed her with both his hands. She didn't fall. The old man smiled. He pushed her with only his strong hands. Her body fell against the wall. The old man smiled. He pushed her with only his strong hands. Her body fell against the wall. The old man smiled. He pushed her with only his strong hands. Her body fell against the wall.

The old man opens the door and goes out. The awning is burning the street. Gangadhara follows him. Both of them are walking on a deserted street. Crows are sitting all over the tamarind trees that lead the way. Only one tamarind tree was cut on the way. The upper part of the underwood gave him the character of the altar. On top of that is a long knife. The old man stood near it and took the knife in his hand. Raw steaks were clinging to the pedestal. He thought that it would incessantly bring death upon him. 'Put your head on it,' said the old man. Ivan rejected it and let the old man know by his haste that he would not be humbled. Anger flashed on the old man's face. He took the long scythe from his hand and threw it. Gangadharan's head fell on the pedestal and rolled. Yellow liquid oozed from the cut part of the fetus and throbbed downwards. Gangadharan's head froze as he looked at his Pinda. The old man took the knife and threw it towards the sky and walked away.

A giant crow sat on the pedestal and pecked Gangadhara's head.

The next night. The old man was sitting under a tree, sleepy; It was oscillating between unreachable sorrows. He thought he wanted to know about it. When he stood up and walked on his wobbly legs, the gap became impassable. He stood tired. It was his door. He was standing in front of his burnt house. He saw a burning portrait of his daughter on the charred and charred walls. Within those walls is his daughter. The old man wondered where she would be without her in the places where she lived. He went inside. Ashes stuck to his feet. He entered through the doorway where the door was ajar. There were charred trenches scattered black. Even the black areas sparkled in the moonlight. It is now a wreck. She is in the wreckage. Has she lived here all this time? The old man's body shook in grief. He sat down holding his head. He cried for a while. The coolness of the night and the moonlight quickly comforted him. He put his right hand on the ground and looked. There was heat within the ashes. He collapsed on the floor. She felt her presence in the warmth of the floor. He waited for her arrival—for some sound from her—a laugh, or the sound of her crouching, or the sound of her screaming as she burned in the fire. She came as soon as he caught hold of the thread of sleep. She was wearing a skirt and scarf. She had put mayflower flowers on the chicken. He sat down holding his head. He cried for a while. The coolness of the night and the moonlight quickly comforted him. He put his right hand on the ground and looked. There was heat within the ashes. He collapsed on the floor. She felt her presence in the warmth of the floor. He waited for her arrival—for some sound from her—a laugh, or the sound of her crouching, or the sound of her screaming as she burned in the fire. She came as soon as he caught hold of the thread of sleep. She was wearing a skirt and scarf. She had put mayflower flowers on the chicken. He sat down holding his head. He cried for a while. The coolness of the night and the moonlight quickly comforted him. He put his right hand on the ground and looked. There was heat within the ashes. He collapsed on the floor. She felt her presence in the warmth of the floor. He waited for her arrival—for some sound from her—a laugh, or the sound of her crouching, or the sound of her screaming as she burned in the fire. She came as soon as he caught hold of the thread of sleep. She was wearing a skirt and scarf. She had put mayflower flowers on the chicken. He collapsed on the floor. She felt her presence in the warmth of the floor. He waited for her arrival—for some sound from her—a laugh, or the sound of her crouching, or the sound of her screaming as she burned in the fire. She came as soon as he caught hold of the thread of sleep. She was wearing a skirt and scarf. She had put mayflower flowers on the chicken. He collapsed on the floor. She felt her presence in the warmth of the floor. He waited for her arrival—for some sound from her—a laugh, or the sound of her crouching, or the sound of her screaming as she burned in the fire. She came as soon as he caught hold of the thread of sleep. She was wearing a skirt and scarf. She had put mayflower flowers on the chicken.

The old man confronts her in a hall. She was like a butterfly among the pillars. The old man embraces her eagerly.

* Where did you go when you left me alone' asks the old man, and

she angrily says 'I went to the forest. Wherever you look, there are flowers.'

'You must not go back. If I am not alone'

she clasped his limp hands: 'I will send fireflies for you sir. Be there too. I want to go back' and she ran away from his hands.

'Mari Nillumma' shouted the old man. She disappeared into the pillars of the hall. The old man stood up defiantly.

Sparkles were crawling over his mental body. Some were flying around him. His daughter's gift for him made him agitated. To him without whom the minnows beckoned through their light. It is thought that they should have arisen as scattered light at the point of darkness and sorrow. 'Okay, I'll come with you,' he said. They all got up and gathered together and flew forward. The old man went on with it. They took him towards the forest. Walking is not difficult for him. Now his body is light as air. He also threw his hands in the air and seemed to fly with sparklers. He felt his black body slowly begin to glow. He knew that they had brought him into the forest. There he learned from them the luminaries themselves. He used to kiss the leaves. He learned about the forest by listening to the stories of the fireflies. They said they were having light dreams. The stories are said to visit the dark parts of history. They let the old man know that their reasoning was black. They knew everything about him. The old man learned to live with the minnows. During the day he slept in the shade of the Mayflower trees and at night he wandered the forest with the minnows.

2

Four block house. It stretched to this street and to the next. This is the original home of the antique count. Gangatharakaunton had left this house and twenty acres of land at the foot of the hill to his three children. Pudupalayam panchayat consisted of seven small villages. This house is the court for all problems happening in the town. Anticount's ancestors used to administer justice here. Antik Counton was sitting leaning on a pad that spread out like Gangatharak Counton's broad thigh.

"Andi Batalathon Marumavale! The flood crow is flying above. Kartika Deepatu Kutharamadiri Nera Verachikittu Parai, who did not see this miracle"

On her head was a basket of food. She takes food to her husband who was working in the robbery. Name is Rukmani. Counten called and stopped. twisting his mouth.

"Uncle's eye problem is the same as Madhavam's" she stretched out and hummed.

"What are you doing like this? I'm telling you, look up," he said with a smile.

"Mama, I have a job," she said, "I'm going to be naughty at this age."

Suppanna stood holding the lantern pole.. He hesitated.

"What's up Achi"

"He's working as a sub for Redier."

Anticounten's face was bleeding.

Andicountan and Ranga.Reddy are contesting against each other in the presidential election.

Andicountan's elder son Govindaswamy works for Rangarettiar. It sizzled like lead poured into Counten's stomach. Now Anticount's influence in the town is waning. If Govindaswamy joins Redtiyar's support, Counton will take the soil.

"I know this Natheru Pulaya passage very well," he called out angrily, "Day Kona." Everyone called Suppanna by her caste name.

"Tell me, counter," he said. Humility was visible in his body.

"It's okay if my property is lost. Let's look at one of the two"

Amma Bachamma, are you in Ood?''

"Otherwise, mother, go to Oot today and wait for tomorrow; there will be some dispute in Oot."

How many Odukali have you read for Odukali? Achi Moochinna Aunga ran away to Attawood. How does he fit in? Being in a Pombala Naminji family would be responsible. God bless these donkeys. Yes, did you

 see it when you got  settled?"

"Let Aang come, things will happen only when the former comes." You go to Kotay. Tanni kamichi bandage for cow"

"Saringa"

Suppanna left.

' We have two points and two ways of reading. One thing is to say that the village is Othan Devidia Oodla Okantukitu Kujalam. It's an uncontrollable swing. Everything is a gift I have bought' he patted his thigh.

Nandan was smoking ganja, occasionally reviving the extinguished pipe with the help of a match between his toes. Each suction had to be ignited anew.

Kuppammal, his Dharmapathi said, ``Evanya has waited so much.''

He had bought new clothes only yesterday, and the roof was scared because of the election season. He had progressed economically to the extent that he could stay on the couch twenty-four hours a day. Nandan. After two years of marriage, no child was born. They waited for God to open their eyes. Mannupparayan was a stranger to this slum. The soil had an influence on the great houses. The Cherijanas obeyed his words. One day, while holding a bottle of liquor, he dropped the skull. A wife and a child were left alone. Nandan was twenty years old when his grandfather died. Like his father, he survived by building big houses. Govindaswamy became a priest. Rediyar gave him enough money to get rid of the slum jnas. Govindaswamy had come.

Govindaswamy reached there asking, "Is Nandan there?" Kuppammal put down the dishes and ran inside.

The counter had left before I came." He said, "Why

is that

?"

Govindaswamy put five rupees in his pocket and handed it to Nandan. When he came out, he was wearing a shirt and holding a bottle in his hand.

Govindaswamy took out a Lakshmi beedi and started smoking it. Kuppammal was still inside. After a while Nandan returned with the goods. He handed the bottle and the mixer packet to Govindaswamy. He put down the mixer packet and opened the bottle and drank half of it and said, 'Inda'.

"Don't" A strange smile bloomed on Nandan's face.

"Eh...?"

"Smoke the smoke," he said.
"Ok ok" he said, drank the rest and opened the mixer packet with both hands and put it in his mouth. He said to the rest, "Shut up at Inda's house and leave."

After a while they both left.

They walked on .
Nandan said, "The old man has told Konark to come home. "Yes, this old man is asking for a position. Who asked this person to vote in the election after taking a deep loan so that he could not be plowed in the field. "Everything is done by Thadipasanga," he said, "Let the evil go away." Both of them turned around the street and walked towards Kudiyanath Street.

Rangareddy won the election. But no one considered this a victory for Reddyar. They said it was the victory of the son against the father. The victory procession started in a bullock cart. Govindaswamy was garlanded in the cart. Ranga Reddy was standing next to him with an astonished smile. The town was lit up with music and fireworks. The noise grew louder as the procession passed Anticount's house. Half the crowd was swaying in a drunken stupor. Anticount was at home. He tried to chew on the defeat. Below him sat his wife, suffering.

Govindaswamy's neck was covered with many garlands. His face flickered in Petramax's light. Nandan came swinging happily in front of the cart. The volunteers cheered. They were ecstatic that justice had prevailed.

Anticount was walking around the field like a kitten. His mouth 'gave incessantly.

'Reddy dog, play the game. After this feeding, it also joined and went to the pitunna. Let's see how long he will give you a hug.'

Cows tied in the barn were looking at Counten in amazement. The dog lay paralyzed without doing all this. 'This is the only one who does not know this David's Bethel.'

Suppanna was returning to Kotai with a kalpan on his head.

One of the roosters had two heads up. He came tired in the sun.

Subpanna is often shirtless. He puts on his shirt only when he goes to town after work in the evening. He sleeps in the shed at night. Breakfast and lunch will come from the count's house.

His mind was twisted. Suppanna got scared today. In a little while Anticountan's colleagues Muthu and Gopalsamy will arrive. Counton beats Subpanna when he gets drunk.

Muthu and Gopalsamy are associates of Counton. Muthu Perundhiyan. Half of Anticount's strength is his. Anticount was fifteen years old when Gangadhar went to heaven, he was the eldest. He had two boys and no girls below him. As Antikauntan was not of age, the title of county went to his stepfather Rangakauntan. Rangan did not take off his crown even after marrying Anticountan and giving birth to a child
.
They broke into his house and beat him up.

"Now I have to see even Siddappa who came to Samachara in a Tapa village. Manual cutting and cleaning van. Jack's

The warning that was given worked.

The reign fell into the hands of Anticount. Muthu was the one who supported all this. Kendavan Gopalsamy joined in the middle.

• Minister! Does it rain three times a month in the country?' He is good at telling stories one by two to the question. All our modern storytellers would have to throw their bag of worms and run away before his story-telling skills. Thus the authority of the two ministers Sahitam Antikaunton was flagged. But today, the story took a perverse twist.

The sky was beginning to darken: the birds were returning to their nests as usual. As usual the western sky was moving towards deep red. Suppanna was cooking curry with bricks in the oven. The dog was standing next to Suppanna with its paws fluttering and stroking the smell of the curry. Moaning incessantly, the curry broth simmered in the pan. Antic Counten was lying on a rope bed, thinking about something. Subpanna only talks to him when he has some work to do. Otherwise the Count does not seem to have thought about him.

No one in Subpanna's lineage had seen such slave labor. They had a herd of goats and at least a hundred items were in their bar. When he was a boy, he used to roam around in the forest with his father. They drive herds of goats from town to town and return to Patti. Landlords will give them food for three days. They have goat saddle and gomiya. They are nutritious for the soil. Every now and then they drive the goats and go to pasture. At dusk the herds return to the paddy. As the goats come in the distance, the goats in the hut near the barn start shouting "May May". The small goats and the big goats all make the same sound. They feed the cubs. Two or three domestic goats go to pasture in one herd.

Suppanna's father Periyasamikonan caught the goddess Dur. Having lost the sheep to disease and price, he fell into bed. He also tied up one of his girls at that time, the wife got measles and left. He also left Subpanna helpless.

Suppanna did not like the company of goats. He wandered hither and thither and finally clung to the Anticount.

Now he has become a teenager. The desire to marry has come. He felt that he was left helpless. Caunton has not said anything about his marriage till this day. The thought of female pleasure was consuming his attention. He fantasized and enjoyed the women who came to work on the count's land. When the bull runs over the cow and the dogs get stuck in the snares, he begins to understand the justification for his frustration. The night, and his solitude, have become suitable for the approaching and disturbing of the angels of love. One night his hunger for flesh drove him down from human status to cow. When he went to the rear of the lying cow and stroked it, it sprang up and trampled on his leg. He was groaning in pain for a week.

The garden next door is Kannan's. He has a daughter. Name is Kamatshi. She cast a loving glance at him. He was stumbling. How to match? She is countachi. If the Count finds out, he will cut it and keep it in Pongal. However, the mind was strengthened.

It caused him great grief that he was cooking chicken for this count when he should have been old enough to cook.


eAs soon as the two colleagues arrived, they joined. All three looked dejected. All the previous excitement had flown away. Muthu and Gopalsamy act maturely to share Counten's grief. They drank it after pouring it. The chicken went in without a hitch. Suppanna did things like taking them, pouring them, etc. without saying a word. When the intoxication took over, Counten lashed out. Both tried to pacify him. Also about native evils of Rangarettiar family. Word also began to swell of Counten's dynastic glory. The Count's eyes were red. Both of them turned their talk back to the important direction.

Muthu said, "Give me that dish.

 " His mouth fell open.

Muthu said: 'Don't worry about anything. If the position comes to him, he will not be able to leave the city. "What is he afraid of?"

The pot and pan are empty. Both said goodbye and left. Counton lay down on the bed. The dog picked up the bone they had gnawed on and was biting it fiercely. Suppanna poured the curry he had taken separately into an old bowl and ate it.
Siddhartha's grandmother said,

"Why did you sleep?" She used to tell Siddhartha his native stories.

"You're the one who stopped swinging"

"Then what's up big?" he whined.

Siddhartha wrapped it well and stuck the pachammal to it.

'Don't you want to go to school tomorrow?''

Munu is on leave for the next day, Parima.

Then it's school on Monday

.

"What's wrong? Let's drink one cup and two cups. Reddiara kudu kudu. That person didn't wake up for a month."

Poliskaranga varle"

"At least the police are soil. You can't keep time inside the town. Town control is like that"

Siddhartha was happy. He hugged Periyamma and put one leg on her.

"Then Perimma..." sleep tugged at his eyes.

"You sleep. I will tell you the rest of the story tomorrow," she said.

.Okay...'' came the line.

He just fell asleep.
The movie will start in two days. The awning has already begun to flap. All the wage earners in the land said that they should leave on time and go home early. Their black bodies began to sweat profusely. By noon the village looked tired. The trees were bare. But neem trees alone do not know where this excitement comes from. It's always fun and cool. It was produced on a day when all the birds were sitting in the trees and resting peacefully.

It gave new energy to the tired village women and men. It was convenient to remember interesting old stories and to invent new ones. Men and women gathered here and there and whispered the hidden secrets of the matter. Is it such a big deal?

A boy runs away with a girl. That is, Suppanna ran away with Kamakshi. No. A Conan runs off with a schoolgirl.
Are they gone?

Those who ran or walked; The thing is, it is perverse. That and Anticounten's rule, isn't it unfair that such iniquity is happening in the village of Kolech?

When this matter reached the count, he was shocked. Some refused to believe.

Everyone referred to Subpanna as 'the Count's servant'.

This matter was turning Antikaunton, "The fat man, was he a schoolgirl who dragged and drove away, he ate salt in our food and spoiled us." Like a policeman, he does not wander around after he is in the middle of nowhere.''

'Where is that donkey? The world will pass away'

With the Count's permission, a group of five left. Govindaswamy was also included in that group.

They searched all the surrounding villages inquiring where Suppanna's relatives were.

Where will they go?

Subpanna will know what the world is like. Want to know in the wild, but can you live there?

They got it on the second day. Everyone was getting angry at the two days of violence. Everyone went to beat Subpanna.

Govindaswamy stopped. He made them realize that our job is to take it to the panchayat. Kamakshi says I will not come. She said that if she comes, her father will cut it off. Govindaswamy said that he will see to it that nothing happens.

Antecedents. This is the name of the village where they were hiding. It was a Conan's house. Subpanna's distant relative. They gathered both of them and entered the town through the forest.

Don't you know why it was called Mu Nnur Mangalam Kannu"
'This is a subplot

"Tell me big"

"Many years ago there was a man named Bhima.

Odambu is too big for him

. He will eat a lot, and he will destroy Varlanna town with cart after cart of rice flour from all over the town. In the same manner, he sent three hundred wagons of rice from this town to Colombo. So three hundred carts were built and they took the food that was around them and they went to see the three hundred in awe. He was terribly hungry and came crawling to the palm tree with his mouth wide open. He took all the carts and filled them.

"Sir! Have you swallowed all the seers?"

"Yes... will the mother swallow the man's clothes? He will not eat ghee and pulses and grow a calf." "

Then"

"That's it. From that, the town came to be known as Munnur 'Mangalam'. Does your brother-in-law have a shop in West Street? It is also the ancestral auspiciousness"

Vannan said that the panchayat would be held at Kaunton's house at night and informed the village officials through thoti.

Govindaswamy took both of them safely to his house.

Subpanna was panicking about what the panchayat was going to decide. The stolen marriage ended differently. A new yellow rope hung around Kamatshi's neck.

He knew it would only make the problem worse. All that was certain was that Counten would treat himself mercilessly. No one will come to intercede for him.

Shouldn't this have been done? She asked for the thousandth time.

If they had not gone together, they would have married. Only marriage is left. Everything is already over.

Kamakshi was two months premature. If not, more disaster will develop. Will he have the courage to leave her alone? She was the one who came up with this idea. It is brought here and stopped. He sent a mental petition to Etummalayan asking that everything should go smoothly.

Govindaswamy's wife Pachammal was sad to see them. Seeing the eyes of both of them ringed, she made food and brought it. They didn't eat. They were silent as if they had lost their speech. The woman bent down and did not stand up.

A mob has gathered in front of the house. Especially women. Children with them. Some felt sorry for them. Others spoke to condemn their arrogance. They cursed him that this crooked boy had taken away the girl he knew nothing about. Although the children did not fully understand, they only knew that they had some importance and looked down at the socks of the adults.

Their shadow darkened the house. The room was lit only by light coming through a small window facing the garden. Both were bound by the darkness as shadows: Suppanna was looking through the window at the banyan tree; Some of the crows and sparrows sat down and rested.

There is a miracle here, don't go,'' Pachammal chased the boys away. It froze the adults standing there but they didn't move. They were exchanging their words as if he had not asked her to go.


... Suppanna chases the herd of sheep. The sound of goats sounds like a terrible howl. There was panic in the sheep's eyes. They must have imagined that they were being chased by a fierce beast, and the goats running wildly through the harvested fields. No matter how much Subpanak Konan chased, he could not turn the herd, only his feet were buried in the mud. They went down the river and reached that bank. When he stirred the sand and water, he himself was frightened. Subpanna was still on this shore. He has never seen goats run this fast.

They were still infuriating him. The burning forest is on that bank. Everywhere thorn bushes have swallowed up the goats. It devoured corpses and grew into a giant. He climbed the hill in search of sheep. It started to grow into an even bigger mound. He gathered all his strength and climbed the hill. On reaching the summit, a vast expanse of sand greeted him? There is a new burial mound. New garlands were placed on it. Suppanna's father Periya Samikonan was sitting on the mound. Kona was hanging on his shoulder. His beard, mustache and eyebrows were gray with age. The old man's gaze was fixed on the sky. Suppanna ran and held the old man's legs together. The old man stooped uneasily and stroked his head affectionately. Suppanna cried.

"Don't cry, let's go home. Did your grandmother grow wild yams for you?" said the old man.

"I am Varlayya. I have work" to the old man. He sat a little further away.

"It's all over, what's wrong?"

Suppanna stood up. He has a sword in his hand

. You go home'' he said angrily.

 The old man smiled.

"He is the one who is buried inside," he said, pointing to the pile of corpses. Suppanna took the gadaparai and started punching the mound. Blood gushed from the puncture. He punched until his hand rested. When he stopped stabbing and stood up, the old man was lying on the ground in a pool of blood and Govindaswamy was running from the cover of the bush. In his hand is a long-handled scythe used to slaughter the lamb - the goats curled around Suppanna as he tried to chase him. He tried to drive away the goats. All the goats were motionless and cooked like stone. A single squeal ran away and knocked Suppanna. Blood gushed from Subpanna's mouth. Suppanna was built in the pandal. Couldn't move. Kida was knocking. Antikaunton is sitting in the paddock and smiling. They drag Kamakshi naked. 'I'm a bully. She shouts, 'Don't sit down'...

Suppanna wakes up feeling sick. When I opened my eyes the sky was still dark. . Kamakshi and the others were missing, and the oak tree trunks crunched beneath his emaciated body. The shirt he was wearing was bleeding and sticking to his chest. He struggled to move his limbs. When he opened his eyes again, the tangled branches and leaves of the yeti tree faded into view. Yesterday
He struggled to recall what had happened. Everything was like a dream. Interweaving each other formlessly.

Where will Kamakshi be?

She may kill herself. How horrible is that? How much she loved herself! He tried to recall her guileless face. Again memory escaped: again he was dragged into fear and lay unconscious.

The story that Chammal was telling Siddhartha melted his heart.

 "Is Subpanna dead or not?"

'He is dead. As soon as the awning was up, Odambu got a little chilly. He staggered and went through the forest. That is where Tirumalaikonan is. Periyasamykonan is his ally. Put food there for him. Apply medicine to the wound. Odambu Terivanduchi. But that Kamakshi girl in it died of suffocation."

"Oh, then"

"Hearing what happened, he tied a stone and jumped into the pond."

"Are both of them dead?"
Yes ...'' |

"Everything is because of our grandfather," said Siddharth.

"What did that man do? You fat donkey behaved like that"

"Suppannada's spirit is not hammered in that dignity"

Whatever it is. you sleep If you don't think about all that, you will have a bad dream,'' said Bachammal.

Her mind was heavy. The scene of Suppanna and Kamakshi sitting crying that day appeared before her like a painting.
Both fell asleep.

3
It took a long time for Govindaswamy, who had gone abroad, to return home. Bachammal kept Meena Kutti, a neighbor's baby, as a companion.

The priest knocked on the door.
A voice called 'Pachamma Pachamma' got up and she went and opened the door. She was shocked. Govindaswamy had also brought a puppet. She didn't say anything. She fell on the bed again. Her body shook. Govindaswamy took Vandala to the inner room and left her and came out. He sat beside Pachamma and put his hand on her.

"Look here," he grabbed the shoulder and turned it around. His face was wet.

"I saw it at the bus stand. She was standing like an orphan. Purusan asked. There is no one to own. What will Pombala Taniya do? I have gathered that it will be okay. Let's arrange something and send it''

 Memorial Path - Nagulan --- 13.4.'69 - 20.2.'70 - 2
What is it there that I became one of the memorial
four
?
She is not there either.
Like then and today
,
Payal is two.
I don't know why, how and why I wrote this poem. newlyweds; After four days, I had to see her again even though I was thinking that I should not see her. She was wearing a saree neatly. I could see her determined fingers were brushing under the abdomen. A charming smile on her face. It dawned on me that she knew what she was doing.

Maybe Shiva is right?
Is Ramanathan laughing right?
Is this a state of insanity?
Again the memory was derailed.

After three days I was confused whether to see her or not, I finally went and stood in front of her. She smiled and said 'sit down'. I didn't sit down. I don't have the courage. "One of my stories has been published" without sitting down. Will you read it?" I asked. She said, "Bring it." I went outside and took the magazine in my bag. I gave it to her and said, "You keep it. Don't give it back." I saw her again two days later. She automatically came to me and said, "You Is he Sahadeva?” He asked. "Which Sahadeva?" When he started asking, I said, "Yes, that is my nickname." She's gone. The way she left reminded me of Ramanathan.

If I write something, I will show it to him. He would read what I wrote and hand it back without saying a word. I also don't open my mouth and ask "what's up with you?"

After years passed, knowing my way or not, without knowing whether it would work or not, like following Susheela, I stopped asking whether he had read my writing or not, like I followed Susheela, and he said in four words, "That story you wrote." I like it'' and then move on to another topic. But in the middle I liked what he wrote. I wrote a review saying I didn't like it. Don't even know if he read them. Once he would say "You don't like my writing" and move on. At other times he would say, "What seemed inappropriate then, seems appropriate to you today" and move on. "Today my experience matures" and he talks about other literature and philosophy as if he doesn't hear it. Today I am getting to know Sushila through Ramanathan. Who is Susheela? Why this trouble?

I studied Tamil as a special subject when I did not know what desire was. That too seems to be good now. Only then, after recognizing desire as desire, studied English as a special subject. All our experiences meet at some point. I think that's when writing is born.

“Anangukol Aimail Kollo Kanang Kuhi
Matar Kol Malumen Nenju”

The ceaseless flow of memory. I remember someone telling me that the thillaiambathi is dancing in the dance center of the cosmic spheres. At his feet the song Kathan comes to mind again and again. Sov, I congratulate you heartily. What kind of meaning have you given to “human birth also” by creating a situation and enshrining an ideal in it? Come to that town and stay with him for a couple of days. I had to stay for a couple of days at the house of a storyteller (common readers don't even know that such a writer exists. As far as they are concerned, his writing is like 'sethe sanedu'). Even with me, for a few days, drinking a fake soda, When he left us both to stay in an old dilapidated house in a deserted street, it was 3 o'clock, and the next day Jayaraman told me, "I am leaving." I asked him, “Why is he talking like this?” I said. He replied, “Naveena, I will say it again. You don't know anything about the cruelty of life!" he said and left.

The next night I was afraid to stay in the house. An eight-legged bug on the wall, an eight-legged bug scares me. I beat it and chased it. Somewhere a rat was gnawing on the paddy. Urinary tract from the street. I took out a cigarette and lit it. He came again at 1 o'clock. He started talking again. His next question surprised me.

"Naveena, have you ever been to Bharathi's house?" he asked. I said nothing. I remembered that Ramanathan had once said that such a separate class does not exist now. But he did not wait for my answer. "Naveena I have gone. With friends. They will go in. I will be sitting in the hall. I don't know why. But only my tegam was clean. I have to say that my injury is my heart." He said. "You say you are writing something. You don't seem to know anything.” said. While we were talking, I heard someone call out, "Sir". She asked what is the matter of the lamp burning here like never before and went away. I went to the door and looked. bed The chubby body, the withered breasts, reminded me of a scene from Manimegalai. They say 'Manimekalai' is not a poem. It seemed that if there is a poem in 'Silapathikarat' then there is also a poem in 'Manimegalai'. But Nallashivan Pillai did not stop talking. He asked again, “Naveena, have you been drinking ganja? Have you taken opium?" he said.

I said nothing and shook my head. He said, "What is the news of the wedding then? Someone keeps coming from the town. I'll hang around with them all night - day and night. Then there's the opium habit. And that - if you eat it with bouvan fruit, it's like someone else is talking to you from the bottom of a well, as if you're listening to what someone else is talking about Everything that is distant is very near and what is near is far away... But this habit did not last. "He is gone. I was afraid. What if that girl knocks on the door again? Susheela suddenly remembered,

Sushila?
 Why are you
torturing me like this?

At 1.45 the mouth automatically hummed the mantras. Opium perhaps?

1. The lions in the bewildered mind are three, the fox in the chest is
four, and the calf is in the chest.

2. To sow the plantain, the bagel sprouted,
I stirred the dust, the pumpkin blossomed,
he prayed, and the gardeners
were all ripe, the banana fruit.
3. The seven Tugkaula
sheep of the two ascents were brought up to feed the young ones, and they were raised
in the middle of the river .
4. The sprouts that arose from the seeds of Pindalam were bruised and ripened by
the horse.

5. Illusion Illusion This
Illusion is the illusion of the unconscious mind. There is nothing else but
the
illusion.

The next day, when the east was white, I returned to town by train. Nallasivan Pillai had come to send me to the station
.
I entered my old room again. I don't know how to write about Sushila and how to make you understand. It is not right about writing that it will remain unknown because it is not known, or that it will not be possible because it is not beaten. I have heard my mother say - every birth pain is like death pain, please forgive me, reader. It is not even necessary. Because in the language we know, this publication is a horse's horn; It is even rarer that you will read this even if it is published! What, then, is common to the order of memory, to clock-time? I run after them as fast as the words go. Like every writer, I learn to write by writing and writing. It seems I can never get rid of this Susheela philosophy. After her marriage, I could not see her for a week, like those who go regularly to the temple, if they don't go for a day, it is the same for me. I felt like something; Every day I didn't see her was considered a day of rebirth. She got married in Guruvayur. Her face was tired. She was like a wilted flower, rubbing her belly without knowing what she was doing that day, a rare happiness reflected on her face, not coming to see me on her own - all together drove me crazy. All that week, I kept writing at 2 am and 3 am as a drain for my mind's frenzy. I am giving a copy of them below because I want to share what I wrote with you.
“I don't use writing.
Writing consumes me.
Behind me?” Isuviri

even today !

Your fire shines in Rajaswala !
From now on, a world will be created
through Ninja ! Isn't it my love!




A sentence like this in the book "Putra" by L. S. Ra:

“Shiva opened his third eye
and looked at me;
I was thrilled."
And (but)

Kollipappai (6)
The word is born in the moment it touches you; Emotion builds; says;

"Whenever I see you, I am in my possession." So, in that thorn-pissaka moment where I stand before you, you see only my image; you do not see the pulse of my growing emotion; or do you not? In the twinkling of an eye, for a moment my shadow falls and sees the shadow of panic, and your eye The feeling of changing the direction to 'Suru'; this is not like this. The call of the infinite experience step by step; to destroy my painful form and move forward, leaving behind the space that I rub every day when I step, disappearing inside every breathing moment, crawling and bored, than the writer of two books who is standing in front of me. These faceless people' face in front of them, intoxicated and bloated, street by street, the little deities show up.Sai', kicking the dust with his feet, And again "to reduce the vehemence of any devastation" Time lays its hand on your case, In soulless, rope-bitten dream - In memory, Ninuru thought, With eyes staring outward, I am Agathamara;

While the handwriting is disappearing, the image of my mother is like a shadow in my room at the time of fainting, like a shadow in the memory of an unknown dream, and the round blue eyes of the cat rubbing her soft skin on the windowsill are painful. “The house needs a girl; Why don't you know this? If you knock down everything that comes; We are also old; What do you intend to do? But this dream-like memory. To take root and become green, marriage, home, children, etc., “Leave marriage; Better cut your fingernails. ... "catch the wind, tear the nail, light the lamp" is not mad. Green youth, round blue eyes shadowing cruelty, a pinched face that tastes of the thorn that secretes the milk of the breast; But what relationship do you want to show to Pal and Pulal and Urmitri and this cat and me? "What are you freaking out about?" There is no one who does not know that those are the words that resonate; “Who is Sushila? good story My mind is broken” Don't you know her too? A cat's eye turned into a tiger's eye nightmare. “It is in this world that superficial imperialism is understood. I have to sit in the front row of this inevitable tongue-watering mob, you know?” Writing is inexpensive; The mind is a maze; Imagination is a rope; If you dig deep, you will find the foundation; Emptiness beneath; But the body is Chaitanyam; Did you know? My mind is broken" Don't you know her too? A cat's eye turned into a tiger's eye nightmare. “It is in this world that superficial imperialism is understood. I have to sit in the front row of this inevitable tongue-watering mob, you know?” Writing is inexpensive; The mind is a maze; Imagination is a rope; If you dig deep, you will find the foundation; Emptiness beneath; But the body is Chaitanyam; Did you know? My mind is broken” Don't you know her too? A cat's eye turned into a tiger's eye nightmare. “It is in this world that superficial imperialism is understood. I have to sit in the front row of this inevitable tongue-watering mob, you know?” Writing is inexpensive; The mind is a maze; Imagination is a rope; If you dig deep, you will find the foundation; Emptiness beneath; But the body is Chaitanyam; Did you know?

Yet your form fascinates me; Your smile is an enigma; The word is born the moment it touches you; No matter what you say, the word will keep this. Your communication bag is secret; But it is basically Madhuryam; In your case even the company of hatred does not attract love; Remembering your absurd philosophy, "What is the use of standing in front of the house and knocking on the door when the wife is not at home?" "Can you, who gave birth to seven children and threw six of them into the river one after the other, be raised as a house cat?"

However, your dominance cannot be stopped. Viturium glitters in the mud; It is only by understanding you, when your image is formed in me, that the word is born; you have arrived; The smell of dhalambu is wafting. Good comes somewhere; But this is bound to truth; Head work before the crown; Lemon in the hand of Parikshit Maharaja; The time of the reflexive reflexes of the under-mind; What we are follows us; Then we go; Like this I am behind you.

How long we both sat in the same room. Darkness creeps in outside; However, at least during the blinding, the east is white.

Killer Doll (5)

 You made
my life a dream; "Shadow of a Dream Memory" My mind shuddered to see its "Virut"-like style that charms the mind ; The date 20 is close by ; The memory seizes; In the twilight of the day , Pragnya stumbles  with feverish speed .




















The coming
skull;
the mind
Rheumatoid lameness, curled up
like a card ; The senses become numb. rolling eyes; The nagging of memory like a shadow in the darkness within ; Ghalib boys are laughing at someone on the street.












Why?
See who?
A single reference
is everywhere to
“
the imperialism of outer paint;
When the veil dissolves,
the Void emerges;" Follow thee

who never looks back
I made life
a dream.
The spasm of the memory
is suffocating

What are you in
my/me
 ?
Although attracted to
“your realistic reflection
So
father and mother

What am I, a good child who listens ? At the sight of
the hook form of the question, this momentary passage of time makes one laugh  like the Caliphs of the street ;




Everything is broken
glass
Kollipavai

(7)
(Written in memory of the beat “What will she do” in the story 'Manikka Veena' by Swaminatha Adreyan)
It's your image
fascinates me
like an eyeball
;

Your character shines in whatever you do . As far as you are concerned,  " You might have done

 this after doing this
".

Not here; The question is whether  it can be done
this way or this
way

sound,

It sinks into itself as it goes into silence
;
So
what did you do?
If you ask that,
get dressed
You stood aloof without saying anything,
looking like a blank space ; He who has seen you has become self-aware ; But who else but you is the one who has forgotten his character like you ? Even the moon, which stands like a lost coin in the frozen sky, is still thinned by the coin seeing you . Kalidasana , who was learning to walk with his eyes wide open and his mouth full of tambourine, said , "Tuiluriyum sargam is not here . "































Bharti is also
dressed
Adi Shakti,
which is formed in the interior
of Arunkalai,
keeps changing paths and becomes

"Pithanum" in itself
"There is no trouble here" He squeezes the questions that come
in front of you . I asked in the center of my mind , "I will not do that. " You said , " I will not do that . "



























If
the next moment is like a moment that
laughs at the time, life will save life


You will stand as a slayer of a sinner
who admires Yan like an unknowing beast
; I came again and again before you to beat the heart that saw it ; I will not type.







Kollippai (4)
The twinkling
rope night before your eyes;
Inside, the corpses buried
in the village crypt will cry out


A child-eating
crocodile
slowly creeps in, and the letter
spoken by the prophet comes to life and makes one smile;


Ninnuru
Veruvippayum Yali,
A gust of wind
shakes the bush;
When I see you,
my writing
comes alive
and makes me smile
Seeing it, many outward
looking figures will wither away;



Seeing you stand in me
, the hand will stand
as a shadow
.

Again.

Sushila takes me everywhere. For Paris is a movable feast.
A diary entry: Sankaralingam's friend; Sabine nose; round face; Always a pleasure, name? Balaraman.

Cinematic: Reviews a movie (“Two Birds”); One falls in love; One marries; This is it again, again Sai!

Love in my diary means obscenity; It is a sacred day.

It was only later that; that he had secret intercourse; Dirty means dirty. They explain.

But

The tree lives on the soil.

Sea blue
Green, blue, foamy,
blossoming, white, sparkling, shining,
sparkling,
funnel-
like, blue sky,
smiling, smiling,
mother, sipping, mighty,
man, trembling,
trembling, mighty,
screaming, roaring
, no, no
The beholder's mind
is wide open and the sea is blue. -

Seeing you and me
in the midst of the waves and foaming foam,
forgetting himself in his old age,
running away alone, broken and broken,
it does not come, it does not come.
"No" means "no, no" saying
"there is, there is" and changing color and
standing like a statue of the imaginal sea, the pearl that stands like a flag, the shadow-casting dream
turns into a sea, and this sea blue is boring.

Kandavan standing on the shore that was
getting closer and closer, he saw Peradisayanthan who was embraced by the blue of the sea and the blue of the sky . You will turn away from me, those who come and see me, who stand and get bored with the bargains of my heart ; Change and disappear - The blue of the sea where the sky and the sky merge into one, smiling at the sight of dirty water , brown, green, blue, overflowing, milky foam, salty, burning fresh water, life-saving white water , this blue sea is boring .






















Across the ocean, the country and city are visible; There are those who tear open the stomach and bring
pearls and pearls ; Time has seen that there is an ocean beyond the shore; The one who went to rescue the girl who had crossed the sea and told the story of the one who laughs and laughs even today, mysteriously rolling like a sea and standing in secret and returning again and again, you are the blue of this sea; You will not come; You are musical; You will say that there is no music; In the inner sea , the color changes over time and one multiplies and becomes you



















I became myself on the other side of the abyss, like an exploding flower,
like an air-like pain, like
a soil-like achievement . I stood praying to become you in you . you; Nin Charitam; "The one who went to rescue the girl who crossed the sea from prison tells the story and even today laughs and laughs like a magic sea that rolls and runs secretly and comes back again and again. This ocean is blue."












What is the use of writing? There seems to be something wrong with this too. I think you know what I'm saying without me saying it. Because words contaminate any experience. And that too in the case of Susheela. Hence

the killer doll

Like a circling falcon Like a
withered stork Like a dying stork Like a raven circling around
a dying breed Like a rising tower like a condensing and splitting spring Like a spring that condenses and splits I have dried up from within the fire from within The agony of desire "to whom were you" Circling like a hawk; Like a stork in search of prey It piles up like a crow; Like a circling tower like a adoring crow Flowing, flowing like a fountain , still condensing, my love

















Alone

I was burnt from the inside by the hot fire
, you went without stopping like the wind.

How many experiences; How many vividamsas for a single experience like 'Mauni' said. She was not married then. But she was the same then and now. (Marriage in Guruvayur; tired face; like a plucked flower) That was the first time he saw her and fell in love with her. Gerdtstein was studying at that time.

At 4 o'clock in the afternoon when I saw you without looking at you, I changed my gaze at that moment, and at that moment I changed my gaze and became one with your gaze. Or is it an evolutionary feature of my inner vision that I stand and work as a sight for all to see and that you will be satisfied in a moment and long for the arrogance that you threw on me with your inner sleep? Is it the private vision of my soul's throbbing agony that I lie down to enjoy seeing your vanished gaze unchangingly twinkling? i see you Is it the last glimpse of the rapture that revolves from one to the other from the state of rapture to look at me, and is it the eye-opening gaze of pitiful agony? How did the vision that was born and separated today and then merge? When you look at me, is this feeling that I spread that everything is your memory and the store of your longing eyes, the sad view of my longing for your memory? Is vision the vision of the distant green that transcends the duality of the seer and the seen? Did you see me or did I see you? Need visuals too? Is this vision that is formed when the evolution and failure of this vision, which expands and shrinks as you see it, is added to the memory? Did you see me or did I see you? Did you see me at 4pm, being watched by many people? Have I become an object of observation? Or are you the object of my gaze again? Who saw whom? Did we exchange glances? Or did I see myself? did you see me Or did I see you? Who saw whom at 4pm? Who saw? Who is seen? Who did we see? Who saw whom? Did you see me at 4pm? Or did I see you? Or did we both see each other? Who saw whom? did you see me did i see you Who saw whom at 4 pm? Did it happen? Who saw whom? Did we exchange glances? Or did I see myself? did you see me Or did I see you? Who saw whom at 4pm? Who saw? Who is seen? Who did we see? Who saw whom? Did you see me at 4pm? Or did I see you? Or did we both see each other? Who saw whom? did you see me did i see you Who saw whom at 4 pm? Did it happen? Who saw whom? Did we exchange glances? Or did I see myself? did you see me Or did I see you? Who saw whom at 4pm? Who saw? Who is seen? Who did we see? Who saw whom? Did you see me at 4pm? Or did I see you? Or did we both see each other? Who saw whom? did you see me did i see you Who saw whom at 4 pm? did you see me Or did I see you? Or did we both see each other? Who saw whom? did you see me did i see you Who saw whom at 4 pm? did you see me Or did I see you? Or did we both see each other? Who saw whom? did you see me did i see you Who saw whom at 4 pm?

* * *

Finally after the week was over my legs were automatically going to where she was. Couldn't see her longer than usual. Year End Examination; At home mother is unwell; In this way, for 4, 5 months, she was immersed in my inner world.

Then one day. Even thinking about it now gives me an indescribable feeling. The English poet Blake said that eye to eye, we see eye to eye; Elsewhere Bacon is somewhat artistic in his essay 'Dur Fortune' that we see with the eye. A step further, without the second, the most important first - seeing with the eye - would not be good. Why go around? Don't know if I've told you - Susheela has a very dashing personality. Now that she was pushing her stomach, it made me feel weak. But I remembered that even in this situation she was dressed neatly and was smiling and talking as usual. A thought flashed through his mind.
For women,
you can get a lot of energy.
Another time I saw her walking in this golam with tambulandari and sandalwood smeared on her forehead. Then her stomach was even bigger than before. My love has also multiplied. It was a feeling of someone noticing me, but I couldn't help but accept that as a human being, I am also full of strange emotions. Then she was not seen for a couple of months.

Then we "met" again. She has no sign of childbearing. Her beauty was enhanced by a change. I must say that she spoke to me a little more freely than usual. One day I mustered up all my courage and asked, "What child have you got?" I asked that.

She said "girl" and left. Again after this I was in deep depression. I don't know why. One day I was up till 4am when mom said “What, you still not asleep?” and dad came into my room and said to himself “it's 4am” but what do they know? I was writing.

A plant.

The mind is immersed in thought while counting the energy of leaves and flowers, fruits, seeds and reproduction.

a girl,

The mind measures the depth of thought when the flower collects, conceives, gathers and separates and becomes different and creates life through itself.

The plant survives in the combination of soil and seed. A man is born in the combination of sukhilam and saronitham. Thus says knowledge.

But asking "why" brings order to both. But that basis which is not grasped by thought, |

Poetry is born in the moment when the mind remembers the thorn

.

This is the secret of creation.
* * *

I never talked to Susheela for more than a quarter of a minute. But to see her in her womb, and to find that she had given birth to a child—why so much rejoicing? Do these types of experiences make sense? Shiva says “she is a woman, you are a man” and dismisses her. Ramanathan laughs. Will the experiences of being ridiculed and ignored by others become extinct? Writing is all about showing the nuances of experience. I will write again.

In the cradle of perfection

I went to a friend's house and the newborn baby was screaming. There is a rebellion in the voice of this being.
The needle on the clock keeps moving. It is its thorn that pricks us. If you don't give the key, it will stop. But we don't let it stand like that.

There is a pleasure in walking barefoot on the street. Then we all walk with a certain certainty.

At home too my wife gave birth to a bloody baby. The drive of the body, the drive of life. I am writing something; Our domestic dog is waiting for his new arrival as he sees me growing excited nearby. Even Katina's wife, I have never seen her showered with physical love like that. Most of the time I just sit and watch the clock and the dog.

I am learning to put betel leaves. First take a white betel nut, tear off the spinal cord, apply lime, then add betel nut in a ripe amount and chew it in your mouth, then add tobacco in the right amount. After mixing in the mouth, a calmness and peace is born. Betel leaves should be put whenever there is an opportunity to think. It seems to be the only thing that now remains as a meaningful ritual; Like going to Bhairava seeking love.

But because of the perception that behind everything there is the immanent, immanent, transcendent Brahman, the nature remains unaltered. That is why even death becomes a matter of changing the shirt.

"Ekadesam is complete" is the mother's vow.

* * *

After writing? Again and again the mind bends around her. Some women have a bulging stomach after giving birth. But not so in her case. She was the same as always. In fact, she was more beautiful than before. I want Susheela to see whatever I write. But sometimes it has become an experience to think of her and go into some kind of silence. . This is the secret of writing. Is that the case? Why not? But it's better to screw up your vocal chords than to write it down, and the experiences are bottomless.

I am going to see her again today. How beautiful she is. The first thing that comes to mind is the poem written about her.

Killer Doll (1)
Draupadi She
comes and goes Arjuna I
took the bow and bowed
the bow and
bowed the string and
fell in love with the Sauryam.
But I am the Arjuna who comes and goes.

I am the Arjuna who,
after biting his tongue and twisting
the rope of Vedanta , loses his manhood and wanders about as a demon. Draupadi Her forehead tilak, her virtuous life, her dexterity and her artistic brilliance are very bright,












This woman, who has a straight face,
bright
education, understanding of business,
practicality and decision,
is
good, will Arjuna
get rid of his pessimism?

On that day
he turned towards the face
Kalamdan got tired of his hands;
Before that, he
bowed his head before fate
and transformed into a beggar;
However, to take comfort in
Kannan's offer of a hand , he strode forward with Taruka. She was Draupadi.



the fountain of purity; She is
the slayer who holds
the diamond arm of the blossoming chastity , speaking the wisdom of silence and saying, "I will sing the song of life and go home and fulfill my vow . " She is Draupadi








I am the Arjuna who comes and goes.

Around the same time
"Like the taste of the epic, like the taste
of the city, like the beauty of the city, like the beauty of
your memory, memory"

I wrote as At another time,

Kollippai (2)
Arundhati
also stopped to laugh
at Akalikai
. Before
drawing the bow and bending the string to aim , Sita, who was standing that day with a perceptive eye, bent her heart and was eager to embrace her body, will also stand trembling after seeing your action. Hearing your name, death and his arms are weary and his chariot stands still.








The bow and the ring
'Vin' and the inside of the coin
are splashing Even the suitors will stop and laugh  when they see your act of standing without
opening your eyes and bending your heart.


Look at Akalika ,
the one who raised his guard to crow like a
rooster , who drank nectar for a moment and turned into a stone the next, and who called Didilan, a virtuous brother. But the act of standing like a stone without desire is not understood.









It was you who stood
like a stone statue,
like a painting painted in a dream,
cooked by flesh and blood
to drink life, like a throbbing petal of sin, like
death who came to kill
you.
However,

I stood in front of you in a state of `  `chill '' when I saw the shape of the
tree that did not waver , waved and waved, and saw that it was its life .



Yet the whole truth - about Sushila - does not seem to have been told, or can be told, as Jung says “She was an unbridled flood of life; Mohinib is the devil; Come to live; Besides, the speed that drags man along with the two extremes of love - love; Kriya Shakti; The form of truth of the deluge" is like something close; I wrote again.

Victory,
and glory,
and all that unfolds kill
me
without telling , but a snarl, so again,


Beda Bedam
The earthworm gilds
the soil The leafworm weaves silk;


Although there are
spiders, spiders
and insects in man , it is not complete;

Decoration
Lion's eye
breast milk;
In Neduven,
Karkalam,
the wear and tear
of Kollipappa
is forgiven.
No matter what I wrote, I could not escape Susheela. . It seems that this cannot be contained in the bubble of sin and virtue. Experience is inference. Only then does the artist go. After that, experience comes his way, words before interpretations. An empty emotion for a week Who is this Susheela? Why this trouble? Her decisive fingers. It has never come without having a forehead. It's 2 a.m. Mom is fast asleep, and so is Dad. Going from bed to table. I open the notebook and write

Sacrifice
Sushila
lay dead;
An eagle pecked
at her chest and
a swarm of ants came towards her; The poet ate black to make his stomach
sick .

By Naladikappal,
he
was a great poet,
combing his beard
and meditating
Even today I do not understand the meaning of this poem. Had to meet her again the next evening. She was more beautiful than ever. She came to me and said, “I am going to this town tomorrow; My husband has changed'' she said and left without looking back. That was her tendency, a sensation to ask her as much as she could. But did not listen. 'The end of the Gandharva world (?) was remembered in Jnanarath. I didn't see her after that. Is this Sushila chapter over like all the others? Something inside me tells me that it can't be said that way.

Blue - Pramil

 
Blue - Pramil

UPLOADED BY: AZHIACHUDALAR RAM | TIME: 12:00 AM |
GENRE: STORIES, PYRAMID
BLUE - PYRAMID  


Small art marketers who sniff and buy the remains of artists come and see. Criticisms fly around his pictures like feathers fly in a chicken fight.


He is an artist. Especially the Madras artist. From time to time he exhibits his pictures.

Some will cost. Famous Menatu Modern otherwise he has his office which has nothing to do with art.He has a family. The fans, that too the fans in big places, have shaken his head. Such a burden! His eyes don't see the human remains of the intersections where he takes the bus, and the wild plants that bloom like orchids.

One evening after returning late from office, he boarded the bus and got off after crossing two stages from his bus stop. Due to the external world, the person who boarded the bus is jammed and cannot get off. There is also an internal reason. Controversy since Seetkar kept a page of J Krishnamurthy's book which he had seen on TV recently.

It is a heated debate where computers can handle any human creation like story, poetry, etc. better than humans. "Then what are you called a man?" is Krishnamurthy's question. Our artisto pressed around as if he hadn't been told that the computer could do the painting anyway.

"Painting, sculpture, music can all be done by computer. In Japan, computers are menuboxing cars," growled the chipper to the side. His eyes were getting bigger and bigger in the rim of his nose glasses. With his growl, a small round light reflected in the glass, penetrating through the lanes of the bus crowd.

"But man can feel the beauty of the moon silently within himself. A computer can't," said Thiruvaalar,

adding "terminus" to the side of the ace.

The crowd poured out of the bus. The artist also fell. Let's see the fortune teller next door.

The feeling of standing somewhere on another planet suddenly appeared to our artist. somewhere, somewhere, somebody,

The glare of an electric pole on the faces of the people who were dispersing. Shards of glass glittered on the dark faces.

He began to walk past the streets of shacks and random slums. Suddenly, the world appeared in front of me. The gigantic clouds of the sky were moving as if they were telling the world about a great mystery buried within them, like silver and mercury. A rural voice in the distant distance, faintly heard like the languageless spring of nature.

Suddenly, that voice was replaced by another voice behind him, "Goo." A momentary senseless fear of death in its paranoia. He turned with a start. He was standing smiling in the moonlight. A respectable village boy of about fifteen or sixteen.

He did not let him speak. "This time, this time ... a little more distance..." he said, and he walked ahead of him and invited him to follow him.

Before anything else came to his mind, he pointed to a large, dark pit. In the dappled moonlight, the darkness turned into a mossy pond. The boy who had shown him the pond glided down into it. The appearance and disappearance of the boy made me think that it was some kind of supernatural life form.

By then the boy came out of the pool dripping wet and brought something in his hand.

It was a blue net. It was just then expanding. That blue power. He took it from the safely outstretched hand.

"Neelothpalam, it and Ravana, bloom only under water. Who has seen its beauty?" Someone, somewhere, was standing at the edge of his memories and saying. On the opposite side of the pond, the boy was left with AV on the artist, who was standing there looking amused?

The artist's eyes returned to the boy's face. The light of the moonlight that fell fiercely on the wet boy's face gave his big eyes and nostrils that flowed from his forehead without a groove, the image of another face carved by nature with great care over thousands of years.

"Who are you?" said the artist.

He didn't answer. A distant voice, muffled into tones, asked, 'Kishna'.

The boy responded with a 'coo' and ran across the vast expanse of the moon towards the voice that had called him. The blue flame in the hand has already blossomed its blue flames in the sky.
----------------------
AMRUTA PUBLISHING HOUSE 2009
TYPING ASSISTANCE: MANIKANDAN
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NOTE: GOOD LITERATURE IS POSTED HERE WITH THE INTENTION OF REACHING EVERYONE. NO OTHER COMMERCIAL PURPOSE. IF ANYONE HAS OBJECTIONS TO THIS PLEASE LET ME KNOW. I WILL DELETE THEM. COPYRIGHT OF WORKS BELONGS TO THE AUTHOR
2 COMMENTS:

GOMATI GOVT ON 12 AUGUST, 2012 10:00 AM SAID…
THE STORY IS AWESOME.
IT IS COMMENDABLE THAT YOU GIVE GOOD LITERATURE TO REACH EVERYONE.
HAPPY TO KEEP COMING

RAJASUNDARARAJAN ON AUGUST 13, 2012 AT 11:14 AM SAID…
THE BOY IN THIS IS JITHU KRISHNAMURTHY!

மூன்றாவது நாடக அனுபவமும் பின்னணியும் ‘நட்சத்திரவாஸி’ - 1977 - 78 - Anandarani Balendra

 Anandarani Balendra

எனது மனப்பதிவு – 4

மூன்றாவது நாடக அனுபவமும் பின்னணியும்

‘நட்சத்திரவாஸி’ - 1977 - 78 

எனது முன்னைய மனப்பதிவுகளில் நான் நடித்த நவீன நாடகங்களான ‘பிச்சை வேண்டாம்’, 'மழை’ நாடக அனுபவங்கள் பற்றியும் அந்தக் காலத்தில் அதாவது 60கள் 70களில் ஈழத்து தமிழ் நாடக அரங்கில் பெண்களின் பங்களிப்பு, அவர்கள் பற்றிய கணிப்புகள் எவ்வாறு இருந்தன என்பது பற்றியும் எழுதியிருந்தேன். 1975இல் ஆரம்பித்த எனது நவீன நாடகப்பயணம் கடந்த 45 வருடங்களாக இடைவிடாது தொடர்வது பற்றியும் எழுதியிருந்தேன். 

இந்தப் பதிவுகள் எவ்வளவு முக்கியம் என்பதை ஒரு சிலரின் அண்மைய செயற்பாடுகள் எனக்கு உணர்த்துகிறது. நான் சம்பந்தப்பட்ட நாடக முயற்சிகளை நான் இருக்கும்போதே தவறாகக் கூறுவதும் இருட்டடிப்பு செய்ய முனைவதும் நடைபெறுகிறது. தெரிந்தே செய்பவர்களை என்ன சொல்வது. இப்பொழுது இலங்கையில் ‘நாடகமும் அரங்கியலும்’ ஒரு பாடநெறியாக பல்கலைக்கழகங்களிலும் பாடசாலைகளிலும் இருக்கும்போது தவறானவற்றைக் கூறுவதும் எழுதுவதும் தவிர்க்கப்பட வேண்டிய ஒன்று. 

அண்மைக் காலங்களில் நான் எனது கணவரும் நாடக நெறியாளருமான பாலேந்திராவுடன் இணைந்து இலங்கையில் பல்கலைக்கழகங்களிலும் பாடசாலைகளிலும் நாடகப் பயிற்சிப் பட்டறைகளை ‘நாடகமும் அரங்கியலும்’ மாணவர்களுக்கு நடத்தியபோது எம்மைப் பற்றிய பல விடயங்கள் அவர்களுக்கு மிகப் புதிதாகவும் ஆச்சரியமாகவும் இருந்தன. மாணவர்களுக்கு மட்டுமல்ல, பல ஆசிரியர்களுக்கும்தான். நாம் இலங்கையில் ஆற்றிய தொடர் நாடகப் பணிகள் பற்றி அவர்கள் பெரிதாக அறிந்திருக்கவில்லை. பாடத்திட்டத்தில் பாலேந்திராவைப் பற்றி சில வரிகளே இருப்பதாகச் சொன்னார்கள். பாடத் திட்டத்தை ஆக்கியவர்கள் தவிர்க்க முடியாமல் இதனைச் சேர்த்திருக்கலாம் என்று எனக்குப்படுகிறது. 

ஈழத்து நவீன தமிழ் மேடை நாடகத்துறையில் முன்னோடிகளாயிருந்த பெண்களின் பங்களிப்புகள் குறித்து மாணவர்களுக்கு பெரிதாக எதுவும் தெரிந்திருக்கவில்லை. இவை பற்றி பாடத்திட்டத்தில் இருப்பதாக எனக்குத் தெரியவில்லை. அப்படி இருக்குமாயின் ஆசிரியர்கள் எனக்கு அறியத் தந்தால் நல்லது. 

இலங்கையில் நான் வசித்த காலத்தில் 1975இல் இருந்து 1982 ஜுன் மாதம் வரையான எழு வருடங்களில் 14 நாடகங்களில் நடித்திருக்கிறேன். இவை எல்லாம் முழுநீள நாடகங்கள். இவை பாடசாலை நாடகங்கள் அல்ல. நவீன நாடகங்கள். 75க்கும் மேற்பட்ட தடவைகள் மேடையில் நடித்துள்ளேன். இது தவிர பாலேந்திரா நெறிப்படுத்திய பேர்டோல்ட் பிறெக்டின் ‘யுகதர்மம்’ நாடகத்தின் பாடகர் குழுவில் ஒருவராக சுமார் 20 மேடையேற்றங்களில் பங்குபற்றியுள்ளேன். வரலாற்றில் இடம் பிடிப்பதற்காக நான் ஓடவில்லை. பதிவுகள் என்று வரும்போது அது சரியாக இருக்க வேண்டும் என்பதே எனது ஆதங்கம். எனது பதிவுகளை நான் அதற்கான ஆதாரங்களுடனேயே பதிவிடுகிறேன் என்பதில் எனக்கு மகிழ்ச்சியே.

எனது பதிவுகள் பற்றி என்னோடு உரையாடிய சில நண்பிகள் பாடசாலை நாடகங்களில்கூட ஆண்களுடன் பெண்கள் சேர்ந்து நடிப்பது முற்றாகத் தவிர்க்கப்பட்டதாகக் கூறினர். பெண்களே ஆண் வேடமிட்டும், ஆண்கள் பெண்ணாகவும் நடித்துவந்தனர். நான் கூட எனது பாடசாலைக் காலத்தில் நாடகங்களில் நடித்துள்ளேன். மகளிர் பாடசாலை அது. மீசை கீறி, தாடி ஒட்டி ஆண் வேடம் போட்டாலும் எமது குரல் எம்மைக் காட்டிக்கொடுத்துவிடும். எனது பாடசாலை நாடக அனுபவங்கள் பற்றி பின்னர் ஒரு பதிவில் எழுதவுள்ளேன்.

பாலேந்திரா நெறிப்படுத்தி நான் நடித்த ‘மழை’ நாடகம் 1976 இல் முதல் மேடையேற்றம் கண்டு பின்னர் 1977இல் இலங்கையில் வேறு இடங்களில் மேடையேறிக் கொண்டிருந்த வேளையில், இனக்கலவரம் வெடித்தது. அதற்கு முன்னர் கொழும்பு தெகிவளையில் வசித்து வந்த நான் இனக்கலவரம் ஆரம்பமாவதற்கு சில மாதங்களுக்கு முன்னர்தான் கொழும்பு மவுண்ட்லவனியாவில் எனது பெற்றோர் சகோதரர்களுடன் வேறு வீட்டில் வசிக்க ஆரம்பித்திருந்தேன். 

நாம் இருந்த தெருவில் ஓரிரு தமிழ் குடும்பங்களே வசித்து வந்தன. காடையர்கள் தமிழர்களைத் தாக்குகிறார்கள் என்ற செய்தி எம்மை வந்தடைந்தது. எனது அப்பாவும் அம்மாவும் ஏற்கனவே 1958 இல் நடந்த இனக்கலவரத்தின் போது தாம் பொல்காவலவில் இருந்து எப்படித் தப்பினார்கள் என்ற கதையை எமக்குச் சொல்லியிருந்தார்கள். அவர்களுக்கு இதன் தாற்பரியம் நன்கு புரிந்திருந்தது. இப்போது நாங்கள் ஐந்து பிள்ளைகளும் கூட. 

நாம் வசித்த வீட்டின் பின்புறமாக அனெக்ஸில் ஒரு பறங்கியர் (Burgher) குடும்பத்தினர் வசித்து வந்தார்கள். இருவரது வீட்டிற்கும் இடையில் ஒரு கதவு இருந்தது. அவரவர் பகுதிகளில் பூட்டி வைத்திருந்தோம். அவ்வப்போது கண்டால் ‘ஹலோ’ சொல்லும் அளவில்தான் எமது உறவு இருந்தது. பதட்டம் நிலவிய வேளையில் அவர்கள் எம்மிடம் வந்து பொதுக் கதவின் பூட்டை நாம் திறந்து வைத்துள்ளோம். உங்களுக்கு ஆபத்தென்று கருதினால் எமது பகுதிக்கு வரலாம் என்று சொன்னார்கள். ஒரு இரவு அங்கே தங்கினோம். 

காடையர்களுக்கு எமது வீடு தெரிந்துவிட்டது. அடுத்த நாள் நிலமை மோசமாகியதை அடுத்து எமது பக்கத்து வீட்டில் குடியிருந்த சிங்களக் குடும்பத்தினர் தமது வீட்டில் எம்மைத் தங்கவைத்தார்கள். மறுநாள் எமது வீதியில் கத்தி, பொல்லுகளுடன் தமிழர்களைத் தேடித்திரியும் காடையர்களைக் கண்டவுடன் வீட்டுச் சொந்தக்காரர் தனது மாமனாரின் வீடு பாதுகாப்பானது என்று கூறி அங்கே அழைத்துச் சென்றார். மாமனார் அந்த இடத்தின் கவுன்சிலராக இருந்தவரென்பதும் அவரது காரில் எம்மை அழைத்துச் சென்றதும் எனக்கு நல்ல ஞாபகம். 

அவரது வீட்டில் எமக்கு அடைக்கலம் கொடுத்தது தெரியவர, அது அவருக்கே ஆபத்தாக மாறும் என்று தெரிந்தபோது எனது அப்பா வெள்ளவத்தை பிள்ளையார் கோயில், கதிரேசன் மண்டப வளாகத்தில் தமிழர்களுக்கான முகாம்கள் திறந்திருப்பதை அறிந்து அங்கே எம்மைக் கொண்டுபோய் விடுமாறு கேட்டார். இரண்டு கார்களில் அவர்கள் எம்மைக் கூட்டிச் சென்றார்கள். வழியில் தெகிவளை சந்தியில் தமிழர்களின் கடைகள் எரிவதைப் பார்த்தோம். உயிராபத்து ஏற்படும் வேளையில் நடந்தவை, அது எவ்வளவு காலம் சென்றாலும் மனதில் பதிந்துவிடுகிறது. மனிதநேயம் என்பது சாதி மத இனத்திற்கு அப்பாற்பட்டது என்பதும் புரிந்தது.

முகாமுக்குப் போனபோது அங்கே ஏற்கனவே பல பகுதிகளிலிருந்தும் தமிழ் மக்கள் குடும்பம் குடும்பமாக வந்திருந்தார்கள். அதிலே காயப்பட்டவர்கள், மனநிலை பாதிக்கப்பட்டவர்கள் என பலவிதமானோர் இருந்தனர். சிலரின் கதைகளைக் கேட்டபோது எமது துன்பம் கடுகளவானது. எல்லோருக்குமான உணவு விநியோகம், சுகாதார சேவைகள் போன்றவற்றை ஒழுங்குமுறையில் செய்வதற்கு நானும் என்னைப்போன்ற இளையவர்கள் சிலரும் தொண்டர்களாக பணியாற்ற ஆரம்பித்தோம். அப்போதுதான் இன்னுமொரு இளைஞர் குழுவினரும் அங்கே தொண்டாற்றிக் கொண்டிருந்ததைப் பார்த்தேன். அக் குழுவில் பாலேந்திராவும் என்னோடு ‘பிச்சை வேண்டாம்’ நாடகத்தில் நடித்த சிலரும் இருந்தனர். 

ஊரடங்குச் சட்டம் அமுலில் இருந்த நேரம் அது. என்னோடு ஒன்றாகப் படித்த லோகா சிவஸ்கந்தராஜா ( சிவசிங்கம்) இந்த முகாமிற்கு எதிரில் இருந்த பம்பலப்பிட்டி flats இல் வசித்துவந்தார். கொழும்பில் அப்போது இந்த flats, ரொறிங்டன் அன்டசன் flats என விரல் விட்டு எண்ணக்கூடிய தொடர்மாடி வீட்டுக் கட்டடங்கள்தான் இருந்தன. இப்போது நிலைமை வேறு. தனி வீடுகள் எங்கே என்று கண்டுபிடிக்க வேண்டியிருக்கிறது. 

நாம் தங்கியிருந்த முகாமில் சுகாதார வசதிகள் மிக மோசமாக இருந்தன. ஆண்கள் சமாளித்தார்கள். பெண்கள் நாம் சிரமப்பட்டோம். குறிப்பாக இளம் பெண்கள். அவ்வேளையில் ஊரடங்கு சட்டத்தை தளர்த்திய நேரங்களில் லோகாவின் வீட்டில் குளியலறை போன்றவற்றை எனக்கு மட்டுமல்ல, சிரமப்படும் பெண்களுக்கும் பாவிக்க உதவினார்கள். லோகாவுடன் இப்போதும் தொடர்பில் இருப்பது எனக்கு மட்டற்ற மகிழ்ச்சி. 

எனது அப்பா எங்களை எப்பிடியாவது யாழ்ப்பாணத்திற்குக் கூட்டிப்போக வேண்டுமென்று முயற்சி செய்து கொண்டிருந்தார். கொழும்பு துறைமுகத்தில் இருந்து கப்பல் புறப்படும் என்றார்கள். ஆனால் அது எப்போது என்று யாருக்கும் நிச்சயமாகச் சொல்லத் தெரியவில்லை. இதற்கிடையில் இலங்கை விமான சேவையில் பணியாற்றிக் கொண்டிருந்த எங்கள் உறவினரான சுந்தரகுமார் (இவர் பின்னர் எனது அக்காவைத் திருமணம் செய்து எனது மைத்துனர் ஆனார்) கொழும்பிலிருந்து பலாலிக்கு விமான சேவை இடம்பெறவுள்ளது என அறிந்து அதில் நாம் பயணிப்பதற்கு ரிக்கற்றுகளை பெற்றுத் தந்தார்.

இரண்டு பஸ்களில் ஆமிக்காரரின் பாதுகாப்போடு இரத்மலானை விமான நிலையத்திற்கு அழைத்துச் செல்லப்பட்டோம். போகும் வழியில் தமிழர்களுக்கெதிரான கூக்குரல்கள் எழுப்பப்பட்டது எமக்குக் கேட்டது. விமான நிலையத்திலும் பல மணித்தியாலங்கள் நாம் எல்லோரும் காத்திருக்க வேண்டியிருந்தது. எந்த நேரமும் என்னவும் நடக்கலாம் என்ற ஒரு அச்சம் எல்லோரையும் ஆட்கொண்டிருந்தது. பல மணி நேரத்திற்குப் பின்னர் நாம் எல்லோரும் விமானத்தில் ஏறினோம். விமானத்தைப் பார்த்திருக்கிறேன். ஆனால் முதல் விமானப் பயணம் அது. அதுவும் பெரிய jet விமானம். எல்லோரும் அது jumbo jet என்று பேசிக்கொண்டார்கள். 

விமானம் பலாலி விமான நிலையத்தில் தரை இறங்கியபோது, தமது உறவினர்கள் யாராவது இதில் வருகிறார்களா என்று பார்ப்பதற்கு சிலரும் jumbo jet ஐ பார்ப்பதற்கு பலரும் கூடியிருந்தார்கள். அந்த நேரம் நாம் வருவது பற்றி உறவினர்கள் எவருக்கும் அறிவிக்க முடியாத சூழ்நிலைதான் இருந்தது. எனது அப்பாவும் ஒரு காரைப் பிடித்துக் கொண்டு எமது சொந்த ஊரான வல்வெட்டித்துறைக்குப் போய் உறவினர் வீட்டில் தங்கலாம் என்று திட்டமிட்டார். 

அவ்வேளையில் அச்சுவேலிக்கு அருகில் உள்ள கதிரிப்பாய் என்ற சிறிய ஊரில் வசித்துவந்த எனது அம்மாவின் தாய் மாமனாரான நடராஜா அவர்களின் இரு மகன்மார் விமான நிலையத்தில் எம்மைச் சந்தித்து தமது வீட்டிற்கு எம்மை அழைத்துச் சென்றார்கள். நாம் சிலவேளை இந்த விமானத்தில் வரக்கூடும் என்று தாம் எதிர்பார்த்ததாகவும் அதனால் அங்கு வந்ததாகவும் சொன்னார்கள். அப்பா, அம்மா, நான், எனது சகோதரர்கள் என ஏழு பேர் கிட்டத்தட்ட ஒன்றரை மாதங்கள் கதிரிப்பாயில் அவர்கள் வீட்டில் தங்கினோம். எங்களை எந்தக் குறையுமில்லாமல் மிக நன்றாகப் பார்த்தார்கள். 

21 வயதுவரை கொழும்பு நகரத்தில் வாழ்ந்த எனக்கு இந்தக் கிராம வாழ்க்கை மிகவும் வித்தியாசமாக இருந்தது. வயற்காணிகளும் தோட்டக் காணிகளும் நிறைந்த ஊர் அது. எந்தவித பரபரப்பும் இல்லாத அமைதியான சூழல். எனக்கு அது பிடித்திருந்தது. தோட்டத்தில் விளைந்த காய்கறி, பழங்கள் என இயற்கை உணவு. நான் முதன் முதலாக சைக்கிள் ஓடப் பழகியதும் அங்குதான். எனது தம்பிமார் நன்றாகப் பழகிவிட்டார்கள். இரண்டு மூன்று விழுகையுடன் எனது சைக்கிள் ஓடும் முயற்சி தோல்வி கண்டது. யாழ்ப்பாணத்தில் நான்கு வருடங்கள் நான் வசித்தபோதுதான் சைக்கிளின் உபயோகத்தின் முக்கியத்துவம் எனக்கு விளங்கியது. மீண்டும் முயன்று தோற்றதுதான் மிச்சம். 

கொழும்பு சென்ற அப்பா அங்குள்ள நிலைமையை அறிந்து திரும்பியவுடன் நாம் எல்லோரும் இனி நிரந்தரமாக யாழ்ப்பாணத்திலேயே வசிக்கப் போவதாகவும் தான் யாழ்ப்பாணப் புகையிரத நிலையத்திற்கு மாற்றலாகி வரவிருப்பதாகவும் சொன்னார். அப்பா புகையிரத நிலைய அதிபராக பல காலம் பல ஊர்களில் வேலை பார்த்து பின்னர் எமது சிறு வயதில் இருந்து கொழும்பு – மருதானையில் புகையிரத நிலைய கட்டுப்பாட்டாளராக பணியாற்றிக் கொண்டிருந்தார். 

சுமார் ஒரு மாதம் சென்ற பின்னர் திடீரென ஒருநாள் பாலேந்திரா நான் தங்கியிருந்த கதிரிப்பாய் வீட்டிற்கு வந்தார். எங்கள் எல்லோருக்கும் பெரிய ஆச்சரியம். இவர் எப்படி நாங்கள் இருக்கும் இடத்தைக் கண்டுபிடித்து வந்தார் என்று ஒரே யோசனை. அப்போது எனக்கும் பாலேந்திராவிற்கும் இடையில் ஒரு சக நாடகக் கலைஞர் என்ற ரீதியிலான நட்பு மட்டுமே இருந்தது. தான் எமது உறவினர் மூலமாக விசாரித்து அறிந்ததாகச் சொன்னார். நாங்கள் எப்படி இருக்கிறோம் என்று நலம் விசாரிப்பதற்காக வந்த பாலேந்திரா சும்மா வரவில்லை. ஒரு நாடகப் பிரதியுடன் வந்தார். அந்த நாடகம்தான் தர்மு சிவராம் எழுதிய ‘நட்சத்திரவாஸி'.

நாங்கள் இனி நிரந்தரமாக யாழ்ப்பாணத்தில் வசிக்கப் போகிறோம், யாழ்ப்பாண நகருக்கு அருகில் வீடு பார்க்கிறோம் என்று பாலேந்திராவிடம் சொன்னேன். உங்களுக்கு இந்த நாடகம் நன்றாகப் பிடிக்கும். சவாலான பெண் பாத்திரம் இது. நாடக ஒத்திகைகளை நாங்கள் யாழ்ப்பாணத்திலேயே செய்யலாம் என்று கூறி நாங்கள் வீடு மாறியவுடன் தனக்கு தெரியப்படுத்தச் சொல்லி தனது முகவரியை தந்தார். யாழ்ப்பாண நகருக்கு அருகில் கொக்குவிலில் வாடகைக்கு வீடு பார்த்து குடியேறினோம். 

‘நட்சத்திரவாஸி’ நாடகப் பிரதியை வாசித்தவுடன் எனக்கு மிகவும் பிடித்துவிட்டது. மூன்றே மூன்று கதாபாத்திரங்கள். ஒரேயோரு பெண் பாத்திரம். பாலேந்திரா என்னை நம்பியே இந்த நாடகப் பிரதியைத் தெரிவு செய்தார் போலும் என்று யோசித்தேன். பாலேந்திரா ஏற்கனவே எனக்குக் கூறியது போல் அந்த வித்யா பாத்திரம் மிக மிகச் சிக்கலான ஒரு பெண் பாத்திரம். நடிப்பதற்கு சவாலான ஒரு முற்போக்கு எண்ணம் கொண்ட, வித்தியாசமான பெண் பாத்திரம். 

ஏற்கனவே சவால்களை சந்திக்கப் பழகிய எனக்கு இந்தப் புதிய சவாலையும் ஏற்கும் மனப்பக்குவம் வந்திருந்தது. கொழும்பில் வசித்துக்கொண்டு மேடையில் நடித்தது சரி. யாழ்ப்பாணம் வந்த பின்பும் நான் நடிக்க ஒப்புக்கொண்டபோது எனது அப்பாவும் அம்மாவும் ஆதரவாகவே இருந்தனர். மற்றவர்கள் என்ன கதைப்பார்களோ என்ற பயம் அவர்களுக்கும் இல்லை, எனக்கும் இருக்கவில்லை. 

‘நட்சத்திரவாஸி’ நாடகத்தை எழுதிய தர்மு சிவராம் அவர்கள் ஈழத்துக் கவிஞர், எழுத்தாளர். இது அவரின் சொந்த வாழ்க்கையின் சில கூறுகளைக் சொல்லுகிற நாடகம் என்றும் சொல்லப்படுகிறது. யாழ்ப்பாணத்தைப் பிறப்பிடமாகக் கொண்ட இவர் திருகோணமலையில் பல காலம் வாழ்ந்த பின்னர் இந்தியாவில் தமிழ் நாட்டில் வசித்தவர். இவர் பிரமிள் என்ற பெயரில்தான் பெரும்பாலும் அறியப்பட்டவர். அதீத புத்திக்கூர்மை கொண்டவர். இவர் இருந்த காலத்தைவிட இறந்த பின்னர்தான் இவரது திறமைகள் வெளியுலகிற்கு நன்கு தெரிய வந்தன. இவரின் எழுத்துகள் ஆறு தொகுதிகளாக வெளிவந்துள்ளன. திரு. கால சுப்ரமணியம் அவர்கள் தமிழகத்தில் வெளியிட்டுள்ளார்.

‘நட்சத்திரவாஸி’ நாடகத்தில் நட்சத்திரவாஸியாக சுகந்தன் பிளாஞ்சாட் நடித்தார். இவர் ஏற்கனவே என்னோடு நான் நடித்த முதல் இரண்டு நாடகங்களான ‘பிச்சை வேண்டாம்’, ‘மழை’ ஆகிய நாடகங்களில் நடித்தவர். நல்ல நடிகர். நன்றாக ஒத்துழைத்து நடிப்பார். சுகந்தனுடன் அன்றிலிருந்து இன்றுவரை தொடர்பு உண்டு. சென்ற வருடம் ஒஸ்ரேலியா சென்றிருந்த போது நானும் பாலேந்திராவும் சந்தித்தோம். நாடகம் எமக்கு இவர் போல பல நல்ல நீண்ட கால நண்பர்களைப் பெற்றுக் கொடுத்துள்ளது. 

நாகன் பாத்திரத்தில் தனபாலசிங்கம் நடித்தார். இவரை நான் முதன்முதலாக இந்த நாடக ஒத்திகையின்போதுதான் சந்தித்தேன். வித்யா பாத்திரத்தில் நான் நடித்தேன். எம் மூவரைத் தவிர பத்துப் பேர் கொண்ட கோரஸ் நடிகர்கள் இருந்தார்கள். என்னைத் தவிர மற்ற எல்லோரும் கட்டுபெத்த பல்கலைக்கழகத்தைச் சேர்ந்தவர்கள். 

‘நட்சத்திரவாஸி‘ நாடகத்தில் வரும் வித்யா சில முரண்பாடுகள் காரணமாக இளம் வயதில் வீட்டைவிட்டு வெளியேறியவர். திருமணமாகாமல் தனித்து வாழ்கின்ற, வேலை பார்க்கின்ற ஒரு சுதந்திரமான பெண். அவர் தன் வாழ்க்கையில் சந்திக்கின்ற மனிதர்கள், அவர் மீதான சமூகத்தின் பார்வை என இந்நாடகத்தின் கதை நகர்கிறது. நடிப்பதற்கு சிக்கலான பாத்திரம். பிரதியை மீண்டும் மீண்டும் வாசித்து பாத்திரத்தின் தன்மையை உள்வாங்கிக் கொண்டேன். 

இந்நாடகத்தின் ஒத்திகைகள் யாழ்ப்பாணத்திலேயே நடைபெற்றன. இனக்கலவரத்தை அடுத்து பல்கலைக்கழகங்கள் மூடப்பட்டதால் கட்டுபெத்தை வளாக மாணவர்கள் எல்லோரும் யாழ்ப்பாணத்தில் ஒத்திகைகளுக்கு வரக்கூடியதாக இருந்தது. மும்முரமாக நடந்த ஒத்திகைகளைத் தொடர்ந்து பாலேந்திராவின் நெறியாள்கையில் ‘நட்சத்திரவாஸி’ நாடகம் முதல் முதலாக 08-01-1978 அன்று யாழ். வீரசிங்கம் மண்டபத்தில் மேடையேறியது. 

திரை விலகும்போது ஒரு பெண் பாடும் குரல் கேட்கும். ஆயிரங்கால் மண்டபத்தில் இருந்து இனிய குரலில் பாட ஆரம்பித்து பின்னர் கண்ணாடி உடைந்து சிதறும் ஒலியோடு குரல் உடைந்து கரகரப்பாக மாறி இசை ஒலிக்கும். மங்கிய ஒளியில் வித்யா(நான்) மேடையில் சரிந்து விழுந்த நிலையில்… மேடையின் நடுப்பகுதியில் பிரமாண்டமான லிங்கம் ஒன்று கிட்டத்தட்ட கூரையைத் தொடுவதுபோல் அமைக்கப்பட்டிருந்தது. அதனைச் சுற்றி அமர்ந்திருந்த கறுத்த உடை அணிந்த பத்து கோஷ்டி நடிகர்களும் “கொலை! கொலை!” என பல்வேறு தொனிகளில் சத்தமிட்டபடி மேடை முழுவதும் நகர்ந்து பெரிதாக ஆடத் தொடங்குவார்கள். மேடையில் வித்யா கொலையுண்டு கிடப்பார். நாடகத்தின் ஆரம்பமே பார்வையாளர்களை ஒரு புதிய உலகத்துக்குள் அழைத்துச் சென்று கட்டிப்போட்டுவிட்டது என்றுதான் சொல்ல வேண்டும். 

இந்த நாடகத்தில் வந்த இசை ஒரு தீம் மியூசிக் போல நாடகத்தின் இடையிடையே ஒலிக்கும். ராகச்சாயல் கொண்ட சிறு ஆலாபனையும் ஸ்வரக் கோர்வைகளும் கொண்ட இந்த இசை மனதை நெருடக்கூடிய வகையில் அமைந்திருந்தது. யாழ். கண்ணன் அவர்கள் இசையமைத்திருந்தார். பாலேந்திரா கூறிய நாடகத்தின் கதையை நன்கு உள்வாங்கி மிக  அருமையாக அந்த இசையமைப்பைச் செய்திருந்தார். 

எனக்கு பல்வேறு உணர்ச்சி மாற்றங்களுடன் நன்றாக நடிப்பதற்கு இந்த இசை பெரிதும் உதவியது என்றுதான் சொல்ல வேண்டும். குறிப்பாக வித்யா தனது இளவயது கதையை flash backல் சொல்லும்போது பெரிய பந்தியாக அமைந்த வசனங்களுக்கு பின்னணியில் ஒலித்த இசை வலுவூட்டியது. நிர்மலா இந்த இசைக்கு குரல் கொடுத்திருந்தார். மிக நன்றாக இருந்தது. ஒலிப்பதிவு செய்யப்பட்ட இசை என்பதால் அப்போது நான் நிர்மலாவை சந்திக்கவில்லை. நான் “கண்ணாடி வார்ப்புகள்” நாடகத்தில் நடிக்கும்போதுதான் அவரை முதன் முதலாக சந்தித்தேன். 

பிரமாண்டமான லிங்கத்துடனான மேடையமைப்பை கட்டுப்பெத்தை பல்கலைக்கழக கட்டடக்கலை மாணவரான குணசிங்கம் செய்திருந்தார். இவர் பின்னர் பாலேந்திரா நெறியாள்கை செய்த ‘கண்ணாடி வார்ப்புகள்’, ‘ஒரு பாலை வீடு’, ‘அரையும் குறையும்’ போன்ற நாடகங்களுக்கு மேடையமைப்பு செய்ததுடன் என்னோடு ‘அரையும் குறையும்’ (மோகன் ராகேசின் ‘ஆதே ஆதுரே’) ‘முகமில்லாத மனிதர்கள்’ (பாதல் சர்க்காரின் ‘ஏவம் இந்திரஜித்’) ஆகிய நாடகங்களில் நடித்துமிருந்தார். இவருடன் அந்தக் காலத்திலிருந்தே எனக்கும் பாலேந்திராவிற்கும் நல்ல பழக்கம் இருந்துவந்தது. சிட்னியில் 1996இல் நடந்த எமது நாடகவிழாவினை ஒழுங்கு செய்து நடத்தியவர்களில் ஒருவர். கடந்த வருடம்கூட நாம் சிட்னி சென்றிருந்தபோது தனது வீட்டில் இலக்கிய நண்பர்களுடன் ஒரு சந்திப்பை ஒழுங்கு செய்திருந்தார். 

‘நட்சத்திரவாஸி’ நாடகம் யாழ்ப்பாணம், கொழும்பு, பேராதனை, திருகோணமலை ஆகிய இடங்களில் மேடையேறியது. எனது நடிப்பு பற்றிய நல்ல கருத்துகளோடு நான் ஏற்ற பாத்திரத்தின் தன்மை பற்றிய எதிர்மறை கருத்துகளும் முன் வைக்கப்பட்டன. இப்போது சங்கடமான விஷயங்களெல்லாம் எனக்கு சகஜமாகிவிட்டது. 

மேடையேற்றத்திற்கான பிரயாணங்களும் சுவாரஸ்யமாக இருந்தன. நீண்ட பயணங்களின்போது பாடிக்கொண்டு செல்வோம். இந்தக் குழுவில் நான்தான் ஒரேயொரு பெண். இளவயது முதலே எல்லோருடனும் கலகலப்பாக பழகும் சுபாவம் கொண்ட எனக்கு நான் தனித்துப் போய்விட்டேன் என்ற எண்ணம் ஒரு காலமும் வந்ததில்லை. எல்லோருமே கலகலப்பாக பழகுவோம். நாடகக் குழு எனக்கு ஒரு குடும்பம் போல. இப்போதும் எங்களுடைய நாடகக் குழவினரை எனது குடும்பம் என்றுதான் சொல்லுவேன். 

இந்த மேடையேற்றங்கள் பற்றி நல்ல விமர்சனங்கள் எழுதப்பட்டு பத்திரிகைகளில் வெளிவந்தன. எனது நடிப்பு பற்றி

“வித்தியாவாக நடித்த ஆனந்தராணி மேடைநாடகப் பயிற்சியுடன் வானொலி நாடகப் பயிற்சியுமுடையவர். நீண்ட பந்திகளாகச் சில இடங்களில் அமைந்த வசனங்களைக் கூட பார்வையாளர்களுக்கு அலுப்புத் தோன்றாதபடி தேவையான உணர்ச்சிச் சாயைகளுடனும், ஏற்ற இறக்கங்களுடனும் பேச அவரால் முடிந்தது”

என்று ஒரு விமர்சனத்தில் எழுதப்பட்டிருந்தது. 

இது கனதியான ஒரு நாடகம் என்றும் அக்காலத்தில் கூறப்பட்டது. நாடகம் பார்த்த ரசிகர்கள் சிலரின் நேரடியான விமர்சனங்களும் பத்திரிகைகளில் வந்த இவ்வாறான விமர்சனங்களும், காத்திரமான நாடகங்களில் நடிக்கவேண்டும், தமிழில் நவீன நாடகங்கள் மேலும் வளர்வதற்கு எனது பங்களிப்பை வழங்கவேண்டும் என்ற உத்வேகத்தை எனக்கு அளித்தன. எனது நாடகப் பயணமும் தொடர்ந்தது.

‘நட்சத்திரவாஸி’ நாடகத்தின் மேடையேற்றங்களின்போது நிழற்படங்கள் எதுவும் எடுக்கப்படவில்லை. ஆனால் பத்திரிகைகளில் வந்த விமர்சனங்களை வைத்திருக்கிறேன். 

அடுத்த பதிவில் நான் நடித்த நான்காவது நாடகமான “கண்ணாடி வார்ப்புகள்” நாடக அனுபவம் பற்றி எழுதவுள்ளேன்.

ஆனந்தராணி பாலேந்திரா 

12-09-2020

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Programme

Two plays 'Pali ' & 'Nadchatravaasi' presented by the Tamil Society - University of Moratuwa (Kaddubetta)

Directed by K Balendra

27-10-1976 இல் கொழும்பில் முதல் நான் நெறிப்படுத்தி மேடையேற்றிய "மழை" நாடகம், பின்னர் யாழ்ப்பாணத்தில் 14- 01 -1977 இல் மேடையேறியது. இதைத் தொடர்ந்து 

நான் நெறிப்படுத்திய 'நட்சத்திரவாசி' ,'பலி'(08-01-1978) , 'கண்ணாடி வார்ப்புகள்'(09-06-1978), 'பசி', 'புதிய உலகம் பழைய இருவர்' (27-12-1978) ஆகிய ஆறு நாடகங்கள் யாழ்ப்பாணத்தில் வீரசிங்கம் மண்டபத்தில் மேடையேறின. தமிழ் அவைக்காற்று கலைக் கழகம் 1978ல் உருவாக்கப்பட்டது. பேராசிரியர் மௌனகுருவின் நெறியாள்கையில் தமிழ் அவைக்காற்று கலைக் கழக ரசிகர் அவைக்காக 'தலைவர்', 'அதிமானிடன்' ஆகிய நாடகங்கள் 27-02-1979 இல் யாழ் வீரசிங்கம் மண்டபத்தில் மேடையேறின.  / - பாலேந்திரா

Kanagaratnam Balendra

 is with 

K S Sivakumaran

 and 2 others.

JaetSpfnuumhSamrdoeyu g7 catn fau5:dnus23 oAreMdford  · 

இன்று தருமு சிவராமின் நினைவு நாள். ஈழத்தில் திருகோணமலையைச் சேர்ந்த நவீன தமிழ் இலக்கிய ஆளுமை தருமு சிவராம். தமிழகத்தில் மிகவும் மதிக்கப்படும் ஆளுமை இவர். பிரேமிள், அரூப் சீவராம் போன்ற பெயர்களில் அறியப் பட்டவர். 70 களின் ஆரம்பங்களில் இவரது சில கவிதைகளை ரசித்திருக்கிறேன். 1973 இல் நான் வெளியிட்ட "நுட்பம் " இதழில்வெளியான "புதுக்கவிதை அனுபந்தத்தில் இவரது E = mc2 கவிதையை மறுபிரசுரம் செய்தேன். 1978 இல் இவரது 'நட்ஷத்திரவாசி' நாடகத்தை நெறிப்படுத்தி மேடையேற்றினேன். அது குறித்து பேராசிரியர் கா இந்திரபாலா, கே எஸ் சிவகுமாரன் ஆகியோர் எழுதிய குறிப்புகளில் சில பகுதிகளை கீழே தருகிறேன். நட்சத்திரவாஸி நாடகமும் எமது ரசிகர்களும் பல ஆண்டுகளாக இலங்கையிலே தமிழ் நாடகம் வளராதிருப்பதாகக் கூறப்பட்டு வந்தது. அங்குமிங்குமாகச் சில தனிப்பட்ட நன் முயற்சிகளைவிடப் பெரும்பாலான நாடகங்கள் சினிமாக்கலையின் பிடியிலிருந்து விலக முடியாத வகையில் திரைக்குரிய பண்புகளை மேடைக்குக் கொண்டுவர எடுத்த பெருமுயற்சிகளாய் வீணாக்கப்பட்டன. மறுபுறம், பாரம்பரிய நாட்டுக்கூத்தானது பேணல் முயற்சியாளர்களுடைய பிடியிலிருந்து தப்ப முடியாது வளரத் தவித்துக் கொண்டிருந்தது. அந்த நிலையில், ரசிகர்கள் வேறு வழியின்றி இவற்றை ஏற்கவேண்டியிருந்தது மட்டுமின்றி, “ரசிகர்கள் அப்படித்தான் விரும்புகிறார்கள்” என்ற அநியாயமான குற்றச்சாட்டுக்கும் ஆளாக வேண்டியிருந்தது. (இன்று அப்படித்தான் சினிமாக்களை வளராதிருப்பதற்கு ரசிகர்கள் மீது குற்றம் சுமத்துகின்றார்கள்.) ஆனால், இன்று இந்நிலை மாறி, சினிமாக்கலை வேறு நாடகக்கலை வேறு என்ற அடிப்படையிலான உண்மை உணரப்பட்டு, நாடகத்துறையின் வளர்ச்சிக்குரிய சூழ்நிலை உருவாகியுள்ளது. இதற்கேற்ப ரசிகர்களும் தம்மைத் தயார்ப்படுத்திக் கொண்டுள்ளார்கள். இப்பொழுது ரசிகர்களும், நாடகமும் சம வேகத்தில் முன்னேறிச் செல்லவேண்டிய அவசியம் ஏற்பட்டுள்ளது. “நட்சத்திரவாஸி' சிக்கலான கருத்துக்களை உள்ளடக்குகிறது. சிறந்த உத்திகளுடன் நவீன நாடகத்துக்குரிய முன்னேற்றமான பண்புகள் பல நிறைந்திருக்கின்றன. நடிப்பும் நன்றாக அமைந்தது. கட்டுப்பெத்தை வளாகத்தினர் வீரசிங்கம் மண்டபத்திலே அதனை முதன்முறையாக மேடையேற்றிய போது ரசிகர்கள் நிச்சயமாக அமைதியுடனும் ஆர்வத்துடனும் வரவேற்பளித்தனர். பேராசிரியர் கா. இந்திரபாலா வீரகேசரி 19-03-1978 As for its presentation there is a gleam of hope that structurally also the Tamil stage is trying to be `with it' Balendra's imaginative interpretation on the stage with a simple decor (there was also a phallic symbol) and the playing with the appropriate lighting helped in a great way to create the right atmosphere. As mentioned earlier the play is essentially in the dialogue. There was hardly any movement or physical conflict. The conflict was there in the psychological diatribe of the protagonists. Herein lies the sensitive and understanding of the actors, Suganthan and Anandarani Rajaratnam, who gave flesh and blood to their roles with their nuances in enunciation. K. Balendra, deserve special notice now, as some of the frontline directors, of Tamil plays in Colombo are now in Jaffna. Balendra has on several occasions proved that he is a very modern stage actor -I mean not the normal type of film actors who come to the stage to use it as a platform for entry into the celluloid world. But in this play Balendra has shown his tremendous potentiality as a creative worker in the theatre. - K.S.Sivakumaran Daily News 24-04-1978