RAYS OF SUNSHINE AND POETRY

FALL in love. Often. That thought struck me well before dawn. The crispness and stillness of the early morning bring out the best energies. I write at that time. I thought about love. We meander through life and lament missed opportunities. Plod on. Stride on. Each new day brings a new opportunity to fix something or build something new.

That philosophical encounter with myself reminds me of sitting at the bus shelter on Road 302 in my beloved Bangladesh market district in Chatsworth with the weight of the world on my skinny shoulders.

Sheet metal sides, rough wooden slats. Lewd scribblings.

Buses that never ran according to any schedule. A late bus gave one time to think. Nowadays our thoughts go straight to social media.

My friends wonder about the profundity of my thoughts. Most are from diverse pieces of scripture or literature sunk in the recesses of the mind. So as not to burst their bubble, I suggest that I am rewriting the Thirukkural. That is an ancient set of 1330 couplets by Thiruvaluvar.

I learnt a fair amount of it by rote in the original, but alas with little if any comprehension or recollection. One wonders why he is referred to as a saint. Religion is the strangest most artificial barrier of human existence.

Thiruvaluvar was a profound thinker and philosopher writing somewhere between 300 BC and 1500 years ago in southern India.

The School of Oriental and African Studies in London pays tribute to his thought leadership with a large statue in its garden.

The Kural talks about everyday virtues including veganism or moral vegetarianism which is catching fire nowadays. It is one of the two oldest published works in Tamil literature existing in its entirety. The other is the Tolkappiyam, about Tamil grammar and linguistics. At last count, the Kural was translated into 40 languages.

Looking through 21st century lenses it is horribly sexist and patriarchal in places:

“Those that choice armlets wear who seek not thee with love,

“But seek thy wealth, their pleasant words will ruin prove.”

While an obvious reference to women who trade sex to earn a living, it does not chide the lecherous men who patronise them.

As the morning haze seeps in, another part makes me smile: “As sun’s fierce ray dries up the boneless things…” Enough poetry to refresh the heart and reboot the soul.

Good literature causes us to freeze in time and gaze in wonder. In that regard, the Thirukkural is timeless.