A Hundred Tamils from the twentieth century
Sundara Ramaswamy: was created on 30th May 1931, in Thazhuviya MahadevarKovil, a village in Nagercoil). At 20, he started his literary career, converting Thakazhi Sivasankara Pillai’s Malayalam novel, Thottiyude Makan into Tamil and writing his first short story, ‘Muthalum Mudivum’, that they printed in Pudimaipithan Ninaivu Malar.
He was affected by the whole shebang of effective reformers and savants like Gandhiji. E.V.Ramaswamy Naicker. Sri Aurobindo. Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa, Dr.Ram Manohar Lohia, Dr.J.C.Kumarappa and J.Krishnamurty. He met the truly amazing literary luminary of Malayalam, M.Govindan, in 1957 and continued to be his close friend up until the finish. In 1952, he met the charismatic Communist leader T.M.C.Raghunathan. He was affected by Marxian philosophy. His exposure to the literary magazine Shanti, edited by Raghunathan, and the joining the editorial-board of Saraswathi, edited by Vijayabhaskaran, also an ardent Communist, were decisive in the growth like a author.
His talent manifests itself distinctively through his novels. Oru Puliamarathin Kathai (The Storyline of the Tamarind Tree, 1966), his first novel, was well accepted like a work that demonstrated to become a new experience in form and content, extending the frontiers of Tamil novel and creating new perspectives. He threw in the towel active writing for pretty much six many as he started again in 1973, he’d gone beyond executing a fascinating and agile narration.
He still continued to be a stylist, but his concerns required new directions and the language acquired a good texture, retaining a effective and pointed humour.
Oru Puliamarathin Kathai continues to be converted into British (Tale of the Tamarind Tree, Penguin India, New Delhi), Hindi (Imli Puran, Nilakant Prakashan, New Delhi), Malayalam (Oru Puliyamarathinte Katha, D.C.Books, Kottayam) and into Hebrew language (by Ronit Ricci, Hakibbutz Hameuchaud Publishing House, Tel Aviv).
In 1959, he authored his first poem, united nations kai nagam underneath the poetic pseudonym ‘Pasuvia’ and printed it in Ezhuthu. Poetry introduced him the expertise of a dimension past the concreteness of words as well as their meaning. The first poems were rigorous in language and high in tone. His poems progressively grew to become more translucent and immediate. All his poems are collected within the volume, 107 Kavithaikal.
Sundara Ramaswamy that has written poetry as Pacuvayya is possibly the most crucial author today in Tamil. His earlier short-tales, that he started his writing career, affected by Marxist philosophy transcended the rigid perceptions normally observed in such writings in Tamil in those days and revealed his natural instinct for form and elegance.
Ramaswamy is as simple as nature a stylist. His inspiration derives partially from Pudumaipithan, the author who ushured in modernity into Tamil literature. Right right from the start, Ramaswamy produced for themself a distinctive feeling of narration, marked with a keen sense for local languages and honor. Thus, his tales were wonderful and compelling. His first novel Oru Puliyamarattin katai (Tale of the Tamarind Tree) extended the frontiers of Tamil novel and produced new perspectives on novel.
Sundara Ramaswamy suspended active writing for pretty much six many as he started again in 1973, one found another Ramaswamy whose factors outgrow individuals to have an intriguing and agile narration.
True, he still continued to be a stylist, but his concerns required new directions and the language which stopped to become soothing and amusing acquired a good texture yet it retained a powerful sense of humour, but now more effective and pointed. It had been within this phase he authored his tales within the Palanquin Bearers volume, and then a superb novel J.J. Some Notes. This novel defied all of the notions prevalent in Tamil covering the priority, form and language of the novel. It eschewed narration, introduced inside a tone of intense meditation on the caliber of human existence and also the problem of remaining human.
Ramaswamy began writing poetry in 1959. His urge for brand new poetry stemmed from the health of Tamil poetry which, regardless of the truly amazing poet Subramaniya Bharati in early decades from the century, continued to be weak and that was heavily regimented through the classical prosody. Also poetry introduced him the expertise of that dimension that was past the concreteness of words as well as their meaning. The options natural in poetry were challenging.
Like a poet, Ramaswamy’s output, though not quantitatively vast, is extremely significant. Essentially, his can be a mind of the poet, and just what his poetic sensibilities couldn’t capture in poetry, you can say, spilled to prose. And it’s also harder to discuss his poetry. His poems really are a severe questioning into a person’s existence, perceptions, conflicts, tireless but frequently defeated search. The first poems were rigorous in language and high in tone. But progressively, his poems grew to become more translucent and immediate. Frequently, he adopts a discussive tone. His poems aren’t rhetoric his language usage has set new directions and options.
The majority of Ramaswamy’s writings have made an appearance in little magazines which though reaching limited readership have sustained serious literary operate in Tamil over the past half a century. Ramaswamy has additionally contributed considerably towards the disciplines of literary critique and essays. He’s converted poems from British and novels from Malayalam. Ramaswamy has travelled broadly he would be a participant within the Indian Poetry Festival in Paris. He’s visited Malaysia, Singapore, London and Toronto for talks on literary topics.
Ramaswamy has converted from Malayalam into Tamil Thakazhi Sivasankara Pillai’s Cemmi and Tottiyue Makal and short tales by Thakazhi, Basheer, Karoor Neelakanta Pillai and M. Govindan. He’s also converted a couple of poems of N.N. Kakkad. He was awarded the esteemed Kumaran Asan Memorial Award for his assortment of poems Naunici Noykal.
However for me, he only agreed to be Grand daddy.
My earliest recollections of him have a bald man relaxing in his room, a wall entirely made from glass, noisally dictating Tamil words towards the clang from the typewriter. Sentences would get noticed of him, the typewriter would struggle to maintain, and words would begin anew. When allowed space, I usually thought it was boring inside a couple of minutes.
He was strict and unapproachable, more within my imagination compared to reality. I spent the majority of my holidays in the house, however i attempted difficult to avoid him. There’d continually be some small crime I’d committed he was certain to pull me up for. His concept of play was colouring books, mine incorporated violent games, the victim usually being my buddy.
I detested Tamil rather than read anything outdoors of faculty work. His first short story which i read would be a little-known translation into British of Stamp Album. After I told him about this, he was surprised and requested for that book. He did not understand the story have been converted. That incident left no impression on my small mind. I figured when compared with A Virtual Detective. Stamp Album was nothing.
Then for a long time, he was absent from the existence. I rarely visited my grandma and grandpa and for some time it appeared like I did not know them any longer. My dad would keep mentioning JJ: Sila Kurippugal in the conversations about books. After one particular conversation, I dusted a heavily marked first edition copy from the book in the loft and checked out it. I’d never read a Tamil novel before and that i seriously doubted I’d look at this one. The very first sentence on JJ’s dying was striking. I had been interested in the way a author could begin a novel together with his primary character dying in the actual first line. I stored studying and also over 3 or 4 days finished it.
I realized then that books do improve your existence. And the very first time in a long time, I needed to satisfy my grandfather. I went to his place and told him which i had read JJ. He desired to talk however i increased shy. He stated he want to suggest a few books which i might like, however i in some way tucked away.
Years later, after my mother died and father grew to become ill, I gone to live in my grandparents’ home.
I just read lots of him during this period which provided the arrogance to inquire about him questions regarding his work, his concept of creativeness and virtually everything on the planet. I became a member of him in the evening walks and we’d have lengthy conversations. Searching back, I understand which i was more naive than I figured I had been and that he was more patient than he must be.
He’d a mind have a tendency to thought things through. He could, with great style, incisively analyse issues, an excellent which make his essays valuable. But you will find aspects to him like his conversations — funny, clever and poignant — that went unrecorded. Also, he chuckled like nobody else, his face muscles completely loose, his mouth wide, his eyebrows as though frowning.
I recall speaking to him as he had just begun his third novel — Kuzhanthaigal Pengal Angal. From random conversations towards the manuscript towards the printed book, the creative process was fascinating. He contacted it just like a 10 to five job. Even ten minutes from his work affected him badly.
It had been as though he’d tons to state despite half a century in internet marketing. He’d keep grumbling about distractions that keep him from work. He’d a spirit that wasn’t easily covered up. In the way he worked out each morning till at night as he read themself to rest, he displayed an enthusiasm for existence which i envied.
Among the first stuff that my uncle Kannan did at about the time he elevated Kalachuvadu. the literary magazine, within the mid 90s, ended up being to publish my grandfather’s assortment of poems. Unlike his other works, the poems stored growing on me with each and every studying. When dramatised or sang, these poems reveal a dimension for them which make me marvel in their author.
He was at great health as he authored rapid tales collected in Maria Thamuvukku Ezhuthiya Kaditham in 2003. It’s difficult to think that barely 2 yrs later, he’s forget about.
When news he have been accepted to hospital came, I increased restless. His voice as he had last talked to me have been really subdued. Despite seeing his body within the casket in the funeral, a realistic look at his dying never hit home. It had been unreal to determine people crying openly and also to walk among showering petals towards the graveyard alongside his body.
My exposure to him was in lots of ways unfulfilled. I’d in some way deluded myself to believing that he’d continually be there. Today, I regret deeply that
another conversation with him doesn’t seem possible.
The next day his funeral, my six-year-old cousin imitated my grandfather’s ritualistic arrival in the dining room table for supper. The doorway of his room would open, my grandfather would emerge humming a tune and walk the couple of ft towards the large hall, turn on the fan and sit in the regular chair. No one would consider the time. It might continually be 1 pm.
Many people, I believe, undergo existence without ever getting a go at what they already want to complete. My grandfather made the decision in the teens he thought about being a author and went after that path with rigour. Amongst all of this sorrow, that’s one factor which makes me happy. Happy of his satisfied existence and our unfulfilled relationship.