Eighth century Tamil poet and founding saint Andal is believed to have been found as a baby underneath a holy basil plant in the temple garden of Srivilliputhur. As a young woman she fell deeply in love with Lord Vishnu, composing fervent poems and songs in his honor and, according to custom, eventually marrying the god himself. The Autobiography of a Goddess is Andal’s entire corpus, composed before her marriage to Vishnu, and it cements her status as the South Indian corollary to Mirabai, the saint and devotee of Sri Krishna. The collection includes the Thiruppavai, a song still popular in congregational worship, thirty pasuram (stanzas) sung before Lord Vishnu, and the less-translated, rapturously erotic Nacchiyar Thirumoli.
Priya Sarrukai Chabria and Ravi Shankar serve as master translators for the volume, employing a radical new method for that revitalizes classical and spiritual verse by shifting it into a new contemporary poetic idiom in English. Many of Andal’s pieces are translated collaboratively, giving readers multiple perspectives on the rich sonic and philosophical complexity of classical Tamil. Andal: The Autobiography of a Goddess is a powerful expression of female sexuality in the Indian spiritual tradition—one newly available to a general readership in this fresh new translation.
Andal (Tamil: ஆண்டாள்), also known as Kothai, Nachiyar, and Godadevi, was the only female Alvar among the twelve poet-saints of South India. She was considered to be the human incarnation of the Goddess Bhudevi. As with the Alvar saints, she was affiliated to the Sri Vaishnava tradition of Hinduism. Active in the 8th-century, with some suggesting 7th-century, Andal is credited with two great Tamil works, Thiruppavai and Nachiar Tirumozhi, which are still recited by devotees during the winter festival season of Margazhi. Andal is a prominent figure for women in South India and has inspired several women's groups such as Goda Mandali.
The Autobiography of a Goddess is absolutely enchanting. Suffused with sensuality, solemnity, with myth and music, with fragrances and rapture, it reads like a trance. Priya Sarukkai Chabria and Ravi Shankar present a stellar, multi-faceted, dizzying translation, tackled through their personal lens, allowing for the different angles of Andal's poetry to shine through. Thoughtful, they provide the neophyte reader with a clear, beautifully written introduction to Andal's life and poetry, and preface each poem with a short insight which allow everyone to catch the secret, sometimes obscure gems of Andal's writing. Concluded with a poem by Andal's adoptive father - which throws light on the narrative behind Andal's garland of poems -, this book is extensive, exhaustive, clear as a bell.
As a translator myself (kind of), I particularly appreciate the explanation and the work of translation themselves. Priya and Ravi infuse their own art into their interpretation of Andal (both strikingly different and talented poets, both strikingly different readers as well, as their translations show, but pouring forth love, admiration and beautiful insight, answering the tacit agreement of intimacy and faithfulness between a translator and an author); not only that, but they take the time to explain their choices and the original structure* of their volume to their readers. This attention to detail and to the work of translation itself is absolutely lovely.
*To allow for a more exhaustive understanding of Andal's subtle, dizzying writing, Priya and Ravi opted for a fascinating structure : they both translated most poems in the book, so that the reader can enjoy two interpretations of one poem, or opted for a blend of their poetry in translating some poems together (thus enriching their own styles and interpretations).
A must read for sure. I was allowed to discover and fall in love with Andal thanks to Priya and Ravi's art and work. The Autobiography of a Goddess is one of the most beautiful books of poetry, and the most beautiful work of translation I have ever read.
In this review I would like to discuss my reaction to Andal and Chabria-- it's not a very technical review, and a different perspective to Pauline's (wonderful review) -- fundamentally because I grew up very familiar with Andal. She was important in my world. This, however, is the first time I am reading Andal in English, and I was keen to see how Andal's very Tamil poetry translates into English.
Even in English, Andal breathes from the pages -- how solemn and suddenly playful, how uninhibitedly sensual. Her poetry flowers between the leaves of these pages, aided and enhanced by the translations of Chabria. Devotion is the keystone of the work. We feel Andal's single-minded focus, her utter rigidity in her love for her god, and we appreciate the changes in her tone- from devotional and soft to plaintive, demanding, harsh. Chabria captures this variability exquisitely and infuses it with her own distinctive poetic voice. This is all the more visible because Shankar's translations are so different. His translations are a lot more direct-- it's quite easy to spot this, given that his lines read much more like direct translations of Hindu hymns; they're familiar, people familiar with Hindu hymns and poetry have seen lines like that before.
Chabria's are extremely different: they play with form, rhythm, rhyme: she does have parameters here, but the only part of the poem that feels bound by the original Tamil is the spirit of it. She captures Andal's devestating longing perfectly, without shackling it to a direct translation or allowing it to fall into familiar patterns. I recognize some of A. K. Ramanujan's influence in this -- his translations are similarly unshackled to the original Tamil. I appreciate this greatly, because translating classical Tamil into English is no mean task. Linguistically, it's full of pitfalls. Classical Tamil poetry, including Andal, has brief and nuanced lines. As Ramanujan said in his introduction to The Interior Landscape: Love Poems from a Classical Tamil Anthology, "a dense adjective-packed, participle-crowded Tamil poem of four lines may become in my English a piece of ten lines". Chabria has managed to bring that sudden and gorgeous brevity to English.
Andal is devastating, and, I believe, she is meant to be read as such. She flourishes not only in the classic Tamil literary canon but the Indian literary landscape in general. She startles with the most exquisite poetry. This book was one of my favourite reads of this year. I was breathless at the overwhelming intensity of the poetry-- the honey, the fire, the tragedy of it. I highly recommend it to everyone.
P.S. I know I'm gushing, but I did actually have to stop at times while reading this book because of how overwhelming it was. I think that's what makes it so special for me-- I rarely have such strong and beautiful reactions to books.
I really gave this three stars not for Andal's writing, but for the interpretation.
I actually leaned towards liking Ravi's interpretation a little more but Priya did a wonderful job as well. It was a great book and was short and succinct for the reader to pick up the beautiful words of Godha devi. I just wished that rather than having to read every poem twice, with very few meaning alterations between the two versions, they should have worked together to translate everything. It would have been more meaningful for the authors to have a more solidified version, and for the readers too.
Overall though, it was a great short book. It was a great non-fiction supplemental read to read alongside of The Queen of Jasmine Country to pick up on the poems while learning about the author.
Andal is like War and Peace in my family: something everyone seems to talk about and pretends to know but none really does. On the other hand she has, in the world of history books been given the position of a saint and poet who challenged and helps rethink gender stereotypes and traditional castings of Bhakti and its association with renunciation. But as always any generalisation is limiting and so are both of these. If anything, Andal is a world filled with diversity, multiplicity of voices, colour and life. The authors begin interpreting and translating Andal first by living her. This book has two translators both of whom give different translations to many of the poems - and in doing so they invite their inclinations, their tastes, and life experiences to participate.
Andal famously vowed to marry none other but Krishna. And in her love for the person she takes various roles, a fellow playchild, his damsel, and a distant devotee in need of attention. But Krishna is only one of the deities she evokes. In the one of the songs of the Nacciyar Tirumozhi, she imagines Vishnu as Kamadeva and sings in praise of him while decorating her village street. Elsewhere she is in love with Ulagar Perumal and somewhere else Venkateswara and finally Vatapathrasayi of her own Srivilliputtur. I was delighted to discover that Andal too played with the motif of cloud messenger, one of the greatest contributions of India to world literature. The woman in particular songs is fixated with events from the Puranas - like the churning of the ocean or the disrobing of Gopis in the Yamuna. She refuses to "move on" and what allows us to be patient with her are the passionate and lovely translation capabilities of the editors.
This is a remarkable book of translated (or perhaps trans-rendered?) poems by a girl who turned into a Goddess. The translations are done separately as well as jointly by two different translators with remarkably different interpretations of what seems to be a very complex text in a form of Tamil that predates most Sanskrit literature. I urge this book upon all readers, but especially those who are interested in ancient Indian literature, mythology, and translated verse.
loved the juxtaposition of how two modern voices have brought alive the very powerful works of Andal for the non-tamil speaking world. The work has left me curiously hungry for more of this genre!