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304 pages, Paperback
First published January 26, 2016
Poetry's beautiful. It whiles away the hours. It tricks people, thrills them. It makes us forget our lives for a few minutes - but that's all.
I love the Tamil Kuruntokai because it's poetry about waiting and longing in shaded gardens, poetry for people who don't have the wise Krishna to advise them before their battles, who don't have a monkey god ally to help them build a bridge across their seas, who have no chakra to hurl at their Shishupals.
For instance, when Sri Magha describes the heat and fury of the battle in the nineteenth parva, you can hear the breathlessness of war hiss from every line: 'rasahava', the sound of exhalations from beneath the helmet, breath wetting bronze. The songs of blades and the hooves of the horses, the elephant footfalls and conches all clamour from the tumultuous 'sakarana narakasa kayasada dasayaka', but these lines are part of a verse that can be read as a palindrome in all directions - not just left and right, but up and down as well - the most intricate poetic device ever created.
sakāranā nārakāsa
kāyasāda dasāyakā
rasāhavā vāhasāra
nādavāda davādanā
It translates into Tamil as: 'Loving battles, the army was formed of allies who struck down their various enemies, the cries of the best horses contesting with the music of instruments.