ஒரு பெருந்துயரும் இலையுதிர்காலமும் - கு. றஜீபன்
(Oru Perunthuyarum Ilaiyuthir Kalamum by K. Rajeepan)
"Oru Perunthuyarum Ilaiyuthir Kalamum" (A Great Sorrow and an Autumn) is a profoundly significant poetry collection that documents the horrors of the war experienced by Sri Lankan Tamils, the psychological trauma that lingered in its aftermath, and the faint, resilient hope for resurrection. Authored by Kulasingam Rajeepan, who was born in Ezhalai, Jaffna in 1976. Writing poetry for over a decade, he has published other notable works including 'Mounathuyil' (2000), 'Valigalai Thaangi' (2004), 'Oru Nathiyin Thedal' (2006), 'Pesarka', and 'Nagunayam Maraithal' (2009). This collection was published by Kalachuvadu Publications in Nagercoil in November 2013. Moving far beyond mere political propaganda, these poems record the scars of war in a deeply intimate language, manifesting as vibrations within an individual's inner psychological space.
Jeyamohan's Foreword: Endless Autumn
Renowned writer Jeyamohan provides a deeply analytical foreword titled "Endless Autumn" (Mudivila Ilaiyuthirthal). He meticulously breaks down how the medium of poetry confronts massive destruction and immense sorrow. While catastrophes like earthquakes can violently shake the physical world, poetry remains an intimate, silent vibration of a nerve. He employs a beautiful metaphor: just as a tiny sparrow hiding in the dark hollow of a tree senses the sheer magnitude of a raging storm outside merely by the rustling of its soft feathers, poetry feels and processes great sorrow.
Pointing out that many Eelam poets are trapped in rigid political stances and end up writing empty propaganda, Jeyamohan praises Rajeepan's poems for being remarkably different and introspective. He evaluates these poems as resembling the diaries written by the trembling hands of a survivor hiding in the dark beyond the ruins and death wails, even after the apocalyptic dance of destruction has ended. The poet's core mindset, encapsulated in the poignant lines, "The fierce apocalyptic dance has subsided and rested, yet the sounds of the drumbeats are still being heard," is brilliantly highlighted by Jeyamohan as the essence of the collection.
Part 1: A Great Sorrow - Testimonies of Destruction
The first section, "A Great Sorrow" (Oru Perunthuyaram), speaks directly of the horror of the war-plowed lands, the destruction of identities, and the tragedy of derailed ideals. In the poem "Defeated dreams and unrecoverable great sorrow", the poet describes how the stench of frozen blood polluted the air, registering that their dreams no longer have aesthetics; only the flesh and blood of atrocities come and go. He points out that nature too shares this grief, as clouds refuse to even drizzle after the day their dreams failed. "The great dance of ghosts" describes the agonizing tragedy of Eelam caught and torn apart in a massive apocalypse.
The poet also places severe criticism on the diverted paths of the armed struggle. In "Headless torches", he painfully describes how huts were burnt by arrogance and gun bullets were harvested in the fields. He notes how the path of fasting and peaceful protests was rejected for swords, which ultimately lost their heads. The poem "Directionless guns" sharpens this critique, noting how the guns taken for people's liberation lost their targets and ended up killing the people themselves. In "When colors were destroyed", the poet searches the list of the disappeared, symbolically pointing to the cruel sexual violence where "someone injected their manhood over nakedness". "Back to the starting point" describes the tragedy of being chased back to the old starting point, with the identity of the race destroyed, without any dawn despite countless wounds.
Part 2: Autumn - Memories of Buried Bunkers
The second and longest section, "Autumn" (Ilaiyuthirkalam), captures the emptiness and psychological disintegration of post-war life. In "Darkness for us", the poet yearns that people are still waiting with bulging eyes like innocent children, and a day for them hasn't dawned yet. In "Day eaten by emptiness", he conveys that the visions of the future are heavy with sheer emptiness. "Identities covered by dry leaves" talks about systematic attempts to erase history; the footprints of those who walked and the wanderings of boots that refused to befriend sandals are now covered by dry leaves. This is a painful record of how time hides the traces of massive violence.
He doesn't spare post-war political dramas either. In "Words filled with colors", he condemns the ruling class throwing false, color-filled words claiming to recover lost days while hiding ulterior motives. In "A world of wolves and humans as foxes", he boils with anger stating that this world is made of wolves, where preys are forcefully dragged into bushes, and foxes have all turned into humans. The peak emotional shock of this section is delivered in "Heartaches of a bad day", where the poet writes that amidst a massive human tragedy, Buddha hung himself on the Bodhi tree out of sheer grief seeing the human sacrifice. "New meaning from old words" criticizes the building of new mansions over thousands of mass graves, staging rehearsals for new disguises while burying old myths.
Part 3: Sprouting - A New Gate Rising from the Ashes
The final section, "Sprouting" (Thulirppu), records the hope of the people struggling to rise again with whatever life is left after everything has been destroyed. In "Dawn", although the clouds still hide the sun and the birds are tired of singing welcome songs, the poet firmly believes that this is the time for dawn to break. In "Great Apocalypse", the poet asks himself how long they must keep writing notes about corpses. He declares that standing in burnt dreams and wailing is meaningless, calling for a new journey with eyes wide open. In "New Gate", he calls to leave the lonely wilderness and let a new gate open from the ash land, building their own huts by rising from all the wounds.
The final and most powerful poem, "From the Root", stands as an enduring symbol of indestructible hope. The poet says that green still sticks to the root of the burnt tree. He believes the roots are penetrating deeper into the earth, making the trunk stronger. He concludes the collection with massive hope that on an unexpected day, new shoots will appear above the earth, and a new breath will gain vigor in the wind where the smell of ashes has finally settled.
Conclusion
"Oru Perunthuyarum Ilaiyuthir Kalamum" is not just a poetry collection; it is a profound historical document written with the tears and blood of a race. These poems deeply record the psychological war that continues in people's minds even after the physical weapons have fallen silent. Like new leaves sprouting from burnt roots, this collection fully reflects the indestructible hope and resilience of Sri Lankan Tamils struggling to rise again past unfathomable sorrows.
Comments