Kannadasan

The King of Poets

Song writers have always been at the very top of the list of people I admire. The great ones make it look easy. Yet, sriting a song is anything but easy. The brevity of the format calls for extraordinary precision in language. Poetry calls for a certain kind of imagination that even the best of novel writers can afford to lack. Song writers move and change generations, urging us to look beyond our petty troubles at the world and even life itself. There is Bob Dylan. There is John Lennon. There is Bruce Springsteen. And there is Kannadasan who was utterly magnificent in uniting emotion and expression into wisdom, and towers above them all.

I wrote this impromptu essay this morning on Kannadasan. It is an essay that has been waiting to come out of me for years now.

Kaviarasu (King of Poets) Kannadasan is considered to second only to Subramania Bharathi among modern Tamil poets. He has been relegated to second place because, I suspect, he made his name and living in the crass and commercial world of cinema. One could argue that some of his work surpasses even that of the illustrious Bharathiar.

I have been his fan ever since my Tamil master handed me on his poetry in 10th standard, and ordered me to read them. “You haven’t lived until you’ve truly understood his poetry,” were his words. The Tamil words, எளிமை and தூய்மை are used to describe his style. Simplicity and purity. These are often the traits of genius.

In his youth, he was inspired by the Dravidian ideals of egalitarianism, atheism and rationalism, as enunciated by Annadurai, and enthusiastically embraced them. There must have been some discontent within him because he eventually gravitated back to the spiritual ideals of Hinduism.

It is said that there were two contributing factors to his return to faith. The first was the effect of Andal’s Thiruppavai. Moved by its mystical nature, he renamed himself Kannadasan (a servant of Krishna) even though he was born and raised in a deeply Saivite Chettiar family near Karaikudi in Saivite heartland. He was named Muthiah at birth.

Muthiah’s return to being Kannadasan caused him to go in search of a teacher. He spent hours in the company of Maha Periyavaal who, according to him, weaned him away from “useless rationalism” and towards a meaningful pursuit of atma-jnanam or self-knowledge.

There is a story involving the two. Apparently, Kannadasan, who had developed a critical, and perhaps cynical streak during his years as a rationalist, once asked the seer, “if milk is white, then why is the Paar kadal blue? Has Vishnu’s color washed into it?” The question was tongue in cheek. To which the seer replied, “Wait for a few hours and you’ll know why,” perplexing Kannadasan who had not expected the question to be taken seriously. A couple of hours later arrived Vummidi Bangaru, also a Chettiar like Kannadasan. He brought an emerald that he wished to donate to the Kanchi mutt. Upon this gesture, Mahaperiyavaal asked for a bowl of milk to be brought and placed the emerald in it. Vummidi Bangaru was taken aback. This was a test normally done to prove the purity of an emerald. The seer asked Kannadasan to take a look. A light emanated from the emerald which had turned the milk green in color. When Maha Vishnu (Paranthaaman) lies in Paar kadal, he emits a radiance and hence the “megavarnam.” Moved to tears, Kannadasan composed his now famous song, “Thirupaar kadalil palli kondaar Sriman Narayana.”

Vummidi Bangaru eventually made a “mukutam” (crown) with the emerald for Sri Varadaraja Perumal in Kanchi, per Mahaperiyavaal’s directions.

I was a boy when I first read his poems. I was too young to grasp the profundity of his poetry, but its simplicity drew me in. Like him, I too was drawn to the Dravidian ideals when I was in school and college, embracing atheism and rationalism, and eventually returning to faith like him. Perhaps I like to think that I have gained a greater appreciation for his journey. Over the years, my admiration and awe have only grown. He is a genius like no other in Tamil culture, a phenomenon that combined the ancient with modernity with ease and beauty.

Like all geniuses, Kannadasan mind was perennially troubled. He suffered from depression throughout his life and is believed to have been on the bipolar spectrum, though these were terms not prevalent during his life. He died at the age of 54 in Chicago while on a trip there. It’s surprising that he lasted that long because the fire of genius burns bright and often consumes itself early.

There are too many songs and poems to quote. To merely quote a snippet here and there is to trivialize a genius who cannot be easily fit into the world of Instagram. But there is a line in a song in the movie “Karnan” that comes to mind.

Karnan, the son of the Sun God, while propitiating his father sings,

“Naanilam ula naal mattum, potruvom potri potri!”

Translation: “As long this world turns and there are people, we will adore you.”

Perhaps these words apply to the King of Poets as well.

Long live the memories of Kannadasan. Long live his poetry.

Have a great weekend!