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About this poem......
As
a vakil's clerk Edasseri had to witness court attachment of crops and
houses. According to him it is as cruel as the old custom of sacrificing
animals in temples. He is familiar with the concerned parties, like the
tiller, the landlord, the court and its representatives. The poem was
written in 1948, and the new generation wouldn't just believe that such a
thing like crop attachment did ever take place in this country. He had
also written another poem "Kudiyozhippikkal" (Eviction) about lawful
eviction from home.
This poem appears in the collection named
"Puthan Kalavum Arivalum". Dr. K. Ayyappa Panikker, a well-known poet has
translated this poem into English. See poem on the right.
This poem has
been rendered by V.K. Sasidharan, and presented as an audio cassette. (see
picture below)
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Given below is the picture of
audio cassette featuring 3 of Edasseri's poems, "Mappilla" (No
Pardon!), "Kavile Pattu" (Song of the Divine Grove) and
"Ambadiyilekku Veendum" (Back to Ambadi). These poems have been
rendered by Dr. S.P. Ramesh and P. Ajitha (first two poems) and Mr.
M. Krishnakumar (the last poem).
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Notes:-
1. Aryan is a variety of rice.
2.Vishu a
celebration, usually on the day the summer
solstice starts.
3. Konna A tree with bunches of yellow flowers,
blosson around March, April.
4.Aromal Chekar was a hero of North
Malabar in Kerala, whose adventurous duels were sung in eulogy by farm
workers in Malabar.
5. Mylanchi. A floral decoration
applied to the palm using the crushed leaves of Henna plant.
6.
Onam. the harvest festival of Kerala lasting 10 days, when the
courtyards are decorated with flowers.
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Edasseri Govindan Nair
The Cooking Pot
And
The Sickle
I.
Who in the last season had
sown
The
Aryan1 seeds in this field with
love?
When the hot sun of
March burned
Rain - fire
above, red embers below,
With
his bullock waving its dewlap
Drawing the plough deep, unwearied;
Not with the sheen of oil
glowed
His body, but with
sweat;
Until the earth turned
into fine dust,
Until
Vishu2 decked the Konna3 with
blossoms,
Koman had ploughed
the field up and down;
Koman
had sown the Aryan seeds.
When the clouds moved on leaving their
print
On the filed where
fresh seeds sprouted,
Were
there more golden shoots in the field
Or on the breast of Koman in rapture?
He had no rest either day or
night,
What care he took to
keep the watch!
The weeds too
came up and grew thick
And
the breeze thus blew to make music.
In the blue expanse all along
Swam and danced the water-waves,
Till the women flowed in like
swans
To pluck and pick the
weeds.
II.
The field was
infested with weeds this year,
How hard for the farmer it was!
Gone is what was kept as seed
corn;
Gone too what was meant
for food!
Gone again the
price of the bullock, sold,
Unmindful of the work after harvest!
Aromal Chekavar4 won the
joust,
Yet the weeds yielded
not a span!
The bangles
pleaded and flirted,
Yet the
weeds yielded not a span!
Koman didn't pay his son's school fees,
Nor did he pay up his
instalments,
And he didn't
buy the prescription
For the
fever his child caught from the new rains,
Gazing at her hands with the
mylanchi5 mark
Made long before the new year's eve,
The weed-picker girl started to
cry;
What a wild game of the
season's mischief!
III.
At the heel of
the burning summer came
The
all-upsetting thundershowers,
And as the rice seedlings overcome by
thirst
Opened their sheaths
to drink the rain water,
Koman too took the same clean drink;
That's of course what a father
does.
And as the field grew
dark and dense
With the
spread of vacant spots,
When
the dark rain had its orgy
Never stopping either night or day,
Till the ears of corn were
seen
That brought sheer joy
to the eye.
Koman was seen on
the dyke
Like an oracle
dancing his role.
When the
first few torrential rains
In
the last month of the year had ended,
There were the red-lipped ears of corn,
All along the level fields
With a heart given to ecstasy
Koman embraced his whole
family.
What excitement in
that house now,
To husk the
paddy, to get fresh rice!
Father was fondling his little daughter
IV.
Seated on his knees; he coaxed
her;
"A new skirt for my
kitten
For
theOnam6 flower-festival."
Mother looked at the elder
daughter,
Who seemed to pull
a long face.
And father said,
"If the yield is gold,
We'll
spend it on a wedding locket."
"I didn't mean anything like that,"
The girl wearing glass bangles
blushed.
"Three months' fees
remain to be paid",
A hum
arose somewhere in the group.
To each according to his desire;
The master of the house apportioned
it.
Mother too had her
private need;
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up............ |
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"We must have
pot to cook the new rice,"
The soul of that family fluttered around
Like a dragonfly in that golden
field;
And the ears grew
heavy for a good harvest
Like
a display of fireworks.
Are
the dancers tired of the performance?
The rice plants lay down in full embrace.
As if to reap the moonlight of
Onam
The golden sickle was
rising.
People who passed by
were heard to say;
"Koman has
grown gold in this field."
V.
Who was it that reaped this
year
The golden grain that
Koman grew?
Neither Koman nor
his men - but
A court officer
and his henchmen!
The morning
they had fixed for the harvest
Gently opened her painted eyes.
The start of the celestial
arbor
Tossed about by the
wild storm
Were slowly
blossoming to grace
In the
cluster of tumpa flowers.
Koman came crossing the main dyke;
Behind him came his helpers.
Already the field was
crowded;
The court officer
got the harvest done.
Koman
had just one glance of it;
All his desire was utterly lost;
As if he saw dogs barking
In the rice that was meant for a
meal,
Koman had just one
glance of it,
The power
wielded by the court,
The
revenge of the January crop
That withered for want of water from the
sky,
This affront of
attachment and harvest
For
the rental arrears, the landlord's due?
VI.
The
wrath of the reapers raised its hood
And began to blow and hiss.
Neeli, the Pulaya girl, fell on the ground
Beating her breast very hard.
"No one else shall reap this
crop,"
Cheru Koman stepped
down into the field.
Warming
up to the fight and snarling
Like a leopard came forth Chathappan.
The hired harvesters cast away the
sheaves
And quickly climbed
the dykes.
Koman raged as if
possessed,
Like an elephant
chained to the post.
And that
way came Koman's elder daughter,
A lovely little creeper,
Swinging and happy with the new pot
Bought to cook the new rice.
In her father's mind
Exploded a huge shell of
fire,
She seemed like butter
floating again
On the fire of
his wrath.
In a few moments
this treasure-land
Might turn
into something strange.
On
the dyke a voice arose to say
"Here are the orders; don't play with
them!"
Waving a piece of
paper
There stood the court
officer
Laying the land all
barren
Like a rising cactus
head!
VII.
Let the man who
sowed see it;
The feudal
order reaped the crop,
Sticking to the shade of the power;
A handful of robbers have kept all for
themselves.
The sickles lined
up around the new pot
Which
was no longer there,
The
sickles useless for the harvest
Until sharpened against power. Pity!
The law leads the attack
On the land where the farmer grows the
crop.
The results of that
attack
Arise from the
dyke,
The new pots and the
sickles
Join and thunder on
the dyke;
"First we must reap
power;
And after that the
Aryan crop!"
Their throats
began to spread
This mantra
in the heavens;
"First we
must reap power;
And after
that the Aryan crop!"
Translated by the
well-known poet
Dr. Ayyappa Panikkar.
Please see the notes given in column
1.
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