PETER PANDIYA THE WHITE KING (Poem)

 

                        

I

The most ancient of kings,

the Pandyas, great patrons of

Tamil Language, held courts of Sangam Poets

as did Macedonians, with Pythian Games.

The Britons then,                                                         

speaking Gaelic, Welsh, Cornish

and a few other forgotten tongues

were rolling their dices on boards,

wouldn’t know the use of a

a stylus, quill, or reed.

  

Longest was the Line of Pandyas-

stretched over two millennia.

But History had its pack of cards to draw,

and ironies to throw. Something

stranger than fiction would happen:

The First in line of Pandyas was

the Great Nedunchezhiya. He was of the

Pearl-Fish-Coast of Tamil Country.

But the Last of Pandya  

would come from Cornwall,

of the Celtic Coast of English Country.

                       II

Rous Peter was his name when baptized, and

fate would have him rechristened to Peter Pandya.

This odd heir to the throne of Madurai would

set sail to the land of sullen people-

‘Half Devil and Half Child.’

Cornwall thus, sent forth the ‘best of breed

binding its son to exile... to wait in heavy harness.’

 

“Take up the White Man’s burden”

His Grand Son would implore,

a hundred years later.

 

It was the year 1801: Peter beach landed-

on the Golden Sands of Madras before

Fort St. George wetting his groins.

Wellesley-the-monstrous, was on the Citadel,

the Nemesis of Mysore Madurai and Waterloo!

Treachery, War, and Siege had felled Madurai by then.

 

‘Savage Wars of Peace’ is a magic spell.

Transmutes WHITEGREED into

White Man’s Burden.

In a land of boundless spoils,

you needed countless princelings

to bring Order, and Collect Tax.

Princelings were made Collectors, and

as they collected, simply became Rulers-

some Lords and a few, even KINGS.

“To seek another’s profit and work another’s gain.

To serve the Captive’s Needs,” Grand Son would say.

 

Prince Peter of Cornwall to begin, had to play

the Royal Apprentice. He stayed in the Fort.

Then, had to go from Court to Court

to learn the Imperial Craft for a decade

and more. His groins dry now, was ready

to mount the Throne of the Ancient Town.

                  

                       III

Madurai is as old as Athens, Rome,

and Xi’an if not Jericho and Damascus,

but you must ask Pandya Kulasekara

for the Founding Date. Kulasekara

seeing God Indra worshiping an autopoietic

Phallus sprouting out of earth in the

Kadamba jungle, cleared the tangle, and built the

Town and the Temple. Madurai became the Town,

Meenakshi’s was the Shrine.

 

Meenakshi who?

Ask Venus, Isis, Hather, Brigid, and Freya...

They know!

The most beautiful of women with fishlike eyes,

and a Third Breast on the breastbone.

She was born of fire, to an heirless Pandya of yore.

Coming of age, ascended the Throne of Madurai and

ruled as a Galant Queen. Defeated Indra in war!

Marched North next, to Himalaya, the Home of Shiva!

As she engaged The Destroyer, He poured and poured

a potent love brew into Her Bosoms.

Her Breastbone-Breast vanished.

Shiva then, came down to Madurai on a Chithirai Day

married the Mighty Queen.

Became Her Consort.

Meenakshi Ruled, Rules, and will Rule Madurai ever.

 

                             IV

Peter was sworn to be the Princeling

where the Queen reigned supreme.

Took the oath:

“In patience to abide, To veil the threat of terror

And check the show of pride, By open speech and simple...

Fill full the mouth of Famine And bid the sickness cease...

No tawdry rule of kings, But toil of serf and sweeper...”

 

Clever was Peter, half of what he swore

he will wear, and what he spurned he will throw.

Greatest was his obeisance to the Mighty Queen

dismounted the horse a mile afar from Her Shrine

shoes and hat in hand, he walked foot bare.

The peasant and the poor he served waving all-tax,

and all-rent, that no Caeser would dare.

And sang, “I have filled-full the mouth of Famine

and bid the sickness cease.”

‘Peter Pandya’ people hailed, all the noise he liked.

 

Best of bargains he had with the rich,

chanted, “Win-Win.”

A thousand elephant he rolled-down-the-hills,

laughed, “Gun-Fun.”

Mughal Robes he wore and tee-heed, “Gold Spun.”

Private Mansions he built but no harem he kept.

Emeralds, Diamonds, and Rubies he picked,

only as gifts, and to give back as gifts.

No personal money he kept, but all that he wanted

he took from the Big Chest.

One-a-million ten-a-million they counted as lost,

“No Book I kept” he just said in jest.

                       

                        V

Peter loved the People, and The Queen,

People loved The Queen, and Peter.

One day, Peter slept tight, and had a

Low-Lit-Ink-Blue-Dream.

Carrying a colossal weight on his shoulders

Peter had lost his way climbing a hill.

Feeling the weight as sin itself, and the journey

a Pilgrim’s-No-Progress, he wept. Now, a little girl

walked into his dream with the tinkles of her anklet.

She held Peter’s hand and walked him

out of the dream, out of the palace,

and into a torrent of rain and storm.

Lightning struck, and the palace behind fell.

Peter saved.

Walking on the sheet of water

the little girl crossed the river in spate,

with the same pair of bare little feet, that ambled

the heirless Pandya’s yagna fire when she was born.

 

‘I will ornament Her Feet’ Peter vowed.

Made a golden pair of shoes studded with

412 rubies, 72 emeralds, and 80 diamonds

as seers would recommend-

No monarch on earth ever would wear a pair

Meenakshi would wear.

It is no Westminster, The Temple. No Ferangi-

prince or pauper, the priests allow to enter.

Peter made the Offerings at the Gate.

Devi would whisper “I know the priests...

And I know the hearts...

In good remembrance of you Peter,

I will put on this fabulous pair of shoes

you’ve offered, on the best occasion of the year.

All would see in awe!” She did. She does. She will.

 

                                  VI

“Nonsense...” burst out the Voice in the Citadel,

“A White Man becoming a White Burden?”

A posse of men arrived soon at Peter’s capital.

Enquired into all they wanted to enquire.

“Embezzlement... Embezzlement...” they blared.

Peter became sick, lay in bed in delirium.

Moved his lips often to mumble:

“English Law and English crime...

English Crime and English Law”

Then a pause:

“Whiteman’s Burden is White Man’s Crime...

White Man’s Crime is White Man’s Burden”

In endless cycles, he went on for twelve days.

At sunset, on the twelfth day,

Peter forfeited his life as did the ancient Pandya,

as the gem from the Woman’s Anklet,

leapt over his face.

Peter’s-men-in-waiting called it a suicide.

Inquest held. The Last Will and Testament read:

“Liquidate all my personal wealth and put it back

in the Big Chest... Burry me close to the Shrine...

I can sleep facing My Queen,” it read.

Closest was the Altar of St. George’s,

the garrison church he built.

There they Buried him.

The people of Madurai sat on the bank of Vaigai

sang the song,

“O’ Peter Pandya... the Great White King of Madurai...”

They wept. 

Peter lies ever facing the Queen...

saying his prayers to His Lord in The Altar.

 

Dr. Chinnaraj Joseph

17. 11. 2023.

 

 

 

 

 

 

AERIAL THEATRE AT KENSINGTON-CHELSEA FESTIVAL, LONDON, AUG 19

First time I saw anything like an Aerial Theatre that combines Gyroscopy, Circus, and Acting to convey a powerful message. It is about the challenge posed by plastic, and how plastic has formed an ISLAND PATCH in the Pacific ocean. The performance is named High Sprung Cast Away.

Let me quote the organisers: "CastAway responds to the Great Pacific Garbage Patch – a floating island of everlasting plastic that has now grown to 6½ times the size of the UK. It presents an alternative, sustainable and more compassionate way of being and challenges us to consider our own actions in the face of climate change.

Drowning under a crushing mass of plastic, the Keeper of the Waterways awakens and rises up... The all - female cast immerses audiences in an underwater world where performers dive, twist and float over 26 feet in the air to delight, inspire and captivate audiences of all ages.

SITTING ON A TIME BOMB: TAMIL NADU'S PROPOSED STATE POLICY ON EDUCATION

In a list of 37 states/UTs, Tamil Nadu is ranked 23rd when it comes to quality of Primary Education This ranking by the Union Government has been officially accepted by the Minister for School Education, Anbil Poyyamozhi.

We consulted Development Economists, Independent Scholars, Writers, Artists , College Teachers, College Students, School Teachers and more importantly 26 Children in the age group 8 to 16 studying in Government and Government Aided Schools before we drew up our recommendations to the High Powered Committee.

Click here for the full Report: https://cedarindia.org/.../TN-ED-Policy-Recommendation...

1. Consultation-1: “Addressing the Educational Challenges Faced by Children and Youth belonging to ‘Socially and Economically Disadvantaged Communities: Implications for the Proposed Educational Policy of the Tamil Nadu Government”

[organized by CEDAR in collaboration with Lady Doak College and TNCRW on Sep 30th at Madurai]

2. Consultation-2 One-day Consultation organized by CEDAR with Schoolteachers on Oct 1st at Kovilpatti

3. Consultation-3 One-day Consultation organized by CEDAR with Children on Oct 2nd at Madurai

4. Focus Group Discussions (FGDs) Conducted between 2021-2022

What we need is not a mere change, but a revolution to set things right.

Dr. Chinnaraj Joseph

THE PASSING AWAY OF A TEACHER AND A PUBLIC INTELLECTUAL

       When a friend of mine called me yesterday to announce the death of Dr. A. R. Venkitraman, Venki to all those he endeared, I was deeply moved. Venki, after a very long and successful career as Professor and Head of the Post Graduate Department of Chemistry at the American College, Madurai, passed away in his son’s home in Cincinnati, USA at the age of 92. In a context where the pandemic brings every day the news of strings of death of young and old, as well the dear and far, one might ask what is there to publicly utter about a person who retired some 30 plus years ago, and waned away from public glare. For me, it is not merely a matter of expressing the personal grief alone. It is the kind of publicness and political-intellectual content Venki brought into defining his role as a teacher which needs reminiscing and celebrating.

        Hailing from Kerala, Venki joined the American College in 1951, two years before I was born. From here, he went to the USA, and earned his PhD degree in Chemistry from the University of Rochester. Unlike many who escaped into greener pastures, he returned to American College, to put it in his own words, ‘to give back what he received.’ It is no exaggeration that he raised a flock of scientists who put American College in the international map. Some even went to bag the Indian Nobel, the Bhatnagar Award. This side of Venki- the scientist-researcher and Chemistry teacher, is very well known to all and as a Sociologist I am least qualified to speak beyond this.

 However, the point I would like to make here is that, if American College could stand as the last bastion of the liberal academic world with its classic overtones till a decade ago, it was certainly because of the fierce commitment to values of freedom and thoughtful public actions, people like Venki were committed to. By some queer coincidence, Venki was the President of the People’s Union for Civil Liberties (PUCL) Madurai unit (1982). Henry Tiphagne of People’s Watch, was the Secretary, journalist T.N. Gopalan of The Indian Express was its Vice President and myself, its treasurer.

 Two incidents I would like to recall: the first one was the infamous police lathi charge in 1982, disrupting a procession organised by PUCL in Madurai. The retired Justice and founder of PUCL, Tharkunde himself was beaten up on the road. Venki could not be seen after the commotion. My worry was more about Venki. Soon I learnt that he was one among the few who ran to safety and reached IMA Building near the Medical College. The second incident was, the urgent need to present a ‘freed bonded labourer’ before District Collector Mr. Devarajan, in his Camp Office. We three, Henry, myself and Venki had to be present. By the time we finished our work and got out of the Camp office, it started raining heavily. It was a working day. Before I suggested anything, Venki walked into the rain saying, “Chinnaraj I have a class at 11 'o' clock,” and rode away in his scooter completely drenched. That was the balancing of a profession and public commitment Venki taught many of us, by setting up personal examples.

 Venki was 24 years older by age to me, but that never came in our way. I had not known Venki till I joined the college. The day I first reported for work, I had to go to his office and introduce myself as he was the Dean. In spite of his very endearing manners, I was a bit nervous. After he picked up the conversation, he casually pulled out a packet of cigarette and asked, “Do you smoke Chinnaraj?” I hesitantly nodded my head. “No harm, you can always come to my room for a smoke if you like,” he said. The next half-an-hour we were smoking and talking, and he was inducting me into matters official.

Nothing came in his way- age, gender, caste, class or religion. William Zumbro, one of the founder-Principals of American College was fond of saying, “ONE NEED NOT BE A CHRISTIAN TO DO THE CHRISTIAN SERVICE, AND ALL THOSE WHO ARE BORN CHRISTIANS, NEITHER ARE COMMITTED TO IT.” Venki perfectly exemplified what Zumbro said, and gave that rare flavour of cosmopolitanism and inclusiveness to American College. He was very ahead of his times.

 In 2008, when I was the Principal and Secretary, I had to wage the last battle defending all that stood for more than a century in the name of freedom, inclusion, tolerance and excellence. Venki stood by me, shoulder to shoulder. This I need to state here and now.

Besides mourning the death of a fine human being, friend and a public intellectual, I am suddenly reminded of a world that was lost for ever. For this new generation of educationists, drunk with commercialism and buried in corruption, this might look as an act of blasphemy and a practice in sorcery.

 

Dr. CHINNARAJ JOSEPH

Former Principal and Secretary

The American College

12-06-2021 

 

 

 

 

 

THE DELHI MALAYALEE NURSES' ROW: REMEMBERING T. M. NAIR

A few days back, BG Pant Hospital (GIPMER) in New Delhi, passed a very questionable office order saying "A complaint has been received regarding Malayalam language being used for communication in working places in (GIPMER)... it is directed to all Nursing Personnel to use only Hindi and English for communication otherwise serious action will be taken." There was a strong protest from the strong body of Malayalee nurses, and the order has been subsequently withdrawn.  Some superintendent of the hospital went on air extending a personal apology, saying that there was no mala fide intentions on his part. His concern, he said, was Hindi-only-speaking patients' welfare. Thus, it has been made to appear that it all happened without the involvement of the higher ups or the maverick Chief Minister Kejriwal.

Of all people, this should not have happened to nurses in the first place whether they are from Kerala or Wuhan.   Nurses are nurses as long as their professional commitment, empathy and patient care are intact. They are free to talk to someone in their own mother tongue as long as the other party is willing to entertain it. The hospital should have been very mindful of the times as well.  When everyone is concerned not only about saving the lives of the helpless people inflicted with corona, but also the grave risks the frontline workers like the nurses are taking in order to perform their duties. Another point that comes to anyone’s mind is that, the nurses of Kerala over a century, have made a big mark contributing to building up the very profession. No single community from India or even elsewhere, can take this credit.

This episode reflects yet another example of growing intolerance of the hegemonic North. In my opinion, there is a serious political lesson for Keralites to learn. The pity is that Kerala ever since its inception entertains a three-language formula and kids in schools, mostly or always study Hindi as a third  language up to their tenth standard. In this sense, a Keralite is formally more qualified to be appointed in a Delhi hospital in terms of functionality, than someone from Tamil Nadu.  

Though Keralites demonstrate a lot of pride over their Malayalam language and literature, when it comes to learning Hindi and Sanskrit, their attitude has been always pro, or positively pragmatic. In the past few years however there has been an increasing concern for self-assertion and frequent protests against discrimination by the Union Government. LDF victory has made the voice shriller.

The nurses’ issue, forced me to recollect an interesting incident that happened some 40 years ago. I was to travel from Trivandrum to Madurai. I could get a last-minute ticket in a Tamil Nadu Transport bus, a deluxe service operated between Trivandrum and then Madras. A few minutes after I took my seat, a white-and-white-dhoti-clad, middle aged, smart gentleman took the seat next to me. No sooner-than he settled down, he spread out a the Malayala Manorama newspaper, and started scanning through. After a while, he picked up a conversation with me. I was really surprised when he said he was an IAS officer working at the level of a Deputy Secretary in the Kerala Secretariat, and was going to Madras. Given my age and inexperience, I could not resist my amusement and blurted a few words in his praise telling him how the IAS officers looked very different in Tamil Nadu– no dhoti business, no vernacular newspaper and no bus journey. (I am not sure how much it has changed now).

Both of us competed with each other for a while praising things on the other side of the fence. Then imprudently I brought T.N. Nair and his role in founding the Justice Party and giving early impetus for the Dravidian movement into the conversation. I also elaborated his anti-Brahmin anti-North outlook. I also expressed my disappointment over the lack of Malayalee sympathy for either T. M. Nair or for the Dravidian cause. Hearing this, the IAS gentleman grew very grim and said cryptically, “Sensible Malayalees never subscribe to any chauvinistic views like Tamils… and we are not emotional people like you and we don’t say we are Dravidian…  and only you people who give Malayalees, the Dravidian tag.” I became a little hurt and defensive. After dropping into silence for a while he continued, “See my dear young man, we live in a secular India, and we educated Malayalees want to move around, get jobs in Delhi or Assam and keep going. We don’t have difficulty with Hindi because our language is very Sanskritised in terms of vocabulary, grammar and phonetics…because of this, unlike you, we learn Hindi easily.”

At that point, I gave up my conversation. He slept in the comfort of being a Malayalee and I, embracing my chauvinistic pride as a Tamil. It was late in the night, the bus reached Madurai. I got up from my seat to get down. My Malayalee co-passenger was awake. He managed a broad smile and said, “Please don’t mistake me on what I said.” I said, “No… no,” expressing politeness.

Recollecting this after 40 years, I imagine that the Malayalee co-passenger of that night, should be sitting somewhere in Kerala, munching the news of the ‘Malayalee nurses’ episode.’ I guess it would have saddened him. 

 I thought I can raise this question to my Malayalee friends: What is detestable? The Dravidianist legacy and the spirit of independence from North the Dravidian lot like T.M. Nair, Thiyagararaya Chetty and EVR bequeathed to us, or the Hindustani-Hindu-Hindi chauvinism and hegemony of the newly emerging elite begotten by Bharath Mata. Kejriwal belongs to this lot. 

The clarion call for strong states and state autonomy came only from Tamils, and Tamils alone, because in the Dravidianist theory, linguistic-cultural self-assertion is the very basis for political autonomy of a state. Language is power, a power that can be either deployed against you to subdue you or, if you choose, you can creatively articulate it for breathing freedom. History holds several proofs.

Anyway, T. M. Nair will turn in his grave.

Dr. Chinnaraj Joseph

10- 06- 2021