Making place for pazhamozhis

CHENNAI: At a time when proverbs and their analogies no longer have a basis in our life, Kannalmozhi Kabilan recalls the days when every event and deed was marked with a zinger from the family’s elders and how sometimes even they got it wrong

My grandmother had very choice words for me every time I kicked the straw mat, something about being born a bat in the next birth and having to use my mouth for some unpleasant essential activities (it’s much more alliterative in Tamizh, think vavvaal and vaai) and, most importantly, far more crude). My family has been using this warning for generations though I can only vouch for three. I suspect it’s just my grandmother’s vivid imagination combined with her innate allure for strong language that gave birth to this ‘proverb’. While this may certainly be the most peculiar of them all, it was just one from her arsenal of proverb-ic comebacks.

Aadra maatta aadi karakanum, paadra maatta paadi karakanum was perhaps her favourite. This was usually followed by an elaborate plan to get me into trouble with my parents for not doing her bidding. It was her way of saying she knew what gets the job done. Every time I dusted off a barbed reprimand and went to cajole her, she would mellow a little and grudgingly mutter, “Kuppura vizhinthaalum meesaila man ottala.” I’d say it was quite uncalled for; especially given the fact that my meesai (moustache) did not become prominent till years after puberty. Come to think of it, she had quite a few meesai-related lines for us girl kids. You may have grown up hearing ‘you can’t have the cake and eat it too’ but it was the classic koozhukkum aasai, meesaikkum aasai at my house.

Swag statements

Paati was not one with a refined palette. Has your grandmother ever hit you with kodumai kodumai nu koyilukku pona, anga rendu kodumai jingu jingu nu aaduchaan on a bad day? Or prescribe patience for local gossip with katthirikaai kaaicha kadai theruvukku vanthu dhan aaganum? For Janani Karthikeyan, who was schooled in a Central government institution in Chennai, put through Sanskrit classes and is now settled in Ireland, her only tryst with Tamizh had been through Carnatic music, movie songs and her grandmother’s zingers. Ask her for what she grew up hearing and the first thing that comes back to her is panni kooda paruvathula azhaga irukkum.

She had also frequently heard this: kekravan kenayana irundha keppayila nei vadiyumaam. Looks like her grandmother and my paati would have gotten along pretty well. Things on this end with Maathanghi Vijayaraghavan — an avid reader whose house was always filled with Tamizh literature and lexicon — were much cleaner. Or so I thought till I heard her mention uthadu theyarathukku ullankaal theyalam. Turns out, it is not a prehistoric reference to footsies but a dig at people who sit back and instruct others instead of getting down and doing the job themselves.

When I was not entirely convinced of the innocence of it, Maathanghi offered other examples — avasara thevaikku arukkanchattila kooda kai nuzhaya maatengrathu, nunalum than vaayaal kedum, jaan pillai aanalum aan pillai. These didn’t particularly help her cause. As much as most of us have grown up hearing every elder in the family slip these one-liners into every conversation, it’s funny how few of us have any direct associations with the elements that anchor these proverbs.

I certainly have had no experience in the department of milking cows, be it the dancing or singing kind; I did not know what keppai meant till I heard it from Janani; my troop of nieces and nephews would know the proverb with thavalai instead of nunal; and my moust a c h e m o s t definitely does not warrant the insults hurled at it. We are so far removed from the c o n t e x t o f these life guides that we most often than not get it abysmally wrong. Vignesh Chandran, a multifaceted businessman whose interest in the language is one for life, was quick to point that out.

Mismanaged proverbs

“You must have heard people say Chozhiyan kudumi chumma aduma. It was meant to say that people (chozhiyan = Chozha men) are selfish and their efforts are motivated. But the original proverb went Chozhiyan kudumi summadu aguma. Summadu is a makeshift arrangement of cloth (or any other material) used as a buffer or padding on the head of people carrying pots or luggage. In ancient times, Chozha men’s hairstyle resembled something of today’s mushroom cut (like the one shown in the Tamizh movie Paradesi). This style was compared to the summadu and said one can’t replace another,” he explains. If that doesn’t ring any bells, he has a winning example. “Kazhudhaiku theriyuma karpoora vasanai — it’s so ubiquitous that its pop culture version — donkey no know camphor smell — is equally famous. But it’s so wrong.

The actual proverb is kazhu thaikka theriymaam karpoora vasanai. Kazhu is a type of grass used to make sleeping mats. As one weaved and stitched its blade into a mat, one can get the smell of camphor from it,” he narrates. Sleeping on mats made from this grass would keep one free of chest congestion, he adds. Go figure! Pragadeesh of YouTube channel Theneer Idaivelai has much more to say about mismanaged proverbs. The man who took to roleplay to talk about the goodness of everyday things we take for granted, took time out to set people right about these axioms. Turns out pun patta nenjai pugai vittu aatru has nothing to do with smoking and actually goes puga vittu aatru; meaning, you have to let your heart enter other areas of goodness and heal it that way.

Kalavum katru mara — the defense of many when caught red-handed — is also not the original. He points out that it is kalavum, kaththu mara, which translates to forget thievery and lying (kaththu is an old word for lies). He also dismisses the one proverb that comes closest to being a punch dialogue — yaanaikku kalam vantha punaikku oru kaalam varum. Only, it’s aa-nei (aa = cow), meaning the ghee/butter you get from the cow, and poo-nei, meaning honey. While eating the butter helps you get nice and round, there will be a period for the honey that will help you shed the weight you gained. Quora users, wanting to set the record straight in at least one corner of the Internet, have been keen on pointing out others. Like how, when you think about it, aayiram perai konru vanthan arai vaithiyan makes no sense.

Turns out, it is aariyam verai kondu vanthan as ancient medicine relied on the natural materials the land had to provide and you would be considered half a doctor if you have knowledge about a thousand roots. While it is bad enough that we got many of the Tamizh proverbs wrong, we seem to have taken it a step further to misrepresent one about the civilisation itself. Kal thonra man thonra kaalathe vaalodu munthonriya mootha kudi does not, as it might seem at first glance, claim that the Tamizh civilisation was birthed even before the earth had produced sand and stone. For kal thonra was meant for ‘before we had the knowledge to wield/manipulate stone’ and man thonra was for ‘before the land was ruled by kings’; also, vaal here means valour and not a sword.

Where are the new ones?

And there are many more like this. While this may have you questioning every pazhamozhi you’ve heard before, writer and author Jayabaskaran is not surprised. With our cities having long forgotten such a rich history of oral literature — one that was birthed by the commoner, who probably did not even know to read or write, we only have our villages keeping up the tradition. In the absence of paatis passing on these life lessons, we need schools to pick up the slack and offer lessons on proverbs, he suggests. It doesn’t stop there, he opines.

“This practice of creating proverbs stopped at one point in time. You don’t have anyone penning new ones to fit today’s lifestyle. We have turned to poetry (a couple of lines at a time) instead. People are more familiar with Bharathiar’s accham illai accham illai than a thambi udaiyaan padakku anjaan. But there is this need for proverbs that address our concerns of this changing world. If we have people wasting time on social media, we have others slogging away at IT jobs, what stops us from having axioms that they can relate to?” he asks.

For the younger generation, who are probably missing out on more than they could possibly know, Jayabaskaran offers Sa Maatasaami’s Solavadaigalum Sonnavargalum and Dr IS Kandasamy’s Velanmai Pazhamozhigal as a starter pack into this side of literature. Perhaps, then, we could keep up the tradition of passing them on to generations to come. Getting these proverbs right, when they continue to be slipping out of the context of our lives, may not be part of anyone’s agenda. But wouldn’t it be fun to use your children and their offsprings for an elaborate game of Proverbs Whispers and see where that gets you three decades later?