CERAN PERUMCERAL ATAN WAS NOT A COWARD

CĒRAN PERUMCĒRAL ĀTAN WAS NOT A COWARD

Puŗanānūŗu songs 65 and 66 have caused a good deal of discourse. I do not wish to cite references and enter into controversies because I do not claim enough scholarship. But I feel “Historic Injustice” has been done to Cēran Perumcēral Ātan, the defeated protagonist, because the great historian KAN Sastry condemned that king as a “coward”. I attempt below an alternative interpretation of the circumstances described by the two respective bards who were obviously contemporary and probably eye-witnesses to the battle. [The translation and the notes have been extracted from Menon TM (Translator): The Purananuru, International School of Dravidian Linguistics, Thiruvananthapuram 2011, pp 194-196].

65 -         WE SHALL NEVER BE HAPPY ANY MORE.

Author: Kazhattalaiyar                                                                      Potuviyal

Hero: Ceran Permceral Atan                                                            Kaiyarunilai

The milavu dram has forgotten how it sounds. The yāl has lost its tune. The big pot, tumbled down, does not have any milk in it to curdle. Though bees buzz round pots full of fine filtered fragrant toddy, no one drinks. Workers do not sing or shout as they toil. The little townships with their big fair grounds have give up festivities. Like at dusk on a full-moon day, the sun and the moon had faced each other, and then one had disappeared behind the mountains. Our valiant king, ashamed of the premeditated wound on the back inflicted on him by his enemy of equal prowess, has, sword in hand, started fast unto death. So, even if the sun, alone in glory, continues to shine every day, we no longer find our days full of joy, as of old.

Note: It was full-moon that day (perunal); the sun would set and the moon rise at the same time, opposite each other. Atan had seen the moon rise, and thought the day was ended, and so should hostilities. But Karikal saw the sun disappearing behind the hills, and thought it had not yet set, and threw his spear at the enemy just as he was turning to go. These circumstances emerge very clearly from the metaphor of the sun and the moon at dusk on a full moon; the east-facing Ceran, like the sun, set in the west; the west-facing Chozhan, like the moon, prevailed because of the absence of the sun. Wounded in the back, though through no mistake of his, Atan was ashamed that people would think he was fleeing from his enemy; so, he starved himself to death, adopting the vatakkiruttal ritual. The battle is believed to have taken place at Venni, well to the west of the traditional Chera territories. Sastri KAN (2008:113) identifies it with Kovil Venni, 15 miles (about 24 km) east of Tanjavur. So it may be presumed that the Cheran was the attacker, and the Chozhan the defender. The poet details the circumstances with a remarkable economy of words:

tanpōl vēntan munpukuŗitterinta/puŗappuņņāņi maŗattakai mannan/vāļ vaţakkiruntana nīňku/nāļpōrkaliyila ňāyirru pakalē.

munpukuritterinta: could be interpreted as meaning “aimed at the front”, viz., intending to hit the Cera in front (munpu); it could also mean that it had already been aimed and released, before (munpu) the Cera had turned round.

66 – IS HE GREATER THAN YOU?

Author: Vennikuyattiyār                                                                                    Vakai

Hero: Cōlan Karikāl Peruvalattān                                                                    Aracavakai

Once, on the great seas, when the winds failed and the navy could not move, your ancestors could, because of their righteousness, command the winds to resume. Oh Karikal Valava, with mighty elephants enraged by battle, you have demonstrated how powerful you are by having advanced against and killed your enemy. In the battle of Venni, in the plentiful land with ever new sources of income, was he not nobler than you – he who entered on vatakkiruttal because he was ashamed of the wound you had inflicted on his back? He has now earned immeasurable fame round the world.

Note: Sastry KAN (1955:33) cited this Puram in full, and commented: “much sympathy was felt for the Chera king who was wounded at his back, the last disgrace that could befall a soldier on the battlefield, and who expatiated his cowardice by committing suicide....” The victory at Venni was the first of Karikal’s great achievements and established him firmly on his throne.

Karikal son of Ilancetcenni, is one of the great heroes in Purananuru. The episode of his imprisonment and escape is mentioned in Pur. 131. Venni, mentioned in Pur. 65 & 66 has been identified with Koil Venni fifteen miles to the east of Tanjore. According to myth, Pandya and Cera and eleven minor chieftains were defeated. It put an end to the east-ward march of Atan. Puram 224 bemoans Karikal’s death. He was a patron of Brahmins.

The great historian Sastry had devoted a lot of attention to these two purams; they are crucial to the dating of Cera kings because of the synchronism between Cēran Perumcēral Ātan and Cōlan Karikāl Peruvalattān. Generally, commentators had concluded that Atan had indeed turned his back on his attacker. Sastry condemned Atan for having committed the “last disgrace that could befall a soldier on the battlefield” but that he had “expiated his cowardice” by committing suicide. This interpretation would make it difficult to explain the “sympathy” that the poets felt towards the fallen “coward”, especially when we remember that bards of the time would be the last to appreciate such cowardice in a period when the mores extolled bravery. It will also condemn the victorious Colan to have committed gross violation of the rules of war of those times; viz., that a hero will not attack an opponent who turned his back in flight. Actually, Karikal had violated not one, but two rules of battle; viz., (1) he continued fighting after day-time had ended – the moon had arisen; and (2) he attacked an enemy when his back was turned.

The difficulty here is typical of the many that confront a translator of Purananuru. The bards were prone to condense a lot of meaning in a few significant similes, metaphors and poetic expressions that have to be expanded and analysed in a manner consistent with the context, and not merely according to the literal meaning of the words employed. The reader has to place himself in imagination as a witness of the scene, and reconstruct the happenings that are consistent with the condensed recapitulation by the poet. It must be remembered that the composition was contemporaneous with the incident described. The poet therefore took it for granted that his audience was fully aware of the physical circumstances.

The scene described in Pur. 65 is tragic and dramatic – the sense of shock felt by all the people, irrespective of their occupational and social status, is well brought out.

“The yal has lost its tune. The big pot, tumbled down, does not have any milk in it to curdle. Though the bees buzz round pots full of fine filtered fragrant toddy, no one drinks. Workers do not sing or shout as they toil. The little townships with their big fair grounds have given up festivities”.

It was national mourning, all the more significant that it happened, NOT in the lands of the fallen king, but in the lands of his enemy the Colan, in whose territory the battle had been fought, and won. It was also spontaneous; the curdled milk flowed out untended, the pots of liquor ready to drink, were abandoned. The people were so shocked that they just left whatever they had been doing. Venni, the venue of the battle was far to the east of the traditional territories of the Cera (even if their headquarters are taken to have been at or near the modern Karur). So normally the people should have rejoiced instead of spontaneously observing such mourning.

The geography of the field of battle is important. It is part of the flood plain of the lower Kaveri. Towards the east, it commands a view of a vast generally flat land, the horizon extending away without a break. But towards the west, the horizon is broken by the sight of distant hills of the Eastern Ghats, and the escarpments of the Deccan Plateau. The poet indicates clearly that the Ceran was fighting advancing towards the east, while the Colan was defending facing west, c.f.,

“Like at dusk on a full-moon day, the sun and the moon had faced each other, and then one had disappeared behind the mountains”.

The one who had disappeared behind the mountains was obviously the loser, viz., Atan. This line also introduces the second crucial element in the composition, viz., that the battle was fought on the perunāļ, the day of the full moon. The time at which the incident described happened is also clearly mentioned: dusk. In the light of these insights into the geography and the timing, it is possible to re-construct in one’s imagination the circumstances leading to the climax.

It was full moon day; therefore the sun would be setting just as the moon would be rising, signifying the end of the day. The battle had gone on for most of the day, the fortunes fluctuating, and culminating in a duel between the two kings themselves, when Karikal had made a last minute counter-attack (c.f., cenŗu amarkkatanta ...., Puram 66, line 4). Atan, facing east, saw the moon rise over the unbroken eastern horizon. Suddenly aware that the day was ended, and conscious that according to the Rules of Battle, the engagement should stop at that precise time, he turned the elephant on which he was riding “about turn”, signalling that the battle was ended for the day. But Karikal, facing west, saw the sky still bright; his view of the orb of the setting sun was hidden by the intervening hills. According to the Rules of Battle, he should have, even then and though unaware of the ending of the day, desisted from attacking his opponent who was turning away from the battle. But then, he had already released his vel, and it was too late to retrieve it. The poet’s expression, “mumpukuritterinta”, has been generally interpreted to mean: ‘aimed at the front’, implying that, at that moment, Atan was facing him. An alternative meaning would be that Karikal’s vel had already (mumpu) been aimed and discharged, not noticing that Atan had already turned around.

The wound was obviously not very serious because Atan was not felled by it. He went on, and then, realized that the very fact of his having been wounded in the back might be interpreted as cowardice. Stickler as he was to an abstract concept of self-respect, he atoned by sitting in vatakkiruttal. His death was due to starvation, and not because of the wound. The bard makes this very clear; what shocked the people was not so much that Atan was wounded in the back, as his reaction, viz, his decision to commit suicide. C.f.,

tan pōl vēntan munpu kuŗittu eŗinta/puŗuap puņ nāņi maŗat takai mannan//vāļ vaţakkiruntanan īńku/nāļ pōl kaliyala ňayirrup pakalē.

The poet has put these words into the mouth of the people of the place – it is as if they regret the king’s decision, and not so much his having been wounded in the back (though that was its cause). The adjective maŗat takai implies that they all acknowledged that he was by nature and in fact valorous – none would even suspect that he acted in a cowardly manner; yet that great king, because of his own high standards, is ashamed of the wound in his back! What a pity; things will never be the same again for us without him; his loss makes us sad, even though the sun will rise again and the world will go on.

This circumstance leads us to imagine another set of implications. The throw of the vel at him was not such that it caused a mortal wound. In other words, at the moment of impact, its velocity was not very high. For an experienced and seasoned warrior like Atan, it would have been easy to ward off the missile with a wave of his shield, so that it went harmlessly aside. But because he had turned about, he was not aware of its approach, and it scratched his back. And he was uncompromising in his standards, especially towards himself.

This sense is reinforced by the tone of Puram 66, which Sastry thought reflected so much (in his view uncalled for) sympathy for Athan. The author was a bard traditionally attached to the Cola king, and should normally have rejoiced and gloated over his master’s unexpected victory. Instead, he starts with a reference to the righteousness of the ancient ancestors of his hero; then he acknowledges his victory in a last minute counter attack (cenŗu amarkkatanta). But the poet boldly expresses his own doubt: Wasn’t your enemy even then, despite your killing him, greater than you (ninninum nallananrē)? Examine closely, introspect! He (the loser) has won universal praise by having killed himself for shame of the wound in the back; and please note, NO blame for, or allegation of, cowardice!

mika pukal ulakam eyti/puŗappuņ nāņi vaţakkirunntōnē

The whole world, and not merely his own people accord that fallen king praise! In other words, the Cola did not become as famous for his victory as his opponent did, for both valour in battle, as well as honour in defeat. There is no hint that the world suspected the Cera of cowardice; the world had to wait for Sastry KAN to allege it.

The two purams also present several contrasts in style: Kalattalaiyar emphasizes the reactions of the people, and hints at their emotions only in the last line. Vennikkuyattiyar does not describe the physical scenes, emphasizing instead the moral history of the Colas, probable deviation from those standards by the hero in his opportunistic victory, and a reflection of the consequences in the share of glory of each of the contestants.

Significantly, one can also note an implied code of conduct observed by the bards. Though attached to specific heroes, they were scrupulously impartial in their reportage. Kalattalaiyar, the Ceran’s bard, goes out of his way to defend the Cola for his two-fold breaking of the rules of Battle. Conversely, Vennikuyattiyar does not praise the Cola hero excessively for his victory; instead, the bard draws his attention to the high standards of his ancestors, implying that his own conduct fell short of them. And the bard pointedly reminds the hero that his opponent, though the loser, has gained immortal fame, because he maintained those high moral standards.