# Malayalam Cinema Forum > Literature >  Malayalathinte Priyappetta Ezhuthukari Madhavikkutty (Kamala Surayya) antharichu

## saji

*Malayalathinte ettavum kalpaneeka kadhaakaari Madhavikkutty antharichu.  Kamala Surayya ennu peru mattiyirunna avar kamaladas enna pril english kavithakalum ezhuthiyirunnu...*

*ente priyappetta  kadhaakaarikku aadaraanjalikal....*

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## kuttoos

condolences

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## saji

*Kamala Das*

* * 



*Biography* 

Recognized as one of India's foremost poets, Kamala Das was born on March 31, 1934 in Malabar in Kerala (Dwivedi 297). Her love of poetry began at an early age through the influence of her great uncle, Nalapat Narayan Menon, a prominent writer. Das remembers watching him "work from morning till night" and thinking that he had "a blissful life" (Warrior interview). Das was also deeply affected by the poetry of her mother, Nalapat Balamani Amma, and the sacred writings kept by the matriarchal community of Nayars (IndiaWorld). She was privately educated until the age of 15 when she was married to K. Madhava Das (IndiaWorld). She was 16 when her first son was born and says that she "was mature enough to be a mother only when my third child was born" (Warrior interview). Her husband often played a fatherly role for both Das and her sons. Because of the great age difference between Kamala and her husband, he often encouraged her to associate with people of her own age. Das says that he was always "very understanding" (Warrior interview). 
When Das wished to begin writing, her husband supported her decision to augment the family's income. Because Das was a woman, however, she could not use the morning-till-night schedule enjoyed by her great uncle. She would wait until nightfall after her family had gone to sleep and would write until morning: "There was only the kitchen table where I would cut vegetables, and after all the plates and things were cleared, I would sit there and start typing" (Warrior interview). This rigorous schedule took its toll upon Das' health, but she views her illness optimistically. It gave her more time at home, and thus, more time to write. 
As her career progressed, her greatest supporter was always her husband. Even when controversy swirled around Das' sexually charged poetry and her unabashed autobiography, My Story, Das' husband was "very proud" of her (Warrior interview). Though he was sick for 3 years before he passed away, his presence brought her tremendous joy and comfort. She stated that there "shall not be another person so proud of me and my achievements" (Warrior interview). 
And Das' achievements extend well beyond her verses of poetry. Das says, "I wanted to fill my life with as many experiences as I can manage to garner because I do not believe that one can get born again" (Warrior interview). True to her word, Das has dabbled in painting, fiction (Warrior interview), and even politics (Raveendran 53). Though Das failed to win a place in Parliament in 1984, she has been much more successful of late as a syndicated columnist (Raveendran 53). She has moved away from poetry because she claims that "poetry does not sell in this country [India]," but fortunately her forthright columns do (Warrior interview). Das' columns sound off on everything from women's issues and child care to politics. 
In December, 1999 Kamala Das converted to Islam, creating a furore in the press.  Less than a year later, Kamala Surayya announced on plans to 
register her political party 'Lok Seva,' (see articles available through the section on "related links.") 

*Womanhood in Das' Poetry* 
Das' uncanny honesty extends to her exploration of womanhood and love. In her poem "An Introduction" from Summer in Calcutta, the narrator says, "I am every/ Woman who seeks love" (de Souza 10). Though Amar Dwivedi criticizes Das for this "self imposed and not natural" universality, this feeling of oneness permeates her poetry (303). In Das' eyes, womanhood involves certain collective experiences. Indian women, however, do not discuss these experiences in deference to social mores. Das consistently refuses to accept their silence. Feelings of longing and loss are not confined to a private misery. They are invited into the public sphere and acknowledged. Das seems to insist they are normal and have been felt by women across time. In "The Maggots" from the collection, The Descendants, Das corroborates just how old the sufferings of women are. She frames the pain of lost love with ancient Hindu myths (de Souza 13). On their last night together, Krishna asks Radha if she is disturbed by his kisses. Radha says, "No, not at all, but thought, What is/ It to the corpse if the maggots nip?" (de Souza 6-7). Radha's pain is searing, and her silence is given voice by Das. Furthermore, by making a powerful goddess prey to such thoughts, it serves as a validation for ordinary women to have similar feelings. 

*Eroticism in Das' Poetry* 
Coupled with her exploration of women's needs is an attention to eroticism. The longing to lose one's self in passionate love is discussed in "The Looking Glass" from The Descendants. The narrator of the poem urges women to give their man "what makes you women" (de Souza 15). The things which society suggests are dirty or taboo are the very things which the women are supposed to give. The "musk of sweat between breasts/ The warm shock of menstrual blood" should not be hidden from one's beloved (15). In the narrator's eyes, love should be defined by this type of unconditional honesty. A woman should "Stand nude before the glass with him," and allow her lover to see her exactly as she is (15). Likewise, the woman should appreciate even the "fond details" of her lover, such as "the jerky way he/ Urinates" (15). Even if the woman may have to live "Without him" someday, the narrator does not seem to favor bridling one's passions to protect one's self (15). A restrained love seems to be no love at all; only a total immersion in love can do justice to this experience. Much like the creators of ancient Tantric art, Das makes no attempt to hide the sensuality of the human form; her work seems to celebrate its joyous potential while acknowledging its concurrent dangers. 

*Feminism* 
Das once said, "I always wanted love, and if you don't get it within your home, you stray a little"(Warrior interview). Though some might label Das as "a feminist" for her candor in dealing with women's needs and desires, Das "has never tried to identify herself with any particular version of feminist activism" (Raveendran 52). Das' views can be characterized as "a gut response," a reaction that, like her poetry, is unfettered by other's notions of right and wrong (52). Nonetheless, poet Eunice de Souza claims that Das has "mapped out the terrain for post-colonial women in social and linguistic terms" ( :Cool: . Das has ventured into areas unclaimed by society and provided a point of reference for her colleagues. She has transcended the role of a poet and simply embraced the role of a very honest woman. 

*Her Works* 
Das has published many novels and short stories in English, as well as in the Indian language of Malayalam under the name "Madhavikutty" (de Souza 7). Some of her work in English includes the novel Alphabet of Lust  (1977), a collection of short stories called Padmavati the Harlot and Other Stories (1992), in addition to five books of poetry, Summer in Calcutta (1965), The Descendants (1967), The Old Playhouse and Other Poems (1973), The Anamalai Poems (1985), and Only the Soul Knows How to Sing (1996), a collection of poetry with Pritish Nandy (1990), and her autobiography, My Story (1976). Some of her more recent novels in Malayalam include Palayan (1990), Neypayasam (1991), and Dayarikkurippukal (1992). She is currently the author of a syndicatcd column in India. 

*Three Poems from Nine Indian Women Poets* 
The Dance of the Eunuchs (from Summer in Calcutta) 
It was hot, so hot, before the eunuchs came 
To dance, wide skirts going round and round, cymbals 
Richly clashing, and anklets jingling, jingling 
Jingling... Beneath the fiery gulmohur, with 
Long braids flying, dark eyes flashing, they danced and 
They dance, oh, they danced till they bled... There were green 
Tattoos on their cheeks, jasmines in their hair, some 
Were dark and some were almost fair. Their voices 
Were harsh, their songs melancholy; they sang of 
Lovers dying and or children left unborn.... 
Some beat their drums; others beat their sorry breasts 
And wailed, and writhed in vacant ecstasy. They 
Were thin in limbs and dry; like half-burnt logs from 
Funeral pyres, a drought and a rottenness 
Were in each of them. Even the crows were so 
Silent on trees, and the children wide-eyed, still; 
All were watching these poor creatures' convulsions 
The sky crackled then, thunder came, and lightning 
And rain, a meagre rain that smelt of dust in 
Attics and the urine of lizards and mice.... 

The Maggots (from The Descendants) 
At sunset, on the river ban, Krishna 
Loved her for the last time and left... 
That night in her husband's arms, Radha felt 
So dead that he asked, What is wrong, 
Do you mind my kisses, love? And she said, 
No, not at all, but thought, What is 
It to the corpse if the maggots nip? 


The Stone Age (from The Old Playhouse and Other Poems) Fond husband, ancient settler in the mind, 
Old fat spider, weaving webs of bewilderment, 
Be kind. You turn me into a bird of stone, a granite 
Dove, you build round me a shabby room, 
And stroke my pitted face absent-mindedly while 
You read. With loud talk you bruise my pre-morning sleep, 
You stick a finger into my dreaming eye. And 
Yet, on daydreams, strong men cast their shadows, they sink 
Like white suns in the swell of my Dravidian blood, 
Secretly flow the drains beneath sacred cities. 
When you leave, I drive my blue battered car 
Along the bluer sea. I run up the forty 
Noisy steps to knock at another's door. 
Though peep-holes, the neighbours watch, 
they watch me come 
And go like rain. Ask me, everybody, ask me 
What he sees in me, ask me why he is called a lion, 
A libertine, ask me why his hand sways like a hooded snake 
Before it clasps my pubis. Ask me why like 
A great tree, felled, he slumps against my breasts, 
And sleeps. Ask me why life is short and love is 
Shorter still, ask me what is bliss and what its price.... 


Kamala Das

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## thasku

my hearty condolences  :salut:

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## 1023059

Hearty condolences

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## Jason

Heart felt Consoldences..

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## Sagar Alias Jacky

She was bedridden for a while. Condolences.

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## kiroo

*aadaraanjalikal....*

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## thoovanathumbi

Malayalathilum englishilumayi orupidi mikacha rachanakal nadathiya..
Penmanassinde chinthakale lokathinu munnil pakarnnu nalkiya..
Priyappetta ezhuthukari…..

Kannneerode vida…

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## saji

INDULEKHAÂ» editor's choice: Madhavikutty Collection

Indulekha has a good collection of Madhavikkutties works.....

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## : Raaz :

malayathinte nirmaathalappoo  eni  ormaa maatram
aadharaanjalikal...

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## Saroj Kumar

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Y_6xBd9zU0

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## Rolesau

> YouTube - Kamala Suraya


]

mukham veerthu poyi pavam :Sad:  May her soul rest in peace :Pray:

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## chandru

vivaadham undaakkan alla..chila thetti dharanakal maaraan maatram..

manushyar thammilum mathagal thammilum ulla sahavarthwithwam iniyum vardhikkatte..

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## heartbeats

ini aa neermaathalam pookkilla................

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## Bunny

_Malayalathinta Priya Ezhuthukariyude 76am janmadinam ayirunnu innale..._

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## ballu

madavikutyide ente kadha online kittan vazhi undo?

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## joeraman

Its informative one provides a lots of information on topic also provide more data on topic.

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