Hello everyone!
We are happy to release the book Talks by Nirodbaran at the Sri Aurobindo International Centre of Education on 23 November 2012 in the Hall of Harmony, Sri Aurobindo International Centre of Education, Pondicherry.
We extend our cordial invitation to you to attend the function. It will be an occasion to remember the sweetness of the relationship that Nirod da shared with Sri Aurobindo.
We look forward to having you amidst us.
When journalist, author and translator Pavithra Srinivasan was as young as 12, she was acquainted with author Kalki and took no time to fall head-over-heels in love with his works. Since then, she has not only gone on to read almost all of the celebrated author’s works, but also embarked on a field trip across the State, visiting all the places that have been mentioned in his book.
Published by Helios Books, Kalki’s Sivakamiyin Sabadham – 1: Paranjyothi’s Journey is priced at `250.
You can read this article online, here.
We’re pleased, at Helios Books, to announce that our launch of Volume 1 of Kalki’s classic Sivakamiyin Sabadham, a translation by Pavithra Srinivasan, went very well. Chief Guest Ashokamithran spoke eloquently about Kalki R Krishnamurthy, and released the book, while the first copy was received by danseuse Srekala Bharath.
Dear friends,
Helios Books is launching its series of translations of literary classics from regional literature with Kalki’s Sivakamiyin Sabadham - 1: Paranjyothi’s Journey, translated by Pavithra Srinivasan, on Kalki’s birthday, 9 September 2012, 5:30 pm onwards, at C. P. Art Centre (Eldams Road, Alwarpet). Renowned Tamil literatteur Ashokamitran will be launching the book, and internationally acclaimed danseuse Srekala Bharath will receive the first copy. There will also be a book reading, and a panel discussion on ‘Kalki’s Works and the Relevance of their Translations to the Modern World’.
Please join us for high tea at 5 pm. The e-invite is attached – kindly regard this as a personal invitation.
Indian regional literature abounds with treasures that never reach most English readers. As part of its effort to showcase the best of India to the world, Helios Books intends to continue publishing excellent translations of such regional books that have been acclaimed as literary classics. There has always been a regrettably lukewarm reception to such translations earlier – mostly because readers felt that many were too literal, failing to capture the essence of the original. Of late, that trend has changed, and we are confident that this translation of Kalki’s Sivakamiyin Sabadham - 1: Paranjyothi’s Journey will be more than just that – a complete novel on its own, while capturing the essence of Kalki’s words in all its glory. Kalki R. Krishnamurthy’s descriptions, research and style were beyond compare; this translation has made every effort to present it in English, with its Tamil spirit intact.
Kalki’s tale is a celebration of Tamil history, a magnum opus that showcases two of Thamizhagam’s best-known rulers and their accomplishments brilliantly. Pavithra Srinivasan’s translation ensures that Sivakamiyin Sabadham makes a smooth transition from Tamil to English, with its soul intact, and affords its non-Tamil readers the same satisfaction and delight enjoyed by Tamil-speakers worldwide.
This book will be available at all branches of Landmark (in a week’s time) as well as other leading bookstores, including online bookstores like flipkart. It will also shortly be made available as eBook on the Helios Books website www.heliosbooks.com.
We look forward to seeing you at the launch.
Excerpt 3:Chapter 20: The Secret of Ajantha
“And what is to be the fee for this education? You had better settle the terms with him before he begins, Aayanar,” the monk urged.
“This is no jest. On the contrary, I was never more in earnest. The only acharya dakshinai Paranjyothi can possibly offer that befits your status is the secret of Ajantha!”
The moment he said this, Aayanar’s face underwent an amazing transformation, lighting up with eagerness and anticipation. It seemed that he had become a new man.
“Adigale, I asked you about this once before, but you never said a word. Be that as it may, what is the connection between this lad and the secret of Ajantha’s murals?” he asked.
“What could he possibly do?”
“Ajantha’s secret has been handed down to the bhikshus of the sangraamam in the Nagarjuna Mountains. Someone will have to be sent there to receive it, and I do not know of a worthier person than your new disciple.”
“Nagarjuna Mountains? On the banks of River Krishna? That route is much too dangerous, isn’t it?”
“Precisely why I suggested Paranjyothi – for his undoubted valour and ability to overcome danger. You saw how he threw the spear at the crazed elephant, didn’t you?”
“Still, a very long journey, isn’t it? Will he be able to make it there and back on foot?”
“Impossible; a good steed is an absolute necessity. On horseback, he will be able to accomplish this mission within a month.”
Aayanar turned to Paranjyothi, intense eagerness in his face. “Thambi, do you think you can? Will you go?” he asked.
Paranjyothi blinked, his eyes wide. “I – yes, I’m ready to carry out any command of yours, Ayya. But where do I go and why? I haven’t the faintest idea –”
“True,” acknowledged Aayanar. “He does not know anything yet, does he? You had better acquaint him with the details, Swami.”
The bhikshu turned to Paranjyothi. “Listen, young man. Far away, in the northern lands beyond even River Godhavari, there is a mountain by name Ajantha, and long ago, it was carved out to establish Buddhist Chaithyas. Beautiful murals depicting Lord Buddha’s life and the glory of His previous avatars were painted on its walls. Five hundred years have passed since they were drawn, but such is their lustre that they might have been done only the day before. The descendents of the great artists who drew these murals still dwell there, and are engaged in painting newer murals beside those done by their ancestors. They possess the secret of creating mixtures which, when used to paint, will not lose their sheen and splendour for a thousand years. Aayanar has been pleading with me to learn this secret from them in order to instruct him in it, and I have been trying to do so for a good many years. I happen to know an artist who created one of the murals in those caves – and now, I have news that he has arrived at the Buddhist sangraamam in the Nagarjuna Mountains. You may learn it from him, if you journey there.”
This was the sign for Aayanar to appeal to Paranjyothi. “Will you undertake this mission, thambi? If you do succeed in obtaining the secret of Ajantha, you would have satisfied one of my life’s greatest ambitions! But I will not force you into doing so.”
Even as the bhikshu and Aayanar explained the secret of Ajantha, Paranjyothi’s heart tossed and churned with a dozen different emotions, tumbling and vanishing over one another. Needless to say, much of what he felt was enthusiasm and pleasure. The thought of riding a well-bred stallion on a long journey was enough to fill him with delight; then, there was pride in the knowledge that the great Aayanar, the famed sculptor, had entrusted such an important errand to him. After all, don’t we know that he preferred embarking on journeys like these, rather than squatting on the ground and writing laboriously with an ezhuthaani on palm leaves?
“Ayya, my uncle has instructed me to obey your wishes, whatever they may be,” Paranjyothi admitted. “If your command to me is to start on this journey, then I shall certainly do so.”
“Then there is no time to waste, Aayanar,” the bhikshu’s tone was brisk. “It would be best if he started on this expedition and returned before the armies of Vathapi reach Kanchi. What do we do for a horse?”
“Not a problem; I shall petition the Emperor for one. His Majesty is as interested as I in acquiring the secrets of Ajantha.”
“In that case, you may obtain a royal travel permit as well. War is approaching, you see, and Paranjyothi may have trouble traversing the country.”
“True enough. I shall obtain an insignia for that purpose.”
“You need never mention my name in this regard. You know, I believe, the Emperor’s opinion of Buddhist monks, in general!”
The distant sound of blowing conches and thundering perigais reached them as the bhikshu uttered these words. “Swami, the deity I wished to appeal is crossing my very path,” Aayanar announced with enthusiasm. “I believe Mahendra Chakravarthy is on his way here!”
A twisted smile appeared on Naganandhi’s harsh countenance. He glanced here and there, thinking deeply, and finally seemed to come to a decision. “An excellent omen indeed, Aayanar. The fact that the Emperor is approaching your dwelling seems to indicate that our mission will be a success. But I am sure that Paranjyothi and I are likely to be the proverbial bears intruding on worship; our presence here when the Emperor enters your home is sure to undo all our hard work in an instant. We shall take refuge at the holy Buddha’s feet for the duration of the royal visit. Ah, words fail me when I try to praise the foresight of the great Nagarjuna bhikshu, who insisted that Lord Buddha’s statues always be sculpted on large dimensions!”
Aayanar hesitated. “What if the Emperor discovers –?” But the monk had already taken Paranjyothi’s hand and vanished behind an enormous statue of Lord Buddha.
Excerpt 2 – Paranjyothi’s Journey
Chapter 17: A Spear and a Promise
Narasimhar wiped away Sivakami’s tears gently, with the edge of his angavasthram. “You know, one thing has never failed to amaze me,” he said.
Sivakami looked at him, just as Rathi had at her mistress, a few hours earlier. Her expressive eyes and brows glanced up at him enquiringly, as if to ask, “Yes? What is it?”
Narasimhar stared long at her face, as if he would devour it with his eyes. “I’ve been wondering about the changes in you during the last three years, of course. Do you remember when we were children, Sivakami? My father and I used to visit your home then, and you would come running to meet me, take my hands and drag me in without any hesitation – and while our fathers discussed important matters, we would turn the house upside down! Sometimes I asked you to teach me Bharathanatyam, and you tried; but I never could learn, and you laughed at me often. I would stand still, staring at your face, your laugh, with teeth as perfect as jasmine buds, captivated by your prettiness. Sometimes, we played among the figurines and statuettes that your father sculpted. You would stand among them like a figurine yourself, and I would pass by, as though unable to recognize you among all those exquisite statuettes. You’d laugh, and I would turn back, catch you, and sing out, “Now I’ve caught you, my fine lady!” Our fathers would smile at our play – oh, it all seems like a beautiful dream, now …”
“Prabhu, you said that I’ve changed, somehow. How am I different now?” asked Sivakami.
“Yes, it’s a good thing you reminded me. When I was sixteen, my father took me on a tour of this country. We travelled from Siddhar Vaasa Malai in the south, to the Nagarjuna Mountains in the north, and even visited the source of River Kaveri in the west. It took us three years to return home from our travels –”
“They felt like three aeons to me,” murmured Sivakami.
“When I visited you once I’d come home, you weren’t the young girl I’d left behind. Why, I thought one of the celestial dancers like Rambhai or Urvasi had come down from Indra’s court to earth and was living in Aayanar’s home! Your behaviour was even more puzzling to me, because you didn’t welcome me as cheerfully as you used to. You didn’t speak a word all the time I was there. You concealed yourself behind a pillar and turned away whenever I looked at you. You stole glances at me when you thought I wasn’t looking at you, and when, by chance, our eyes met, you bowed your head. Your merry laughter was gone, and I saw tears glistening in your eyes. Occasionally, I noticed you sighing deeply for no reason at all. What was more, sometimes I found myself sighing deeply as well –!” Narasimhar admitted, and Sivakami broke into a peal of laughter.
The prince continued, “I began to notice a change in my heart too. I found that you occupied my thoughts every moment of the day, and that memories of you afforded both exquisite happiness and unbearable pain. I couldn’t forget you for a moment, even when I was involved in some important business. And then, one day, we met by this same lotus pond, and you quarrelled with me for not having come to visit you in the last three years. Finally, you made me place my hand in yours, and promise not to forget you at any cost. I couldn’t help laughing. God knew I struggled every day, never able to cast you away from my thoughts for a moment! But I made the promise anyway, so you would be satisfied. And now, we meet again. I came here, wondering if I’d find you by the lotus pond, and wonder of wonders, here you are. How alike are our thoughts!” he exclaimed.
“You’ve talked so much, but you haven’t answered my question yet,” said Sivakami.
“What question would that be? Kindly repeat it,” replied the prince.
“What about the envoys sent to Madurai and Vanchi, about your marriage?”
Excerpt, from Sivakamiyin Sabadham, Volume 1:
Chapter 2: The Capital
Paranjyothi stared. As far as he could see, vimanams of varying sizes and shapes seemed to rise in all directions.
At the time of this story – that is, about 1320 years ago (Sivakamiyin Sabadham was written in 1946 AD), gopurams over the front entrances of temples were not the huge, towering structures that one sees in Thamizhagam today; it was also the custom to construct vimanams only directly above the garbagriham, and even these were not of any extraordinary height. Moreover, the vimanams of temples dedicated to Siva Peruman, those of the Jain monasteries and the royal palaces, all looked more or less the same.
“All I see are vimanams, Swami. Which one are you referring to?” asked Paranjyothi.
“It is difficult to point out from here. You had better go straight down this road, and ask the people hereabouts the way to the Ekaambareswarar temple. You should be able to find Vaakeesar’s maḍam near the temple’s precincts. Be careful, young one. These are not good times!”
The monk walked away through another road that branched off from where they stood. Our young traveller went down the road the monk had pointed out.
In those days, the fame and repute of the great city of Kanchi had spread through the length and breadth of the southern lands. Every street in the city was wide enough to hold huge chariots with ease, and all the houses that lined the streets seemed to be of the dimensions of palaces. Here and there, stone pillars, richly carved, supported thoonga vilakkus, twinkling lamps that sparkled and gleamed through the night. The thoroughfares were full of crowds engaged in some business or the other, and as for the marketplace – ah, a rare sight indeed! Every single item of produce, grown anywhere in Bharata country from Kasi in the far north to Kanyakumari in the southernmost tip of Thamizhagam could be found here, among these streets. Flower stalls were set up on one side – sweetmeats and savouries on the other – fruits and food grains spilled over in one corner – diamond merchants and other jewellers offered their dazzling wares for sale in another … on and on the market street seemed to stretch away, endlessly.
Paranjyothi stared at these sights as he ambled through the roads, eyes wide with astonishment. Wherever he went, he saw small knots of people gathered at various places, all talking about only two things: the interruption at court that had caused the lady Sivakami’s dance arangetram to be stopped, and the mysterious command that had resulted in the gates of the fortress being closed.
Frequently, he stopped passersby to ask, “Where is the Ekaambareswarar temple, please?” – to which they invariably replied, “Over there!” But he could not seem to find the famed temple at all. Immersed at the moment in the enjoyable task of exploring this admirable, astonishing city, he did not really care.
Suddenly, he stumbled into the midst of enormous confusion and terrified screams. People were scattering in all directions. “The temple elephant has gone mad! Run! Run!” This high-pitched warning was accompanied by the sounds of children shrieking, women screaming, and horses neighing nervously. ‘Dadaal! Dadaal! – doors were slammed furiously; ‘Amma!’ lowed cows, terrified; ‘kadakadakada …’ – carts rolled away, their axles grating unpleasantly, adding to the overwhelming noise and confusion.
Paranjyothi stood rooted to the spot. Should he run away too? If so, in which direction? As he was thinking this through, his eyes observed the events unfolding before him. Marching just ahead, in the middle of the street, was a palanquin holding an incredibly beautiful young woman and an elderly man who seemed to be her father. The palanquin-bearers, hearing the confusion and hullabaloo behind them, dropped the palanquin and took to their heels, frightened out of their wits.
At the same time, Paranjyothi heard the sounds of the deranged elephant behind him, pounding terrifyingly in his direction. He hesitated for a moment. Suddenly, reaching a decision, he dropped his bag and quickly undid the knots that bound it. Pulling out the point of a spear from inside, he fixed it to the top of the cane that he held. He transferred the staff, now transformed into a spear, to his right hand, and turned, just as the charging elephant reached near him.
That was it! Paranjyothi aimed the spear at the elephant, and threw it with all his might. The spear flew out of his hand. Such was its momentum that it plunged through the elephant’s rough, thick skin, and lodged itself near the animal’s left eye. The huge animal bellowed, an ear-splitting sound, and wrenching the spear out of its skin with its trunk, threw it down and stomped on it. Then it turned towards the young man who had thrown it.
History need not be dull. It can be brought alive with good writing and fascinating facts. And that’s what this book does.
Dates and names that you may find difficult to memorise come alive as this book bring facts and fiction together.
Into the past
The narratives usually begin with the detailed description of the place. This is highlighted specially in the story “The City of the Dead” — how a cluster of mud huts grew into a great city that boasted sophisticated sewage and drainage systems and even a hot bath — the city came to be known as Mohenjo-Daro.
The description of the market place adds colour to the lifestyle — the food, the dress, the ornaments in use, as well as the games children played. The narration of Aba’s wedding shows the different types of make up the brides wore — forerunners of the lipstick and mascara.
Through the eyes of a Sumerian merchant we watch the growth of Sumeria. We learn of the rich trade and commercial relationship between countries.
Be it the capitol of the Tritsus, Saptasindhavah or the making of King Parikshit the first Kuru prince to rule Saptasindhavah after the Mahabarata war, each story gives us an insight to the rule and the lifestyle of its king and people.
Let us now walk in the times of the Buddha — “The Tunnel of Light”. King Ajasatru incognito walks among his people to learn what’s happening in his country and what people think of his rule and his wayward son. But the King also has his dark secrets that bear down heavily on him. His physician and confidante Jivaka persuades him to meet Gautama Buddha so that his sins may be confessed and his heart lightened. The king reluctantly agrees. The king reforms and humbly says “May the lord accept my transgressions as transgression alone, so that I might be more restrained in the future.”
The author introduces Archarya Vishnu Sharma who believed that one should “weave your lessons into a story” so that children will not be bored. His stories are now known as the Tales from Panchatantra.
The book concludes with “A meeting of two minds”, where two travellers, Ayyan and Vishnu, meet. Later we realise that they are Tiruvalluvar and Chanakya, whose works are Tirukural and Arthasastra.
The illustrations by Lalithaa Thyagarajan, add richness to the narration. The detailed pictures portray the lifestyle of the times. Each story follows with a “Leaves from the past”, which gives us nuggets from history. This book is a compulsive read that makes history come alive and therefore unforgettable.
BACK TO THE B.C.’S: LITTLE KNOWN TALES OF WELL KNOWN TIMES, Pavithra Srinivasan, Helios Books, Rs.200
You can read this article online, here.
[Posted by Mr D Murali (Dty Editor, The Hindu Business Line), in his blog]
“‘You know that we Sumerians refer to your lands, as a whole, as Melukkha – the High Country,’ said the merchant. ‘But why have you named this new city ‘The City of the Dead’? Forgive me, but it sounds inauspicious.”
“‘Yes, a question many have asked,’ Manis said slowly. ‘We all know how the living fade with time. But these buildings, coins and artefacts will remain as a lasting testimony to how we once flourished. And I hope that, some day in the future, our descendants will think of us with awe and pride, that the world will know how great our civilisation was. I want this city to be remembered thousands of years from now, like the great cities of Sumer, Babylon, or Egypt.’ He paused, then continued: ‘I am a realist too – I know our people will vanish one day. They may die out, and other cities, other civilisations may take their place. After all, human life is so fragile. But there is no death where there is history, where there are memories. Death is not to be feared in such a place.’ Manis smiled. ‘And that’s why I named this city ‘Mohenjo-Daro’.'”
~ (p. 9, ‘Back to the BCs‘ by Pavithra Srinivasan – Helios)
Invaluable childrens’ book for all
Back to the BCs
Pavithra Srinivasan
Helios Books
Pages: 46
Rs. 200
There are two very convenient traps that books for children often fall into. In the first, the author mistakes simplicity for pithiness, and as a result, the book becomes a preachy moral science textbook rather than an enjoyable book of stories. In the second, the author is so in thrall of the beautiful illustrations that the text becomes secondary, like an afterthought.
Pavithra Srinivasan’s Back to the BCs sidesteps both these wormholes with rare finesse; the language is suitably simple yet always elegant. Also, Lalithaa Thayagarajan’s illustrations, with their Jamini Roy eyes and lavish details, dovetail brilliantly with the narrative, never imposing, always complementary.
The collection begins with The City of the Dead, a marvellous re-imagining of the Mohenjo-Daro story. It is so vivid and engaging that one is tempted to rate it alongside the classic parables of childhood. Other high points include A Meeting of Minds and A Spoonful of Sugar.
Though marked ‘for Age 9 & above’, this book is, in fact, an invaluable and entertaining experience for readers of all ages.
~ Aditya Mani Jha.
You can also read this article here.
Buy LTWT: Back to the BCS here!
