Songs of the Cauvery

There are some people that you are sure will end up writing books. In all the years that I have known the author, I have always taken it for granted that he will write great big books filled with passion, insight, pathos, adventure and his own brand of gentle wisdom. The question was only when.

I was thrilled, therefore, to attend his lovely book launch organized by Mrs. Radhika Santhanaraman and presided over by Mr. N. Ravi of The Hindu and Mr. S. Gurumurthy, who both had wonderful things to say about the book. The author himself gave us a behind-the-scenes peek into how he came to write such a book, the call of the Cauvery in the form of an old manuscript he found among his late father’s things, containing the text of an original composition on Ganesha by his great grandfather.  

I devoured the book soon after and it justified all my earlier assumptions about the kind of books Kalyanaraman (chittappa, by way of disclaimer) was going to write. Songs of the Cauvery is the perfect debut novel. It has innocence, love, passion, humour, strength, sacrifice. It is transitional in many ways – the transition to a new century, the transition to modernity, the transition to an idea of swarajya and not the least of all, the daily transitioning by sandhyavandana - but it also has a cyclical continuity, working on multiple levels - beginning with a sacrifice and ending with one, both for love, but on different scales.

The book has an effortless authenticity that reflects in everything from the street names to children’s games to dialogues, transporting us to a specific time and place in history and society. The cities of today are beautifully re-imagined in their turn-of the-century small town avatars. The characters are well-etched. Each of them is a unique presence. It is obvious the author loves his lands and people. Even the archetypal mother-in-law is lampooned with tenderness (hilarious segment!). And oh the delight of having Subramania Bharati in a guest appearance! A sweet tribute indeed.

Revolving as it does around a Tamil Brahmin family, the story offers a rare insider’s view into the world of Sanskrit and Tamil, principles and poverty, learning and teaching, the sacred and the taboo. One can't help but note how today's Dravidian caste politics conveniently ignores that the freedom struggle in South India and the accompanying social revolution was led by scores of Brahmins including V. V. S. Iyer and Subramania Bharati.

The romances are subtle and sweet. The wooing is charming. The author also excels in creating atmosphere. The sections with the Englishmen are so typically British, contrasting sharply with the world of priests, pujas, sadir and sandhyavandanam. I also love that the book has strong women characters, powerful agents in their own right, working with what they have to reach their goals. There is a delightful exchange between young Janaki and her father Sambhu where she logically armtwists him in a carefully-planned argument. 

The river Cauvery isn’t just a physical presence in the book. I am sure it is not my imagination that the book is paced like the river. Cauvery’s protagonists are also like the river herself – transforming from gamboling youth to independent, free-thinking adults transmuting their passions for a cause larger than themselves, for an impact more lasting than mere human life spans. And reading the last chapter that's filled with hope, I believe, just like the Cauvery, even after emptying herself out completely, returns another season to flood the dry beds with life anew, these songs shall return again with new melodies.

To me, this is a love story. To love is to give of oneself. And how we all give what we can, but the greatest of us give everything. Songs of the Cauvery – tender, mesmeric, unputdownable! Go read it! 


Edit: An earlier version of this post had U. Ve. Swaminatha Iyer, the scholar par excellence known as "Tamil Thatha" instead of V. V. S. Iyer, the freedom fighter.