When Sorrow Strikes (Thunbam Nergayil) - Story

I sat in the dining room. It was 5:30 on the clock in the evening. I was blank. My mom used to sit in the dining room and knit flowers from the garden. She uses knitting to make it tight as she falls. Since I was a teenager, I have preferred not to be there. In childhood, my mom used to give me a needle to use to knit those flowers, but I used to do it wrong and just make sure I wore it to a deity’s photo. But soon, times changed. From simple things to complex Even my personality became complex. I was not able to rely on one thing; instead, I just changed my personality to mask my face. Soon, I realise that you will forget what face you had first and will believe that your previous personality mask was your original face. Like when they knit flowers, they follow a pattern, but after a point, they will forget what the pattern is and knit according to their own wishes.

I was not in the mood to talk to my mother, as I usually get advice from her. A teenager like me doesn’t like to get advice. I have already undermined myself, and now I don’t want my mother to list out where I screwed up. But I hesitantly want to talk about things that bother me.

Soon she noticed me being disturbed and said, "What? What made you come around me like a cat giving birth to kittens?"

"Nothing, I'm just disturbed by the work," I replied passively.

"Apdi enna problem?" She asked, "What is the problem that is so huge and disturbing?"

"Apparently my surrounding people are going to internships and stuff while I just sit at my table and worry about academic achievement," I said to her with a serious face, making gestures with my hands. "Someone seems to have entered a good company, while I just now made progress in finishing a few courses and doing something that has meaning."

"It’s your fault that you didn’t perform well in your exam. That shows your surroundings are competitive. What are you even planning to do to improve?" she asserted to me.

"Amma, you just want to blame everything on me and say as if you are going to help me." Said with a hesitant

"When are you going to accept the mistake you are making and try to rectify it?" she questions again.

"Stop enough!" I shouted. "You don’t understand what the hell I’m going through."

"What are you going through? Say, In your age..." She started to talk about her past and how hard it was to study in the current climate of cuts and mosquito bites with less money to lead the family.

I don’t really want to believe those, as usual, they are fighting among themselves over who has greater misery in life. Soon she finished it and started to ask what my problem was again.

This time my heart didn’t resist, as it got frustrated with saying small things as problems and wanted to say something that was really a problem. So, I hesitantly said, "I liked this girl. She said she was "not interested in me."

"Oh, son, you said work-related and now say personal." She smirks. "First, did you know she liked you?"

"Not exactly." I was too stunned to talk.

"See, you will never understand a person fully. Take the example of Father and me. He always brings gifts I dislike and says this is the best for you. While I give him the same old coffee with an inconsistent taste just to say adjust, that's what I can do for you. You would have barely met her. Am I right?" She looked into my eyes.

I nodded no, then yes, then no.

"See, you don’t know what to say? How will a girl in that position know about it? At least be happy she said no, was afraid of your present, and helped you to focus." She said that and started to knit again.

I was not convinced by the thing she said. I’m just denying what the fact is, but my heart never wants to accept cruel things.

I again asked, "Then how did my surroundings get girlfriends? Aren’t they the same age as me? What are the odds, or are the odds for me large?"

"See Mister You don’t understand that what you see outside these shiny things like gold has gone through a furnace of work to get shiny. Understanding that it has gone through a huge, meticulous process doesn’t mean it should last forever. The shine may fade in the future. But understanding is what we all want here. Many of you guys fail there. When gold gets old, it has more value, but people don’t see that and sell it or melt it to form new jewellery. It’s not always easy."

"So, are you ready to say that your son is not compactable for going through this complex process or furnace process or whatever?" I saw her with angry eyes.

"I never said that. Don’t undermine yourself."

I know I undermine myself a lot. It is not my problem; the people around me always say stuff that makes me feel undermined. A person taking AI photography gets appreciated while I with a DSLR fights and set a manual to take three photos. A person who writes crap stories with paparazzi and stuff that doesn’t even benefit society is read, while my poetry and stories are never read. When someone does the same old thing of playing popular songs, they get fame, while a person who creates their own content only gets forgotten. Where the hell is recognition? Where is the shine of a star when it's hidden by dark matter?

"Saying those words is easy to live by," I said with tears falling.

It was a late evening. Usually, in Indian households, crying in the evening is not auspicious as it doesn’t welcome the goddess Lakshmi (Goddess of Fortune).

"Hey, don’t cry. Don’t cry in the auspicious time." Said the mother, repeating it repeatedly.

"Why shouldn't I cry?" I fail every time I try; I can’t cry. I don’t get what I wish for, and I can’t cry. The person I like doesn’t; everything is no. Why I should even exist. Failure is something I’m living with. My poems, stories, and journals are all garbage to be dumped on the sea." I shouted with anger.

"You know, when she said no, she became a murderer and also made many children orphans," I spoke.

"What?" my mom asked.

"When I write a poem, it is the father; I gave birth, unlike in real life. I said to my children that my mother would come and kiss your cheeks. But apparently, when she said no, that father died, and my child is now often sick and has no reason to live. Those chants for a person who hates all these, metaphors of her beauty to goddesses, and irony in my words." I said this with tears flowing through my eyes.

"Now that the body of that father is with me, and those children ask for the father, what should I say to them? They ask about her mother, "What should I say?"

"Son, I understand but accept the fact. Take those children and adopt them, and make sure those children become something to remember that when that mother sees them, she should feel ashamed and prejudiced that my father raised those children without me to a good place." Said the mother with a lot of concerns and with a heart that gets hit with waves of the ocean of thoughts.

I soon laid my head on the table and started to cry more. My mother tried to wake me up, but she was not able to. What is the point? You can wake a person who is sleeping, not a person who is acting like they are sleeping.

Soon she left me, switched off the light, and was gone. I was crying that no one would ever help me recover from this sorrow. Sorrow always strikes so fast that it breaks your leg, and your hands won’t let you rise again easily.

Suddenly I hear the tambura zinging with Sruthi of 5 (G scale), and soon I hear my mother humming in Desh Raga. I remember all these ragas and things as I grew up learning music from my mother. I used to sing with her, and my mother’s close raga is Desh. I never understood why this raga

Soon, she started to sing.

துன்பம் நேர்கையில் யாழ் எடுத்து நீ

இன்பம் சேர்க்க மாட்டாயா? - எமக்

கின்பம் சேர்க்க மாட்டாயா? - நல்

அன்பிலா நெஞ்சில் தமிழில் பாடி நீ

அல்லல் நீக்க மாட்டாயா? - கண்ணே

அல்லல் நீக்க மாட்டாயா?

(Meaning: When sorrow strikes, won’t you take the harp?

And add sweetness to my life—won't you?

Add sweetness to me—Won't you,

Remove the pain in my heart bereft of love,

By singing in Tamil, Darling,

(Won't you remove the pain?)

Soon I raised my head, which was drowned in my tears. When I saw that my mother was singing with the tambura, I rose from the chair and fell. I crawl towards my mom as if I’m an infant, with hope in my eyes. There was light suddenly. A light that illuminated my uncertain path and uncertain life; a support that supported my broken leg.

வன்பும் எளிமையும் சூழும் நாட்டிலே

வாழ்வின் உணர்வு சேர்க்க - எம்

வாழ்வின் உணர்வு சேர்க்க - நீ

அன்றை நற்றமிழ்க் கூத்தின் முறையினால்

ஆடிக் காட்ட மாட்டாயா? கண்ணே

ஆடிக் காட்ட மாட்டாயா?

(Meaning: In this world surrounded by meddling and simplicity,

For adding feelings to this life—for,

Adding feelings to my life—won't you,

Dance the steps of ancient Tamil dance, darling.

(Won't you dance?)

I reached the place and sat with those melding eyes, wiping them out and breathing fast. Suddenly I controlled all and saw all that my mother had done with hope. Desh, which was sung by my mother, gave me hope. Now I remember why my mom said her closest raga is Desh.

அறமிதென்றும் யாம் மறமிதென்றுமே

அறிகிலாத போது - யாம்

அறிகிலாத போது - தமிழ்

இறைவனாரின் திருக்குறளிலே ஒரு சொல்

இயம்பிக் காட்ட மாட்டாயா? - நீ

இயம்பிக் காட்ட மாட்டாயா?

(Meaning: When we did not know,

What is right and what is heroic?

When we did not know the stanza,

From the thirukkural of the divine poet,

"Good conduct is the base of good and bad conduct,

"would always result in bad things."

Would you not tell me one word?

From the thirukkural of the divine poet, won’t you?

Dance the steps of ancient Tamil dance, darling.

(Won't you dance?)

Now I find the reason. I find a reason for those poems, stories, and journals. I find out why the heroes of my stories and poems fall into pain. They are not going through the same pain, but my pain is split between them. My pain is shared with them and felt by them. Not every human can do this. If all humans can split and give their pain and suffering to another man, Then sorrow will never strike the world.

புறம் இதென்றும் நல் அகம் இதென்றுமே

புலவர் கண்ட நூலின் - தமிழ்ப்

புலவர் கண்ட நூலின் - நல்

திறமை காட்டி உனை ஈன்ற எம்உயிர்ச்

செல்வம் ஆகமாட்டாயா? தமிழ்ச்

செல்வம் ஆக மாட்டாயா?

(Meaning: From the book founded by great poets,

Mentioning what is bad and what is good,

From the Tamil book found by great poets,

Won’t you tell me one word,

From the thirukkral of the divine poet

Won’t you tell me one word,

And show your capability and become

Wealth to this soul that begot you,

(Won't you become the Tamil wealth? Oh, darling.)

Now I shouldn’t cry. Why should I? Where was my sorrow that my mom was taken away by her song? But she is still in the dark; her face is not visible to me in this dim yellow light. She is still thinking that my son is in sorrow. I thought my sorrow would never affect another person, but I forgot I was born attached to my mother’s body. She again came to the first stanza. I switched on another light; her eyes closed with the flash, and I saw her son being happy and smiling, unlike what she saw before closing her eyes in the dark. Her son saw the light she always saw: hope. The confidence she always wanted him to have. Both sang the verse again and became the treasure of Tamil, as said in the poem of Bharathidasan.

துன்பம் நேர்கையில் யாழ் எடுத்து நீ

இன்பம் சேர்க்க மாட்டாயா? - எமக்

கின்பம் சேர்க்க மாட்டாயா? - நல்

அன்பிலா நெஞ்சில் தமிழில் பாடி நீ

அல்லல் நீக்க மாட்டாயா? - கண்ணே

அல்லல் நீக்க மாட்டாயா?

(Meaning: When sorrow strikes, won’t you take the harp?

And add sweetness to my life—won't you?

Add sweetness to me—Won't you,

Remove the pain in my heart bereft of love,

By singing in Tamil, Darling,

(Won't you remove the pain?)