On watching Il Postino

Barely recovering from watching Il Postino... what a tribute to poets and poetry...
It will take time for me to recover from this film enough to write about it.

THE STORY

For those who have not seen the film... The Poet Pablo Neruda is in exile and takes off from his native country, Chile, to stay in an italian island until the ban on his entry is lifted. Most of the people in the island are illiterate and so a postman is needed to serve the mailing needs of just the poet and his wife. The villagers, especially the postman and the post master are excited that so famous a man should be staying in their village.

Slowly a relationship develops between the postman and the poet. Infected by the poet's love for imagery, the postman starts writing poetry. He befriends the poet, who also helps him in his budding romance with the village belle. Interspersed with the story of their romance is that of a right-wing politician who is trying to win over the villagers from their affinity for the communists.

The postman gets married and Neruda is his best man. Soon, exile over, Neruda has to go back to his hometown and a year passes by. There is a demonstration and the postman is killed in the firing on the communists. Some years later, Neruda visits the village hoping to meet his old friends, but the postman is no more. He has to make do with meeting his wife and child.

The film ends with Neruda walking on the shore of the beach, remembering the days he spent with his friend and a poem of his flashes on the screen. The poem is about How Poetry came to him...It could be written by the postman himself...



SOME COMMENTS

Somewhere deep the postman touches you with his poetry and idealistic ambitions. Still I can't forgive the director for killing off the postman at the end. Or is it that poetry can never be born without a death happening inside you at the very least.

Pablo Neruda's poem appearing at the end of the story makes you feel that like in Borges' story, where the writer meets himself from a time in the future - his future self, here too, the postman was Neruda too, and the older self came to him to waken him to poetry.... Well. it must be good to have your future self come in and tell you to buck up or else you will miss the nobel prize!

Well that was a happy way to see the death of the postman, but the line on the video cover still beats me - it says "Romantic Comedy" ... WTH????

Riders in the Storm

Workout in my friend's gym - music playing loud - mixture of rock songs from the 1980s... one song that I have not heard in over ten years goes.. 'Riders on the Storm... There's a Killer on the Road' and the whole mood is that of a traveller driving down a highway in the dark of the night with a swirling rain storm raging...


I was marvelling at how the words conjure up an image of darkness and thrilling chilling suspense, while the music paints in the background of the rain and thunder... Poetry should be like that - combining the mood of the words with the rhythm of the metre... How I wish I could write like that with abandon and passion...


Neruda seems to be a master at this...

Notice these lines from The Wars -

`...Toy of the Asians, doll
scorched by aerial murderers,
show your blank eyes
far from the waist of the child
who fled when you burst into flame
as every wall blazed
and death held the rice-fields...'


There is something inviolate about the Child. However abnormal the situation. We know of many stories where childhood ended at three even. Not just in warlike or other such dramatic conditions, but even in the most ordinary everyday situations like the case of nomadic labourers...

If you forget me - Translation of Neruda's poem into Tamil

(Translation comes after the english poem)
I want you to know
one thing.

You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,

as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me.
Well, now,
if little by little you stop loving me
I shall stop loving you little by little.
If suddenly
you forget me
do not look for me,
for I shall already have forgotten you.
If you think it long and mad,
the wind of banners
that passes through my life,
and you decide
to leave me at the shore
of the heart where I have roots,
remember
that on that day,
at that hour,
I shall lift my arms
and my roots will set off
to seek another land.
But
if each day,
each hour,
you feel that you are destined for me
with implacable sweetness,
if each day a flower
climbs up to your lips to seek me,
ah my love, ah my own,
in me all that fire is repeated,

in me nothing is extinguished or forgotten,
my love feeds on your love, beloved,
and as long as you live it will be in your arms
without leaving mine


உன்னிடம் நான் ஒன்றை சொல்ல விரும்புகிறேன்

இது எப்படியென்று உனக்குதான் தெரியுமே:
அந்த கண்ணாடி நிலவையும்,
மெதுவாய் வரும் இலையுதிர் காலத்து சிவந்த கிளையையும்
என் ஜன்னலருகே நான் பார்த்தால்,

நெருப்பு கூடத்தினருகே
சட்டென புலன்களுக்குள் அகப்படாது படர்ந்திருக்கும் சாம்பலையோ
விறகு கட்டைகளின் சுருக்கங்கள் கொண்ட உடலையோ
நான் தொட நேர்ந்தால்,

எல்லாமே உன்னிடம் என்னை இட்டுச்செல்லும்.

ஏதோ ஜீவித்திருக்கும் எல்லாமே,
மணங்கள், வெளிச்சங்கள், உலோகங்கள், எல்லாமே,
எனக்காக காத்திருக்கும் அந்த
உனது தீவுகளை நோக்கி
பயணிக்கும் சிறு படகுகள்தான் என்பது போல.

இருந்தாலும்
மெள்ள மெள்ள நீ என்னை காதலிக்காமல் போனால்,
மெள்ள மெள்ள உன்னை நான் காதலிக்காமல் போவேன்.
சட்டென்று ஒரு பொழுது என்னை
நீ மறந்து போனால்
என்னை தேடவேண்டாம்
ஏனென்றால் நான் ஏற்கனவே
உன்னை மறந்து போயிருப்பேன்.

ஒருவேளை
இவையெல்லாம் வெறும் நீட்டிப்பு என்றும்
பைத்தியக்காரத்தனம் என்றும் சொல்லி
என் வாழ்வில் கடந்து போகும்
கொடிகள் வீசிய காற்றை
நினைத்து என்
வேர்கள் பதியும் இதயத்தின் கடற்கரையில்
என்னை விட்டுப்போனால்
கவனமிருக்கட்டும்,
அந்த நாள் என் கைகளை உயர்த்திக்கொள்வேன்,
என் வேர்களும் வேறு இடம் நோக்கிய
தேடலை தொடங்கிவிடும்.

ஆனால்
ஒவ்வொரு நாளும்
ஒவ்வொரு நாழிகையும்
அசைவுறாத இனிமையுடன்
எனக்காக பிறந்ததாய் நீ உணர்ந்தால்,

ஒவ்வொரு நாளும் ஒரு மலர்
என்னை தேடி உன் இதழ் வழி நெருங்கினால்,

என் காதலே, என் உடைமையே,
அந்த நெருப்பெல்லாம் என்னுள்ளேயும்
பிரதிபலிக்கும்.


எனக்குள் எதுவுமே அணைவதோ மறக்கப்படுவதோ இல்லை
அன்பே, என் காதல் உயிர்கொள்வதே உன் காதலின் ஊட்டத்தில் தான்.
நீ வாழும் வரையில் உன் கைகளில் இருக்கும் அது,
என் கைகளையும் விட்டு நீங்காமல்.