Chapter 3 : The melody of the oldest language

In the early light of dawn, beneath the towering canopy of the ancient Banyan tree, the eager young boy awaited his father's arrival. He watched as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the dense foliage, casting a dappled pattern on the ground.

Finally, Sage Vishrava, the father, appeared, his face a mix of shock and pride as he beheld his son's punctuality. The boy's unwavering commitment to his lessons filled him with paternal satisfaction.

However, the sage, keen on imparting not only knowledge but also life lessons, decided to test his son's character. With a stern and slightly disapproving expression, he questioned his son,

"I am your teacher, and you are the student! Can you not follow even the simplest of orders? I explicitly instructed you to arrive at the break of dawn. Why have you come ahead of me? Answer me, boy!"

The boy met his father's gaze with an unwavering, respectful demeanor.

"The answer, Guru, lies within your question. I am the student, seeking wisdom from you. How could I possibly keep you waiting for me?"

Vishrava raised an eyebrow at his son's response, acknowledging the wisdom within.

"I see," he mused. "Then tell me, why do you still address me as 'guru'? Am I no longer your father now that I am your teacher?"

The boy, standing his ground, replied with unwavering resolve,

"How could that be, Father? Mother taught me the hierarchy of respect that I must adhere to – 'Maatha, Pithaa, Guru, Theivam.' While you are both my father and teacher, I am bound by tradition to address you with the title and respect you rightly deserve. Thus, during our lessons, I shall address you as 'teacher.'"

A smile of approval softened Vishrava's stern countenance.

"You possess the attitude of a dedicated and respectful student. Let us commence with our lessons,"

he said, his voice gentle yet firm.

He sat on the foot of the Banyan tree while beckoning his son to do the same.

" Today we shall learn about the essence of language. The language we speak is Tamil. It is a tool both powerful and intricate, a gateway to wisdom and culture. We shall explore the beauty and essence of our mother tongue, Tamil,"

Vishrava announced, his voice carrying an undertone of reverence.

Raavana's eyes sparkled with curiosity.

"Tamil? But isn't Sanskrit considered the divine language?"

Vishrava nodded.

"Indeed, Sanskrit holds a sacred place in our culture, and it is the language of our scriptures. However, Tamil, my son, predates Sanskrit, dating back to a time when the world was still in its infancy. It is a language of profound beauty and complexity, and it is one of the oldest languages in existence."

Raavana leaned closer, brimming with curiosity.

"Tell me more, Guru."

"Before our great epics were composed in Sanskrit, the Sangam literature flourished in Tamil. These verses, penned by ancient poets, sing of the land's beauty, the intricacies of human emotions, and the essence of life itself. They are a testament to the timeless elegance of Tamil."

With great pride, Vishrava recited a verse from Sangam literature:

"யார் நினைப்பார் நலனும் ஆர்? நலன் அருமை நலனே!"

(Transliteration: "Yaar ninaippar nalanum aar? Nalan arumai nalanē!")

"It translates to: 'Who thinks the good, and who is good? The good is the one who thinks good,'" Vishrava explained.

Raavana marveled at the beauty of the ancient words and their profound meaning.

"Amazing, guru!!"

"Tamil holds its own unique essence,"

Vishrava continued.

"While Sanskrit is revered for its precision and structure, Tamil is celebrated for its musicality and expressiveness. The Sangam literature is a testament to the mastery of the Tamil language. Its words are not just a means of communication; they are an art form."

He shared another verse from the Sangam era, illustrating the richness of ancient Tamil:

"வெல்வில் துய்ப்பேன் வேண்டாம் பல்வில் துய்ப்பேன் வேண்டாம் இனியவான வேல்"

(Transliteration: "Velvil thuypeen vendam, palvil thuypeen vendam, iniyavana vel")

Vishrava translated, "I shall not mend the spear meant for hunting. I shall not mend the plow; I shall mend my beloved."

Raavana marveled at the versatility of his mother tongue. Vishrava then emphasized,

"Preserving our languages is to preserve our heritage, our wisdom, and our identity. It bridges the past and present, connecting us to our ancestors and their invaluable knowledge."

Raavana absorbed his father's words, realizing the importance of linguistic heritage. As they continued their discussion, Raavana delved deeper into the intricacies of ancient Tamil, its origins, and its timeless significance without realizing the that the sun ws beginning to set. 

Visharava although happy with his son's enthusiasm decided to end the lesson for the day. 

" The sun is already setting, let's conclude the lesson for today. Do you have any questions?" 

" Can you read another verse from the Sangam literature?".

He then shared a final verse from the Sangam era, the beauty of Tamil echoing through the ages:

"கருவித் தலை கால் புரித தொகை நூல் விரிதேன் நினைந்து பெருவில் நிலை வாராத பெருஞ்சொல் விரிதேன் கண்ணே."

(Transliteration: "Karuvit talai kaal purith thokai nool virithen ninaithu, Peruvil nilai vaaraadha perunjol virithen kannē.")

"It translates to: 'I sought to plait my tresses in the ancient style with the help of scriptures, but alas! My language, adorned with magnificent words, refused to be tamed.' The beauty of our language, Raavana, is beyond measure."

Raavana absorbed the lyrical words, feeling a profound sense of responsibility to honor and preserve the rich tapestry of his linguistic heritage. As the sun dipped below the horizon, he bowed to his father, grateful for the invaluable lesson. 

In that tranquil moment, the sun bidding farewell to another day, the knowledge imparted under the grand Banyan tree bloomed in Raavana's heart, shaping his destiny and nurturing his reverence for the eloquent tongue of the ancients.