A Fable for Tomorrow by Rachel Carson, The Silent Spring - Chapter One, Unit 2, Green Studies (AG46D) Elective Paper, B.A English Literature, 3rd Year 6th Semester, University of Madras

B.A English Literature

3rd Year 6th Semester

Elective Paper 

GREEN STUDIES (AG46D)

Unit 2: Bioregionalism( Community, Region, Home) and Ecofeminism

2.2. “A Fable for Tomorrow’ by Rachel Carson  

(from The Silent Spring - Chapter One)

Text :

There was once a town in the heart of America where all life seemed to live in harmony with its surroundings. The town lay in the midst of a checkerboard of prosperous farms, with fields of grain and hillsides of orchards where, in spring, white clouds of bloom drifted above the green fields. In autumn, oak and maple and birch set up a blaze of color that flamed and flickered across a backdrop of pines. Then foxes barked in the hills and deer silently crossed the fields, half hidden in the mists of the fall mornings.

Along the roads, laurel, viburnum and alder, great ferns and wildflowers delighted the traveler’s eye through much of the year. Even in winter the roadsides were places of beauty, where countless birds came to feed on the berries and on the seed heads of the dried weeds rising above the snow. The countryside was, in fact, famous for the abundance and variety of its bird life, and when the flood of migrants was pouring through in spring and fall people traveled from great distances to observe them. Others came to fish the streams, which flowed clear and cold out of the hills and contained shady pools where trout lay. So it had been from the days many years ago when the first settlers raised their houses, sank their wells, and built their barns. 

Then a strange blight crept over the area and everything began to change. Some evil spell had settled on the community: mysterious maladies swept the flocks of chickens; the cattle and sheep sickened and died. Everywhere was a shadow of death. The farmers spoke of much illness among their families. In the town the doctors had become more and more puzzled by new kinds of sickness appearing among their patients. There had been several sudden and unexplained deaths, not only among adults but even among children, who would be stricken suddenly while at play and die within a few hours. 

There was a strange stillness. The birds, for example—where had they gone? Many people spoke of them, puzzled and disturbed. The feeding stations in the backyards were deserted. The few birds seen anywhere were moribund; they trembled violently and could not fly. It was a spring without voices. On the mornings that had once throbbed with the dawn chorus of robins, catbirds, doves, jays, wrens, and scores of other bird voices there was now no sound; only silence lay over the fields and woods and marsh. 

On the farms the hens brooded, but no chicks hatched. The farmers complained that they were unable to raise any pigs—the litters were small and the young survived only a few days. The apple trees were coming into bloom but no bees droned among the blossoms, so there was no pollination and there would be no fruit.

The roadsides, once so attractive, were now lined with browned and withered vegetation as though swept by fire. These, too, were silent, deserted by all living things. Even the streams were now lifeless. Anglers no longer visited them, for all the fish had died.

In the gutters under the eaves and between the shingles of the roofs, a white granular powder still showed a few patches; some weeks before it had fallen like snow upon the roofs and the lawns, the fields and streams.

No witchcraft, no enemy action had silenced the rebirth of new life in this stricken world. The people had done it themselves. 

This town does not actually exist, but it might easily have a thousand counterparts in America or elsewhere in the world. I know of no community that has experienced all the misfortunes I describe. Yet every one of these disasters has actually happened somewhere, and many real communities have already suffered a substantial number of them. A grim specter has crept upon us almost unnoticed, and this imagined tragedy may easily become a stark reality we all shall know.

What has already silenced the voices of spring in countless towns in America? This book is an attempt to explain.

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Flowering Tree by A.K Ramanujan, Unit 2, Green Studies (AG46D) Elective Paper, B.A English Literature, 3rd Year 6th Semester, University of Madras

 B.A English Literature

3rd Year 6th Semester

Elective Paper 

GREEN STUDIES (AG46D)

Unit 2: Bioregionalism( Community, Region, Home) and Ecofeminism

2.3. “Flowering Tree” by A.K Ramanujan 

Text :

In a certain town, the king had two daughters and a son. The older daughter was married.

In the same town, there lived an old woman with her two daughters. She did menial jobs to feed and clothe and bring up her children. When the girls reached puberty, the younger sister said one day, “Sister, I've been thinking of something. It's hard on mother to work all day for our sakes. I want to help her. I will turn myself into a flowering tree. You can take the flowers and sell them for good money.”

Amazed, the older sister asked, “How will you turn into a flowering tree?”

“I'll explain later. You first sweep and wash the entire house. Then take a bath, go to the well, and bring two pitchers full of water,” said the younger sister.

The older sister listened to her carefully, swept and wiped and cleaned, took a bath, and brought two pitchers of water without touching them with her fingernails.

Right in front of their house stood a tall tree. The sister swept and wiped the ground under it too. Both girls then went there, and the younger one said, “Sister, I'll sit under this tree and meditate. Then you pour the water from this pitcher all over my body. I'll turn into a flowering tree. Then you pluck as many flowers as you want, but do it without breaking a sprout or tearing a leaf. When you're done, pour the water from the other pitcher over me, and I'll become a person again.”

The younger sister sat down and thought of the Lord. The older one poured water from the first pitcher all over her sister. At once, her sister changed into a beautiful tree that seemed to have a flower next to every leaf. The older sister plucked the flowers carefully, without hurting a stalk or sprout or leaf. After she had enough to fill a basket or two, she emptied the second pitcher of water over the tree—and the tree became a human being again, and the younger sister stood in its place. She shook the water from her hair and stood up. They both gathered the flowers in baskets and brought them home. The flowers had a wonderful fragrance. They wove them into garlands.

“Where shall I sell them?” asked the elder sister.

“Sister, why not take all of them to the king's palace? They will pay well. Mother is always doing such awful jobs for our sake. Let's pile up some money and surprise her,” said the younger one.

So the older sister took the basketful of garlands before the king's palace and hawked her wares, crying, “Flowers, flowers, who wants flowers?”

The princess looked out and said, “Mother, Mother, the flowers smell wonderful. Buy me some”.

“All right, call the flower girl,” said the queen. They both looked at the flowers, and they were lovely. The queen asked, “How much do you want for these?”

“We are poor people, give us whatever you wish,” said the older sister. They gave her a handful of coins and bought all the garlands.

When the older sister came home with the money, the younger one said, “Sister, Sister, don't tell mother. Hide it. Don't tell anyone.”

They sold flowers like this for five days, and they had five handfuls of coins.

“Shall we show these to Mother?” asked one.

“No, no, she'll get angry and beat us,” said the other. The two girls were eager to make money.

One day the king's son saw the flowers. They smelled wonderful. He had never seen such flowers anywhere. “What flowers are these? Where do they grow, on what kind of tree? Who brings them to the palace?” he wondered. He watched the girl who brought the flowers; one day he followed her home to the old woman's house, but he couldn't find a single flowering tree anywhere. He was quite intrigued. On his way home he tired himself out thinking, “Where on earth do they get such flowers?”

Early the next morning, while it was still dark, the king's son went and hid himself in the tall tree in front of the old woman's house. That day too, the girls swept and washed the space under the tree. As usual, the younger girl became the flowering tree, and after the older one had gently plucked all the flowers, the tree became the young woman again. The prince saw all this happen before his very eyes.

He came straight home, and lay on his bed, face down. His father and mother came to find out what the matter was. He didn't speak a word. The minister's son, his friend, came and asked him, “What happened? Did anyone say anything that hurt you? What do you want? You can tell me.”

Then the prince told him, bit by bit, about the girl turning into a flowering tree. “Is that all?” asked the minister's son, and reported it all to the king. The king called the minister, and sent for the old woman. She arrived, shaking with fear. She was dressed in old clothes and stood near the door. After much persuasion, she sat down. The king calmed her, and softly asked her, “You have two girls at your place. Will you give us one?”

The old woman's fear got worse. “How does the king know about my daughters?” she thought. She found her voice with difficulty and stammered: “All right, master. For a poor woman like me, giving a daughter is not as great a thing as your asking for one, is it?”

The king at once offered her betel leaf and betel nut (tambula) ceremonially on a silver platter, as a symbolic offer of betrothal. She was afraid to touch it. But the king forced it on her and sent her home.

Back home, she picked up a broom and beat her daughters. She scolded them: “You bitches, where have you been? The king is asking after you. Where did you go?”

The poor girls didn't understand what was happening. They stood there crying, “ Amma, why are you beating us? Why are you scolding us?”

“Who else can I beat? Where did you go? How did the king hear about you?”

The old woman raged on. The terrified girls slowly confessed to what they had been doing—told her how the younger girl would turn into a flowering tree, how they would sell the flowers, and hoard the money, hoping to surprise their mother. They showed her their five handfuls of coins.

“How can you do such things, with an elder like me sitting in the house? What's all this talk about human beings becoming trees? Who's ever heard of it? Telling lies, too. Show me how you become a tree.”

She screamed and beat them some more. Finally, to pacify her, the younger sister had to demonstrate it all. She became a tree and then returned to her normal human self, right before her mother's eyes.

Next day, the king's men came to the old woman's house and asked her to appear before the king. The old woman went and said, “Your Highness, what do you want of me?”

The king answered, “Tell us when we should set the date for the wedding.”

“What can I say, Your Highness? We'll do as you wish,” the old woman said, secretly glad by now.

The wedding arrangements began. The family made ritual designs on the wedding floor as large as the sky, and built a canopied ceremonial tent (pandal) as large as the earth. All the relatives arrived. At an auspicious moment, the girl who knew how to become a flowering tree was given in marriage to the prince.

After the nuptial ceremony, the families left the couple alone together in a separate house. But he was aloof, and so was she. Two nights passed. “Let him talk to me,” thought she. “Let her begin,” thought he. So both groom and bride were silent.

On the third night, the girl wondered, “He hasn't uttered a word, why did he marry me?” She asked him aloud, “Is it for this bliss you married me?”

He answered roughly, “I'll talk to you only if you do what I ask.”

“Won't I do as my husband bids me? Tell me what you want.”

“You know how to turn into a flowering tree, don't you? Let me see you do it. We can then sleep on flowers and cover ourselves with them. That would be lovely,” he said.

“My lord, I'm not a demon, I'm not a goddess. I'm an ordinary mortal like everyone else. Can a human being ever become a tree?” she said very humbly.

“I don't like all this lying and cheating. I saw you the other day becoming a beautiful tree. I saw you with my own eyes. If you don't become a tree for me, for whom will you do that?” he chided her.

The bride wiped a tear from her eyes with the end of her sari, and said, “Don't be angry with me. If you insist so much, I'll do as you say. Bring two pitchers of water.”

He brought them. She uttered chants over them. Meanwhile, he shut all the doors and all the windows. She said, “Remember, pluck all the flowers you want, but take care not to break a twig or tear a leaf.”

Then she instructed him on how and when to pour the water, while she sat in the middle of the room, meditating on God. The prince poured one pitcherful of water over her. She turned into a flowering tree. The fragrance of the flowers filled the house. He plucked all the flowers he wanted and then sprinkled water from the second pitcher all over the tree. It became his bride again. She shook her tresses and stood up smiling.

They spread the flowers, covered themselves with them, and went to bed. They did this again and again for several days. Every morning the couple threw out all the withered flowers from their window. The heap of flowers lay there like a hill.

The king's younger daughter saw the heap of withered flowers one day and said to the queen, “Look, Mother, Brother and Sister-in-law wear and throw away a whole lot of flowers. The flowers they've thrown away are piled up like a hill. And they haven't given me even one.”

The queen consoled her: “Don't be upset. We'll get them to give you some.”

One day the prince had gone out somewhere. Then the king's daughter (who had meanwhile spied and discovered the secret of the flowers) called all her friends and said, “Let's go to the swings in the surahonne orchard. We'll take my sister-in-law; she'll turn into a flowering tree. If you all come, I'll give you flowers that smell wonderful.”

Then she asked her mother's permission. The queen said, “Of course, do go. Who will say no to such things?”

The daughter then said, “But I can't go alone. Send Sister-in-law.”

“Then get your brother's permission and take her.”

The prince came there just then and his sister asked him, “Brother, Brother! We're all going to the surahonne orchard to play on the swings. Send Sister-in-law.”

“It's not my wish that's important. Everything depends on Mother,” he answered.

So she went back to the queen and complained, “Mother, if I ask Brother, he sends me to you. But you don't really want to send her. So you are giving me excuses. Is your daughter-in-law more important than your daughter?”

The queen rebuked her, saying, “Don't be rude. All right, take your sister-in-law with you. Take care of her and bring her back safely by evening.”

Reluctantly, the queen sent her daughter-in-law with the girls.

Everyone went to the surahonne orchard. They tied their swings to a big tree. Everyone was playing on the swings merrily. Abruptly, the king's daughter stopped all the games, brought everyone down from the swings, and accosted her brother's wife.

“Sister-in-law, you can become a flowering tree, can't you? Look, no one here has any flowers for their hair.”

The sister-in-law replied angrily, “Who told you such nonsense? Am I not another human being like you? Don't talk such crazy stuff.”

The king's daughter taunted her, “Oho, I know all about you. My friends have no flowers to wear. I ask my sister-in-law to become a tree and give us some flowers, and look how coy she acts. You don't want to become a tree for us. Do you do that only for your lovers?”

“Che, you're awful. My coming here was a mistake,” said the sister-in-law sadly, and she agreed to become a tree.

She sent for two pitchers of water, uttered chants over them, instructed the girls on how and when to pour the water, and sat down to meditate. The silly girls didn't listen carefully. They poured the water on her indifferently, here and there. She turned into a tree, but only half a tree.

It was already evening, and it began to rain, with thunder and lightning. In their greed to get the flowers, they tore up the sprouts and broke the branches. They were in a hurry to get home. So they poured the second pitcher of water at random and ran away. When the princess changed from a tree to a person again, she had no hands and feet. She had only half a body. She was a wounded carcass.

Somehow in that flurry of rainwater, she crawled and floated into a gutter. There she got stuck in a turning, a long way off from home.

Next morning, seven or eight cotton wagons were coming that way and a driver spotted a half-human thing groaning in the gutter. The first cart driver said, “See what that noise is about.”

The second one said, “Hey, let's get going. It may be the wind, or it may be some ghost, who knows?”

But the last cart driver stopped his cart and took a look. There lay a shapeless mass, a body. Only the face was a beautiful woman's face. She wasn't wearing a thing.

“Ayyo, some poor woman,” he said in sorrow, and threw his turban cloth over her, and carried her to his cart, paying no heed to the dirty banter of his fellows. Soon they came to a town. They stopped their carts there and lowered this “thing” onto a ruined pavilion. Before they drove on, the cart driver said, “Somebody may find you and feed you. You will survive.” Then they drove on.

•          •          •

When the king's daughter came home alone, the queen asked her, “Where's your sister-in-law? What will your brother say?”

The girl answered casually, “Who knows? Didn't we all find our own way home? Who knows where she went?”

The queen panicked and tried to get the facts out of the girl. “ Ayyo! You can't say such things. Your brother will be angry. Tell me what happened.”

The girl said whatever came to her head. The queen found out nothing. She had a suspicion that her daughter had done something foolish. After waiting several hours, the prince talked to his mother.

“Amma, Amma.”

“What is it, son?”

“What has happened to my wife? She went to the orchard to play on the swings, and never came back.”

“O Rama, I thought she was in your bedroom all this time. Now you're asking me!”

“Oh, something terrible has happened to her,” thought the prince. He went and lay down in grief. Five days passed, six days passed, fifteen days passed, but there was no news of his wife. They couldn't find her anywhere.

“Did the stupid girls push her into a tank? Did they throw her into a well? My sister never liked her. What did the foolish girls do?” He asked his parents, also the servants. What could they say? They, too, were worried and full of fear. In disgust and despair, he changed into an ascetic's long robe and went out into the world. He just walked and walked, not caring where he went.

•          •          •

Meanwhile, the girl who was now a “thing” somehow reached the town into which her husband's elder sister had been given in marriage. Every time the palace servants and maids passed that way to fetch water, they used to see her. They would say to each other, “She glows like a king's daughter.” Then one of them couldn't stand it any longer and decided to tell the queen.

“Amma, Amma, she looks very much like your younger brother's wife. Look through the seeing-glass and see for yourself.”

The queen looked and the face did seem strangely familiar. One of the maids suggested, “ Amma, can I bring her to the palace. Shall I?”

The queen pooh-poohed the idea: “We'll have to serve her and feed her. Forget it.”

Again the next day the maids mumbled and moaned, “She's very lovely. She'll be like a lamp in the palace. Can't we bring her here?”

“All right, all right, bring her if you wish. But you'll have to take care of her without neglecting palace work,” ordered the queen.

They agreed and brought the “thing” to the palace. They bathed her in oils, dressed her well, and sat her down at the palace door. Every day they applied medicines to her wounds and made her well. But they could not make her whole. She had only half a body.

 

Now the prince wandered through many lands and ended up outside the gate of his sister's palace. He looked like a crazy man. His beard and whiskers were wild. When the maids were fetching and carrying water they saw him, then went back to the queen in the palace and said, “ Amma, someone is sitting outside the gate, and he looks very much like your brother. Look through the seeing-glass and see.”

Grumbling indifferently, the queen went to the terrace and looked through the seeing-glass. She was surprised. “Yes, he does look remarkably like my brother. What's happened to him? Has he become a wandering ascetic? Impossible,” she thought.

She sent her maids down to bring him in. They said to him, “The queen wants to see you.”

He brushed them aside. “Why would she want to see me?” he growled.

“No, sir, she really wants to see you, please come,” they insisted and finally persuaded him to come in. The queen took a good look at him and knew it was really her brother.

She ordered the palace servants to heat up whole vats of oil and great vessels of steaming water for his baths. She served him and nursed him, for she knew he was her brother. She served new kinds of dinner each day, and brought him new styles of clothing. But whatever she did, he didn't speak a word to his elder sister. He didn't even ask, “Who are you? Where am I?” By this time, they both knew they were brother and sister.

The queen wondered, “Why doesn't he talk to me though I treat him so royally? What could be the reason? Could it be some witch's or demon's magic?”

After some days, she started sending one or another of her beautiful maids into his bedroom every night. She sent seven maids in seven days. The maids held his hands and caressed his body and tried to rouse him from his stupor. But he didn't say a word or do a thing.

Finally the servant maids got together and dressed up the “thing” that sat at the palace door. With the permission of the disgusted queen, they left “It” on his bed. He neither looked up nor said anything. But this night, “It” pressed and massaged his legs with its stump of an arm. “It” moaned strangely. He got up once and looked at “It.” “It” was sitting at his feet. He stared at “It” for a few moments and then realized “It” was really his lost wife. Then he asked her what had happened. She who had had no language all these months suddenly broke into words. She told him whose daughter she was, whose wife, and what had happened to her.

“What shall we do now?” he asked.

“Nothing much. We can only try. Bring two pitchers of water, without touching them with your fingernails,” she replied.

That night he brought her two pitchers of water without anyone's knowledge. She uttered chants over them and instructed him: “Pour the water from this pitcher over me, I'll become a tree. Wherever there is a broken branch, set it right. Wherever a leaf is torn, put it together. Then pour the water of the second pitcher.”

Then she sat down and meditated.

He poured the water on her from the first pitcher. She became a tree. But the branches had been broken, the leaves had been torn. He carefully set each one right and bound them up and gently poured water from the second pitcher all over the tree.

Now she became a whole human being again. She stood up, shaking the water from her hair, and fell at her husband's feet.

Then she went and woke up the queen, her sister-in-law, and touched her feet also. She told the astonished queen the whole story. The queen wept and embraced her. Then she treated the couple to all kinds of princely food and service, and had them sit in the hall like bride and bridegroom for a ritual celebration called hasé. She kept them in her palace for several weeks and then sent them home to her father's palace with cartloads of gifts.

The king was overjoyed at the return of his long-lost son and daughter-in-law. He met them at the city gates, then took them home on an elephant howdah in a grand ceremonial procession through the city streets. In the palace, they told the king and the queen everything that had happened. Then the king had seven barrels of burning lime poured into a great pit and threw his youngest daughter into it. All the people who saw it said to themselves, “After all, every wrong has its punishment.”

Summary:

    Once there was a girl who could turn into a tree. She would have her younger sister pour a pot of water over her, and she would turn into a tree. Her younger sister would gently pick the flowers that would grow from the branches of the tree.  She was very careful to not break any of the branches. Then, to turn her older sister back into a human, she would pour another pot of water over her.  The sisters did this a number of times.  They would take the flowers to the market, and sell them. With the money, they would buy vegetables.  They would bring these vegetables home for their mother to cook. Their family was very poor.  

    After some days, the mother said to her daughters, "I appreciate you bringing the vegetables, but where are you getting the money for this? Are you stealing the money?" The older daughter replied, "Mother, I am afraid to tell you how we are getting the money, because I am afraid you might not believe me." The mother said, "Please just tell me." The older daughter said, "Well, I can turn into a tree, and when I do, flowers grow from my branches." The mother said, "Stop telling lies!" The older daughter said, "Come out to the yard, and I will show you." So they went outside. Water was poured over the older sister, and indeed she turned into a flowering tree. The mother was amazed! So everyday the girls would go to the market to sell the flowers.

    The family began to get a little extra money, enough to have their house re-painted. Some of their neighbours started to ask, "Where are these people getting all of this money?" Nearby, there was a prince who lived in a palace. Even he heard about this family that had suddenly become wealthy. He came to investigate. He hid behind a tree, and saw the older sister turn into a tree, and the younger sister pick the flowers.  The prince went back to the palace, and said to the king, “Father, I have found the girl I want to marry. She lives in a nearby village. "The king said, "My son, you can’t marry such a girl. You are royalty, and she is a commoner. "But the prince said, "Father, my mind is made up. I want to marry that girl. She has wonderful abilities. "So the wedding occurred. That night, when the prince and his new wife tried to go to sleep, they found their mattress was very hard.

    So the prince said, "My wife, why don't you become a tree, and I will pick your flowers, and we can sleep on the flowers." They did what he suggested. In the morning they threw the flowers out the window. They did this same thing for a number of days, and eventually a huge pile of flowers developed outside their window.  The prince had two sisters -- one younger than him (she was not even ten years old), and one older than him. His younger sister asked him, "Brother, why are there so many flowers outside your window?"

    The prince told her.  And she asked him, "Could you have your wife come down to the garden where I play with my friends, and have her show us how she can turn into a tree and make flowers?" The prince asked his wife to do this. The wife was afraid to turn into a tree in public, but she finally agreed.  When the wife turned into a tree in the garden, the young children started fighting over the flowers that grew from her branches. The children struggled and grabbed and fought, and many of the trees branches were broken. Just then, it began to rain, and all of the children went running home.

    The rainwater turned the wife back into a human, but because of the damage that had been done to her branches, she was missing both her arms and both her legs. So she fell onto the ground. She tried to roll home, but in the rain she rolled into a ditch, and from there she could not help but roll part way down the side of a mountain.  That night, the prince asked his younger sister, "Where's my wife?" The younger sister answered, "I don't know. When it started raining, we all came home. "But the wife did not come home that night. She did not come home the next day, or the next.

    They searched for her, but they could not find her. Her husband became very sad. He stopped brushing his teeth. He stopped combing his hair. He stopped washing. He stopped shaving. He stopped cutting his hair and fingernails. He came to look like a wild animal. Finally, he just wandered off into the forest.  After some time, his wife managed to roll back up the mountainside. Then she rolled to the home of her husband's older sister. This older sister looked out her window and saw the living lump of flesh laying on the side of the road. She saw it was a woman, and she thought, "That woman looks familiar. Could she be my younger brother's wife?" So the prince's older sister had her husband's wife brought into the house, and bathed. The wife was put in new clothes, placed in a bed, and given food and drink. But the wife was very weak: she could not even speak.  

    After some days, the prince also appeared outside his older sister's house. Again, the older sister looked out her window and saw a person down there, and thought, "This person looks familiar." She could not see his face, because his hair was covering it. But she looked and looked, and thought, "Could this person be my younger brother?" She had the man brought into the house. He could not speak, but when his hair was parted, she saw that this indeed was her younger brother. She had him bathed, clothed, and fed. Then he was brought into the room in which his wife lay in bed. Neither of them could speak, but when they saw each other, each of them smiled.  

    After two days, the wife regained her ability to speak. She said, "Dear husband, please pour water on me. I will become a tree again. While I am a tree, please fix my broken branches as best you can. Then pour water on me again." The prince did this. You know, when branches have been broken, they can not be un-broken. But they can be straightened and neatened. The prince did what he could. After he poured water on her to make her become human again, he was delighted to see that when she regained her human form, she once again had both her arms, and both her legs.  Now husband and wife were strong enough to speak once more, and they told each other how happy they were to be together again. And they lived happily ever after.  

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Introducing concepts of Indian ecocriticism, Tinai - significance- ecoregions, Unit 1, Green Studies (AG46D) Elective Paper, B.A English Literature, 3rd Year 6th Semester, University of Madras

 B.A English Literature

3rd Year 6th Semester

Elective Paper 

GREEN STUDIES (AG46D)

Unit 1: Indian Ecocriticism (Tinai- Kurinchi, Neidal, Mullai Marutam and Palai)

1.1. Introducing concepts of Indian ecocriticism – Tinai - significance- ecoregions

1.1. Introducing concepts of Indian Ecocriticism 

Ecocriticism:

The term Ecocriticism was possibly first coined in 1978 by William Rueckert. He used this term in his essay ‘Literature and Ecology: An Experiment in Ecocriticism’. He defined it as ‘the application of ecology and ecological concepts to the study of literature’.

Ecocriticism in India:

     Nirmal Selvamony at Madras Christian College introduced a course in Tamil Poetics in 1980. This was the beginning of Ecocriticism in its present and modern sense in India. S. William Meeker was the first to use and introduce the expression ‘literary ecology’ which is a term that refers to the study of biological themes and the relationship that appears in literature and ecology in literary work. He states that “ecology is an ancient theme in art and literature”.

    Indian ecocriticism is a way of analyzing Indian literature, art, and culture in relation to the environment. It explores the relationship between nature, culture, and identity, and how Indian writers and artists address environmental issues. Some concepts of Indian ecocriticism include: 

• The interconnectedness of nature, culture, and identity: Indian ecocriticism emphasizes the intimate relationship between humans and the natural world. 
• The concept of "bhuta": The five elements (earth, water, fire, air, and space) that make up the universe are known as "bhuta".
• The depiction of nature as a central character: Authors may personify natural entities, giving them sentience and sagacity. 
• The connection between Indian mythology and nature: Indian mythology often portrays nature as a savior, protector, or pioneer. Characters like Shakuntala, the nature's child, reflect this connection. 
• The importance of environmental activism: Ecocriticism is an environmental activism that strives to protect the environment.

Tinai - significance- ecoregions

TINAI:

   The concept of tinai is a significant aspect of ancient Tamil literature and poetics. 

   The Sangam Society was split into five distinct ecological zones according to ancient Tamil literature, each of which had its own peculiarities. Tinai is the name for each zone, each with its own unique qualities. The tinai notion can be related to the contemporary ecosystem approach used to research cultures. 

* Ecological zones 

   The tinai concept is based on the idea that the Sangam Society was divided into five distinct ecological zones, each with its own unique characteristics. The five tinais are: 

• Kurinji: A hilly or mountainous region
• Mullai: A pastoral region
• Marutham: A riverine or agricultural region
• Neytal: A coastal region
• Palai: An arid or desert region 

* Poetic mode

In Tamil poetics, tinai is a type of poetical mode or theme that combines geography with rules for poetry. Each tinai is set in a specific time, place, and season, and includes background elements like flora, fauna, inhabitants, deities, and social organization. 

* Organizing concept

The tinai concept operates as both an organizing concept and a unifying poetic device. 

* Relationship with the means of earning a livelihood

The tinai concept is based on the relationship between geographic conditions and the means of earning a livelihood.

* Network of symbiotic exchange

The tinais were overlapping formations with no clear boundaries, and each tinai had contacts with the other, forming a network of symbiotic exchange. 

* Comparison to the ecosystem approach

The tinai concept can be compared to the modern ecosystem approach adopted in the study of cultures.

Ecoregions

The five eco-regions in the Thinai concept are Kurinji, Mullai, Marutham, Neytal and Palai. 

The Thinai concept is based on the relationship between the geographic conditions and the means of earning a living. Each eco-region had its own distinct characteristics, including a presiding deity, people, and cultural life. 

The eco-regions were closely associated with a particular landscape, and the imagery associated with that landscape was woven into poems to convey a mood. The eco-regions were overlapping formations with no clear boundaries, and each had contacts with the other, forming a network of symbiotic exchange.

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Horses by Edwin Muir poem and summary, Green Studies (AG46D) Elective Paper, B.A English Literature, 3rd Year 6th Semester, University of Madras

B.A English Literature

3rd Year 6th Semester

Elective Paper 

GREEN STUDIES (AG46D)

5.4 “Horses” by Edwin Muir

About Poem

          The Horses’ is one of the best-known and most widely studied poems by the Scottish poet Edwin Muir (1887-1959). The poem (not to be confused with Muir’s early poem ‘Horses’) was published in his 1956 final collection One Foot in Eden.

This period is also, for the most part, more positive in outlook than his early work, although, paradoxically, the most anthologised poem of this group, ’The Horses’, deals with his fears for the Cold War and his growing realisation of the nuclear age. Echoing and subverting the seven‐day creation in Genesis, the poem depicts the aftermath of an unspecified world war which has rendered useless the machinery and illusory benefits of the modern age. The “radios dumb” and obsolete planes and tractors force the survivors to remember an older way of life, long aban‐ doned; their return to the plough seen as the revitalisation of a lost communion between man and the world, ’Far past our fa‐ thers’ land’.

          In 53 lines, Muir creates a kind of modern neo-Christian fable, describing in literal and symbolic terms the devastated world and the arrival of the horses. The narrative follows the collective mind of the survivors as they put the past behind them and look to the future.

 

Poem:

Barely a twelvemonth after

The seven days war that put the world to sleep,

Late in the evening the strange horses came.

By then we had made our covenant with silence,

But in the first few days it was so still

We listened to our breathing and were afraid.

On the second day

The radios failed; we turned the knobs; no answer.

On the third day a warship passed us, heading north,

Dead bodies piled on the deck. On the sixth day

A plane plunged over us into the sea. Thereafter

Nothing. The radios dumb;

And still they stand in corners of our kitchens,

And stand, perhaps, turned on, in a million rooms

All over the world. But now if they should speak,

If on a sudden they should speak again,

If on the stroke of noon a voice should speak,

We would not listen, we would not let it bring

That old bad world that swallowed its children quick

At one great gulp. We would not have it again.

Sometimes we think of the nations lying asleep,

Curled blindly in impenetrable sorrow,

And then the thought confounds us with its strangeness.

The tractors lie about our fields; at evening

They look like dank sea-monsters couched and waiting.

We leave them where they are and let them rust:

"They'll molder away and be like other loam."

We make our oxen drag our rusty plows,

Long laid aside. We have gone back

Far past our fathers' land.

And then, that evening

Late in the summer the strange horses came.

We heard a distant tapping on the road,

A deepening drumming; it stopped, went on again

And at the corner changed to hollow thunder.

We saw the heads

Like a wild wave charging and were afraid.

We had sold our horses in our fathers' time

To buy new tractors. Now they were strange to us

As fabulous steeds set on an ancient shield.

Or illustrations in a book of knights.

We did not dare go near them. Yet they waited,

Stubborn and shy, as if they had been sent

By an old command to find our whereabouts

And that long-lost archaic companionship.

In the first moment we had never a thought

That they were creatures to be owned and used.

Among them were some half a dozen colts

Dropped in some wilderness of the broken world,

Yet new as if they had come from their own Eden.

Since then they have pulled our plows and borne our loads,

But that free servitude still can pierce our hearts.

Our life is changed; their coming our beginning.

Summary:

          The speaker is a spokeperson for a group of survivors. They tell of the strange horses come to renew their hope, symbols of the natural spirit, innocence and strength.

Lines 1–3

The war is over, the whole world quietened and strange horses have arrived. This is the opening image which would surely suit a movie or documentary, with the text as commentary. The recent past is about to unfold.

It's unusual to see an adverb start a poem and to discover an archaic word in the same line, twelvemonth, a dialect word which means a year. There's a mix of the matter-of-fact and the fairytale—twelvemonth/seven days . . . put the world to sleep and then the strange horses appeared.

Enjambment, where one line runs on into the next without punctuation, occurs immediately. The seven days war has ended (not that long for a war), and it must have been devastating because the world is no longer awake.

This is no conventional war, this is atomic or nuclear war.

Lines 4–6

To make a covenant is to make a deal or agreement. In this context the survivors must have come to some sort of collective decision—the silence was all they had, and they agreed to accept it, to bond with it. Perhaps they agreed that such a war should never happen again.

This act indirectly calls up the old testament story of Noah's Ark. Noah built the ark to save the animals from drowning in the flood, sent by God to cleanse the world of sin. When the flood waters receded Noah saw a rainbow—this was God's sign, covenant, that never again would the earth be flooded.

So silent was their world they could hear their own breathing and this frightened them. Is this factual or figurative? Once the noise of war had died down, the silence must have been disturbing, especially since everything had been killed? Animals, wildlife and the majority of humankind?

Lines 7–8

The radios failed on the second day we are told in a short line that is cut off prematurely. Power of communication to the outside world is lost. Electrical technology is of no use.

This fact means so much. Imagine having been through the most terrible of wars, surviving somehow, when all of a sudden your one hope, getting in touch with someone somewhere, asking for help, using the last piece of tech that functions . . . no longer works.

A sure sign that your modern, sophisticated world that existed prior to the war is now no more.

Lines 9–20

More sightings follow, of a warship carryng dead bodies, and a plane crashing into the sea on a final mission gone wrong. The death throes of the war are taking place, on the third and sixth days.

Their radio is definitely kaputt. But even it worked, like millions more all over the world, they wouldn't answer, they wouldn't want to engage with voices from the bad world, the previous system that developed and finally employed the worst of weaponry.

A subtle change in syntax reflects the altered tone and the repeated words If/And underline the certainty of the speaker. Now way would they wish to go back to what they had before.

Repetition of small words and phrases . . . If/And/We would not . . . helps reinforce the message of stubborn resistance. There will be no going back to the previous age.

In line 19, there is mention of children being swallowed at one great gulp by the bad old world. Muir's liking for Greek mythology is apparent here as this directly relates to the story of Cronos (Kronos) leader of the Titans, offspring of Gaia and Uranus, the earth and sky. When children were born to him he promptly ate them for fear of being overpowered or killed.

Lines 21–23

The bigger picture is laid before the reader. Like embryos forming in a womb in foetal position, nations lie asleep, victims of the war. Use of the word asleep suggests that there will be an opportunity, eventually, to wake. At least these nations are not yet dead; they have life, they are only dormant.

Lines 24–30

Another vivid image comes into focus, that of tractors, those powerful machines that formerly worked so hard on the land. Once indispensable, they are now rusting, left for the elements.

The tractors are menacing and are given zoomorphic status in a simile . . . like dank sea-monsters. Note also the one line spoken by someone in the collective, the line with moulder and loam—the tractors will rot away (moulder) and become like the soil (loam).

Perhaps surprisingly oxen are still around. They go back further than the horse in the history of farming and were an integral part of medieval working of the fields.

Lines 31–32

A repeat of the third line—those strange horses appear late one summer evening.

Lines 33–35

The collective voice of the speaker describes the sounds of the horses as they approach. First comes their distant tapping which then changes into drumming before turning into thunder at the corner of the road.

This gradual build-up and use of different verbs helps to intensify the image—here come the plough-horses running, then momentarily stopping before heading off again louder and louder towards the waiting survivors.

Lines 36–37

A shortened line brings a certain emphasis and enjambment takes the reader from the horse's heads on into a maritime simile . . . like a wild wave charging which is full of fearsome energy.

The group were afraid of the strange horses.

Lines 38–41

Mention of fathers' time gives a rudimentary historical context to the scene. Horses in the past had been sold and the money used to buy machines, tractors, to work the land. The cyclical nature of farming and growing becomes apparent.

For centuries horses had been the mainstay of power on the land, pulling the ploughs across the fields, teams of strong shire horses working day after day. Then machines came along, humans developed engines that needed oil and fuel and the ubiquitous tractor quickly took over from living horsepower.

Now the tables had been turned. Tractors were rotting away, and oxen were used instead. But the appearance of the horses took the survivors by surprise and all they could think of was ancient symbolism—horses on knight's shields or in illustrated medieval books.

This militaristic viewpoint harks back to a time when the horse was an indispensable animal, crucial to human endeavour and ironically, warfare.

Lines 42–45

The group didn't approach the horses; they were scared. The horses waited for something to happen. There's an air of uncertainty in these lines as both parties weigh each other up, and the whole situation.

Generations of humans hadn't worked with horses on the land. Horses had been mere leisure animals, for racing, for pleasure. But now in the aftermath of a devastating war here was a situation of rare quality—horse and human facing each other, the ancient bonds attempting to reunite.

The speaker's musings are understandable, if a little mythical. Mention of the old command suggests a mysterious connection between the horses and the gods, or God. They purposefully ended up in this place because, as ordered, a new relationship was to be formed, based on the old traditions.

Lines 46–47

Initially the survivors wanted nothing to do with ownership or useage—the horses were seen as equal, living beings on a ravaged planet. This sets the tone for the future.

Lines 48–50

Among the horses are colts, male foals, born somewhere out back in the wilderness. They represent the future, the new times to be. Note the biblical reference to Eden, the garden of Eden, God's garden in the book of Genesis.

Lines 51–53

The horses of their own free will now work the land, ploughing and carrying loads for the group. For these frightened survivors the horses' arrival has turned things round, changed everything. They have a new beginning. Out of war and destruction comes peace and creativity. 

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