A little pre-post note from Sandhya Nankani, your new guest blogger: At least once a day, I come across a link or a piece of literature or an article and I think, “That would be great for sepia!” So it goes without saying that I’m thrilled about coming aboard as a guest blogger for the next month. You’ll read ennis’s little ditty about me later today, so besides inviting you to check out my family ruminations, I’m ready to fly…
For the next month, I thought it would be fun to import a regular feature—Poetry Friday–from my personal blog Literary Safari. I’ll be putting a subcontinental twist on this. Every Friday I’ll be posting a poem by a desi writer that speaks to me. 
I’ve always had a thing for elephants. My first (and favorite) stuffed animal was a gray elephant. In those days, stuffed animals were not very soft or fuzzy. Mine is rough and tough, but he has survived three decades, and continues to thrive (despite his half-fallen off trunk) alongside my collection of elephant kurtis; shell, glass, and metal elephants (including Ganeshas); elephant paintings and silkscreens, elephant magazine holder … yeah, OK, you get the point!
So, today’s poem—which I recently discovered in Billy Collins’ anthology 180 More: Extraordinary Poems for Every Day—is (brace yourselves for the long title) “Aanabhrandhanmar Means ‘Mad About Elephants’†by Aimee Nezhukumatathil (Nez for short).
I like to pair literary and artistic selections the way people pair wine and cheese, so when I read this poem, it seemed to me a perfect accompaniment to Australia-based photojournalist Palani Mohan’s images in his new book, Vanishing Giants: Elephants of Asia. [click the above image to view a slideshow of his photos.]
Aanabhrandhanmar Means ‘Mad About Elephants’Forget trying to pronounce it. What matters
is that in southern India, thousands are afflicted.
And who wouldn’t be? Children play with them
in courtyards, slap their gray skin with cupfuls
of water, shoo flies with paper pompoms.
When the head of the household leaves
for business, his elephant weeps fat tears
of joy when he returns. Their baths of husk
and stone last four hours, every wrinkle
rubbed and patted with cinnamon oil.
At festival, silk caps and gold tassels drape
their broad heads. Brides still wearrings of its stiff tail hair, part of their dowry
to avoid evil eye. A man with blue sandals
told me that elephants are cousins to the clouds—
that they belonged to Lord Indra, king
of the gods, that elephants were his carriage
in the wind—that they once had wings.Copyright © 2005 Aimee Nezhukumatathil. Reprinted with permission of the author.
Aimee Nezhukumatathil is the author of two collections of poetry, At the Drive-In Volcano and Miracle Fruit. Her mother is Filipina and her father is from South India, so her poems are inspired by both parts of her background as well as by her growing years in the midwest (she was born near Chicago). (This weekend, Aimee will be teaching “Prose Poetry: Tending the Garden” at the Asian American Writers Workshop in NYC.)
I think that as South Asian readers we are often more critical of our fellow writers — asking whether their work is exoticizing elements or aspects of our culture, homeland, traditions … What I really loved about this poem was how it juxtaposed myth and mundane and allowed me to feel not just a human’s emotions for an elephant, but also the elephant’s feeling (“When the head of the household leaves for business, his elephant weeps fat tears of joy when he returns.”) And, I was smitten by the idea that there’s actually a word that describes my fascination with elephants or Hathi (Hindi/Bengali/Assamese), Yanai (Tamil), Aana (Malayalam), Aane (Kannada), and Yenugu (Telugu).. Plus, (if you’re in the mood to make the figurative leap) the poem put an interesting new spin on Dumbo, the flying elephant.
I spent a while reading and rereading the poem, then looking at Palani Mohan’s photographs. His book is the culmination of six years of travel to create an “intimate glimpse into the world of the Asian elephant, a creature which – even as its African cousin flourishes – is threatened as never before.†If you take a peek at the slideshow of images from the book, you also see why it is described as a “tale of two speciesâ€, a story of the love-hate (is that another word for mad or Aanabhrandhanmar ?) relationship between human beings and elephants. (There’s a timely slant to this for those of you in NYC: The Asia Society is hosting a Asia Society Q&A with Mohan this Tuesday, March 11)
The two experiences somehow went hand in hand for me, and I’m excited to share them with you. What did they do for you? I’m also curious to know what other elephant literature, pop culture connections, and memories we all share … I, for one, can think of a certain song that I couldn’t get enough of when I was a kid. (Enjoy the Russian subtitles in the clip below!)
Welcome, Sandhya! I was watching that slideshow you linked to, and I must say, I found some of the images of the elephant being broken in kind of frightening. The caption described the method as “old school”; I hope there are more humane ways of domesticating these animals today…?
I liked the poem — she’s clearly following the dictum that one should try and do something interesting in every line. I especially liked “baths of husk/ and stone” and the elephant’s “fat tears”…
Definitely. Some of those photos are violent and frightening. I thought they got at the other side of the madness for elephants which the poem did not touch upon.
Ooh, very nice!
And finally someone else who shares my kitschy love of elephant motifs! Last weekend, i went from room to room taking pictures of all my elephant pictures and figurines–a grand total of 44 pix that i uploaded to Flickr and titled (what else?), “elephant in the room” 🙂
Welcome Sandhya! What a beautiful, incredibly moving pairing of words and images – unflinching, and complicated. And you’ve nailed the reasons this poem is so lovely – the juxtaposition the mundane detail of the blue shoes and his words about being cousins to the clouds…I just can’t get it out of my head and may buy both of her poetry books. Thanks for introducing us to her!
Elephants seem to fascinate movie makers like in the recent movie Vanaja and not to mention the brief scence in The Myth where Bollywood actress Mallika’s elephant rescuing Jackie Chan
I used to collect elephants, when I was a kid.
I had a pair of earrings shaped like elephants which I especially liked.
Until… the day I went to the dentist, wearing my favorite earrings, and he asked me “So, are you showing your support for the Republican party?”
My elephant collection ended on that day, sorry to say.
Sandhya, I also really liked your family ruminations posts on your blog. When I get a bit more time I’ll go back and read the entire sequence. ^__^
Elephants are adorable. My mom and I actually still collect elephant figurines, pictures, etc. My mom has one extremely small elephant made of some unknown material – which I hope isn’t ivory. It was purchased in Delhi. Anyway,that elephant is about 3/4cm high and wide at most. The artist attached it to a small shell about the size of a lentil and it is filled with these microscopic white elephants. I couldn’t count how many of these extremely minute elephants were in it but they resembled little pieces of dandruff. Although they are cutely shaped. I realize that last statement probably only makes sense to me. You really need a decent magnifying glass to view these mini elephants.
If you are a collector of anything shaped like an elephant, the boutique stores in Chinatown (in SFO) have these inexpensive ceramic teapots shaped like elephants with the sweetest little elephant as a lid. It might be painted with pure lead but you probably wouldn’t want to use it as a teapot anyway. Actually, now I am unsure if these teapots are sold – too bad if no one makes them anymore.
I also have a pair of elegant white cloissone elephant earrings. I guess I better not wear them during an election year (in reference to post #6).
Obviously, the man with blue sandals misinformed my Kabayan. In my nit-picky opinion, aanabrandhanmar means “people who are mad about Elephants.” Aanabrandhu means “Elephant craze.” Nothing wrong with the poem though; it’s real, and nice. The title should stay. That song brings back memories of watching Jumbo Circus back in the day; the compere would always go, “neksht item is aathi mera jaathi.” Nice one, Sandhya.
They also have an elephant fundoshi. Or, maybe it’s a fundoshi made for an elephant. Either way, it fits me!
So long as we’re on elephants, one of my favorite quips when my big boss comes around, who used to be an options trader, is to remind him that options traders eat like chickens but go to the bathroom like elephants. Snort.
Anyhow, glad you’re here Sandhya!
Mohan would be saddened to know the South Africa has decided to start culling the booming African elephants.
I love how a simple object or creature has the ability to stir up stories and memories. GM and No Von Mises: Thanks for sharing your memories … and shopping tips. I’m going to check out Pearl River Mart this week to look for an elephant teapot. I like the idea of having one of them at my desk at work … though maybe I’ll use it to store pens rather than drink now that you’ve scared me about the lead! Munshi – I wouldn’t even have known that there’s a separate word for elephant craze and one for people who are mad about elephants … neat.
This was a great post Sandhya and it generated some interesting comments.
It reminded me of something I saw at the Getty museum in LA once. An illustrated Flemish manuscript from 1475 titled “The Land of India”. It contains this drawing of what the artist thinks an elephant looks like. It’s clear he was working from other people’s descriptions of the animal.
Welcome Sandhya!
I love the poem. The descriptive language used is very clever and “real”. And yet the final stanza is fanciful and employs mythology. Very nice.
I just love poetry. And you’re right, we desis are more critical of desi writers, perhaps rightly, because for too many centuries we have been exoticized, and we are wary of that. We want to be seen as “normal,” rather than exotic. Who wouldn’t?
And yet. And yet….our country is so unique that it is bloody hard to write about it sometimes without employing exotic metaphors.
When Elephants weep is a good book on the emotions in aanaimals. Here is a review. That was what I was reminded of when I saw the ‘big fat tears’.
In sixth class when I was in boarding school close to the Annaimalai mountains of the western ghats and we were trekking there we had a ‘father’ elephant chase one of the guys in our group when they encountered the family of 3 around a bend across a huge rock. The guy ran like hell as the elephant chased after him, until he jumped off the heights on to a dry river bed.
Retirement beneifits was in the news some time back, although I am not sure if this applies to all the temple elephants in India.
Delurking to comment on my favorite topic…yanai…
Glad to see another anabrandhanmar (have to agree with UberMetroMallu, it does mean people who are elephant crazy)…Welcome sandhya…I have a small but growing collection of elephan related paraphernelia. I have a loving family that brings me back elephant treasures from over the world. My prized posession is a pair of toe rings with elephants on them 🙂
My favorite memory is of feeding the temple elephants in Madurai during summer visits to my grandparents…happy days before I realized the cruelty with which a lot of them are treated.
One summer years ago, Jeremy Irons did a poetry reading at St. Bartholomew’s on Park Avenue, and this was one of the poems he recited:
The Elephant is Slow to Mate
by D. H. Lawrence
The elephant, the huge old beast, is slow to mate; he finds a female, they show no haste they wait
for the sympathy in their vast shy hearts slowly, slowly to rouse as they loiter along the river-beds and drink and browse
and dash in panic through the brake of forest with the herd, and sleep in massive silence, and wake together, without a word.
So slowly the great hot elephant hearts grow full of desire, and the great beasts mate in secret at last, hiding their fire.
Oldest they are and the wisest of beasts so they know at last how to wait for the loneliest of feasts for the full repast.
They do not snatch, they do not tear; their massive blood moves as the moon-tides, near, more near till they touch in flood.
On a separate note, the Palani Mohan event at the Asia Society this week was very interesting. The hardest images to watch and hear him talk about are the ones taken in Burma, of some men ‘breaking’ a young elephant. They enclose the elephant in a wood frame and torture him for 3 days until he gives up. The last photo from that series is the one of the elephant’s eye and the solitary tear. One of the pictures on exhibit in the main entry hall is from the elephant orphanage at Pinnewala (SL).
Thanks for sharing this poem, filmiholic, and for the details of the Mohan event. It breaks my heart to think of the breaking process …