Those were the days: Immortalising the works of India’s poet of freedom

The poet and poverty are surely inseparable. Subramania Bharathi seldom made a meal’s worth from his delightful verse. But then his nationalist songs were a singular voice in the midst of a chorus of loyalty to the British Empire. 

Poets have dotted the sidewalks of Tamil history through time, but Bharathi stands out amongst them all. But to let him reach the masses, must not his poetry be owned by one and all? In that long drawn process to place his works in public domain, Bharathi had the honour of being the first creative artiste whose works were nationalised with the one-time royalty being paid to the artiste/ family. In fact, the honour eluded Mahatma Gandhi and Rabindranath

Tagore when in 1949, Subramania Bharathi achieved this rare distinction thus setting off a chain of nationalisations throughout the world. But it wasn’t simple. No wonder the legacy of a complicated creative artist was as just as knotty. Five years ran by with four consecutive heads of the state government working hard to get the maze of snags solved.

The idea of letting all Tamils enjoy the songs of Bharathi sprouted in a Tamil writer’s conference in 1944. Three years hence at the inauguration of Bharathi Mandapam at Ettayapuram, his birthplace, people sounded a collective voice for nationalisation.

Desperate to meet the wedding expenses of the bard’s daughter Sakunthala, his family had already sold their rights to the songs for a pittance of Rs 400. The rights lay with the famous jewellers M/s Surajmals, who wanted to produce gramophone records.

When AV Meiyappa Chettiar bought the recording rights to use the songs in movies they demanded a sum of Rs 10,000, settling at Rs. 9,500 (the publishing rights were held by Vishwanathan – Bharathi’s brother).

Cinema was no longer the occupation of the idle and when AVM used Kumari Kamala in Naam Iruvar to dance to Bharathi’s songs he popularised two phenomena (still in great demand today) — Bharatanatyam and Bharathi’s songs. Little Kamala’s rendering of Bharatanatyam liberated it from its erstwhile social repulsiveness and Bharathi’s songs imprinted on gramophone records spread like a forest fire through the Tamil diaspora.

While most were bidding a silent farewell to the hope of nationalisation of Bharathi’s songs, there happened a crucial incident. The TKS brothers and their drama troupe often used poems from Bharathi. But when they decided to make a movie Bilhanan which featured a poem from Bharathi’s collection of verse about Krishna, AVM who normally tolerated Bharathi’s songs on the drama stage was livid.

TKS was encroaching on his territory — movies and he sent a notice to prove the copyright rule had not outlived its utility.

This generated a lot of public interest and a group called Organization to liberate Bharathi gathered on March 11, 1948, to press for the long due of nationalisation.

On the request of TK Shanmugam, the state government initiated steps to buy the rights. Avinashalingam Chettiar, the state’s education minister and a dauntless optimist took up the project seriously. But who would convince AVM?

On the personal intervention of the premier of state, Omandur Ramasamy Reddiar, AVM, after some initial reluctance to let go off his goldmine, did not neglect the opportunity of wearing patriotism on his sleeve. The master of the show made a grand gesture of donating the songs of Bharathi to the nation.

The government secured the publishing rights from Bharathi’s younger brother Viswanatha Iyer of Bharathi Prasuralayam, by paying Rs15,000. On March 12, 1949, the announcement about the government securing the rights was made on the floor of the Assembly.

For further six years, there was another clamour for the Government to place the poetry in public domain. Bending to public sentiment, in 1955, Finance Minister C. Subramaniam announced the decision of allowing others to publish the works as well. Like a late-blooming flower, Bharathi’s songs finally reached the mass of people it was meant for.

Bharathi’s wife Chellammal and daughters Thangammal and Sakunthala could not legally claim any right, but the government did not want them to go empty-handed. They were asked No Objection Certificates (NOC) and in lieu of that, the Madras government paid them Rs 5,000 each. Bharathi seemed to have risen from his grave to support the family he had not helped while alive.