This sympathy that Kampan expresses toward the character of Surpanakha comes
to full fl owering in the next rather lengthy passage (twenty verses in length), in
which the raksasi fervently pines for Rama all night long. Here is a sample:
When [Rama] had gone, she felt her life falling away, leaving her body.
With her senses stunned, shrunken into herself, she stood there and
could hardly breathe. “He has no affection for me at all,” she thought,
“no room in his heart for me”...she felt that if she did not embrace
his chest this very day she would die...as the sky turned red...she grew
weak and anguished while the moon, high and fi rm in the sky, troubled
her with its long light...her precious life was burning at the touch of the
cool wind to her large, soft, sweet breast and she was seething.
She scooped up handfuls of ice, miraculously cool and placed them
down on her young, radiant breasts but they were no better than
butter that would melt away laid out on a hot ledge, with fi re blazing
around it....Though it seemed as if she were caught in the blazing
fi re that consumes a universe, that mindless woman did not lose
her life[,] saved by the drug of her desire to have that man with his
body the color of the dark ocean and then to live! (Kampan 99-102;
3:5:70,71,75,77,78,85)
With the coming of evening and the rising of the moon, the nighttime neytal
(seashore) landscape of Tamil akam poetry is established, which, for the Tamil
reader, immediately expresses the emotion of a lover’s lamentation at separation
from her beloved.26 In this fashion, for the reader versed in akam aesthetics, the
very landscape screams out the same fervent lament that Surpanakha experiences
in these verses. Kampan also employs abundant similes to emphasize the
intense longing of Surpanakha for Rama, a longing that causes her to become
weak, to physically waste away, and to burn so strongly that not even the coolest
substances on the earth can alleviate it. By all of these aesthetic techniques,
Kampan helps us to experience viscerally the agonizing personal emotions of
the raksasi, thus giving us the opportunity to truly identify with this creature,
upon whom we now take pity. We realize that Surpanakha’s longing is beyond
her control-just as we sometimes cannot control with whom we fall in love-and
we thus grow more sympathetic to her plight. In the reader’s eyes, Surpanakha is
no longer simply a bag full of lust, but rather, she is the victim of those emotions
which even the very disciplined cannot always control.
26 “Seaside imagery is prescribed for the evocation of emotions of impatient lovers who must
undergo enforced separation” (Study of Stolen Love x).