If that little spark of celestial fire called conscience is kept alive in the bosoms of Malayalis, some of its credit goes to writer and orator Sukumar Azhikode.
In the tradition of great writers and artists who acted as conscience keepers and value guardians for society, he kept vigil over the Malayali as the State hurtled through a maze of complex social processes, ideological vicissitudes, cultural developments and historical change. Those who erred got their knuckles rapped. Knavish politicos, vainglorious dilettantes, narcissistic versifiers and intellectual dandies ran for cover when Azhikode marched like a general across the battleground of life, guarding righteousness, propriety and values.
Long before he earned the tag of social commentator, he had made a name for himself as a literary critic who spoke his mind. He drew upon his good grounding in Sanskrit and canons of traditional criticism, and deep knowledge of world literature and western literary theory to emerge as the most important critic in Malayalam after the Joseph Mundassery-M. P. Paul-Kuttikrishna Marar trio. Three books establish his position as a critic: Asante Seethakavyam , Ramananum Malayala Kavithayum and Sankara Kurup Vimarshikkapedunnu .
Asante Seethakavyam is the first major critical study in Malayalam of a ‘khandakavya' ( Chinthavishtayaya Seetha ). Azhikode's chief source of inspiration, while writing the book at the age of 29, was Vivekananda's observation about the uniqueness of Sita. Azhikode admired Ezhuthachan's version of the Ramayana, a gem of Malayalam literature, but felt drawn more towards Valmiki's original, which portrayed Lord Rama, warts and all.
When everyone went gaga over Changampuzha Krishna Pillai's Ramanan , a pastoral elegy, Azhikode (in Ramanum Malayala Kavithayum ) termed it a weak poem of the celebrated poet, citing points such as feeble characterisation (especially of Madanan, the hero's friend), and a longish ending that did not elicit the requisite pathos. Building his argument on the notion that the foremost quality of a romantic poet was sincerity, Azhikode contended (in G. Sankara Kurup Vimarshikkapedunnu ) that Sankara Kurup lacked it. The critic argued that Kurup's verses were heavily Sanskritised and lacked native flavour. While evaluating the verses, Azhikode, however, seemed to be reluctant to employ the criteria that he used to analyse and discover the merits of Asan's Chinthavishtayaya Seetha .
Social reformer, spiritual guru and orator Vagbhadanandan (1856-1928), who exerted over north Malabar the kind of influence Sree Narayana Guru or Chattambi Swamigal did over Travancore, was a friend of Azhikode's father.
His inspiration
Acknowledging Vagbhadanandan and his message of Advaita Vedanta as his principal sources of inspiration, Azhikode equated the guru's clarion call for action and change (‘Ezhunnelkkuka Aneethiye Ethirkkuka') to the Upanishadic vision, ‘Uthishtatha jagratha praapyavaraa nibodhata' (Arise, awake and stop not till the goal is reached). The influence made him delve into the country's spiritual riches and write Tatvamasi (Thou art that), a work comparable to Sahodaran Ayyappan's treatises on the Upanishads or Swami Ranganathananda's ‘The Message of the Upanishads'. The dedication note in Tatvamasi reads so: “For Vagbhadananda Gurudevan, the prophet of self-knowledge who guided a village boy into the sacred world of Upanishads.”
Azhikode summoned his literary powers from his love of Sanskrit. When E.M.S. Namboodiripad and his like argued through the platform of a progressive movement that literature, a social institution, had a specific ideological function, Azhikode, under the clear influence of the Sanskrit theory of ‘Bhajana Bhojana Vadam', stated that ‘how to write' was as important as 'what to write'.
Listening to Azhikode, the orator, was akin to giving oneself to the magic of Vivaldi or Semmangudi or Bhimsen Joshi. At the height of his powers, the master of rhetoric kept audiences spellbound serving up delights culled from the choicest treasures of literature, philosophy, social history and political science, all these punctuated with wit, sarcasm and humour.
His voice was feeble, but it embodied an ineffable charm and inspirational persuasion. When powerful emotions gripped him, he pointed his index finger upwards as if shooting an arrow and his wiry frame trembled. He possessed an element indispensable to great oratory: integrity of personal conviction, what Cicero called ethos or noble candour.
The only orator who could give Azhikode a run for his money was M.K. Sanu. But Prof. Sanu could not weave the charm of humour as Azhikode did. Azhikode never sought to do what was beyond his means. He never aspired to ape the rich metaphorical musings of another genius: M. N. Vijayan.
Politics and ambiguity
Azhikode's politics was incomprehensible in his later years though he never got tired of claiming that it was as clear as crystal. He mobilised public opinion for installing V.S. Achuthanandan as Chief Minister. He tom-tommed his ties with the Congress. But added, nourishing a pun, “Marikkunathu vare Congressukaranayirikkanam ennayirunnu aasa. Maranam Congressinte aayi ennu mathram (Till death, wanted to be a member of the Congress. In this case, the death happened to be that of the Congress.”
His knack for triggering controversies through hard-hitting statements could only be matched by his ability to make enemies. His famous sparring-partners included writers M.K. Sanoo, T. Padmanabhan, S.K. Nair, SNDP Yogam leader Vellappally Natesan, academic M. A. Rehman, cine actors Innocent and Mohanlal, and G. Vilasini, a friend of his. All of them made peace with Azhikode in his last days. He had filed a defamation suit against Mohanlal, but promised to withdraw it when the actor and his mother telephoned him when he was hospitalised.
The critic who looked at society and people through gimlet eyes and made fun of their failings also laughed at himself. When he was born, his parents got his horoscope written by an astrologer. He predicted that Azhikode will not live more than 60 years. At his 85th birthday celebrations, Azhikode jested, “I now hear that the astrologer is no more.”
A deep sense of nationalism permeates Azhikode's works. The writer proudly recalled having translated a collection of Jawaharlal Nehru's letters into Malayalam and met the former Prime Minister at its release. Two occasions, Azikode said, had plunged him to sorrow: his mother's death and Gandhiji's assassination.
One-and-a-half years before Gandhiji's death, Azhikode met the Mahatma at the Sevagram Ashram near Wardha town.
When Azhikode walked into the ashram, he saw Gandhiji spinning cotton on the charkha. The Mahatma looked up and flashed a toothless smile. The ethereal moment filled in the writer a rare energy to carry out his life-long experiments with truth.
