Why is our language called ‘Tamizh’?
Why is our language called ‘Tamizh’?
Ki. Va. Jagannathan (Ki. Va. Ja.), the legendary Tamil scholar and literary visionary, once found himself in the divine presence of Periyava, when a question was posed that momentarily stilled his erudition:
“Why is our language called ‘Tamizh’?”
Taken aback, Ki. Va. Ja. admitted with humility that he had never contemplated that question deeply. He reflected, “If someone were to ask me about the greatness of Tamizh, I could speak for hours—on its antiquity, its grammar, its literature, its uniqueness among world languages. But why it is called ‘Tamizh’—I do not know.”
With characteristic grace, Periyava smiled and said:
“This is merely my thought—neither confirmed by scholars nor inscribed in any linguistic doctrine. But to me, the answer lies in one letter: ‘ழ’ (zha).”
He then proceeded, in that meditative rhythm only saints possess, to list words that hold this unique sound, each word soaked in beauty and depth:
மழலை (mazhalai) – the babble of a child, pure and innocent
குழந்தை (kuzhandhai) – the infant, tender and divine
வாழை (vāzhai) – the plantain tree, symbol of prosperity
யாழ் (yāzh) – the ancient instrument of melody
பொழிவு (pozhivu) – fullness and ripeness
வியாழன் (viyāzhan) – the Guru among planets
சூழல் (sūzhal) – the environment, the encompassing world
ஆழி (āzhi) – the vast ocean
மேழி (mēzhi) – the beam, the support
ஊழி (ūzhi) – the cosmic cycle, eternal time
And then Periyava asked, with childlike simplicity and cosmic profundity:
“Could it be that our language is called ‘Tamizh’ because it alone holds the divine sweetness of the letter ‘ழ’?”
Ki. Va. Ja., the disciple of Tamil Thatha U. V. Swaminatha Iyer, was stunned—not by the strangeness of the thought, but by its sheer truth. He bowed inwardly and accepted it with devotion.
And I, like him, was deeply moved when I read this exchange.
This is not merely a linguistic musing. It is a soul-stirring conversation between two enlightened minds. It reveals how even the smallest phoneme—‘ழ’—can be a doorway to nāda brahman, the eternal sound. It is a reflection of Svarūpa Jñāna—the knowledge of one’s true form, through language, vibration, and cultural soul.
Ki. Va. Ja., in that moment, was not just a scholar, but an ideal shishya—a seeker ready to receive. Periyava’s intuitive wisdom echoed the Upanishadic spirit:
"Yato vācho nivartante, aprāpya manasā saha" – "Where words return, unable to grasp the Truth."
Yet sometimes, in the grace of one syllable—‘ழ’—Truth whispers.
U. V. Swaminatha Iyer gave Tamizh its memory. Ki. Va. Ja. gave it its voice. Periyava gave it its soul.
And through this gentle dialogue, the word ‘Tamizh’ itself feels like a mantra—rich in rasa, filled with ancient breath, and echoing with divine sweetness.
Let us not merely speak the language. Let us listen to its soul.
With reverence and heartfelt gratitude,
Venkataramanan Ramasethu
April 18, 2025
