Nagammaiar was the first wife of Thanthai Periyar and a steadfast companion in his public life. More than a homemaker, she gradually became deeply committed to the principles of the Self-Respect Movement propagated by Periyar.
During Periyar’s association with the Tamil Nadu Congress, Nagammaiar actively organised picketing campaigns against toddy shops as part of the Non-Cooperation Movement launched by Mahatma Gandhi. As the agitation intensified, the British authorities approached Gandhi and urged him to call it off. Gandhi reportedly replied that the movement had spread far beyond his control and that its continuation rested in the hands of two women in Erode. These women were E.V.R. Nagammai and Kannammal, Periyar’s sister. Nagammaiar thus emerged as a pioneer in encouraging the active participation of women in public life, including protests and social movements in Tamil Nadu.
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When Thanthai Periyar led the Vaikom Satyagraha in Kerala to secure the right of the so-called “untouchables” to use the roads surrounding the temple, the movement gathered considerable momentum. Periyar was arrested twice and sentenced to imprisonment—once to simple imprisonment and later to rigorous imprisonment. During his incarceration, Nagammaiar played a crucial role in mobilising women volunteers and ensuring the continuation of the struggle. Until the movement achieved its objective, she stood firmly by Periyar’s side, contributing far beyond the conventional role of a wife.
Nagammaiar was the first woman from South India to become a member of the All India Congress Committee (AICC). She worked closely with Periyar when he launched the Self-Respect Movement in 1925. She organised and conducted Self-Respect marriages, many of which involved widows and inter-caste couples, challenging entrenched social norms.
Overall, Nagammaiar was an indispensable associate in Periyar’s public, social, and organisational activities. She passed away on 11 May 1933. The tribute that Periyar wrote in the Kudi Arasu magazine reflects the deep camaraderie and partnership they shared. The following is the English translation of the eulogy published in Kudi Arasu.
My beloved life-partner, my dearest love, Nagammal, passed away at 7:45 p.m. on 11 May 1933. Should I grieve for this? Or should I rejoice? At this moment, I am unable to decide whether Nagammal’s death is a gain or a loss to me.
Whatever it may be, I lived with Nagammal as my companion in life for 35 years. Yet I cannot even recall whether I was truly a life-partner to her, though she was one to me. During the days when I lived selfishly as a carefree young man, and later when I became immersed in public service as a social worker, Nagammal remained a great support for every progressive step in my life.
As much as I speak and preach to others about women’s freedom and women’s dignity, I do not possess the honesty to claim that I practiced even one-hundredth of those ideals in my own treatment of my dear Nagammal. On the contrary, Nagammal lived in complete accordance with the cruel and irrational notions found in scriptures and puranas regarding women’s subservience and male superiority— indeed, ten times more submissively than what those texts prescribed. I confess with deep shame that I accepted this.
I realized every moment that Nagammal lived and desired to live only for my sake, not for herself. If I have any justification to offer for all this, it is only a very small one.
That justification is this: after I entered public life, I made use of all her efforts and sacrifices for public welfare, especially for the Self- Respect Movement. The world knows how Nagammal supported me during my days in the Congress movement, during the Vaikom Satyagraha, and in the Self-Respect Movement.
So then, shall I say that with Nagammal’s death I have lost a servant? Shall I say I have lost my support? Shall I say I have lost happiness? Shall I say I have lost feeling? Shall I say I have lost encouragement? Shall I say everything is gone? Nothing is clear to me!
Whatever it may be, Nagammal’s death is not some extraordinary event. She has merely reached her natural end. There is nothing astonishing in this.
No one can say Nagammal died young. Though she was only 48 years old—which may be somewhat short in terms of a full human lifespan—it is still twice the average lifespan of Indians, which is about twenty-three and a half years.
According to the wise saying, “One should laugh when someone dies and cry when someone is born,” I wish not to consider Nagammal’s death as a sorrow or a loss, but rather as a happiness and a gain. Not only do I wish so—I truly believe it.
Why? Because the chapters yet to unfold in the history of my life may contain extraordinary events. Had Nagammal lived to witness them, they would surely have caused her immense sorrow and suffering. And seeing her suffer in that way would perhaps have shaken me as well.
Therefore, along with gaining greater freedom through Nagammal’s death, I have also attained the lofty position of being freed from family burdens.
Furthermore, however much I use Nagammal’s death as an occasion for happiness or benefit, she would never have used my death or suffering in the same way. On the contrary, she would only have been devastated by it. Therefore, for Nagammal’s own well-being, it is indeed a great blessing that she died before me.
Many of my dear comrades may think that Nagammal’s death is an irreparable loss. That opinion is not correct. If they wait patiently and witness the events that are yet to occur, they too will come to think, as I do, that Nagammal’s death was for the best.
The primary cause of her illness was the pain of separation during the one year I spent abroad on my foreign tour. Secondly, she feared that some grave danger might befall me during my travels in Russia.
Thirdly, after understanding our new plans of work, she was constantly filled with fear every moment. If such seemingly small reasons were enough to bring death upon her, then friends should imagine how much greater her suffering would have been in the future, when separations, dangers, economic hardships, and other such difficulties would become real and unavoidable.
For several years now, I had already resolved that for the rest of my life I should live like the Sankaracharyas—not in luxury, nor for collecting money—but constantly traveling, wandering from place to place. I had also decided that we should not maintain a separate house or settle permanently in one location.
Though there were no other obstacles to this way of life, Nagammal alone stood as a great obstacle. Now that obstacle no longer exists, and that is indeed a matter of great happiness.
Therefore, may Nagammal’s passing bring good to us.
— E. V. Ramasamy (From the editorial in ‘Kudi Arasu’, 14th May 1933)
