MAN OF COMPASSION- 'KARUNASRI' Jandhyala Papayya Sastry

In this deep mysterious midnight
What’s this sound of opening the door bolt?
Who’s opened the doors now
Of these inner chambers?

Who’s this chasismatic figure of compassion
Going out drawing the curtain aside?
Why doesn’t the full moon of radiating beauty
Lose its color today?


Did he betray
The pure friendship of his sweetheart
Who used to sleep on his bosom?
Or- Why is his face lusterless?


Are they attempts to tear asunder
The eternal bonds of love
Who trusted and gave her all-
Why are his legs faltering at the threshold?

Rolling at the end of eyes
Pearly smiles of baby on the bed
Lost in sleep deep
And smiling in lands fantastic?

Why this hesitation?
Unable to leave house
or friendship of his spouse
Or affection firm for baby?

Why doesn’t he rearrange
The scarf following him on the floor?
Is it due to his inability
To snap the bond of his love’s hand?

Stands still on seeing a thousand
Imaginary reflections of his love
Who embraced his feet at every step
With hands stretched and eyes teary.



Fall the feet of the lord
Forward and backward on stairs
Like the couple of royal swans
Swimming against the currents.

Would descending these palaces
Lead to ascending high places?
Would giving up forest expeditions
Lead to create new explorations?

Have the eyes meant for merry dances of damsels
Seen the dance of truth?
Have the ears tuned to sounds of anklets of tender feet
Listened to the voice inner?

Has the flickering lamp in a hut
sent a message from the wretched?
Disillusioned about palaces gold
Treaded the path of huts ruined?

Stifling the heart irrepressible
Going away the lord from the world mundane
What does the “great exit” mean?
Without wealth, wife and baby?

Merging the man of compassion
Into the darkness thick from light
To emerge as the leader of the fallen
Into light out of darkness thick.

CHALAM AND ISMAIL on PURPOSE OF  POETRY    

Chalam  thinks that  aesthetic experience and  eligible qualifications  can be given by no system, distribution ,education or equality. The riches and luxuries can be shared but not the ‘samskara’ to derive joy out of an artistic piece valuable and the subjective differences exist in this regard.

He  writes  it’s true that  art is no one’s property. It belongs  to an artist who alone could experience.  He thinks that very few realize that spring decorates the sky every morning and evening in wonderful colours for the sake of people’s hearts.

He says  that art is for those who have hunger for art  and  just for food.

If one insists on purpose of poetry, the answer may be given by the  wrestlers, boulders or bears but not by the South wind  or moonlit night.  

ISMAIL’S POEM

We love babies and poems
Why?

We create poems
 and babies out of love
We gain immortality
 Through babies and poems
They  go on living
When we are gone
Since we’re mortal
Babies and poems give us
Immortality
Infinity
Deal a deathblow to
Death itself!

Which is prettier?

Baby or poem?
‘ Before the baby ‘Nandini’
My poem pales
Now you know!   

GURRAM JOSHUA

దళిత  భూమిలో
దాగిన మందుపాతర
కన్నీటి విలువ తెలిసిన కవి
అనుభవాల సిరాలో కలం  ముంచి
గ్రహణం నుంచి
తెలుగు  సూర్యుని  
విముక్తిచేసిన    మహాశక్తి
వీరయ్య , Lingammala  సంతానం  
పేరు  జాషువా
గ్రామం  వినుకొండ.  
     ***

Observed  history of   birds countless

                      flying in colors beautiful 

Reared  baby Crows and mongoose

            not for fun but as my children 

Read the story of Gandhi hidden

              in the cobweb of   spider

Realized the love of dogs for master

             by giving a handful of morsels

Grasped that  in gaining  peace

 Animals are superior to man proud

              over his “birth superior”   

Why tales ten thousand?

             ***

I have seen heavens plenty

    in the wings of butterflies

Enchanted hungry me worlds beautiful

      in  jeerangi like mother

Shone in me light of nine gems

          in walking of ponnangi

Danced dharmas many  in hunting  bird pikili  

Reflected  creepers of love

In flowers of grass and kadambas

The youthful eye wandered

 Robbed me of nature enchanting.

 (translation of poems from "naakatha" by Joshua )

“Bhagat Singh” – Karunasri

Leaped like an angry cub of lion our Bhagat Singh
On the head of the White elephant
The sea of revolution overwhelmed the banks in India new
Raised mangalharati to motherland- his sacrifice as oil!

By hanging you started a fire in our hearts
The wily White rule
Will these tongues of flame die down for ages!
Your memories remain as tear drops warm in our eyes!!

Bombs went off in the hearts of the British
On reminiscing your history
Followed you on freedom road forces revolutionary
Red marks on our foreheads is  your blood warm !!

"DISCONTENT, DOVE AND THE MOTHER EARTH" - RAVINDRA NATH

Like a cloud

 Poetry

Rains  compassion and  joy subtle

appeals to mind and  soul glocal.

A poem stirs

or slips and  dies like a baby

in the bore well of  silence.

***

The memory of a lay man   dead

Momentary like

An eagle’s flight over Dolphin’s nose .

The art of Dostoyevsky churns your heart

Kafka’s novels show mysterious officialdom

And   common man’s trials

Neruda’s commitment   lifts your spirit

True art   touches you

Across time and space

like letters on a stone tablet
etched on the mind of  unknown reader.

***

Now  wars are real, not   cold

Violence spoiled the souls  young and  old.

Apathy covers  the earth

Like a total soar eclipse

Beasts  and birds  puzzled at brutality,

Wars , injustice perpetrated    by humanity.

The eye of the hungry  super power

Hunts for territory and technology

Small nations are its ‘punching bags’

To hit and knockout rival nations.

“Lofty ideals” invoke   the   hatred of the hell

It sees nuclear power as its  sole right

Death wish mushrooms over Hiroshimas!

       

***

Many reasons for  violence

Like  motor bikes   on city roads

Running at breakneck speed

Peace frightened like poor pedestrians

The sane voice of  Sen  for health and education

Drowned  in deafening cries of  narrow identities.

***

In this age of  rat race

What is there to write about?

Broken hopes, hopeful breaks,

 Lost memories, memorable losses

 Wild promises, mild performances

 Goalless efforts, effortless goals

Mental conflicts and conflicting minds

Malnourished   bodies and cynical souls

History erased, humanity eroded

Tales concealed, truths revealed

In this  age of  rat race                                    

what is there to write about?

***

If you want to  write, do it now

“Ideal” conditions are a pie in the sky

Remember Michael Phelps

Go on swimming in  stories ceaselessly

When strife was there, you were restless

When peace reigns, You are complacent

Writing is as essential  as   eating and mating

Live in the present

Forget the  regrets  futile past and future?

Is it vital to grasp  the past

Either your own or that of your country?

A  lover of history turns skeptic

As  questions change in the course of time

***

Consumerism gobbled up   the globe

She sells sea shells on the seashore

He sells samosas in the shopping malls

“Market is an evil” sermonized some

who   lived and died  under its regime

 Market fundamentalists marveled at  Marxists

 Despite  revolutions halted.

A hungry dog in a remote corner

 A poor soul in need of job

 A passionate heart in search of justice

 Would still swear by Marxism .

Don’t we need bread as well as freedom?

Don’t we need quality and equality?

***

Need   the servants  of   Mammon

Migrate  to the moon  to  cause cosmic pollution?

Can we sustain this earth?

Can we regain our mirth?

In our penchant  for  the projects

What about the tribals of Papi hills?

the evacuees of Narmada Dam?

Have we become deaf to their cries?

Have we poured Lead into our ears?

   ***

We turned like   Narakasura or Antaeus  

 Who died alienated from the mother earth

 Causing global warming continuous.

 The rich  countries better share their wealth 

  Not their  enmity towards nature

  Better to wage  peace but not war

  And stop blaming one another

  to face the posterity with moral authority                                    

  Lest we  jumped over the cliff  

  And die Like Gadarene’s  swine.

                             

 

***

The rebellious  we thought Shakespeare was not for people

Not dwelling on why Marx read him time and again

the initial difficulties disappeared

After    Shakespearean language became familiar

He touched the strings of harp of human heart

We also thought why  should not he be called “Kalidasa of England”?

Antony’s oration, Othello’s fall due to the green-eyed monster

Hamlet’s dilemma and Macbeth’s ambition

Are memorable tales of the bard of Avon.

Converted by dialectical materialism

We showed contempt towards ‘bourgeois’ artists

Art was an indulgence, politics was human essence

forgetting that  the artist influences subtly but deeply

As memories are clouded

The “heroic” deeds of the past seem quixotic

Commitment seems distraction

Social Concern seems paucity of career consciousness

But  no need to whip oneself

Quixotic acts were testing of one’s limitations

Concern for change was the sign of the ideal youth

Age brings  understanding

That change one must

Before demanding  it in  others

Deep changes take decades

Let people learn  through  the school of suffering

***

Freedom and  Equality are Siamese twins

People hunger for bread as well as freedom

They prefer love, life  and soul to  materialistic comforts

Poverty challenges   humanity

Technology must serve the  people

Terrorism needs to understand its folly

State terror must cease its assault on democracy

Country   must learn discipline and the value of time and cleanliness

***

As a    youth

I felt volcanic emotions

Frustration born of dire poverty

Caused ennui,  anger ,  a  rebellion of mind

I  spurned  academics and ate  all kinds of books

I roamed pasting posters, waging struggles,  collecting funds

All  those ‘significant’ acts now appear naive

A few years passed  energetically

Asthma  made me writhe in spasms of pain many days and nights

I began thinking, “Who will cry when I die”?

Rest made me think of  an alternative path

Tiananmen  square incident

Turned  me into   a journalist  for a while

Soon my zeal turned into restlessness

I felt that there was much to read and do

The lonely  and long   nights spent on the terrace

Increased my agony

I took French leave

And later resigned the job

Then passed one and half year of  anxious period

My attempts to restore law or journalism failed

After a painful gap I rejoined  another university

That helped me regain my academic interests

Reading a book is  a fashion old

 The joy  of meeting an intellect bold

  has become as  rare as sparrow

  utility  alone justifies it now.

An English teacher in an  age prosaic

 A Beethoven amidst noisy  bees

 Caught in love- duty contradiction

Of Robert  Frost or novelist Narain.

Think  and act creatively

Know that interpretation makes

or mars an experience

Science Fiction  and Technology show future

Values were not just  ingrained  in the past

They are for now as well as for tomorrow

* **

Some times I wonder

Can one decide one’s  time and context?

Plunge  into the pacific depths

       To fish out  ideas submerged

       To turn them into pinpricks

       To rouse   the  minds   numb  

Give up your illusion of greatness

As a squirrel that builds its nest in patience

Give into  goddess of art in practice

Know that  values are pearls perennial .

***

The blade of grass that swings  to air is a dancer

The wayside  forest fire that  arrests your feet  is a painter

The cloud- capped hills  capture  your heart

 The twittering of birds ask the night to part

The smiling flowers on grass in  dew drops holy on the morn

The dogs which bear their pain  in isolation

Teach you the art of life and faith core  of  your spirit

 Art also lies in  the routine not just in acts calamitous.   

             

***

Who moved your cheese?

Is it changed times or outworn ideals?

Why  reluctance to leave the melting ground ?

My mind enjoys the zone of comfort

Has the joy of learning has yielded to

the drudgery of earning?

***

Years slipped

In tuning to harmonious notes

Like polar bears which failed

in search of ground on melting snow .

 

No need to praise  dark sky  of hate

Since love appears rarely like Halley’s comet !

Tolstoy tells

War  vicious and peace precious

  shattered with a shot  are dreams  victorious

  The soldier  wounded  on the battlefield

   staring at the azure  knows

War means  Mutually Assured Destruction.

***

Outside the market

Human feels worthless

Do other creatures

Measure their worth in rupees?

A Mahatma Gandhi or a Mother Theresa

Come and teach love and peace to us!

An Ambedkar or A Martin Luther King Junior

Come and teach how to fight for fairness

We need  trail blazers  not once in a blue moon

But  often

Since we  acquired  immuno- deficiency

to  memory historical and  integrity intellectual.

***

When human acts like a super human

He  may turn into a hunted animal like Saddam

When super power shuns superior reason

When people submit to savagery

When they lose  the respect for life

Civilization and barbarianism are synonyms

Should India become a super power like uncle Sam

in enslaving the hapless nations?

India should be strong sans aggression

It should show super spirit of peace and nonviolence

Nuclear nightmare is no substitute to  the sweet dream of  life

***

The villages are freezing

The cities are bursting at  seams

Jobs are  white crows

Will kalam’s vision be (ethe)real?

Cars are  plenty, buses   less

Monster is Metropolis

Highways are   gateways to  heaven or hell

Cars   plenty, buses   less

Rice   scarce, vice  copious

Jobs  rare as  white crows.

Why should  boys and girls of tender age

Jump from terrace to court  death

In the name of education  myth?

Do we need cut-throat competition ?

***

Why should a small girl

Jump from the terrace

For the sake of education

That promises rosy job?

Why stress, distress and depression

In the name of corporate education?

No other creature dies

For want of well-to-do life

Is it  the  privilege of corporate creature?

***

Our attitudes  earthworms

Our aspirations eagles

Our culture for risk  less

But sooner or latter

The youngistan can revive the nation

The youth can bring smiles of prosperity

on the face of our country

Time  and Synergy  are theirs

They can rewrite our priorities

They can fortify the weak social  fiber

They are heroes of the present

who need encouragement

***

Love for life will win

Desire for death will bow its head

The spirit of man will and shall rise

The earth and the compassionate  universe would outlive

The foolish man who plays  God and

The Scientists must show restraint

and investigate into the death of compassion

***

Conditions draw our boundaries

Your life energy flows in bounds

You feel freedom only in thoughts

The irrationality of life stares at you

A budding technologist becomes a victim

To a mysterious force in the land of promise

Violence explodes in markets hotels houses

What is the meaning of  life?

What is the meaning of my life?

***

Breathe till you live

work till you rest

Live your life but not your job

the notorious history eats one and all

who miss the meaning of experience

crisis means an opportunity / calamity

Be a wave in the sea of happiness

And  cease to see duality between life and you

A wave that breaks away from the sea

batters its head on a boulder

***

Nature and you are inseparable

A wave divided from  the sea

batters its head on a rock.

Drive Bhasmasura from your  being

The divine element lives in man and creature tiny

Never send a missile against your inner sky.

The death of a single ant is tragic

Your death ,  a trifle to nature

Can we say  “no” to warmongers ?

Can  we see, listen and think with our hearts?

Can we sustain  fertile imagination?

Can we reject nuclear winter

And welcome  cheerful   spring?

***

We are in the eleventh hour

Needn’t we reject

Extravagance for prudence

Mediocrity for excellence

Corruption for honesty?

____