A CAN-DO SPIRIT IS NEED OF THE HOUR

Abdul kalam writes of enlightened society through education in “The Family And The Nation” which he co-authored with Acharya Maha pragya. Parents and teachers have to
instill moral values among children. He says that true education imparts tolerant feelings and power to understand daily events and the permanent truth and bonds man to natural and human environment.

He refers to Howard Gardner’s work “Five Minds For the Future”.
Five capacities such as inquiry, creativity, application of technology and managerial and moral leadership are to be built through disciplinary mind, synthesizing mind, creative mind, respectful mind, and ethical mind in a synergistic manner. These capacities will produce an autonomous learner who respects and criticizes authority according to the necessity in an apt manner.

DISCIPLINARY MIND requires mastery of various disciplines such as science, maths, history and religion and expertise in at least in professional field. It improves its understanding and skill continuously.

SYNTHESISING MIND means ability to combine ideas from various disciplines in to a whole and communicates it in this era of information.

CREATIVE MIND offers new solutions for problems and will always be superior to the most powerful computer.

RESPECTFUL MIND understands other people and creates mutual trust. There is no scope for intolerance.
ETHICAL MIND makes one a responsible worker and a citizen. It directs one to “work with integrity and succeed with integrity.”

HUMAN LIFE-- GOPICHAND

One fine day God woke up , finished his morning ablutions and called his attenders. None responded. Then he remembered that his staff had been reduced due to the austerity measures and sat pensive. After a while, an attender came and god queried him.
“ coming from the earth?”
“Yes!”
“What’s the news?”
“ Everything is fine! Man is spending half f his time in making mistakes and the remainder in realizingthat his learning has been faulty.”
“Good. No problem for the present. No threat for my livelihood!” God danced.

రెండు లైన్లు

గుజరాత్ లో జరిగింది మారణహోమం
చేతకాని ప్రభుత వలన మానవతకు రామ్ రామ్
***
పంతాలకు పోయి కాల్చారు బెస్ట్ బేకరి
సాక్షుల్ని భయపెట్టి న్యాయం మోకెరీ.
***
ముంబైలో సాగే కసాబ్ నరమేధం
జూలు విదిల్చి నిలిచేను వాణిజ్య శార్దూలం
***
'ముంబైకార్'లకే ఉద్యోగాలు ఆంటాడు తాకెరి బాల్
మత మన్దూకాలకు స్వర్గాలు బావులే.
***
డిల్లి బస్సుల్లో వొంటరి నారికి రక్షణ నాస్తి
బరితెగించిన కీచకులకు చేయాలి శాస్తి

"How do I write stories?" -- GOPICHAND

Writing is a psychological act. First I would write in my heart and then put it on the paper. .. some ask whether I would write stories completely at once or in pieces now and then. I would write in both the ways. When the writer is in good mood and the entire story is visible . it gets finished at once. Otherwise it has to be written in two or three attempts. The writer depends on emotion in the first method and logic in the other. I would write in both the methods. I think that I have begun writing to express my anguish to someone. Since it has to give relief to the reader, I mould them to a purpose and perspective. This moulding and utility are totally mine. For me the important things are
Emotion and the idea concerned. The style is only a means to express it. So I don’t attribute any specialty to the style.

***


How can we know that mankind has been in the act of committing suicide?

All the symptoms are strengthen this doubt. Take the case of atom bombs? None would make atom bombs for fun their cost is excessive. Large countries can be bought with their cost. They are not fit for any thing except the wholesale destruction! They can’t be eaten or worn like clothes or useful as roof. Even the large countries are upsetting their economies in building these weapons.

The use of atom bombs has already polluted nature. First the sky and then air have become polluted. The knowledgeable are telling that the earth and water are going to be polluted for four more years. That to if new experiments are not conduced… the aquatic life, vegetables , the grass-eating cattle – all have been accumulating poison…

The defense policy of the super powers is dependent on the suicide of humanity.

Self-sacrifice!

“Times are changing. We have to learn to see self-sacrifice in new forms. Suppose people are dying due to hunger. We have to see it as sacrifice for the sake of country. There’s nothing wrong about it. If someone dies due to starvation, are we attributing that sin to government or those. who hoard the rice and wait for the rise of prices of grain? No!

Remember one thing as a pointer. If death is inevitable , it’s equal to self-sacrifice. According to this principle, if patients die due to spurious drugs, it’s equal to self-sacrifice. If those medicines are made in government factories, it’s better- it means that the dead man has given up his life for the sake of the country.

People who die under the wheels of lorries and cars are also eligible to enter heaven meant for heroes. Cars symbolize the wealth of the rich. Lorries , the development of trade. To die under the wheels of the juggernaut means to boar the train to heaven! ‘
- From article by Gopichand published by Yuva in 1961--

A Cricketer Advises the young

Srikkant krishmacharya has given wonderful advice to the management students as reported in The Hindu on 23rd October. he wanted them to cultivate

Ø Self-confidence as evidenced in Kapil dev’s captaincy in beating the West Indies in 1983 world cup .
Ø Passion of Tendulkar in playing even after two decades.
Ø Playing frontfoot but not backfoot in life as Kapil scored 175 against Zimbabawe .
Ø Thinking through heart and getting connected to conscience.
Ø Endless innovation

'AMAZING FELICITATION' from CHANDRAGUPTA'S VICTORY- SUDHANSU

Muradevi began feeling utterly sad due to the misfortune that visited her son. But for Chandragupta, the prison life facilitated to think about his future uninterruptedly. He began to think of many plans to destroy the dynasty of the Nandas and to occupy the throne of the Magadha.
“The incompetent and immoral Nanda must be dethroned. But it’s not to easy to conquer the kingdom protected by the genius of Rakshasamatya. He knew the formidable strength of the army of Magadha along with the prop of armies of the subordinate kings. Who could help him in this endeavour? Whose helping hand should he seek ? Which path should he court?’
A new hope arose in his heart.
“Could he approach Alexander, the Greek prince, full of ambition to conquer the world is waiting with a large army at Takshasila in the Western India. his task might become easier with his help! “
He was also struck by a doubt.
“How could he seek the help of the Greek price who wanted to invade India with evil intentions? It might be a mistake1 how could it be? He would not ask the military help from the prince. He would only familiarize himself with the knowledge of the Greek warfare which could help in his fight for Dharma. It could also stand him in good stead in defending the country in future.
India, the land of dharma has become disunited and facing the invasion fro the foreigners having lost its soul-power. He had to remove the inefficient Nanda rule and unite small kingdoms to save India from the foreign rule. That was his duty. He had to acquire the art of the Greek warfare along with the expertise of Indian warfare. Until then., his life goal could not be realized.
***

Chandragupta decided his impending duty and determined to escape from the prison. But Muradevi did not agree to his idea. She said that it could be more dangerous if he were caught in his attempt and if they waited for some more time, the heart of the Nada king could melt by the grace of god. They would find their freedom.”
Chandragupta had no faith in the change of heart of the Nanda king. He was not prepared to languish in the jail any longer. He was determined to break out of the prison and believed that god gave him the necessary strength. He closed his fist. Muradevi felt elated at her son’s will power and tears of joy fell from her eyes.
***


Suddenly the prison doors were open. Both the mother and son were amazed at the untimely opening of the doors. The soldier who came to fetch him to the court told him that minister Rakshasa wanted to free Chandragupta to watch the lion’s cage sent by the king of Ceylon. Chandraguta sent his mother home and went to the court of the king.

***

On that day, the court assembled for special purpose. All the courtiers were tense. The lion’s cage sent by the king of Ceylon is at the threshold of the fort. It was sent to test the cleverness of the intelligent people in various kingdoms. So far no one could find out its secret.

It was a strange test. The lion in the cage had to be brought out without touching the bars. Whoever could do it would be gifted the sword studded with nine gems! Whichever kingdom would fail in this test is bereft of clever people!
According to the dictates of the king Nada, many clever people of the kingdom observed the cage to no avail. Though the cage had been sent around the streets, folks came and went crazy over it but failed to find then secret. The Nandas were depressed that the prestige of the kingdom and themselves would go down the drain and pleades the chief minister to find a way out. Rakshasamatya who recollected the brilliance of Chandragupta got Chandragupta out of the prison into the court. He requested the prince. “ you have to win in this test through finding a key and uphold the prestige of the kingdom “

Chandrgupta watched the cage from top to the bottom.” Is the outsider making the lion play ? how come this lion moves as per the gestures of his hand? It looks like a real lion to the spectators!’ He thought for a while and guessed there is some gimmick in the machine, he pleased a lump of met before the lion. It didn’t move. This aroused the suspicion in Chandragupta. He asked for two hot iron bars and put one in lion’s mouth and the other on its back. The ferocious lion melted in no time and came out of the bars of the cage to the loud cries of the courtiers ‘lion of lac’.” The test acid test was over.
***

Chandragupta was gifted the great sword studded with nine gems. Though the Nandas felt relieved for the time being, soon they were jealous anticipating the spread of fame of Chandragupta. They felt that he would remain a spike in their bed and decided to expel him from the city. They announced that Chandraguprata’s prison sentence was changed to expulsion from the city for protecting the honour of the king. The court and ministers were stunned at the “amazing felicitation” of Chandragupta by the ungrateful Nanda kings.

MINING MEMORYSCAPE

I do not remember where I was born. But on being told that I was born in Anantpur, it remained in my mental register and school certificates. I remember our daba and radio song “Godari Gattundi.” I remember my mother in a green sari and wept when I once saw a green-clad woman traveling on a train thinking that she was my mother going somewhere. I remember the creeper and noises of insects in the night, my new born brother who was black and giggling whenever we gave chakkali gintalu. I remember a snake killed, a puppy and a friend called Jyoti and visits to a balawadi centre where I used to be given a glass of milk.

B is for Brahmana Kodur where I studied tenth class. If you don’t believe, see the writing on the wall( literally) of my school Gokhale Zilla Parishad High school. My name as topper in tenth class is still there. ( I fondly hope so if the wall is not whitewashed.) there I learnt dignity of labour in our craft class when we were asked to fetch water for the plants and vegetables which the students grew. Here I also found that my Telugu language was quite good in scoring marks and my mathematics was quite bad. Particularly algebra proved my undoing as I used to score low marks. Nehru’s biography was our non-detailed text and it certainly imprinted on my mind. Teachers were very good and amiable. My English teacher was very tough and he taught us grammar well. Once he helped a student financially and when the student offered to return the money he staunchly refused and said, “you can give me money when you earn”. This impressed my mind so much and set an ethic in my mind. My Hindi was also good but not the verbs whom I executed in my sentences. If I got good marks in the end exams, the credit goes to the examiner who was as kind as many of his tribe even now who award marks first and read the scripts next or don’t read them at all. The influence of missionaries was strong here and snakes were revered a lot and were allowed to escape alive. Here I learned cricket and tried to become a spin bowler under the aegis a non-conformist dropout from a college who used to relate how he threw a record of a science subject at the face of a science teacher and got himself thrown out of the college. We also saw films on 16mm in the compound of some big man rather than walk to Chebrole in the distance of four kilometers.

THE WASTELAND REVISITED

May is the maddest month
Like a pot
poetry may break into shreds on the rocks of time
or buried in the sands of in silence
It moves every mind , heart and soul subtly, glocally
An anonymous reader pays homage
To the memory of disturbing Dostoyevsky
or a mysterious Kafka or
A committed Neruda or
gets spellbound by prolific Pamuk,
magical Margaret and determined Doris
who penned persistently
for bread and beauty.
***

Now real wars replaced the cold war
violence possessed the souls of the rulers and the ruled
indifference hovers like a cloud
Beasts and birds are bemused by the brutality of human being
Welcome, Peace and justice
Go back, war and injustice
yesterday’s victims of holocaust
today’s persecutors of Palestinians
The pursuit of territory and technology by
The lone super power sans super reason
Smashed the sanity of nations into smithereens
The fanatical hand powders the tall towers built in patience
The sane voice of Sen falls on deaf ears
Tolstoy calls war vicious , peace precious
The wounded soldiers lying on the battle field
And watching the azure sky pray
The god of History to shower love, not hatred
***
A Moses or a Martin Luther
A Mahatma Gandhi or a Mother Theresa
come and teach love, peace to us
We need prophets not for every millennium
But more often
Since we acquired immuno deficiency to
historical amnesia and intellectual inertia

***

The passionate prophet of Socialism
made many leap into the fire of revolution
shook the days of rapacious capitalism
Lenin’s genius , Mao’s practicality
the tenacity of Ho-Chi-Minh, Castro and Guevara
Are now memories…
***
The specters of consumerism- extremism are haunting all
But a hungry dog, a jobless man
Or a passionate seeker of justice would ask
“Is Market the real measure of all living creatures” ?
She sells seashells on the sea shore
He sells samosas in the shopping malls
Neither ration shops nor shopping malls
Would save the perplexed humanity
The tribals of Papi hills and the evacuees of Narmada dam
disdain profit and faceless technology
Terrorism and State terrorism trounce our democracy
In dire need of discipline, punctuality and cleanliness
***

The weavers, the farmers and the students are
Scapegoats on the altar of “’compassionate’ capitalism”
Health and education are too dear for many
The villages are withering
The cities are sewages bursting at seams
The national highways lead to death
***
Need the greedy man who failed the earth
Migrate to the moon or Mars to cause cosmic pollution?
Would posterity excuse this?
Nature and man live in each other
Never send a missile into your intrinsic sky
See, listen, and think with your heart
A wave that leaves the sea slams its head on a stone
Let the Cosmos / the Earth outlive the MAD man

Would Kalam’s dream ever become true?
Can technology terminate the poverty of goods and minds?
Yes, the youth - the heroes of the present
pledge prosperity, power and priority
***
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 and forbearing dogs
Teach music of life
If nuclear winter be at hand,
Can spiritual spring be far behind?

ONE LINE POEM

One line can make the world.
***
Corruption is a new religion of India!
***
Microfinance is the gateway of heaven!
***
Is reading a newspaper a luxury for us?
***
No vacancy for innovation!
***
Research is the need of India's hour!
***
Mobile story is today's rage.
***
Freedom of expression can't be rationed
***
No stock of love unselfish.

"HOW TO GET WHAT YOU NEED?"- Gopichand

“Do you say that a book must be purposeful?”
“Otherwise, why write?”
“In that case, why don’t you tell anything clearly in your stories?”
“Should one give moral such as “greed breeds sorrow” as in the case of children’s tales?”
“Shouldn’t it be clear?”
“No. It is better to give a ‘samskara’ or perspective rather than revealing a moral?”
“Is it enough to cultivate ‘samskara’? should n’ it be told how to practice that samskara?”
That’s the job of an essay.”

Two lines

Personality development for all
Jobs in market for a few or none
***
No end to TV serials
No vexation for spectators.

***
Time mangement is the virtue
'Mis'management is the vice.

రెండు లైన్లు

చావు గూర్చి యోచనే మనిషికి చెప్పును ఏం చేయాలో
అసత్యాలు తొలగిపోతాయి మదిలో
***
ఏకాంతం భరించలేక పిలిచాను కుక్కను
నాదు మాట వినక ఎక్కెను పక్కను.
***
డొనేషన్లు లాగి నిర్మిస్తారు నేషన్
అనుమతులనమ్మి చేస్తారు పరేషాన్
***
మనిషి మనీషిగా మారటం 'విశ్వంభర'
***
తెలుగు భాష మరిచారు మన పిల్లలు
ఇంగ్లీష్ భాషన్నా విరిచారు పెదవులు
***
ఒక్క వాక్యంలో సమస్త విశ్వం కవిత్వం
***
నిజాన్ని నిర్భయంగా చెప్పటం అరున్ధతీయం
***
ఘంటసాలను కాదని వంటశాల అంటే అదే వినిమయతత్వం

"EGO '--- GOPICHAND

A poet is lecturing in a meeting.
“ I am not sure whether you knew it or not that I am greater than Tikkana. There are better qualities in my poetry than in Tikkana’s. among the Indian poets, I am the only one greater than Tikkana…”
One member of the meeting rose up suddenly and said, “where is the evidence to think that you are greater than Tikkana?”
“Evidence? evidence?” the poet began searching for words.
Another member stood up and replied.
“ Examples and similarities are many.
Tikkana wrote poetry, this one also did it.
Tikkana was born. This one also was born.
Now, do you know how this one is greater than Tikkana?
Tikkana had been dead. This one is not dead yet.”
The poet’s face went pale.

"Chapter 5 : CHANDRAGUPTA'S VICTORY'' BY SUDHANSU

THE GUIDANCE

Chandragupta had been banished for the crime of protecting the honour of the Nanda kings. But this gave a good chance to him to think better than languishing in the jail. He thought of visiting a great man mentioned by his mother in earlier times. That great man was almost the lord Shiva. A great sage, a man of miracles, possessor of divine mantras . His name was Panini. He was the resident of Pataliputra and the disciple of Varshopadhyaya. He acquired many branches of education. He wrote a book on grammar called ‘Ashtadhyayi’ and earned soul-power from due to the practice of prayer and tapas and settled down in the forest of Pataliputra at the behest of his teacher as a Siddha and a speaker of truth.

Twenty five years ago Mahapadmanada met the rishi, served and blessed by him to beget Chandragupta and the eight Nandas. He had been in the know of the irregular acts of the Nandas and now he found himself in contemplation.

The boon that he gave to the king Mahapadmanada in the interest of Magadha is proving invain. The city which was supposed to protect Arya Dharma is in a chaotic state. Besides, the Greek prince Alexander invades with the large army. In the Western India some kings who tried to resist him had to bow down before him and send gifts as a sign of good will. Some others who had to settle scores with his rivals invited the Greek prince and collaborated with him. Indian culture had been slowly eroding in the face of foreign invasions and the impact of the Greek civilization. In this complex situation, rishis like him were not meant to while away their time in meditation in the remote forests. Owing to soul-power of the rishis , India had been able to preserve its native culture, freedom , dignity and marvelous style of life. Now he had to travel to the West to unite the people involved in internal quarrels and the right way to the kings.

Panini got determined , left the ashram along with his disciples for Takshasila.
And adorned the position of Acharya. He turned his students belonging to various disciplines into is helpers in protecting the freedom of his country.
***
On his part , Chandragupta first wanted to visit the rishi Panini and decide his task with his blessings. Later on, he wanted to take Pnini’s permission and meet the Greek prince Alexander . Alas! See the working of fate! The future emperor of India turned into a refugee and visiting strange place with only valour and confidence as his valets.

That is a beautiful morning. The sun is shining with rays red akin to sindhur on the forehead of the dawn and in the hand mirror of Indrani. The world annoyed so far with darkness has got a new shining and awareness with golden rays.

***

Chandragupta entered the city of Takshasila, the haven for versatile scholars and the world renowned university. The city is a feast of one’s eyes with beautiful buildings, wide streets and gardens full of flowers wafting fragrance. The Greek soldiers in helmets and the armed leaders indigenous are roaming everywhere. The royal streets are attractive with folks coming and going and with piles of pearls and gems for sale by the beautiful ladies.
Chandragupta got amazed at the beauty of the city and went towards the Takshasila university. He continued observing gurukulas thriving with scholars of different sciences and men engaged in teaching and learning and found himself in the presence of Panini.
***
At that time Panini had been teaching his disciples under the shade of a beautiful tree. On seeing him and his brightness , Chandragupta was overwhelmed. He felt amazing peace in the presence of that saint and the synonym of the goddess of learning.

Panini saw Chandrgupta and invited him cordially. At this, chandraguta experienced the strength of a thousand elephants. He fell on the feet of Panini Acharya.
Panini: “How do you do , price? Is the king of Magadha safe?”
Chandragupta : “The king of Magadha would be safe hereafter under your blessings.
Panini (after contemplating for a while) : Well, Prince! We understood all.you, the son of Mahapadmanada and expert in education and martial arts were deceived by the old king and came here in search of fulfilling your task as a refugee.”
Chandragupta was surprised at the words of Acharya.
“Prince! You want to visit the Greek prince and eager to learn the secrets of their warfare!”
Acharya revealed the innate desire of the prince.
Chandragupta replied, “ Ye, sir! I have come to seek your blessings to find out the means of fulfilling my task.”
“Fine, my dear! I knew that the future of India will be safe in your hands!” Acharya spoke affectionately and Chandragupta’s face bloomed.
Acahrya spoke, “ Prince! It’s not easy to meet the Greek prince but I can send you to Selucus, the commander-in-chief. Many of my disciples who are extraordinarily intelligent and adept in assuming various disguises are moving among the Greeks to find out their war efforts. They are propagating the idea of freedom in the people and trying to preserve the soul-power and dignity of the nation through finding out the secrets of the enemy movements. With their helP you can meet Seluvus. Thereafter..”
“I could earn the favour of the Greek commander, Gurudev!”
Acharya smiled and said, ‘ You are suitable for the task, my dear! I have confidence in your executive ability, but I who is determined to protect our dharma need to tell you one thing.”
“Command me Gurudev!”
“Have you heard about Chanakya?”
“Yes. He’s a Vedic scholar. An expert in politics and economics a man of knowledge of all secrets of dharma with a will power to defend it. He is like Brihaspati, the teacher of angels . you have to visit him after meeting the Greek prince. Your dream will come when your physical prowess is aided by his cleverness. His refuge will be Sri Ramaraksha to you.”
The firm tone of Acharya developed Chandra’s affection towards Chanakya. He asked Where can I meet him?”
Panini replied, “ Recently he came to Magadha. You can meet him there soon. He and you will inevitably entrench yourselves as minister and emperor of India with the grace of God.”
Acharya emphasized each and every word and Chandragupta’s face bloomed.
“Another word, prince! The Greeks are invasive by nature , you have to be careful.”
Acharya next looked at his disciple standing near-by. The latter understood the teacher’s heart and spoke before going away in the guise of Greek soldier.
“ Prince! For the present you take rest in the guest house of the university. With in a day or two, you could meet the Greek commander –in- chief .”
Chandragupta took the permission of Acharya and moved towards the guest house.

"SENTIMENT " --GOPICHAND

Sentiment is defined as “worldly, delicate emotion” by the dictionary. Without there is no friendship or bothering about the neighbors. It’s not possible to live together without sentiment except for some self- interest. In fact , it is the basis for marriage or family life. “ sentiment is as essential to marriage as goodwill is for business.” We can observe that many marriages fail due to lack of sentiments. In Tostoy’s novel Anna Karenina, the heroine ‘s life becomes a ship without direction because of her husband bereft of any sentiment.

No one in the world has wisdom and strength to remain sans sentiment. In spite of
surfacial exhibition of glib tongue based on logic, man yearns for tenderness inside his heart. Every character rues loneliness. Existentialists made theories stating that man is accursed and can’t escape loneliness.

Except the middle class, no talented person who observed the many facets of life rejected the sentiment. Even though Einstein was a famous scientist , the playing of harmonium melted his heart. Doctor Frederick Banting discovered insulin.Adi Sankaracharya ran to his mother like a child when he came to know that his mother had been on her deathbed. Emerson used to visit his wife’s grave at least once every day.

When requested, Bernard Baruch advised the lady Roosevelt to follow her heart whenever she felt a conflict between her mind and her heart.
When the famous are thinking like that , why should we be afraid of sentiment. This is the result of looking at life in piece meal fashion.
A child runs to her mother or any one who calls affectionately due to sentiment.
Life is turning mechanical these days. Only birth and death are remembered. We are forgetting that life is more important than birth and death. The heart has to bloom and speak. The world would be worth living in. I f you could go on planting flower trees on the path you are treading. Sentiment is an oasis in a desert, showers the scent water on the people writhing in tensions of life and gives fragrance to the lives withered.

"Which is a good work?"

Gopichand’s article “Which is a good work?” gives clarity to any new writer who’s vague of his purpose. A writer takes lots of pains, spends time, energy and money in reading and writing , strains his brain and turns out a work. When the work fails, he explains away saying that he’s written it for those with aesthetic sense or for at least one ‘ideal’ reader or for posterity. It won’t do to blame the readers treating them as the ignorant or feeling regrets.

When a writer is after fame or self-satisfaction, he borrows technique from one and ideas from another and turns out his work. Owing to lack of practice, the style of writing differs from para to para. If anyone points it out, he snubs him saying that he has changed style according to the rasa. He loves his name on the book and dreams of fame. He doesn’t dare to enquire any one whom he meets on the road about his work. Some writers give more importance to language forgetting that it is merely a means of expression. Some other writers seek only popularity and write what the people like. But a good work is one that expresses ideas for the welfare of the people in the manner appealing to the people. In the beginning people may not like when the work is different from ‘samskara’ to which they are habituated. But slowly, the writers who write for the people become popular.


SYMPATHY – Gopichand

A poet went to his rich friend and asked him rather hesitatingly, “ lend me just five rupees. There’s no rice in the house. It’s noisy.”
I don’t have a paisa with me. How to get money? Is it a crop in the backyard? I can’t lend you so many times.”
“When did you give me?”
Don’t I have to donate to your statue after your death? How can I give then and even now? Don’t I have anything better to do?”The poet saw statues in his dreams on that night. His wife and children are weeping at one side while his statue is coming up on the other.The people are praising the charity and aesthetic sense of the rich man who donated money for the statue. .

"VEMANA YOGI"-- "KARUNASRI" JANDHYALA PAPAYYA SASTRY

Tell us whether you’re king of poets or yogis!
Which are dear to you— metres or Sadhus?
Prefer ashes or songs? What is in your hands?
Nectar of self-knowledge or poetry?

On your cheeks shining
Didn’t droop your moustache mesmerizing
No fading of desire in your lips tender
Why such detachment in a moment?

The marks of Royalty haven’t faded
from your forehead gentle;
Why are your feet seeking villages
giving up palaces golden ?

Poet or saint or philosopher? Who are you?
Has Shiva himself descended
With his disciples dozen to kondaveedu?
The rural folks are marching to see you
Heard the songs of the Gita on Telugu fields!

Whether you wore clothes or not,
Tikkana’s forerunner or Timmanas successor?
Not for me are these quarrels bitter
Kudos your stream poetic and words sweet!

The Crown of the poet-philosophers
in fusing teluguness and Aataveladi!
your bold morals brightened the streets rural,
Your poems banners of green leaves
Adorned the thresholds of homes Telugu

Your lines of Abhirama are butterflies
on the lotus hearts of the Telugus;
oh, the sun of the poets!
Reached every home your rays bright
Salutes to Vemana Kavindra! Karma Yogiswara!

You served sweet idioms moral
To the children Telugu.
Your “uppukappurambu”
Is learnt by heart by every brat.


Since the twilight of infancy
When we went to school in shirts small;
Taught our teachers during times leisure
Your “Chittasuddi.”


From the childish cow-herds
To Scholars old of Sruthis
None Could be found on the land Telugu
Ignorant of your poems sumptuous.

Holding aloft the flag of morality
You attacked the fortress evil !
The light of your Crown reached
The cosmos entire, you are deathless!

As a social reformer you lighted the way
To the world full of practices poisonous
You gave novel awareness –
Man eminent ! Vemana!

In the light of your crown elegant
Saw our Telugus paths of light:
Appearing on the streets of literature
Small Vemanas many at present.

Chandragupta's victory-- "Sudhansu"

1.The Royal decision

We know that kumara Chandragupta could become the emperor of not only the kingdom of Magadha but also the entire India. He is matchless in talent, strength and bravery and in the wealth of all virtues.’ replied the king in calm tone o to his main queen.
“Then why did you ditch my son who has all the credentials to become the king and enthroned the sons of my sister?” asked the queen Muradevi fiercely.
The king talked briefly in a deep voice “ Devi! That is the political secret beyond you. you are the reason for the disqualification of kumara Chandragupta for becoming a king!’ Mura got stunned. ‘ what do you say, my lord ? am I responsible for the disqualification of Chandragupta. It beats me, lord!”
I know it’s beyond your ken! Listen to me. Your father has become an outcast due to religious conversion. Neither the ministers nor the people would agree for making the son of such a daughter into a king.” The king relied in firm tone.
“Where are these ministers and people when you made me your main queen?
“That’s quite different. They accepted you in deference to my wishes.”
“Why can’t they accept the enthronement of my son now?”
The quarrel between the royal couple turned more fierce.
“We have never promised you to make your son as the king. That’s your sour grapes!
“ Yes, I am the guilty! I have no eligibility to become the mother of the king! Sunanda is the divine damsel to your eyes! You want me to serve her as the mother of the king.” spoke Mura devi in distressed voice. The king began to console her.

***
“We have never promised you to make your son as the king. That’s your sour grapes!
“ Yes, I am the guilty! I have no eligibility to become the mother of the king! Sunanda is the divine damsel to your eyes! You want me to serve her as the mother of the king.” spoke Mura devi in distressed voice. The king began to console her.
“Devi! Don’t feel regrets. We have done this in view of the welfare of the kingdom. your son is not a servant simply because the sons of Sunanda are the lords. We decided to appoint the brave Chandragupta as the commander-in- chief.”
“It’s no nobility! Is it great to turn one fit for being a king into a commander-in-chief?”
What is in hands of a king ? He’s in the hands of a commander. If he decides the throne will crumble.”
Mahapadmanada is trying to soothe Muradevi in vain.
“ the lord can’t undo the justice through his glib tongue. I would say that even the greatest commander-in- chief is merely a servant of the king . why words?”
We have taken this decision keeping in view the wellbeing of the kingdom, the people’s pulse , the mind of the ministers, the decision is irrevocable!”
Muradevi is like a cobra enraged.
Yes! your decision is irrevocable since you are the lord eminent. But in case god decides otherwise, everything can change by itself and dharma will triumph and justice ill be enthroned! Muradevi rose and entered her chamber of privacy. The king turned answerless and started walking towards the palace of Sunanda.
***
Muradevi whose hopes have been dashed felt distressed and went to her son to reveal the king’s heart. She suffered from agony unbearable due to her misfortune that deprived Chandragupta, the rightful heir to the king . Chandragupta listened to her sorrow in a mood of contemplation.
Yes, mom! I have been doubting that it would happen like this. But don’t suffer, mother! Your son will get you the honour of being called as the queen mother. It’s more delightful to acquire kingdom out of bravery and prowess rather than as the king’s gift! I promise you that Maurya Chandragupta will inevitably become the king of Magadha and the emperor and realize the dreams of mother!” Mura’s distressed heart felt a sort of relief.
She embraced her son and spoke in love.” Chandra! You are my darling! I believe in you and your prowess. You have to occupy the throne and redress the injustice and fulfill my
life’s ambition”. Her tears bathed his head while he spoke bravely.
“Be cool, mother! God , the protector of Dharma can come to our rescue.”


Chapter 2 : Commander in- chief

Mahapadmananda ,the king of Magadha has two wives- the eldest is Muradevi and the younger is Sunanda devi. Both of them hailed from the royal families. Muradevi was the daughter of the lord of Pippalavana of great dynasty who took to Buddhisn and fell out of favour with Brahmins o propagated that he was an outcast and not royal .But Mahapadmanada took Muradevi as his wife unmindful of that propaganda. Though the king was polygamous, he fell for the beauty of Sunanda and reserved his special affection for her. Thu Mura got the royal respect whereas Sunandsa grabbed royal affection.

Mahapadmanada had the vast and well-established kingdom, enormous wealth, numerous servants, brilliant ministers, powerful army, but he was not blessed with children. It caused him an unspeakable anguish that he had no heir to rule the kingdom invincible to the enemies. The queens did al they could- prayers, visits to the temples, religious rituals, bathing in the holy rivers. But all it came to nothing.

Mahapadmanada consulted his ministers. He talked to his ministers and closeted with Rakshsamatya, who was closest to him, talented, blessed with magical powers, man of character and action and the most loyal one. The chief minister advised the king to seek the blessings of rishis who could grant boons great and rare and who would oblige the king for the sake of the welfare of the world. This prompted the king to visit the rishi of divine and miraculous powers living in the ashram nearby Kailaseawara temple in the deep forest of Pataliputra.

***

The ashram region was quiet, full of trees bent with the weight of fruits and creepers that climbed the trees, fragrance of flowers wafted by the wind ,nectar in the beautiful and tender flowers, and the songs of Koels turned mad after eating fruits tender .The king entered and proceeded in the hermitage where the parrots and other birds were making merry, the Vedas were being chanted and the animals were glad to see the leaping of their offspring .



The rishi invited the king with affection and the later worshipped the rishi appropriately to satisfy his inner desire. Pleased with the king’s obedience, the rishi gave him a boon. He sprinkled the holy water drops on the heads of the king’s wives. One drop fell on the head of Muradevi and eight drops on the head of Sunanda. The rishi blessed that the king would beget nine sons and one of them would become the most powerful, brightest and the world-famous emperor of the vast country. The rishi said that Muradevi would beget one son and Sunanda would beget eight sons. the king became mightily pleased and bid farewell to the rishi.

Mahapadmananda’s long-standing wish came true and he begot nine sons. the eldest one was named Chandragupta and the rest of the eight came to known as “Nandas.” The news that the king was blessed with sons spread like full moon light, shower of scent, melodious song, and malayamarut and plunged the folks in festivities.

***

The princes grew into adults and learned the education , etiquette and knowledge befitting their status. They turned into masers of martial arts. Among all these, Chandragupta, turned into an intellectual, expert of all fields, man of humility and won the affection of the teachers he became a matchless figure in archery, swordsmanship, throwing of the javelin, in the use of various weapons , riding of the horses, elephants and chariots, planning , breaking and defending various strategies of war.

From the beginning the sons of Sunanda have developed jealously and hatred towards Chandragupta and turned into men of egoism, licentious and irresponsible.

Mahapadmanada decided to give up his kingship due to old age and to go to the forest to take rest like a man of detachment. Though Chandragupta had been the eldest and his real heir to the throne, he decided to favour the Nandas for the kingship. He was afraid that people and his ministers won’t approve of Chandragupta’s candidature and the possible rebellion due to the conversion of Chandraguta’s maternal grandfather into Buddhism and being called an outcast. He took the ministers into confidence and began the effort to coronate the dhanananda.

Sunanda became elated at the stroke of good luck that visited her sons. She saw the king face down like the flag affected by the wind coming towards her palace. She accosted with smiling face and mad him sit on a seat comfortable. The king was very impressed by her love and affection and her closeness soothed him like scented water. His heart bloomed and her services pleased him a lot.

Sunanda; the lord is indifferent! May I know the reason?
King: nothing, lady! Your presence has filled my heart with supreme peace like the beautiful moon
Sunanda ( In humility ): It’s grace of the lord! Your affection for this servant might have given peace to you.
The king (elated and in soliloquy) : “What a vast difference between Mura devi and this woman! she’s like the hurricane and this is like malayamarut1 It’s most befitting to give kingdom to Sunanda’s son. It’s apt to give chief commandership to Mura’s son.”

On one fine occasion, the eldest of the Nandas was crowned. The Nandas were elated and behaved as they moved as they pleased on that occasion. Chandragupta became the commander- in-chief. The old king made the chief minister pledge that he would take care of the kingdom went to the forest along with Sunanda. Muradevi stayed back in the hope of the rise of Chandragupta’s star.

Chapter 3: The fury of the king

The Nandas had neither any interest in running the kingdom nor an iota of efficiency . they behaved licentiously since they took the power. They were without morals befitting the running of the government. They knew no knowledge and discretion. They used to behave with bad temper and bereft of control and appropriateness. They used to while away day and night in slavishness to the looks of numerous women, drinking and houses of gambling, dances of the damsels and singing of the singers. They had no mind to carryout the acts for the welfare of the people.

In the course of time the Nandas’ atrocities went beyond the limits. There was no security to the life, property and honour of the people, especially women. So they lost the love and affection of the people. The servants of used to squeeze money from the people in many ways and amassed the wealth. The distressed and even the chief minister could approach the king. The ministers could not melt the hearts of the Nandas and felt helpless. In these conditions Chandragupta slowly began to take care of the royal activities. He used to enquire after the sufferings of the people, take the necessary actions, make the apt laws of governance and win the affection of the people. The Nandas remained the kings only in name.

On seeing this Rakshsamatya felt disturbed . He apprehended that Chandragupta would become the king replacing the Nandas and in that case his word to Mahapadmanada would be of no avail. He tried fruitlessly to meet the Dhanananda many times. But the latter surrounded always by the beautiful courtesans gave him no chance.

***


One day Rakshsamatya could meet the king after with the utmost difficulty and the king Nanda came out of the palace of pleasure in annoyance and asked the minister what had brought him there.
Minister ; the lord has to become alert, the kingdom is in danger.
King Nanda : What’s the danger? When you are there, how come the situation?
Minister: The lord himself must bearthe burden of the ruling the kingdom and the ministers are mere helpers! If you are unmindful of the royal duties, there would be danger for you and your kingdom.
Nanda: If the king himself had to look after the affairs of the kingdom , what would ministers do? To just eat and sleep? We want to remove such useless ministers.
Minister Rakshasa: The king has to become peaceful and in haste is warranted in the affairs of the kingdom.
Nanda: we don’t have patience. Tell me what you have to .
Minister: yes, me lord! The commander is taking the affairs of the kingdom and is not consulting even the ministers. If allowed this could lead to disorder in the kingdom.
Nanda: Oh, a genius! Why are you so afraid “ If Chandragupta took affairs in to his hands, it was because he was efficient . Perhaps, he didn’t have to consult with the ministers. why are you grief- stricken? Take your salary, go home and spend your time with your wife and children. No danger to either the king or kingdom. I brook no delay in going to shire in the forest!
The kind Nanda rose and went away . The minister was disappointed and went home.

***
By next morning, the Nanda King came to his senses. He began to understand the words of Rakshasamatya. He had been appending time in pleasure-seeking while Chandragupta was slowly improving his clout. If Chandragupta takes advantage of the situation what would happen to himself and his brothers? they would lose their kingdom and end up as paupers. Who would come to their rescue? Everyone would serve only the king. Their father gave them kingdom out of special affection and deceived Chadragutpa. Perhaps it might be true that Chandragupta has been trying to grab the power. In that case, what would happen to them? He trembles with this thought and prevent it from becoming true through expelling Chandargupta from the kingdom. He sent soldiers to fetch him

***
Chandrgupta anticipated danger when he heard the king’s command. Still, he came to the king fully prepared. The king looked at him and said in disrespect.
‘’ Chandragupta! The ministers are alleging that you are interfering excessively in running the administration. What do you say?”
Chandragupta (recklessly) :When the king is inefficient and indifferent, the commnder-in- chief had no other option except bearing the burden of governance?”
The king ( in anger): who asked you to bear the so called burden?
Chandra ( fearlessly) : I my self have done it for the sake of the people.

“ You are a betrayer1 for the crime of attempt to usurp power and dethrone us , we are banishing you from the kingdom.
“ Good riddance! It’s better not to remain as commander-in- chief in the absence of the king’s confidence.”

Chandragupta stood up.
“You are dismissed from your post since you defied the king. We re sending you to the prison in the interest of the king’s security. your case will be reviewed depending on your behavior.”
The king’s order was implemented. Chandragupta along with his mother Mura devi was imprisoned in a horrible dungeon.

"What are blots? What are flashes?"

Gopichand’s novel “Merupula marakalu” ( Blots of Flashes ) shows the conflict between animal self and higher self in human. In the course of history, humans made monogamy as the virtue out of necessity. From the tribal society where relations between man and woman were relatively free to the present times when they are coercive in a sense , humanity has walked a long distance. These relations are man made and can be broken based on their consent. Anna Karenina in Tolstoy’s novel commits suicide unable to break free from religious shackles which prevented her from getting divorce from her husband. Polyandry, polygamy, monogamy , trial marriages, single parenthood—the society has been moving. Patriarchal family which has replaced matriarchal family become a norm to sustain the private property in the same lineage.
Usha Rani’s conflict has been due to her irrepressible sexuality and individuality versus monogamous norm. she hasn’t found her soul mate in spite of her legal marriage to Ramanujam, a lawyer and her affairs with Chakravarthy (a journalist), Sri Kant and Kmalakaram , husband of sister of Sri Kant. She has flouted family norms, gave happiness, deceived her lovers, felt poetic emotions, practiced coquetry, saw the chauvinism of men, their hypocrisy, pathetic dependence , violent temperament. In her deviation from the lower circle of desires, she has been reaching for higher circle of consciousness as Gopichand tries to portray.Her restlessness makes her a yogini in the Himalayas at the end after she has gone through the ordeal of internal and external journey. She doesn’t agree that love can be only with one person at a time whereas all her male friends except Kamala karam see it as a bond of pleasure rather than a means of freedom from narrowness. They excuse their infidelities but not hers. But she corners them with her glib tongue and asks them to justify their own secret pleasures with her violating so called family norms. Chakravarthy realizes his folly when he meets with an accident and his wife serves him to make him normal.
Gopichand’s discussion of psychological theories of Freud, Havelock Ellis and others through dialogues between Usharani and Kamalakaram reveal that the author is not treating sex as a taboo unlike the earlier authors who romanticized love and family system. The novel has caused sensation when it was published as a serial and Gopichand’s poetic description of Usharani, her feelings, the historical places and the Himalayas shows another aspect of this ‘Vedana jeevi’ ( creature of anguish) at the stifling nature and stupidity of the old morals.
The author reveals how people bound by norms suffer like flies in ointment .
People mouth morals in spite of nurturing lust in their hearts as shown in the behaviour of Chandravadanulu, an old poet.

The fall made one man a yogi Vemana or Tulsidas.
The ‘fall’ made Usha Rani to become a Yogini in the Himalayas.

One also likes to ask, “Need one become a saint as a penance to expression of one’s desire? Is it Indian palliative?

Satrughna

Satrughna is a minor character in the Ramayana. He was as loyal to Bharatha as Lakshmana was to Sri Rama. He along with Bharatha returned on coming to know about Rama’s exile to forest. He got angry over Manthara’ s role and tried to kill her for her act. Bharatha calmed him saying that Rama won’t approve of killing a woman . Later he followed Bharata to the forest to see Rama and showed his deep sorrow over Rama’s predicament. Sri Rama advised him not to show disrespect to mother Kaikeyi After fourteen years he sought the permission of Rama to kill Lavanasura and spare Bharatha the trouble as he had already spent fourteen years as an ascetic in waiting for Rama. He had to rule Lavanasura’s kingdom after his victory over the demon for twelve years. On his expedition against Lavnasura he stayed at Valmiki’s ashram and came to know about the birth of Lava and Kusha. Again on his return journey after twelve years, he again stayed at Valmiki’ ashram and listened to their singing of Ramayana and spent the night thinking about Rama. Later he Joined Sri Rama in his final journey to Vaikunta .
Satrughna was Rama’s devotee, silent worker, man of detachment, flexibility, brightness , follower of teachers and an able warrior.

READING "VEELUNAMA" AFTER 25 YEARS

I have read Gopichand’s “Pandita Parameswara sastry Veelunama’ second time after more than two decades. In the first reading I was impressed by his tender feelings, the role of a writer , Aurobindian philosophy integrated in his novel. At that time I used to smile at the way Gopichand exposed the hypocrisy embedded in some lesser breed of writers who suffered from mental pollution and derived pervert joy in dragging real writers to their level. When I was under the dominant influence of rationalism and materialism, I could not appreciate the novel totally. Now when I am able to strive after the integration of materialistic and realistic perspectives in the manner of Gopichand , I understand the eminent efforts and genius displayed by him in not only finding a path for him but also in helping the next generation cultivate open- mindedness and the desire to seek perfection in the evolution of life and literature .

In the novel, Keshava murthy suffers from his ‘friends’ who spread scandals against him out of jealousy. Iago in Shakeapeare’s Othello could not tolerate beauty in the life and finds daily ugliness in it out of jealousy. Seemantam is such a character who interferes in the life of a genius writer and tries to defame him . He spreads scandals against him , writers letters to Sujata, Keshava Murthy’s wife, incognito casting aspersion on his character as he could not win the love of Sujata earlier.
Gopi Chand exposes others who want to thrive on blackmailing in the name of running journals. Krishna murthy who gets benefited by Keshava murthy resents his success and demands favours , criticizes unjustly , deviates from the right path and suffers macabre death. Keshava murthy sheds tears over this and for his inability to help this errant fellow. The characters of Subhashini and Kanyakamani portray their genuine love and respect towards Keshava murthy whose writings they admire.
Parameswara Sastry who has raised Sujata, an “orphan’ ( his daughter in reality) has no love for modern trends in literature. he breaks with his daughter when she marries Keshava murthy against his will and refuses to see her. When he falls ill, Sujata takes her son to him and a sort of reconciliation takes place. The conspiracy of Seemantam and others to make Parmeswara Sastry give away his property for a college which they want to run fail. Sastry in his testament writes his property to Keshava murthy and admits hoe he has tried to tread modern path in writing in vain in the manner of Keshva Sastry.
The novel also relates Aurobindian idea that man can become superman in evolution when he give up his comfort zone and strives to integrate materialistic and idealistic perspectives and goes beyond mind.. A writer has to think originally , create a cosmos in the inside of his self , transform experiences of his own and of others in to characters. The adoption of multiple perspectives in story telling would help in achieving more authenticity of life.

He is indeed a masterful writer of insight, reason, observation of human motives, behaviour whose works continue to be seen as releant and redeeming for decades to come. He is an immortal writer.

URMILA KUMARI-- 'KARUNASRI' JANDHYALA PAPAYYA SASTRY

Sita who followed Rama would treat
Fourteen years as one minute and returns
How to spend so much time in city of emptiness
in separation from husband of yours?

With husband forests are palaces
Without him palaces are forests
For Janaki forest life is the queen’s residence
Without your darling you are in deep forest.

“While my brother and sister-in-law are forest
I have the good fortune of serving them
Do not follow me” says the husband
Your heart sank and suppressed is your sorrow great


To the husband who says “See you”
Somehow you raised your head to give assent
With voice choked and tears in your eyes blue
My heart is water on seeing you, Urmila!

Press your tears warm streaming
From your eyes with mascara
With end of your saree
The earth can’t bear tears of a loyal wife like you!

Your husband gone to serve his brother dear
Your darling sister would serve her lord,
Alone and crestfallen
How can you remain here like a daughter –in-law?

Won’t Kaika chide you forever
Saying "you are wife of Lakshmana
who was firm to destroy
My son and me?"

Fate cruel might have turned jealous
Turned your marital bliss of desires young
into a forest out of
Caprice and malice!

Your two sisters are serving their husbands
Sita is with her beloved in forest
How can you pass fourteen years
With heart turbulent and in loneliness ?

Don’t feel dejected at word
You're making merry while husband is in the wild
History reveals your sacrifice
Tears move the heart of world.

While turning your youth beautiful
Into moonlight in the wilderness
You surpassed Sita in devotion to husband
Your fame crept far and wide, oh, lady meritorious!

GOPICHAND AND THE DISCOVERY OF THE MIDDLE CLASS SELF

Gopichand’s novels probe and unravel the existential anguish and inescapable hollowness of middleclass life. He brings out incense, the innocence and rationalizations of the incompetent , material success and vibrancy of the nonconformists and emptiness in the lives of the people bound by morals outdated. Time and tide of social change wait for none. People who commit ‘mistakes’ expand the range of their experience and enjoy their lives whereas the virtuous people suffer from unbearable narrowness. The writer shows the pathetic state of the moral people who are jealous of the free and justify their moral smugness. Tenderness in human relations, vibrancy of new way of life and human choice as a source of pleasure or pain are portrayed in detail and in depth in the novels of Gopichand which move the readers’ hearts profoundly.

In his ‘Sidhilalayam’ ( Dilapidated temple ), the writer shows how a ‘good’ husband fails to understand his ‘backward’ wife who seeks true love outside the prison of narrow family life. He pleads her to come back in vain and he realizes that his happiness lies in getting rid of the fear of public opinion and starting a new life with a woman who comes to him.

His ‘Gatinchani Gatam ‘ ( The past undead) is one of the best novelettes on partition. Hussain Khan, a rajakar rejects his mother’s advice and commits heinous deeds. Once he molests a Hindu girl called Parvathi and appropriates the land of one Danaiah. After police action, he runs to Pak but comes back unable to find life he expected there. His former colleagues now turn their back on him. He comes to know that the girl whom he harmed treated him as her husband till the last and left her child under the care of an old muslim man. his own mother has been looked after by Danaiah , A Hindu who builds her tomb in his garden. These facts change Hussain who repents over his mother’s grave and his tears cleanse his evil soul and expose the religious identity and highlights humanism.

Gopichand’s ‘Gadiapadani talupulu’ ( Doors unbolted) shows the shock of an idealist young man Srinivasa Rao . He turns into an ascetic when he realizes the real life of his ideal woman Koteswaramma whom he loves outside the wedlock. Koteswaramma also realizes the pain caused to Rao and tries to find out his whereabouts. Both of them meet in an ashram and an accidental meeting make them outcasts from the ashram. Srinivasa Rao again runs away to find solace in asceticism whereas Koteswaramma who still worships her first husband retires from the world of power, politics, influence and nonconformist life seeks reclusive life. The writer , a common friend of both Rao and Koeteswaramma offers his help, sympathy, and reads Bhagavatam in her last days praises her rational outlook and widened range of her perspective.

His ‘Premopahatulu ‘ ( The Rejected of love) shows the machinations of a modern couple Jaya Ramarao and Sundari who abet and condone their mutual affairs in the marriage of their convenience. Sundari tries to lure Kalyani, who comes from Nizvid (small town ) to stay with her for a while till she finds a house for her husband and herself in Hyderabad. The couple slowly try to build a web around Kalyani through their words and creation of ‘situations.’ When they go to a cinema hall, Kalyani sees true intentions of Rama rao and for her the couple are devils in league. The modern husband Rao warns and intimidates Sundari to convince Kalyani to come to him or face his wrath. Kalyani is surprised at the change in Sundari, the intelligent girl into a woman of cunningness who values her pleasure at the cost of others.

In his novel, Yamapasham ( The Rope of Yama) , Gopichand has exposed the life of a clerk in the manner of Chekhov or Kafka but with Indian realistic spirit intact. Narayana Rao is a clerk whose life has belied his ideals and turned him in to over analytical, impractical , self-justifying and remorseful over his lagging behind in the race of life. He has seven children , wife down and lusterless, fear of boss, rebellion of heart , timidity of brain, economic troubles, middle class egoism, hopes dashed, ignorance of world, innocence of secret of rising in hierarchy, self- pity and condemnation of the upstart etc. His eldest daughter Arundhathi says that they have confined to their pigeonholes and put up with insults in the name of conditions. Narayan Rao’s middle class self is too steeped in struggle for existence in the mould of morals dying and dead. Yamapasham is nothing other than outdated morals trying to dam the river life that flows on and on irrespective of murmurs of people left behind. The lives of many bound in files of officialdom suffer from yamapasham of red tapism. Gopichand’s protagonist says that man has to live on instead of escaping or getting drowned in the stream. There are no problems or solutions but life pure.

Homage to a professor

Prof. Ramamurthy of Electrical engineering of GVPCE is no more. But his profound personality and its impact remain. His beautiful handwriting on the black board always remains in my memory. His reasonable and resounding voice, beautiful diction and melodious rendering of Karunasri’s “Pushpa Vilapam” remain. His friendly advice, banter with his colleagues and the image of walking to the class room with a box of chalks remain. His handsome face with Spartan features , impeccable impression and no nonsense approach he left behind will certainly remain. May his soul rest in peace and guide us in our endeavour to be heirs to his legacy.

SUBURBAN SIGHS : LITERARY -RAVINDRANATH JANDHYALA

1.DEATH ALONE IS NOT TRAGEDY

You alone can write some things. If you wait forever for a right or ‘write’ moment to pen a lasting piece of work, you end up writing little or nothing. You will only be able to blacken the white paper occasionally. The spider silk of creativity are broken due to continuous postponement. The over tension between the world and your self is fruitless. Art cements a relationship between your self and the world. If you fail to write, you need no other tragedy such as the death of your friend or spouse or child to depress you. If you are mired in your memories, your creativity would never bloom. Life, the fountainhead of creativity also gets dried up.


2.PAINS OF DELIVERY

You don’t stake any claim to absolute truth. Truth seekers can go to science or history. Since a truth is true from your own viewpoint, let others agree or disagree with you. You find more delight in reading rather than writing. You suffer from an acute sense of loneliness in this bloody crowded world. The herd-mind-- religious or irreligious is ready to tyrannize you. Trade mongers or war mongers support firms firmly at the cost of humans Be firm and suffer from pangs of delivery and let the world be charmed by the newly born.


3.RELATIVISE YOUR SUFFERING

Myriad moments melted in the sea of time. You are caught in Miltonic anguish or Chaudhurian angst. Souls more courageous than you courted the damsel of death. You shied away from her passionate and deadly embrace. Your temperament is rather gloomy and idealistic. Think of man-inflicted and avoidable suffering of children, men and women in Afghanistan and Iraq. Think of the people buried alive in Haiti and Chile. Are you still gloomy or dreamy? Do You still want to sing “the eternal tune of sadness”?

“Sophocles long ago/ Heard it on the Aegean, and it brought/
In to his mind the turbid ebb and flow/Of human misery.”


4.DILEMMA

The cloud of ‘foreign’ language hovers over your mindscape. Michael Madhusudan Dutt, the Bengali poet also faced the same situation. Modern Indian English writers say that English is as much Indian as any other language. You are tossed between mother tongue and motherly tongue. Your words may not move canonists or cannon-lovers. But they surely drive the devil of your discontentment out. It is quite likely that there may be someone like you in this world now or in remote future who would relish the dish you cooked.

5.DELIGHT THE READER

The obsession with politics and the submission to the censor have sapped the creativity of many a writer. In the world of corrupt politics and bloody fists, literature offers an alternative means to understand the world. Shouldn’t a writer appeal to the emotional as well as logical aspects of the reader’s mind? To Margaret Atwood, writing means seizing the control of your destiny. No writing, no communication. No life.



6.YOU ARE MATERIAL

You find that literature is pushed to the secondary position in comparison with entertainment industry. But pages live longer. the meaning of your life emerges through pages alone. From cosmic viewpoint, your writing may be trivial.
You feel sad when you think of martyrs who cannot tell tales. It is the choice of the living. Neruda, the poet died in Chile for Socialism. In Siberia of suppression, Solzhenitsyn worked in a labour camp and survived the Soviet imperialism. If you are afraid of taking “a leap in the dark,” it is better not to be a writer or a fighter.

7.DON’T LOSE CURIOSITY

You are a child. Your thought starts with your origin, your parents and stops at your grand-grand parents. You don’t know about Charles Darwin or Bertrand Russel or Stephen Hawking. Then you fall in love with letters on a page. You wait for “Chandamama” or Andhra Prabha weekly to read stories illustrated. Even a potlam ( wrapper) which contains eatables draws your interest. You feel that every thing to be written has already been written by somebody else. As a young rebel you decide to turn your life into poetry. The resultant repression sends your creativity and curiosity into the nether world. No curiosity means conformity.


8.LIVE FOR ART

If You watched the ballet, “Sambhavami Yuge Yuge” performed by Sobha Naidu and her troupe, you would appreciate the secret of art. She seems to have subdued and sublimated the personal demons in the worship of art. The secret of the artistic success is that you have to live if not die for it. You should have the courage of the gambler and hope fervently amidst deep despair. Perseverance is the “open, sesame” to the treasure hidden in side the cave of one’s mind and heart. Artist Ali Baba can hoodwink the thieves of distraction if he doesn’t forget the mantra. He can find treasures of creativity when his mind is relaxed.






9.POETRY IS AN INSIDER

Poetry even today is neither elitist nor insincere. It is as difficult as writing a drama or story or a novel. It needs a lot of courage to write poetry in the era of business communication, science fiction and non-fiction. Your entire personality alone knows which form and style are apt for your artistic articulation. You must sincerely believe in the efficacy of writing. New thoughts– think, continue, write, own, change and spread them. Your memory miraculously connects the remotest fragments of thoughts and detects the usually undetectable things.



10.RUSHING ONTO PAGE

You are at six and forty. You are at sixes and sevens. You read many books and penned a few poems. You taught and sought to write in a foreign language. Your critic says that you thought in mother tongue and wrote in ‘(sm)other’ tongue. You swing between harmony and discord. You love Rushdie’s writings and but do not rush- to- die. Your life is a tale of sound, sparks of fury and a little significance.

11.THINK ORIGINALLY

White paper is a bed. The pen is the mother. Letters are sons and daughters. Their friends called ideas lead to more ideas to action. Do ideas and actions have value? Your ideas evade wastage due to thoughtless acts whereas your actions exude energy. You use and misuse words to make or mar meanings.

12. AN INCREDIBLE MIND

It’s difficult to measure the creative reservoir of Shakespeare. The name of Marlowe or Ben Johnson is invoked to dismiss the genius of Shakespeare. But Vyasa wrote the epic Mahabharata in one lakh slokas. Tikkana translated fifteen parts of the epic into Telugu. Voltaire wrote many volumes. In our times Russel, Asimov, Doris Lessing, Margaret Atwood and others wrote copiously. Human brain is a miracle-- a source of infinite creativity as well as immense stupidity. In stead of using it creatively, many only know how to abuse their minds and their human existence.
13.THE VALIANT NEVER TASTES DEATH….

Avoid posing as a detached thinker. Literature is not neutral like Switzerland. One has to be objective like Arundhati Roy but not like “ clinically objective” intellectuals who don’t know the despair of the deprived and write to dull, lull and kill the spirit of the struggle. You find the clash of ideas, castes, classes, nations, races and genders. The tyrants of any hue- white, brown, red must be criticized. But politics permeate our lives till we know their true value. On the other hand, one can concur with historian Collingwood’s words that all his life he had been engaged with politics unawares. At last he decided to fight consciously. Some delude themselves that the victory of one group is final and the end of history. There are no permanent victories or defeats in history. Every generation has to fight afresh, consolidate, make or suffer from history.


14. NOTHING LESS THAN COSMOS

It seems Telugu writers have embraced identity politics – feminism, minority, Dalit literature etc. in a narrow minded way. They are not able to give larger picture. How can they enthuse all the sections of the people for change?
Poetry is seen as elitist. Prose, that too short story alone is in. what is about essay, novel, monograph, prose poem, imaginary interviews etc.?
A writer has to go on doing his duty to understand and make others understand the reality. She has to understand herself as an individual and the larger society. Her task is like that of a doctor, engineer, artisan or a soldier. A writer has to entertain, enthuse and enlighten the readers cutting across age, gender, class, religion or community. All may not respond in the same manner to the same degree at the same time. She has to give new ideas- aesthetic, scientific, political or economic etc. She has to write not to sell best in numbers but influence as many as possible deeply and for good. A professional writer is not partial and his subject is nothing less than the entire cosmos.

15. A LOT IN A FEW WORDS

Reading is an individual act. It decides the destiny of an individual to some extent or other if he does it for a purpose. Readers like according to their needs and interests and expectations from life. What impresses one may depress another. Purposeful reading has to be followed by purposeful writing. Today many things are flooding the market and time is all. So, a writer has to tell a lot in a few words and impress the reader a great deal.


16.IS PRESENT ENOUGH?

What struck a chord in your heart yesterday may leave you cold now. Why Shakespeare? Why Shaw or Ibsen or Marx? Is contemporariness all? Should we praise the present at the cost of the past? You feel a hole in your heart when you have to reject your past for the present? Past, present and future cannot be pigeonholed from one another.

ADAVI BAPIRAJU'S POEMS-- (Trans. RAVINDRANATH )

Poet Ravi!

Universal man of charm you are!
Oh! Poet Ravi !
Your voice beautiful and permanent !
Piercing black clouds and darkness deep
Gives lights supreme // Uni//

Devotion sweet
Word of joy celestial
Bloomed in world
Nectar in the word // uni//

Viswanatha is lord
Universal poetry is love
Their love divine
Divine Gitanjali!

***

Flying
Spreading its big white wings
In blue sky vast
A white large crane.

In this life infinite
In times dark
On journey endless
Alone I am.
***
In Modavakam hospital
Great poets.
Surrealists
Should learn from them.

***
He is Krishna.
You are Krishna.
He is Krishna.
He is the Buddha,
You and I are Buddhas
He’s an animal
He ! Only he!

***
When Sanyasis earn
Piles of wealth
Out of divine inspiration
For the sake of God,
Need the mundane men
Turn into guards of burial ground?

***


Fraternity of Brahmananda is Rasananda
Fraternity of Rasananda is pleasure of truth.

***

Saktiman
(1946)
There exists good force in me
Exist powers giant, creative, destructive !
It can shake all worlds
Smash some ages
Turns stars into dust
Brings heaven to earth. //there exists//

Melodious songs melting hearts
Words of pride rousing men
Can be sung by my voice
Can be uttered by slogan of my voice. //there exists//

Sad stories of low men
Cruel histories of brutal people
Can be woven by my imaginative power
Can be played by love of my word power. //there exists//

There burns deep hatred in me
Blooms love sweet
Get depressed in jealousy
Bear insults in patience. //there exists//

Blast the world entire
Turns into slave of world
Would dance in chaos
Would smile in faints of love //there exists//

Tar with colours black
Flow lines black
Would down tunes tainted
Would sing tunes tender //there exists//

NAVAJIVANAMU-- TVS (TRANS.. Ravindranath)

NAVJIVANAMU ( NEW LIFE)

Poet: poetry

‘This play of infinite cosmos
This beauty of vast blue sky
These assembly of clouds winds of the sea
This nature’s miracle immense, amazing
Invincible, incredible immortal, infinite’
Wandering in the realm of mind
Waves of ideas like breezes mild
While wide blue eyes are watching
Dreams of paradise historical portraits
In weird and wonderful hues
Bevies of beautiful damsels
Appear like clusters of creepers
The poet Listens alone to the song of nature power
On sea shore during nocturnal
In his heart the roar of heart of the sea
In sound and sleep peaceful he
Goes on shire into realms of vast space
Talks to the Mars
Converses with the Indra
Sees lovely and most beautiful Urvasi
Fills his heart with thoughts sweet and strange
Goes to Satyaloka from the sky.

He offers smiles sans reason
Is he mad, baby or an ascetic wandering!
The sun of penance beyond pleasure and pain human!
He smiles with bright light of happiness eternal
He shines with perspective indefinable,
He plays with endless tragedy of life!
The poet sat with brows puckered
See, gathering at high speed
The shadows of despair vague
The clouds of doubt in the sky of his heart!
“Aha! sorrow will swell in my heart today
These men are my brothers,
These women are my sisters,
Fools, knaves, rogues
Sinners, murderers, cheats,
Beings of dirt and rust
Servants of machines of karma merciless
These men my brothers
These women my sisters---
They are part of my being
These mental torments, desires
This fervour of life, this despair
This exciting love, this parting
These are specks of my soul”.
The poet runs with mind agitated
Moves in realms strange
Some amazing destiny shone
Like light pure
And carries him on wings of hope.!

Stopping and looking at four corners
On his pale face a sort of wonder
As if the full moon lost the Sun,
Some apathy in his body still
Suddenly morning lights of emotion:
“Oh! Mother nature! Celestial light!
Bloomer of idea cosmic since the big bang
Bundle of cosmic light!
Severe blows to my heart delicate
Clouds black in my ideas sweet,
Roaring of the sea of despair in my soul
Doubts of darkness in my vision of future
Are born and terrorizing today,
Mother! with touch of your hands divine
Raise waves of peace endless in me!
Create the springs of songs nectarine in me!”
Thus the poet is crying—
The anguish of his heart turned into roar of the world
His cry the cosmic cry
His prayer the prayer of the world
Even in the abyss of despair
Created he the shining stars celestial –
He is of the tribe of the creator;
The poet is looking at the earth
With eyes blue beautiful and wide
The youth of nature inspired by the spring anew
These smiles of flowers beautiful, fragrant and tender
These songs of bees mad to sip nectar sweet
These melodies of cuckoos entranced
These chirpings of birds rapt in love
These dances of joy of the earth amazing
These white lights of clouds fair
The throbbing of heart of bride anew
The great lights of joy and beauty of the cosmos entire
Are bringing tears of joy,
The heart is melting like butter
Sweet powers of nature are entering the heart
Spontaneously
Messaging infinite power latent” --
Poet half-closed his eyes and forgot himself
Got drowned in stream of desire
Wafted over the waves of beauty
Sea of time is overflowing the banks
His inner eye has turned into the Sun splendid;
‘That’s infinite vacuum!
That’s the sunray on the day one
That’s blooming first moon divine
The lady earth is laughing in pleasure,
“ oh! He’s the first man
Bundle of beauty pure and awful
With eyes wide and wondrous
Looking at the earth, sun, planets and stars
Nature and cosmos entire
Prey to illusion beyond pleasure ;
Meanwhile creeper
The first woman tender like a creeper or a flower
Divine figure like monumental alabaster
Arriving like a river wave
The union of their first looks
That! Blooming of their first love
Those! Smiles innocent and romantic
The congress of the first couple!’—
The poet of nectarine ideas
Voyaged in the cosmos vast like a beam of light
Heard his ears instruments universal!
Oh! What are these drums of demoniac drums? Long wailing?
Sounds of canon cacophonous on ears
The Poet opened the eyes to embrace the world:
Aha! Man’s narrow heart!
Are these humans my brothers and sisters!
Are these ugly corpses of my body !
Forces of love of my heart! Divine forms of my soul!
Oh ! the pieces of human brain covered the earth
Like stones and injuries!
Assassins ! slaves of demons!
Innocents! Fools!
Captives of pride of strength illusory
Humans! Brothers!
How can I cry on seeing you!
How can I give measure of you?
What’s profit or loss?
The poet’s heart a sea of sorrow
Waves of sorrow rose like waves
Buffeted by the gales of hurricane!
The poet tried to sing song of sorrow
Failed and tears rained into oceans
United the cosmic sorrow in them
Strange serenity illumined the poet’s heart
Like lightening this minute
Heaps of sorrows the next minute
Raised their hoods and danced like black cobras
Suddenly stabilized peace universal—
He is a creature weird!


2
Obsession of idea beyond truth and falsehood
Knowledge divine without form and name
Peaceful light sans love or disgust
Blossomed in that heart amazing
The poet’s being shone like monumental alabaster
Exhibits light of soul divine –
This body of flesh and blood
House of bones and sorrow
When will it melt like snow
When will my soul leaves body
When will I permeate the cosmos
And cosmic forces journey in me
He turned emotional, monger of peace endless
Befriends the herd of clouds calamitous-
“These brothers treat me as a fool
They nod at my words
They shun my company thinking
I would roam in forests eerie
See me as unintelligible and incorrigible
There are strange lights in my eyes
Strange harps in my voice
Mistaking me for an angel or demon
They suspect and make mean outcast”--
The poet nodded his head in sorrow
He sought after loneliness and friendship
worried that he became an ascetic inevitable
Meanwhile twilight shone like a red shawl
The sky turned into a garden of roses
The earth shone in light strange
The birds are returning to the nests
Shining like stars the lights in houses
Dancing are stars in the sky
Old hills sitting like silent sages are my fraternity
These birds are my thoughts, nature my form’--

The poet perished in cosmic force
His heart absorbed the entire world
The strings of the harp are transcendental
Appear mute but make melodies
In a mood of elation make sounds mournful
Life is a harp of joy and sorrow
Dream ethereal without qualities!”—

In poet’s heart knowledge becomes doubt
The latter becomes divine guide of knowledge
The poet sighs and looks at all corners
Faints in sleep sweet and illusory
Travels in dream seeking light invisible—
“There! The island shines with buildings golden and divine
Dance halls of crystal pillars
Gardens, people without king ,equal among themselves
Bevies of courtesans emotional and licentious
No hunger, old age, disease or death in the city
Those citizens are wise and kind
Poet’s heart is cheerful
Tears of joy streamed from his eyes closed
Not willing to open his eyes lest his dream would vanish
Sorry to witness the wretchedness of the world
He has had to open his eyes and look around
Found the fraternity of humanity distressed
His heart a lake moved by sorrow, love and kindness
Emotion tender like a lady brought heaven before him
He was the sweet dream of Brahma
He saw heaven with heart bloomed by emotion divine
The bearer of rays of white light pure
Most melodious music of Gandharva
Waves windy, cool, kind and fragrant
Groups of angels, smells of parijatha flowers
Love games of eternal ecstasy
Sounds of Urvasi’s dance divine
Vedic renderings of groups of sages
Streams of nectar, swans wonderful
That heaven is bright and beyond dreams
Poet worried as if he dreamt
But heavenly truth etched on his heart –
“The enticing glances of blissful world
Creates an angel in me
My womb is growing due to ideas divine
I would give this treasure to the world
In poetry tender, sweet and celestial”
He nourished his ideas pregnant for nine years
Like a woman who preserves her pregnancy
The poet went into a forest and fell on ground in agony
Enveloped him a cloud of light and delivered a poem divine;
The tree withered put out shoots, boomed the bud
Koels sang in the fifth swara
Peacocks danced , parrots sang Sama Veda
Tigers deer lions elephants played together
Spread birds their wings, Malaya marut fine fragrance
Cooled the intense Sun and the Moonlight
Usha and Sandhya sprayed colours and reared the baby
Passion moved the heaven and earth
Auspicious sounds filled the space
The poem or Sarada began to sing
Her moon-like face beautiful and tender
Treasure house of language melodious
The poet saw, stunned and swooned
Poem touched the poet’s face slowly
With hands divine and love warm
In her looks moon rays cool, laughter nectarine
He opened his eyes, embraced her in elation and stood intact
Where she slept happily and grew like moon of Shukla paksha
turned into a girl of full youth
Saw the clouds and asked me to play with her
She touched jasmines and became the queen
Listened to the song of stream and became kinnera song
Saw the stars and became one with them
Ate mango shoots and sang like koel
Drenched in fragrance of roses and smiled as a rose
Turned into all forms of Brahma and became Nada Brahma
Became all and absorbed poet in her—
“ See that lady of new youth
Tender girl of fifteen year-old and like palace crystal
I her every limb bloomed the Cupid

Words sweet and parrot like
Heavenly dreams in her eyes, enticing curls in her hair
Lean waist, strong thighs, hair long and blue
Forehead like crescent and eyebrows like bow
Her youth, pride and completeness
Her cosmic power, form of auspicious!”—
The poet saw the spinster and smiled in rapture
Embraced her, kissed her and united her in love
The poem entered his soul like a beam of light
He heard the sounds of harp divine in nature entire
He forgot the heaven and earth
Went into some sphere wondrous and joyous
He became a force of cosmic nature.




3


Waking up from tomb of contemplation long
The poet looked at the world in wonder
On seeing the strange world of newborn creature
“ wanted to know difference between merit and sin
Read books great man and Sastras
Listened to Puranas, ethics, Gitas
Saw intellectuals galore
It was all invain
Merit and sins are meditations born of the strings of harp cosmic
Human action minus art and Rasa is sin
Melodious music full of divine nectar is merit
Song born in trance of desire is sin
Song born in jnana Samadhi is merit”—
Poet debated and turned quiet
Like the sea calm before the storm,
Appeared a new star in the sky of his heart—
“Miracle is knowledge of natural experience
Truth is knowledge of comedy and tragedy of life
Merit and sin, pleasure and pain , human dreams
Life pure and truthful is equal to vast ocean
There are fruits of true deeds
There mean ideas won’t arise
There rays of pure delight permanent
Dance of divine life endless”--
The poet thought ,turned inside and out
Surprised on seeing the world
“ In this cosmic ocean assemblies of individual objects
Humans travel a little and perish
Like sugar or salt in water,
Aha! See the fire beneath in the sea
It drinks springs of life like a horse
Aha! Bird of life is shaken
Moving in the orbits of cosmic emptiness
Aha! Immortal songs in the face of death,
Sounds of death in the womb of life heard
Listen! Nerves in brain are raising
Like pieces of light of an ancient star,
Are dancing madly,
Oh! Who’s smiling and weeping alone
On the shore yonder of the world existing
In these strange times!—
To the poet’s eyes world far
Appear like objects of world naked,
The poet is intact and doesn’t fall like a withered trunk in distress
He’s seer of life ever new –
What are those fierce sounds of drums,
What are those new sounds of harp,
New creation strikes the mind,
Pains of delivery in womb of time,
What’s this shaking me
Like movement of creatures aquatic in the depths
What splendid morning!
The poet saw and closed his eyes,
Dreamt of cosmic forms of future complete,
He got mesmerized in the death of the present
He shone in happiness of future divine --
“This is time shone with power pure and eternal
Time of growth of lovers new
Of auspicious morning of new life”—
Celestial lights beyond human eye
Heavenly songs beyond human imagination
The poet saw and heard – a creature bizarre!
Like the rainbow the poet bridges the heaven and earth
See, his entire body is burning!
He bloomed in emotion novel,
The poet created sounds indistinct on cosmic harp
Sounds tragic as well as comic,
They are pattern of divine music spontaneous
Extreme emotions unbound by laws
Roars of lions, trumpets of elephants
Sounds of hoofs of war horses, hissings of serpents
Sounds of waves rising and falling
Cooing of Koels, songs of swans
Sounds heartening of anklets of damsels divine—
The poet is penning the poem endless
His heart turned effortlessly into a mirror pure
Appeared all worlds in that mirror,
Struck all thoughts, times and melodies
The poet forgot himself with eyes half- closed
In dream of divine truth- beauty- bliss
Enveloped in ideas sweet
“ There Sita saw the deer golden
There Draupadi in distress in the court of the Kurus cruel
There mother of world Parvathi bowing before Lord Shiva
Sakuntala’s heart moved by love first”—
Before the poet’s eye revolved all poems
All puranas and epics like pictures in a gallery
He saw the past without turning back
And future without opening his eyes –
“Can past be seen as past?
Isn’t today the sapling rose out of the past?
Aren’t flowers of tomorrow buds on plant today?
Can’t know how I reached here after births numerous
He closed his eye of knowledge
Might I have been a stone in the past
A serpent or a lion or a bird
Or Christ on the cross?
May all powers of life respond in me !
May I become the king
Among all poets or even the Cupid tomorrow
Or a pole star after a hundred births!”—
In a second he saw the evolution of life infinite,
Lit light amazing before his eyes,
His soul burned with light supreme,
He’s a creature weird!

4

As tongues of fire of extreme agony
Consume the body and mind
Great fire of artistic tapas is burning
The poet tender like a flower.
Romantic like wave of pure wind
Most melodious like first song of love
Bright like fire without atom—
Earlier flowed out of his heart
Streams of life blood like his songs,
Sweet pains in his nerves
Course through like vibrant sounds in the world,
Though pierced by steel beaks of eagles of pain,
Though bitten by poisonous fangs of serpents of grief ,
He remains intact—won’t cry “aha!”
Stout- hearted was the poet like Prometheus!
Revolving a thousand worlds in him
Born and perished spheres one lakh in his heart,
Deep like cosmos infinite
See! The poet’s head became the Everest,
His neck the rainbow bridging the heaven and earth ,
His shoulders the hills where the sun rises and sets ,
Eyes are the sun and the moon ,
Out of his mouth heard are all Srutis,
He witnessed the world assuming form cosmic,
Bloomed in his heart universal ideas beyond love and disgust!
In his death lies the success of life and vice versa
Life and death are holy and something lies beyond them
Thinking that secret as truth ,he turned into an explorer—
If you have seen a waterfall
The solemn sound of the waves dancing of Krishna and Godavari
You can grasp the pattern of poet’s heart,
Creepers of lightening dazzling
Orbit around him like wheels of light,
Shine in his visage are silver rays of moon,
Burn in him diamond like fires amazing,
There! Fire covered by smoke
Now , sunlight dazzling
Feel not shyness on seeing his acts, sister!
He’s tender like a woman,
He takes in fragrance sweet spring in cupped hands
Maddened to adorn poem with garlands of songs
Soars on wings of dreams
Listens and imitates the twittering of birds
Lives invisible with woman tragic and estranged
And who sighs in sorrows!
There he orbits like smoke,
His words- streams of nectar
Oh! Humans! Brothers!
Where are you going in ways weird?
Why this aguish in times odd?
The world is a harp in my hand
Reverberate melodies when I play
Bright lights spread throughout cosmos
While all beings dance in trance
If I sing aloud
Blind hearts’ ll see flames divine
In your hearts flow divine power
Coursing through every nerve of cosmos
Brothers! Beyond al sufferings
I find one divine way—
It’s not path of thorns but of roses—
There spring eternal , moon rays serene
Melodies, nectarine lakes
Dance of damsels, love angelic
Ideas sweet, Sanskrit divine
Shine truths forever
That’s way of love of human fraternity
Treaded by my brothers who give up disgust and pride
Divine lights of my heart1!--
The poet played cosmic harp in emotion amazingly
Stopped the Sun , stars and wind,
He turned into a prophet of divine experience
Spread sparks of light into the world into every heart
That brightened with knowledge,
Saw the men all powers they denied, fainted in wonder,
Unable to bear the light of extreme truth
They raised their hands and wept,
On seeing their state melted the poet’s heart
Like morning dew in love and pity,
He covered the truth in ideas and sounds sweet
and pictures beautiful like a magician,
Laughed humans mesmerized by beauty,
Amazing artistic lights opened their eyes
They laughed, wept , turned dumb and sang songs
They danced and fainted in wonder and exhaustion
The poet’s message rained like showers of pure nectar
In the flowers of their hearts,
Their hearts turned tender, sweet and filled with streams of love,
They raised their hands and praised Viswanadha
The poet smiled at them like cool moon light
On seeing him they felt elated and raised cries of victory.

5

On seeing the sea roused by moonlight serene
While the heart shook on swings of waves turbulent
Forgetting the earth and keeping his head amidst stars
The poet thought;
“people common suffer a lot
In search of money, wealth, power, beauty, pleasure,
but no desires arise in my heart,
I am an explorer of happiness eternal—seeker of soul
It disturbs me defying my intellect like this solemn sea
Seeing Pleasure and pain, life and death
Folks get entangled in doubts---
Ah! Human societies numb!
Where no divine light burns,
Where despair and desires mean and physical rule
Where heard the fox calls as in temple ruined
Such a heart is a burial ground, desert Sahara!—
The poet thought a little and turned calm
Laughed at full moon,
Enraptured by roar of the ocean Pacific
In poet’s heart flared up creepers of ideas
In his spine flowed springs of emotion
He looked at all corners and vacuum
All things and all nature disappeared
Like pictures of dream – poet swayed a little
Like a creeper Malati in air-
“Nature am I
Universe and omnipresent, omnipotent I am
Idea, emotion and infiniteness am I” said in raptures
The poet at the peak of life great,
Turned into universe in samadhi divine,
To his eyes revealed secret of life total
And of poetry and fainted in emotion extreme—
“Now it’s over” says some voice divine
As Arjuna’s Gandiva drowned in the sea at the end of age Dwapara
Cosmic harp dropped from his hands,
Broke and disappeared into void –
Poet conscious saw the world,
heard devilish noises everywhere,
Diabolical forces since time immemorial roused
Humans let out cries out of helplessness,
Poet fainted and wept after coming to senses
“ the destiny of cosmos is unknown,
Why this foolishness of men!
Why these cruel deeds and bloodshed !?
Why war and chaos ?”---
The poet burned like a volcano
And roared like an ocean for long
Then turned quite like the Himalayas.

In his divine form smiling in calmness
One could see the ocean of sorrow
Roared since beginning and got solidified
Though the world was shaking ,
His quiet voice declares the truth of world with mouths a thousand—
But world doesn’t see that quiet form
And journeying at rapid speed
Revolving and going somewhere
Laughing to itself in madness
Not knowing its destiny—
Is it moving towards destiny divine?
Poet’s serene eyes shed tears,
His heart pure melted like snow,
For the sake world he rose out of sorrow,
In search of real soul like a Rishi
He went to a place deserted and serene
There is a lake of waters pure, deep and enchanting with mantra secret
Shining with lotus bloomed and reflection of the moon,
Risen on shores flower plants like fairies,
One old tree bent over the lake,
Its root spread like the feet of swan,
It stood like a sentinel,
The poet stood at its beginning in quietness
And forgetting the beauty of the lake
Spoke to the soul thus:
“ Soar above the clouds of pleasure and sorrow,
Oh, heart! Go to the skies leaving the mundane world,
Shine like the Sun in the sky,
Radiate cool light like the moon—
Don’t be afraid thinking that sky is distant,
There stars are touring in the sky—
Oh, my heart! Cosmos is the house of the Lord,
See that power sans existence and movement since time immemorial
Heart! Play the instruments divine in full
Receive the wealth of virtues of incredible beauty!
Like the song sung in heart of a stream,
Or in the voice of a Koel
Play the roar of world in you!
Heart! Embrace the cosmos entire
Become the power infinite taking in all its forces!
Strange worlds and men are born
Dying the communities of creatures,
Dying forces of nature,
Ages are rolling by-
Heard in the sky are chaotic noises
and wild laughter of the moon
My heart! Heart! Give me Grace
In seeing your light luminous
And joy copious !
Give me poetry back!”—
Came out of that quiet lake a beautiful nymph of lotus
“ oh, poetry ! fame of beauty of poet’s heart :
It floated on the lake without sinking into water
Tuned in to a damsel of dances marvelous
While her drape of moonlight moved at wind light
With lotus in her hands and blue hair ruffled by wind
Lady of lure reached the poet…
She revolved round the poet like princess of waters
The poet got stunned on seeing her form
His wide blue eyes turned quiet,
He turned in to a statue beautiful,
Fell on the floor and slept gently,
While his limbs touched the earth, the first mother
His heat might have merged in a poem
Or his soul drifted to the Satyaloka,
He turned into a statue calm and pure :
Bent and saw the stars a myriad from the sky
The lakes amazed and turned mirror-like,
The hills melted, rivers stopped and cleft by sorrow
Shed the trees tears of leaves yellow
Crowds of birds and the sea wept with songs sweet
Embraced her son divine and shaken in sorrow
The earth and all forces of nature primitive
Wept on seeing the poet’s death—
But the poet’s soul celestial and blissful
Rose to the heaven like flower of mantra:
It lived for a while in heart of the scorching sun
Went beyond the Suvarloka like a beam of light angelic
And merged smilingly in infinity
The entire cosmos elated and brightened
As in meeting love anew;
Born the song of war in the space infinite
Resounded in all worlds like Omkara
Listened and fainted the people of all worlds
They woke up and danced in frenzy of joy,
Like the peacocks, clouds of rain,
Like creepers Malati shaken by mild wind,
They sang melodies in a mood of dance,
The world has brightened in wonder new
The cosmos laughed and shed tears
It orbits eternally like soul divine
And amazing light in space infinite
The poet turns into the song of cosmic heart.

***

Oh, king of poets! Bright being of divine fame
Isn’t entire cosmos your amazing dream!
Aren’t all creatures waves of your beautiful thoughts!
If you give a look of love, all the worlds bloom
If you look in anger, all the worlds go in flames
If you laugh, pure rays will fill the al corners
You know the fate of human sorrow
You know the secret of cosmic peace
You laughed in ignorance and cried in knowledge
On seeing the world of half-knowledge
You moved like Christ,
You also turned into sage of beauty
Sacrificed your life on cosmic stage,
sage who blessed all beings,
melted like camphor a being of heart,
A heap of Joy, bliss, goodness and virtue,
Giver of light of equality and liberty,
I found your nirvana holy1
Oh, poet! Being of compassion ! Abode of art!

***