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!

***

MAN OF COMPASSION- 'KARUNASRI' Jandhyala Papayya Sastry

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

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


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


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

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

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

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

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



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

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

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

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

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

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

CHALAM AND ISMAIL on PURPOSE OF  POETRY    

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

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

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

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

ISMAIL’S POEM

We love babies and poems
Why?

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

Which is prettier?

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

GURRAM JOSHUA

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

Observed  history of   birds countless

                      flying in colors beautiful 

Reared  baby Crows and mongoose

            not for fun but as my children 

Read the story of Gandhi hidden

              in the cobweb of   spider

Realized the love of dogs for master

             by giving a handful of morsels

Grasped that  in gaining  peace

 Animals are superior to man proud

              over his “birth superior”   

Why tales ten thousand?

             ***

I have seen heavens plenty

    in the wings of butterflies

Enchanted hungry me worlds beautiful

      in  jeerangi like mother

Shone in me light of nine gems

          in walking of ponnangi

Danced dharmas many  in hunting  bird pikili  

Reflected  creepers of love

In flowers of grass and kadambas

The youthful eye wandered

 Robbed me of nature enchanting.

 (translation of poems from "naakatha" by Joshua )

“Bhagat Singh” – Karunasri

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

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

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