When the child had drawn a picture

the Sky was floored,

the Stars blushed, and as

some mottled polka dots patterned,

the Moon let out a hearty laugh.

Mazarine-hue water, yellow-scaled fish, butterflies,

Unknown and unimaginable worlds… and what not

they embodied whatever she desired…

Why do stars and moon love whatever a child does?

Why should the sky stand in awe? or,

Why do the worlds follow like cows charmed by flute?

Treading over damp papers wetted with teary colours,

I went out holding the child’s finger and asked the sky…

Clouds that morphed to varied shapes

when somebody tossed them up effortlessly

grinned and admitted to the Air:

We are not sure if  there is god or not;

But, if he were to be there, he would be there as a child.

From then on,

I never had any issue with anybody… even with god.

If ever there was any issue,

it was only with the un-child-like official…

With the etymology of good and evil, and

With the absurd stories in the name of religion.

.

HRK

(Kodidela Hanumantha Reddy)

Mr. HRK is a poet, critic, editor, translator and a very active party functionary of CPI(ML) till 1974. He also worked as a journalist to some of the mainstream Telugu newspapers. He is reachable at hrkodidela@yahoo.com.

However, what the poet thinks about himself, sometimes, gives a clue to the reader about the person and his mind, and that helps a good deal in understanding his poetry.  Here is what he has to say about himself:

“This poet/writer finds it difficult to introduce himself. He thinks that he is yet to know. It has been his quest all along, to know himself. He thinks that he is a Marxist and holds to heart a belief that life decides consciousness and not the other way round. He likes to talk from the standpoint of every day life rather than what lies beyond. That might sum up his love for life and all that is living. He thinks that the ‘self’ he is searching for resides not only within him but also outside. It has been in the search to find and connect to it that he felt it natural to move into and out of people’s movements, including the so-called political. The sin he cannot avoid committing is that he holds nothing actually sacred. He considers literature (making and enjoying it) as a way of cognizing the self and the world in the same way as science and philosophy.”

.

భగవంతుడు

పాపా‍యి బొమ్మేసే సరికి ఆకాశం తెల్లబోయింది

నక్షత్రాలు ఎర్రబడ్డాయి

కొన్ని పోల్కా డాట్స్ బాగా కలిసిపోయి చందమామ‍ నవ్వేసింది

నీలి కాంతుల నీరు, పసుపు పొలుసుల చేపలు, సీతాకోక చిలుకలు,

ఏవేవో లోకాలు, ఇంకా… … ఏం కావాలనుకుంటే అవి అయిపోయాయి

పాపాయి ఏం చేసినా నక్షత్రాలకు, చందమామకు

ఎందుకంత ఇష్టం, ఆకాశానికి ఎందుకంత ఆశ్చర్యం,

వేణువు విన్న గోవుల్లా దిగి వస్తాయెందుకు లోకాలు

కన్నీటి వంటి నీటి రంగులతో తడిసిన కాగితాలను తొక్కుకుంటూ

పాపాయి వేలు పట్టుకుని బయటికి వెళిపోయి, ఆకాశాన్నిఅడిగాను

ఎవరో అలవోకగా విసిరేస్తే రకరకాల రూపాలు ధరించిన మేఘాలు

గాలికి కొంచెం నవ్వి చెప్పాయి

‘ఇంకా పైన ఉన్నాడో లేడో మాక్కూడా తెలియదు గాని, ఉంటే గింటే,

భగవంతుడు పాపాయిగానే ఉంటాడు’: ఆ తరువాత

నాకెవరితో ఎలాంటి పేచీ లేదు, భగవంతుడితో కూడా

పేచీ గీచీ వుంటే పాపాయిగా ఉండని అధికారి తోనే

పాప పుణ్యాల నిర్వచనాలతోనే, పుక్కిటి పురాణాలతోనే

HRK                25-8-2012