అనువాదలహరి

Hallucination… Wahed, Telugu Poet 

Before I met you

Everything was so unnatural.

And, “Two Two’s” were just Four!  

 

 

I met you

‘Two Two’s ‘ had become Two Lakhs. 

I could understand the logic behind Maths. 

And my feet floated in the seventh Heaven

Even Darkness had appeared in its splendid Spectral hues.

The Rosebud-Heart blossomed.

And the fatigued life

Comforted under the shades of eyelids

And the yearning Jasmine-looks

Wafted their incense all around.

I could get you.

Again, like the ox of an oil ghanni 

‘Two Two’s are Four’ started ringing in my mind.

 

My feet were firm on the ground;

The sky was beyond my reach.

While blood streams through my veins

It fails to swell in my eyes as tears

Nor burns sweating through my pores.

.

 

Abd Wahed.

 

Telugu Poet

From “Dhuli Chettu” Anthology

 

 

Abd Wahed
Photo Courtesy: Abd Wahed

 

 

హాల్యూసినేషన్

 

నిన్ను కలవకముందు

అంతా కృత్రిమమే

రెండురెళ్ళు నాలుగే

నువ్వు కలిసావు

రెండు రెళ్ళు రెండు లక్షలయిపోయాయి

లెక్కలు బుర్రకెక్కాయి

నేల ఆకాశాన్ని తాకింది

చీకటి సప్తవర్ణాల్లో మెరిసింది.

గుండె గులాబీ పూచింది

కనురెప్పనీడలో

ప్రాణం సేదదీరింది.

కనుచూపుల సన్నజాజులు

హాయిపరిమళాలు పరిచాయి

నువ్వు నాకు దక్కావు

బుర్రలో మళ్ళీ

రెండురెళ్ళు నాలుగే తిరుగుతుంది గానుగెద్దులా.

 

నేల నేలమీదే ఉంది, ఆకాశం అందడం లేదు.

రక్తం శరీరంలో ప్రవహిస్తానంటోందేకాని

కంటినీరుగా ఉబకటంలేదు

వంటి చమటగా మండడం లేదు.

.

వాహెద్

 

ధూళిచెట్టునుండి

ప్రకటనలు

A Small Chest… Vijay Chandra Rokkam, Telugu Poet

Long long ago
I stashed
a star
in a small chest
And in my
heart’s glasscase
my mother’s
tear

In my childhood
the extra digit
of my last brother

the tooth, recovered
from the accident site,
of Venkatarao…
our male servant
in my childhood.

A sapphire-studded
ring my mother
bought me in an exhibition

A cowry I gleaned
on the sands of Gopalapuram
seashore know not when

A glass globule
I played with
my street friends
in the military lines.

The notes of Kalman
rendered by the Maulana
from Bhapur Bazaar Masjid.

The sound of hammer
as father tried to bend
the galvanized iron sheet

Oh! I collected a lot more.
But now the chest is restive.
Did it fledge, by any chance?
.
Vijay Chandra Rokkam

Telugu Poet, Berhampur

భరిణ

చాలాకాలం క్రిందట
కుంకుమ భరిణలో
నక్షత్రం ఒకటి
దాచాను
మనస్సు సీసాలో
తల్లి అశ్రువొకటి

చిన్నతనంలో
మా ఆఖరితమ్ముడి
ఆరోవేలొకటి

బాల్యంలో ఎత్తుకుతిప్పిన
వెంకట్రావు
ప్రమాదంలో చనిపోతే
రోడ్డుమీద దొరికిన
దంతమొకటి

ఎగ్జిబిషన్ లో
అమ్మ కొనిచ్చిన
నీలిపొడి ఉంగరమొకటి

ఎప్పుడో గోపాలపురం
సముద్రతీరంలో
దొరికిన గవ్వ ఒకటి

మిలట్రీ లైనులో
వీధిమిత్రులతో
ఆడుకున్న
గోళీకాయ ఒకటి

భాపూర్ బజార్
మస్జీద్ లో
మౌలానా అరిచే
కల్మాన్ స్వరమొకటి

రేకును వంచుతూ
నాన్నకొట్టిన
సుత్తి శబ్దం ఒకటి

చాలా చాలా దాచాను.
ఇప్పుడు భరణి కదులుతోంది
రెక్కలొచ్చాయేమో!
.

విజయచంద్ర
తెలుగు కవి

Make Your Voice Count… Abd Wahed, Telugu, Indian Poet

The foot falls of a black ant

On the black marble

On an Ebony night

Is too faint to hear.

The sound of the canon

Aimed at the heart of a city

Of, course is better audible.

The explosive sound of a bomb

That annihilates the innocent people

Is of a moderate pitch.

The unleashed agony of the head

Separating from torso on the gallows

Is of a higher order.

The cursive sound of the letters

On a white paper

Is considerably high.

The thumping of the heart

Of an injured Poet

Is of a higher order.

The collective cries of

Crows and common Swallows

Is of the highest order.

The ruffle of scared pigeons

Unnerves us more than the

The twang of a hunter’s bowstring.

Once you make your voice count

Even the guts of an arrow shall shake.

.

Wahed Abd

Telugu

Indian

From “Dhuuli Chettu” Anthology

Abd Wahed
Photo Courtesy: Abd Wahed

గొంతు విప్పు                                                  

నల్లరాత్రి

నల్లశిలపై

నల్ల చీమ అడుగుల సవ్వడి

చాలా చిన్నది.

నగరం గుండెలపై

పేలే ఫిరంగి చప్పుడు

కాస్త పెద్దదే

అమాయకజనాన్ని హతమార్చే

బాంబు పేలుడు శబ్దం

ఇంకొంచెం పెద్దది

ఉరికొయ్యపై

విరిగిన మెడచేసే ఆర్తనాదం

ఇంకా పెద్దది.

తెల్లని కాగితంపై

పరుగెత్తే అక్షరాల చప్పుడు

చాలా పెద్దది

గాయపడిన కవి

గుండె చప్పుడు

అన్నింటికన్నా పెద్దది

గోలచేసి అరిచే కాకులు

ఊరపిచ్చుకలఘోష

ఇంకా పెద్దది.

వేటగాడి వింటితాడు చేసే ధ్వనికన్నా

పిట్టలరెక్కల చప్పుడు

గుండెలవిసేలా చేస్తుంది

గొంతు విప్పడం నేర్చుకుంటే

బాణం కూడా భయపడుతుంది.

.

వాహెద్

ధూళిచెట్టు కవితా సంకలనం

Placebo… Vakati Panduranaga Rao, Telugu

 

Vakati Panduranga Rao (1934- 1999)

“Six- Four, game, set and match to Manohar!” announced Rayman who acted as Umpire.

“Congrats Manohar! That was a good game,” Ravindra conveyed his appreciation shaking Manohar’s hand.

Accepting his greeting he complained, ‘Somehow, you are not your self today. Otherwise, will you let me win so easily?”

They packed their Tennis racquets.

Ravindra was Hospital Superintendent at St. Bernard. Manohar was Collector, Customs. Rayman was Captain of a ship and had come to Madras on vacation.

After the match, all of them sat leisurely in the Tennis Club lawns and sipping tea.

The sky was turning grey slowly. Neon lamps lighted suddenly as if they were coming out of a reverie. The Club boy was busy roaming all around and supplying things demanded by members.

“Yes, I don’t know why, but your focus was not on the game today,” reiterated Manohar.

“Some nice new nurse?” winked Rayman mischievously.

“No. No. My friend is a Rishyasrunga,” defended Manohar.

“Who is he?” asked Rayman.

After Manohar recounted the story of Rishyasrunga, all of them had a hearty laughter.

“Then Dr. Ravindra! You must follow me to east. You must stay for a week in Bangkok… then …”

“Is Bangkok such a catalyst?” interrupted Manohar.

There you find a dozen catalysts in every building. The beauties there can transform a Rishyasrunga to Vatsayana in one night…”

“Why? Your eastern voyage is exclusive to Ravi or there is room for this poor Customs fellow?”

“What a question! Don’t the Customs people and Captains on the sea have extended relations for lives?” said Rayman.

“So you both collude to leave me alone,” spoke Ravindra at last.

“No. No. In a city like Bangkok a doctor never goes out of demand.”

The three laughed heartily once again having understood the pun.

“But once my friend takes up a case, nothing can distract his attention…” said Manohar browsing through the pages of the magazine on the table.

“Is he doing any research?”

“Nothing like that. During my stay for six years in states, I developed passion for reading books, magazines and journals relating to medical subjects. That habit is continuing. That’s all! I ruminate about what I read and try to put into practice as far as possible.  I am not doing any research as such.”

“Research is exactly what you do!”

“No. No.  Research is a kind of deep meditation. A state of unwavering yogic trance. The enzyme or the bacteria you are searching for becomes the divine and oblivious to the world around, all your attention in thought, word and deed should be diverted towards that. For such an inquirer his lab becomes the Naimisha Forest.  I don’t stand a chance….” Replied Ravindra looking deep into the horizon with a desperate air.

A Seagull passed them by with a squawk.

With his attention diverted, Manohar remarked, “My god! When you have reached Naimisha from Bangkok that means you have completed one circle.  But forget about it. Look here. This makes a very interesting reading. He started reading from the interview of Björn Borg published in Time magazine: ‘Borg says: once I step into the court and start playing, a kind of overwhelming confidence seizes me saying… so long as I am there how could anybody win? I am the superman in the court. I must be there where the ball lands… and suddenly a new idea flashes in my mind… and I play a very unconventional shot that was not there in the copybook.  People may get bewildered. But it seems so natural to me. As the idea in the brain traverses through hand and meets the ball, there is nothing comparable to the rhythm. That is my empire.  My writ rules there. My shot cannot miss its aim. It is a kind of dreamy state. A blissful state…”

Manohar took a break and said, “We care to read these words just because the person who spoke them was a dexterous Arjuna of the Tennis world. Had they been uttered by any other mortal, we would just brush them aside dubbing them as the prattle of a pervert.”

“So true! It is hard to believe.” Said Rayman.

Ravi said, “If somebody on the top of a hill hails there is a village on the other side, it is quite natural for the man at the foot of the hill this side to scoff at him saying, “You mean a village? On that side of the hill? You want me to believe? Don’t take me for a fool”.  But, Manohar, Borg is no mean mortal.  He was a Yogi, who started his career at a tender age of 15, and left no Himalayan peak in Tennis world unconquered planting his flag of authority. It is beyond our imagination what kind of devotion, unswerving determination and uncompromising practice.  Just read further, you will come to know.”

“You are correct. All through the year, Borg practices a minimum of 4 hours each day without fail.  Once he wanted to bring a slight change in his service.  They say, he practiced hat small change for two hours every day for two weeks.” Manohar read out from the magazine.

“Because he had such kind of devotion, his body could translate into action what his mind has planned about.  Didn’t our people say ‘wherever the mind hovers, the world follows suit?’  Borg has proved those very words hat world walks the way your mind thinks.  In a way, this proves the ‘bio-feedback system’ in medicine,” Ravi was going on.

Boy interrupted him and said, “Sir! There is a phone call for you.”

He went in to answer the call.

“Hello!”

“Ravi! Are you still at the club?”

“Yes. Are you feeling better now?”

“Fine.  I thought of going out somewhere if you turn up early.”

“It is already past seven. There is an important case at the hospital. After tha…”

“Is it the same Mrs. Khambatta?”

“Yes dear! Her condition continues to be critical.”

“……………………..”

“Hello! Hello Meena!”

“I am here only…. Where can I go? After all?”

“There again. No.  You should not get into depression… switch on TV… In another half-an-hour there is a program by your favorite singer Janaki.”

“I liked your suggestion Ravi!”

“Why?”

“Like Janaki in Asoka Garden I will be here; and songs of Janaki shall keep me company… very appropriate!”

“Then Mrs. Janaki! Then, am I Sri Ram or Ravan?”

“I suppose you are only Sri Ram. Even if you are a Ravan, it is OK with me.”

“What do you mean Meena?”

“I say, it is important to have love for Sita. Had he not, Ravan would not have taken her away.”

“Agreed. I will be there by 8.30. OK?”

“OK.”

By the time he returned taking the call, Rayman and Manohar also got up to leave. Within the next five minutes the three cars had started.

An old model Austin car of Dr. Ravi stopped at the hospital portico.

“Good evening Dr.!”

Bowing his head in response to the greeting of the Anglo-Indian nurse at the reception, he went upstairs to his room. He searched under M in the Index of the filing system for a case file.

He got it.

“Malini Khambatta… admission: 26th July…” That means 28 days had passed since she was admitted.

Ravi was going through the history of the case…

*

Malini Khambatta.

34 years of age. ED of a shipping co.

Her husband is a Squadron Leader undergoing training in Russia now. Her 12 years son is studying in Doon Public School.

She came to Delhi from Bombay only 2 weeks before admission. After holding consultations with government she visited Tokyo. From there she dashed to Singapore to settle the issue when the staff of a stranded ship of theirs went on strike. From there she had been to Colombo. As she got down at Madras airport she had slight fever. As night progressed she developed acute body ache. By next morning she had a peculiar sensation of her fingers.

She joined the hospital at 8 am. They conducted some preliminary clinical tests and started palliative treatment. By the fifth day she developed difficulty in moving her neck, fingers hands, and legs. Her ESR was found to be over 80.  Within the next three days it crossed 115.  Her movements gradually became difficult. She started developing lesions under the skin.

He conducted all possible tests on her. Discussed   the case with fellow experts. They found it hard to diagnose it. Ultimately, they noticed that the Collagen, which binds the cells of various tissues with one another got poisoned.  And it has reached the tissue in the backbone. Consequently, all the body tissues are disintegrating into millions and millions of cell pieces. After two-days of prolonged discussions they decided it was Ankylosing Spondylitis . And the unanimous opinion of the experts was that it was impossible for her to get out of it.

Ravi consented to their opinion but was not wholly convinced.

He locked himself alone for five to six hours and seriously brooded over that.

*

That evening sitting beside Malini’s bed and said, “Listen to me Mrs. Malini!  Pay attention to what I am about to say.  You are well educated, knowledgeable and have seen the world. So treating you as my friend I want to put facts before you…” He gave a brief about her disease. “Statistics say that the chances of survival for people afflicted with this disease is one in five hundred.  I don’t care about the other for hundred and ninety nine people.  I want you to be that one off chance and back to normalcy attending to your routine. But, here is the challenge. I cannot do alone nor can medicines alone bring about the turnaround. Your cooperation is absolutely necessary. At no point of time you show signs of despair.” He paused looking into her face for reactions.

She was ears to what he was saying. Ravi continued…

“You have a long life ahead. There are many things you have to achieve. You must be determined to achieve them all. And I should convince me. Then together we can raise a war cry against the disease.”

She smiled. Though she had to struggle to say what she did, she did not relent.

“Doctor! I could bring a turnaround within three years in the loss-ridden shipping company. I could shut up the mouths of people who doubted my ability pointing out my gender. There is a project at hand.  Our country is far behind in container shipping. I have dreams to diversify my company into it and serve the nation. Even if I were confined to this bed, take it from me, I am going do it…”

Ravi raised his eyebrows in surprise. She continued…

“Last year I joined as a student under Ustad Hafiz Khan to learn Sitar. It is my dream to give at least one solo concert within the next four years.  That is a promise I made to Amar. Amar is my husband. I keep my promise. When I have such a promising life ahead, be that I have a one in five hundred chance, when I get the support of a doctor like you, I will certainly come out  of this abyss taking the support of your hand.” There was a glow of hope in her eyes and as she lifted her hand with all effort to indicate her will, Ravi took her hand and said, “That’s what self-confidence is! We have already won half-the –battle.  From tomorrow we are going to start a new treatment.”

That night Ravi did not go home.

“Will this adventurous attempt succeed?  Can I achieve what I wanted?  Can she with sheer self-confidence and I with the support of bare minimum of medicines regenerate her interior body parts which are ready to crumble to pieces any moment? Will all his assurances reduce to empty promises?”

This very common challenge every honest doctor faces in his life, stood before him assuming global proportions!

Before this body, every inch of which looks an endless stream of wonders so long as it works smoothly, years of study and decades of experience comes no nought and will be silenced once there occurs a small error in its rhythm. Is it its dismissal “Huh, what do you know after all?” or a warning that “there is a lot you should learn still”?

Be that the bio-chemistry prepares umpteen formulaic preparations, no body resembles another. We cannot say with certainty that for the same disease, the same medicine works identically on two bodies.  Even in such an enigmatic state, if medicines seem to work, perhaps it is not medicines alone that cure! There is something incomprehensible that helps the cure!

For classification sake all species of mangoes come under Mangifera Indica. But each of them has its own unique taste. So is the body, each with its own character no matter it resembles every other in broad design, shape and matter.

Yaramita vanamalinaa sakhii!” (Confidante! She who consummates with Vanamali…!) is one of the most popular Octrains that swelled from the pen of Jayadeva. When Balamurali renders, it would expound the angst behind, when Ghantasala renders it would be holistic and sweet, and while Bhanumati renders it, the melody would kindle a sweat twinge. Where lies the difference? What do you call it?  Personal identity!

There it is! There lies the secret!

It was like epiphany! The truth he randomly witnessed on different occasions elsewhere seemed to have taken form to appear before him.

He started reading the research medical journals more thoroughly. He went through the latest issue of “Lancet”, “Chemical and Biological Interact”.  He had earlier studied Walter Bradford Cannon of “Wisdom of the Body” fame, René Dubos, Blackwell, Arthur K Shapiro, but today their research, experiments and works seemed converging one end. Today when he reread them, he was seized with inexplicable inspiration. In that lone insulated meditative state he had the revelation of Placebo.

Placebo was a mystic divine damsel Mohini holding the pot of Nectar in her hand.

That which is, yet it is not, is Placebo; that which is a myth but makes its presence felt is Placebo.

If the commonest of the commoners Peri becomes a king, it is Placebo.

Placebo means “I will please” in Latin.

Placebo is an imitation medicine.

If you can manufacture a sugar tablet which looks exactly like the medicinal tablet, it is placebo.

When the patient asks for a medicine repeatedly, the medicine administered to just please him (not that it cures his disease) is placebo. Normally, in the experimental stage of a new medicine on trial, doctors give placebo.

When Ravi was in US, he read the articles and speeches of Arthur K Shapiro, Henry K. Beecher, and Louis Lasagna on Placebo Effect. They wrote that placebos not only look like real medicines, but also act like them.

But in the present state, it seemed that if mind is the fulcrum of the body, the force that conjuncts the two is placebo. It explained body is different from the mind. Placebo is the elixir that transforms the strong desire of the patient ‘to live’ into life-giving medicine and presents it to the body.

With renewed vigor Ravi got up.

He explained to the duty doctor what he should do and instructed him to keep everything ready by nine next day.

He left for home.

Wall clock showed it was 4 am.

Before stretching out he looked at the bottle on the table. It was Gardenal!

Meenakshi might be suffering from sleeplessness. But he advised her not to use Gardenal.

Poor Meenakshi! Because of her heart trouble she took long leave from her college. He was not able to spend more time with her. Their daughter Vijaya studying medicine also looked busy with her studies, games, picnics and other activities and with her friends and did not have time for her mother.

As Meenakshi turned aside in her sleep, the vermillion on her forehead glistened red even in that scarce lighting. He kissed her on her forehead and eased on his bed.

He was fast asleep.

“Malini! You are great! Let us unite and defeat…”

Meenakshi got up from her sleep with alarm. Ravi was saying something in his sleep.

“When did he come home? When she called the hospital in the evening the duty nurse answered that he instructed them not to disturb him even if there was a call from home.

“What’s that work? Why he chants the name of Malini? What is the nature of their ‘union?’ Who do they want to defeat?”

As the tranquilizing effect of the medicine ceased, Meenakshi got suspicious and angry.

After ten minutes, it was Ravi’s turn to get up agitated.

Ravi gave injection to Meenakshi who was wriggling with chest pain. He took her into his lap and explained her everything. She heard him patiently.

“But he was not like this. He had treated so many women patients before but he never talked in sleep like this. What does it all mean? What’s happening to Ravi?

“Am I losing my attraction after having entered forties? Is there a vacuum growing because of my ill-health? Or that both of them are unable to cope up with their darling daughter Vijaya taking off to wings having come off age? Am I losing Ravi because I was seriously engaged in my teaching and college administration work, until three months before?  Or with nothing else to do, am I demanding from Ravi more than before when I was busy with my own life?”

He took her in his lap and gently caressed her locks and cheeks with fingers filled with love, compassion and concern. But that could not alleviate her pain, and the physical closeness was in stark contrast to how far she felt aloof from him.

Everything he said just remained empty words.

After a while her pain ceased and slowly slipped into sleep.

Ravi felt like a bird endowed with wings but restrained to take off. He was overwhelmed with compassion for Meenakshi but felt helpless. He caressed her locks, as wavering as her mind, once again and set her properly on the bed.  He called out the hospital and asked for a nurse to be sent home.  He got up.

“For the first time Meenakshi complained of burning sensation in her stomach. She never had such complaint before. What new complication is up for challenge?” he thought as he completed his shaving and bath. The coking maid did not turn up.  He made a bread toast for himself and put some coffee in flask for Meenakshi.

He reached hospital by nine.

He visited Malini’s room.  She greeted him with a smile, like a lightning amidst clouds.

He greeted her back with a “Good morning,” and turning towards duty doctor asked, “Is everything ready?”

“Yes, Sir!” he replied.

“Then let them bring the medicine here.”  Duty doctor went out to bring the material Ravi asked for.

“Maliniji! The journey begins… I am now going to administer you a medicine that has never been used before. Besides this, I will put on an intravenous drip. While one attacks the disease, the other gives additional strength to the body. Together they should drive off your pain forever.”

The duty doctor and the nurse returned. Ravi gave Malini injection and put on the drip.  Then sitting beside Malini’s bed he said,

“You remember what I told you the other day?  Your body constitution took a beating because of undergoing extreme stress. It is time for you relax absolutely.  You should keep a happy disposition by keep smiling and reading funny, humorous and amusing stories. You may read Wodehouse, Herriot, James Thurber, James Thorne Smith Jr., etc.  All these books are available with Sister Mary Kutty.  She will read them to you for one or two hours daily.  I will send you some collections of Jokes. Every evening you should recount the best joke you read or heard. OK?”

She expressed her consent with her eyes.

He came out of her room. As he was about to enter his room he was reminded of the Tyagaraja Kriti, “For the great man who has control over his mind, of what use are the mantras and machinations?”. And he laughed within himself rationalizing “if it is that easy for everybody to control his mind, who will remember you and us, Swamy Tyagaraja!!!”

After completing his rounds and attending to other work, he visited Malini again.  She was blissfully asleep needing no sleeping pill. He immediately got the ESR tested. It was down by 9 points. In a matter of 4 hours the direction of the disease had taken definite turn.  Is the enemy beating the retreat?

He reached home.

Meenakshi was awake.

Nurse went out after seeing him.

“How are you darling?” She laughed sorrowfully.

“Do you have pain still?”

“I don’t think so. But it is dull.”

“May be it’s the side effect of the medicine. Let me get you some invigorating soup.”

He went into the kitchen and asked the maid to prepare a soup to his prescription, and brought it to her.

“Ravi! Take your dinner first…”

“You take the soup first.  I take my meal only after that.  After that the King and the Queen shall sit together and review the world situation… that is the agenda tonight…”

Meenakshi laughed.

He returned within fifteen minutes finishing off his meal.

“What’s this? You did not take even half of the soup?” he asked.

“Enough Ravi! Thank you!”

He looked at her enquiringly with his eyes as if asking “why this ‘formal’ conversation?”

Meenakshi was looking out of the window. The sky was overcast. A faint sun-less luminescence.

After five minutes she uttered, “Ravi! I want to join duty.”

“Meena!  Your heart rate has not stabilized.  You may not be able to stand the stress of teaching, administration and meetings…”

She nodded her head in disagreement and said, “No Ravi! I am unable to put up with this stress of sitting idly.  Routine is the best shield for my unrest. So, shall I join duties from Monday?”

Thinking for a while Ravi said weighing his words, “As a doctor, I can see the merit of your argument. But as a husband, I cannot accept your request Meena!”

She laughed but there was no life in it.

He waited for her to say something. But when she did not say anything for a while, he said “Come on Meena! You wanted to say something. Get it off your chest. That is good for your health.”

“Ravi!”

“Yes!”

“You said that ‘as a husband I don’t allow you to go.” It was so pleasant to hear. As your wife I ask you one thing. Do you agree?”

“Tell me,”

“Come on. Let us go to Kulu or Manali for one week.  Can you come?”

“….”

“Tell me Ravi! Shall we?”

Ravi did not say anything for two minutes. It was raining outside.

“I know Ravi! You want to come.  But you have a compelling work. If you leave that, you won’t be peaceful even in Heaven.  I don’t blame you for that.  But that is also the case with me.  My work needs me and I need my work as badly.”

“What you said is true, Meena. But, I think it is not fair.”

“No, Ravi.  You can’t abandon your work for my sake.  And leaving my work, I can’t sit in front of you idly for what you are going to say.  We have passed that romantic age.  It is quite natural that each of us try to find a meaning for our lives. There is no need to feel guilty about it.”

“But Meena! There are two things here… The first thing is that my asking you not to join duties is not for my sake but keeping in view your health. I love to spend eons with you. What I say now is not for myself.  And the second thing… our streams of life have been flowing merged for over twenty five years. But why is this Sahara all of a sudden?  Why is this very dry logic?”

“When the magic of life has vanished, all that is left is only logic, Ravi!  Besides, I am a history Professor. I can only speak dry words, not any damp or moist words. When I made a matter-of-fact statement, you felt it like that.”

“Meena!”…  He took her into his arms. But he felt, it would have been better if she had taken him into hers.

…No… There was no response in the two bodies.

The rain stopped outside.  The clouds cleared.  But there is no trace of dawn.

*

Four weeks passed in the same vein. Meenakshi joined duty. But surprisingly she called him when he was at the Tennis Club.

“It’s fine even if he were a Ravana, but enough if he had love for her…” that’s what she said. What did he, then, do or not do?

As he was browsing through the case sheet, duty doctor had arrived.

“How is Malini?” he asked.

“She is able to sit up on her own, sir!”

“Good! I visit her during the rounds,” he noted his observations on the case sheet before filing.

In the last four weeks Malini’s health had improved beyond expectations. ESR had almost come to normal. Placebo had really worked wonders. Within three weeks she was relieved of all her knee pains. She was able to sit up with some minor support.  In another four to five weeks she should be able to walk on her own. That would mean he had got an answer for a teething problem.

Has mind control over body?  Now, he would be able to give a positive answer with supporting proof. He has to consolidate all his trials and results and write a detailed Paper for the journal.

He entered her room.

“Hello doctor!” Malini greeted him first.

“How are you Mrs. Malini?”

“Very fine. Am I the successful one of the one-in-five hundred odds?”

“Yes.  You have proved it. What is that? A letter from Amar?” he asked.  He remembered her entreaty not to disclose her condition to her husband.

“Yes… the same routine stuff… that Vodka is nauseating.  By the way, when can I get up and walk, doctor?”

“Whenever you feel you can. Whenever you feel motivated to walk.”

“Is it?” he eyes widened in surprise. “Then let me get off this throne tomorrow itself,” she mimed a queenly posture.

“Who is there?” Ravi extended the mime with a clap of hands as if calling somebody at the door.

They both laughed.

“By the way, shall I recount today’s joke?  This is vintage wit… of Charles Dickens. A male character created by Dickens says like this to others: ‘look here boys!  I always follow my wife’s advice on all matters related to home.  She has that sharp wit.  But, I refuse to admit it in her presence.  You ask me why? It’s a matter of discipline!  Don’t you think there must be discipline at home? For that!’”

He joined her laughter.

“The acronym MCP was created exactly for such people. Isn’t it?”

“She looked at him questioningly what MCP meant.

“Male Chauvinistic Pig”

She laughed again.

“Doctor! Doctor!!  Yesterday I received a surprise post.”

“What’s that?”

“My Ustadji sent a cassette of his rendering of Rag Jaijavanti.  That’s just divine! You must hear it when you can find time. That is not Sitar at play… just a replay of Cosmic Dance of Shiva by Parijata flowers… an overwhelming rain of stars…

As she was speaking vivaciously Ravi thought within… Like a bird hopping from one branch to another, how many dreams, and how many goals has she! She will certainly regain complete health. Move around and would achieve what she wanted.  She would live a fruitful life of hundred years. That is the power of the mind!

Following night Ravi asked Meenakshi “About one month back you proposed to me going to Kulu. Shall we go there next week?”

“Sorry dear! Just two weeks passed since I took a long leave. It does not look nice if I go on one-week leave again. That too, being a Principal…”

Ravi nodded his head.  Life takes very strange turns… In Greek Drama … they call it Nemesis… he recalled.

That was full moon day of Sravana month.

Ravi who went out to attend a meeting in the morning, reached hospital by noon.

Staff nurse informed him that Mrs. Malini had enquired for him many times.

“I see.”

Apprehensive of some complication cropping up he went into her room with acute concern.  She was quite normal.  The vermillion in the furrow of her hairline was shining bright. She got down the bed and approached him putting her steps steadily.

When she said, “Doctor Brother! Today is Rakhi Poornima.  I am waiting to tie this Rakhi to you since morning…” she was really surprised. He held out his right fore arm.

She tied the Rakhi. She tried to touch his feet for his blessing and since she was not in full control of her body she staggered. He lent support preventing her falling down.  Malini put her hand on Ravi’s shoulder for support. And as she was walking towards her bed gasping for breath…

Exactly at that moment…

Meenakshi made a terrible shriek “R…A…V…I…!”

Ravi looked back. He saw Meenakshi desperately trying to take table for support before collapsing to the ground.

Needing Ravi’s signature on a joint account Meenakshi hurried to hospital in her car from college and not finding him in his room, she came searching for him in the ward.

***

Ravi was dozing in the sofa outside the ICU, struggling to keep awake.

A milk van stopped on the street outside making a lot of noise.  It shook off his sleep. He looked at the watch.  It was 5.52.  He peeped into the ICU and looked enquiringly towards nurse about Meenakshi. Her looks conveyed her condition was steady. Another 24 hours should pass.

He returned to his place and watched out through the window. Milk van was leaving. There was an artificial pond in the foreyard. The lotuses which shone bright under the full moon last night looked wan and shriveled. He looked towards the orient sky. There was a spray of crimson on the eastern horizon. Sun was readying to appear.

On the other side of the road, at the tea stall, “Suukti Muktavali” (Pearls of wisdom) commenced. He could hear clearly:

“One begets the results from Mantra (holy hymn), Tirtha (holy water), astrologer, doctor, and guru commensurate with the opinion you hold about them.”

Yes. He has to consult another specialist. When she cannot hold respect for him as a person, how could she hold respect for him as a doctor?  More than his personal feelings or his failure as a doctor, her life is more valuable.

For her to survive, her cooperation was imperative. That was fundamental.

He walked into his room and dialed Dr. Agarwal.

Elsewhere in the hospital, an attendant nurse was writing a letter to Amar as Malini was dictating her.

 

Translation:

RS Krishna Moorthy & NS Murty

Read Placebo (http://kathanilayam.com/story/pdf/2065 ) here

 

Retrospection-3… Nanda Kishore, Indian

Some friendships are also such:

Before you are aware of your fledging

They take you to the high skies;

Before you could remember it’s time to nest

They bid adieu … leaving an indecipherable mark behind.

 

Warning not to raise any questions

They take you around forests and woods, and

Through rills and rivulets. With nothing else to do

One should follow quietly.   

 

Forbidding not to divulge it to anybody

They teach you how to spread out the wings, and

How to identify various flowers.

Being a naïveté, 

One must obey without demur.

 

Be that it is the colors of the trees, the peaks of yonder hills

Or the comeliness of flowers, they insist that only they can tell.

That a rain falls with a slant, what flows in a stream is water,

That the wind is a vagabond… are lessons can only be learnt from them.

My God! There will be no end to the slew of advices

And no one feels like acquiring those skills:

 

That if a plant bears fruit they would be on the surface,

And if a crop comes to harvest one should thresh the grain;

That one should migrate to green Springs before Autumn

And to brighter days fore flower dropping sets in on trees;

 

That days are bright and nights are dark,

Not to roam in the sun and not to sing in moonlight,

That water is for drinking, air for breathing,

And in the end, one should drop like a flower from its stem.

 

The ultimate awakening that dawns however is:

One does not grow wise with age;

Life is too short to learn everything by experience

That one should lead his own life

And die like what one is.

 

Are you still alive?

And if so, what have you to say Bul Bul?

.

Nanda Kishore 

Telugu, Indian

Image courtesy: Nanda Kishore

Nanda Kishore is a young engineer (EEE) from Warrangal. He is very prolific on Facebook and particularly active “Kavisangamam” group.

Last year he released his maiden volume of poetry “Neelage okadundevaadu” (There was one like you).

Nanda Kishore has fine sensibilities and has come out with a distinct voice of his own.

His second volume of poetry “YadhecCha” is out this month.

 

పునర్విమర్శ 3
.

కొన్ని స్నేహాలూ అంతే.

రెక్కలొచ్చాయని తెలిసేలోపే

ఆకాశాలవైపు  ఎగరేసుకుపోతాయ్.

గూడుకట్టాలని గుర్తొచ్చేలోపు

కనపడని గుర్తేదో ముద్రించి పోతాయ్.

ఎందుకో అడగొద్దంటూ

కొండకోనలు, వాగువంకలు తిప్పుకొస్తయ్.

ఏ పనీ లేనందుకు

మౌనంగావెళ్ళిపోవాలి.

ఎవరికీ చెప్పొద్దంటూ

రెక్కలెలావిప్పుకోవాలో, పూలనెలాగుర్తుపట్టాలో

నేర్పిస్తయ్.

ఏ తెలివీ లేనందుకు

సడిచేయకుండా అనుసరించాలి.

పచ్చని చెట్ల రంగుని, దూరపుకొండల ఎత్తుని,

పూసేపూల అందాన్ని, అవి చెప్తేనే తెలుసుకోవాలి.

వాలుగాకురిసేది వాననీ, వాగులోపారేది నీరనీ,

వచ్చిపోయేది గాలనీ, అవి నేర్పగా నేర్చుకోవాలి.

చెట్టు కాస్తే పండ్లు పైనే ఉండాలనీ,

చేను పండితే గింజలు రాలాలనీ కోరుకోవాలి.

ఆకురాలేముందు వసంతాలకి

పూతరాలేముందు పూర్వాహ్నాలకీ వలసపోవాలి.

పొద్దుటపూట వెలుగనీ, సాయంకాలం చీకటనీ

ఎండపూటతిరగొద్దనీ, వెన్నెలపూటపాడొద్దనీ

నీరు తాగాలనీ, గాలి పీల్చాలనీ

పువ్వులు రాల్చినట్టు ప్రాణం రాల్చాలనీ

దేముడా!

ఆ ఉపదేశాలకి అద్దూ అదుపూ ఉండదు.

ఆ నేర్పు  ఎన్నటికీ చదవాలనిపించదు.

చివరగా వచ్చే అజ్ఞానమేమంటే

వయసుతో అనుభవం రాదనీ

అనుభవిస్తే బతుకు సరిపోదనీ

నీ బతుకు నువ్వే బతకాలనీ

నీలాగే నువ్వు చావాలనీ…

ఇంకా బతికే ఉన్నావా?

ఉంటే ఏమంటావు బుల్ బుల్?!

.

నందకిషోర్

(“నీలాగే ఒకడుండేవాడు!” సంకలనం నుండి.)

A Blade of Grass… Srirangam Narayana Babu, Telugu , Indian

Tread! Trample!

March over me! After all

I am just a blade, a blade of grass!

 

I’m a flower at the auspicious moment;

And a sacred haulm in the hour of need.

Once the exigency passes

And you encounter me in the open

I am my usual self, a mean, worthless

Blade of grass; a blade of grass.

 

Tread! Trample!

March over me!

You are the grooms

Stepping out from palanquins

And, I am the silken turf

Tread! Trample!

Walk over me!! After all

I am just a blade, a blade of grass!

 

A pudding to the hungry beasts

But a crocodile at your feet

I am a blade, a blade of grass

Tread! Trample!

Walk over me!

 

The motes of dust

Off your golden feet

Are the meteoric showers

On the soul of my heart

Tread! Trample!

Walk over me!

I am just a blade, a blade of grass!

 

The emerald ring that shines on your finger

Holding the propitiatory food

On your parents’ annual ceremony

Is my matrilineal ancestor

One who slivered the tongues

Of the whole creed of snakes.

We are the means to your final destiny

Just blades of grass

Tread Trample!

Walk over us!

 

The sanguine flag that the sky has unfurled

Reminded us of the strength of element earth

The sweet aubade of the west wind

Awoke the memories

Of Kaakaasura*

And I now I realized my strength.

Stop! Hold on! No more trampling!

.

 (Note:

Kaakaasura*As per the legend from Ramayana,  Kaakaasura, a devilish crow,  plays mischief with  Sita during their exile, Rama turns a blade of grass into a weapon, infusing power into it with a mantra, to punish him; unable to stand its rigor of the weapon, Kaaakaasura fanally falls at the feet  of Rama begging him pardon and trades off an eye for his life.)

Srirangam Narayana Babu

(17 May 1906 – 2 October 1961)

Telugu, Indian

.

గడ్డిపరక

 

నడవండి, నడవండి!

నామీంచి నడవండి

గడ్డిపరకను! గడ్డిపరకను!

 

పూజా సమయాల పూవును

దూర్వాంకురాన్ని

అవసరం తీరాక

అవతల కనబడితె

చుల్కనగ చూచేటి

గడ్డిపరకను! గడ్డిపరకను!

 

నడవండి, నడవండి!

నామీంచి నడవండి!!

పల్లకీ దిగినట్టి

పెళ్ళికొడుకులు మీరు

పట్టుతివాసీని నేను

నడవండి, నడవండి!

నామీంచి నడవండి!!

గడ్డిపరకను! గడ్డిపరకను!

 

పశువుల నోటికి పాయసాన్ని

మీ సుకుమార పాదాల మకరికను

గడ్డిపరకను! గడ్డిపరకను!

నడవండి, నడవండి!

నామీంచి నడవండి!!

మీపైడి పాదాల

మృదు రజోలేశాలె

నా హృత్‌కుశేయములో

ఉల్కలా పాతాలు

నడవండి, నడవండి!

నామీంచి నడవండి!!

గడ్డిపరకను! గడ్డిపరకను!

 

మాతృవర్గంవాడు

మా అన్న పన్నగమ్ముల

రసనలుత్తరించిన మిన్న!

నేటికి మీ పితృకార్యంనాడు

పారణమీద మీ చేతిమీద

మరకత అంగుళీకమ్ము!

గతులు కల్పించేటి

గడ్డిపరకలము

నడవండి! నడవండి!

 

మిన్ను విప్పిన రక్త పతాకం

మన్ను సత్తువె తెలిపింది!

ప్రాభాత పశ్చిమానిలము

పాడినపాట

కాకాసురుని కధ

జ్ఞాపకం తెచ్చింది

నన్ను నే తెలుసుకున్నాను!

ఆగండి! ఆగండి!!

.

శ్రీరంగం నారాయణబాబు

(మే 17, 1906 – అక్టోబర్ 2, 1961)

ప్రముఖ తెలుగు కవి

 

రుధిరజ్యోతి నుండి

About War… Vadrevu Chinaveerabhadrudu, Telugu, Indian

People who talk about war are very vociferous about war.

They don’t let you sit still, hurry you up, give vent to anger and grief.

They engineer new strategies, clamor at a high pitch and unfurl flags.

People who talk about war, talk nothing else about but war.

But it is a different matter with people who fight war. Every inch

Of their body always at the ready, they neither hail nor howl. Their

Alertness can smell the minutest unfamiliar sound around. You hear

No noise with them sans the silent sieving of life through death.  

But the attitude of the people neck-deep in war is of a different kind.

While hiding behind bush and bower, they can still play with a feather;

And caress the falling grey leaf with their fingers. Even if they meet a

Small squirrel, they rejoice as if they have seen their own kinsman. 

.

Vadrevu China Veerabhadrudu

Telugu

Indian Poet

From NiiTiramgula chitram 2014

 

Vadrevu Chinaveerabhadrudu

Vadrevu Chinaveerabhadrudu

Vadrevu Chinaveerabhadrudu is a versatile poet, translator,  literary critic, and painter apart from being a senior civil servant occupying a key position as Additional Director in Gov. of AP.  He has special interest in Chinese poetry.  He has several publications to his credit  including his poetry collections “కోకిల ప్రవేశించే కాలం” (The Season of Cuckoo) and  నీటిరంగుల చిత్రం (A Water Color on Canvas).

  

యుద్ధం గురించి

 

యుద్ధం గురించి మాటాడేవాళ్ళు యుద్ధం గురించి మాట్లాడతారు,

నిలబడనివ్వరు, తొందరపెడతారు, ఆగ్రహం, ఆవేదన ప్రకటిస్తారు,

కొత్త వ్యూహాలు రచిస్తారు, గొంతెత్తి నినదిస్తారు, జెండా ఎగరేస్తారు,

యుద్ధం గురించి మాట్లాడే వాళ్ళు యుద్ధం గురించే ప్రసంగిస్తారు.

 

యిద్ధం చేసే వాళ్ళ సంగతి వేరు. వాళ్ళు దేహంతో, మనసుతో,

సకలేంద్రియాలతో సదా సనద్ధంగా ఉంటారు. అరవరు. మాట్లాడరు.

ఏ అలికిడి అయినా పసిగట్టే మెలకువ వాళ్ళది, మరణం నుంచి  జీవితాన్ని

జల్లెడపట్టే గుసగుసతప్ప  వాళ్ళదగ్గర అదనంగా మరే శబ్దముండదు.

 

యుద్ధంలో పీకలదాకా కూరుకుపోయిన వాళ్ళది భలే వైఖరి. 

ఏ చెట్టుమాటునో పొంచి ఉంటూనే  వాళ్ళొక పక్షి ఈకతో ఆడుకుంటారు

రాలుతున్న పండుటాకుని  వేళ్ళతో  తడుముతుంటారు . అప్పుడొక

చిన్ని ఉడత కనబడ్డా సొంతమనిషి కనబడ్డాట్టు సంబరపడిపోతారు.

 

.

వాడ్రేవు చినవీరభద్రుడు

నీటిరంగులచిత్రం నుండి.

Two Poems from Amukta Malyada… Sri Krishnadevaraya, Telugu, Indian

Just as Madhava, occupied the three worlds

To subdue the haughtiness of Virochana’s son

His namesake, the Spring, subdued nether world, earth and ether

With cascades of nectar, flowerscape and their spores.

Under the swarm of bees

Savoring the stream of wafting spores

The trees, at spring time, looked like shadows

Standing still and moving hither and thither. 

.

Sri Krishnadevaraya

 (16 February 1471 –  1529)

Emperor of Vijayanagar 1509- 1529. 

 

ఆముక్తమాల్యద నుండి  రెండు పద్యాలు

1

సాంద్ర మకరంద వృష్టి రసాతలంబుఁ

దొరఁగు పువ్వుల భువియుఁ, బూధూళి నభము

నీక్రమత్రయి మాధవుఁ డాక్రమించె

నురు విరోచన జనిత మహోష్మ మడగ.

[మాధవుడు: విష్ణువు, వసంతుడు

విరోచనుడు: సూర్యుడు, ప్రహ్లాదుని కొడుకు(బలిచక్రవర్తి తండ్రి) ]

2

ఊరుకొనబడు మధూళిక

యోడికలకుఁ గ్రిందఁ గ్రమ్మి యుండెడు తేంట్లన్

నీడలు దిరిగియుఁ దిరుగని

జాడఁ దరుల్వొలిచె నవ్వసంతపు వేళన్

[మధూళిక: పుప్పొడి ; ఓడిక: ప్రవాహము; ]

 శ్రీకృష్ణదేవరాయలు…

 ఆముక్తమాల్యద నుండి 

ఆశ్వాసము 5, పద్యం 136 & 138

Courtesy: https://www.facebook.com/notes/telugu-poetry/srikrishnadevaraya-two-poems/1640616216012031/  

 

The Angst… Ravi Verelly, Telugu Indian.

When the butterflies squiggle poems in their flight for flowers,

Or, the wind and the blades of straw are locked in playing piggy-ride

Or, when spectra open up their pinions full on the tails of sunrays

You enter into my thoughts.

*

After your departure

When I was struggling to find answers to the seething questions…

Sun rose as usual, and

As did the rain after him.

The sapling you planted bloomed so wildly

That it provided enough flowers for a lifetime.

The star you tossed away while leaving

Cast such a brilliance that it illuminated the whole firmament.   

Suddenly-

Days — longing for the nights, and

Nights — longing for the days, till then

Stopped singing dirges of lovesickness.

When the value of things lost was completely off my mind;

And it was clear that sunny days

Were banished forever in my life ahead,

At the knell of the parting day

While I was casting feed for young birds

You surfaced

Like a sizzling dagger on the brink of night.

Surprisingly, ingesting all colors

You spewed a trail of infinite darkness.

When I was only searching for questions

My body had turned into a brush in your hands!

I was left wondering what the answer would be;

And anxiously waiting for what its color could be.  

.

Ravi Verelly

Mr. Ravi Verelly is a Software Architect with TMEIC. He lives in Roanoke, Virginia.

Ravi is a poet of very fine poetic sensibilities and and a commensurate poetic diction. He is very nostalgic about his village Amudalapalle and his childhood. He brought out his maiden collection of poems in Telugu … Doopa (Thirst) in 2012. He is on the  Editorial Board of Telugu Web Magazine Vaakili since its inception in January 2012. This year he brought ot his second collection of Poetry “కుందాపన” (The Angst)”.

 

 

కుందాపన

 

పూలకోసం తుమ్మెదలు గాల్లో పద్యాలు రాస్తున్నపుడో

గాలీ, గడ్డిపరకా ఉప్పుబస్తాట ఆడుకున్నప్పుడో

కిరణాల తోకలమీద నీటిరంగులు పురివిప్పినపుడో

నువ్వే గుర్తొస్తావ్

 

నువ్వెళ్ళాక-

ప్రశ్నలకు జవాబులు వెదుక్కునే రోజుల్లో-

ఎప్పట్లానే సూర్యుడొచ్చాడు

తర్వాత వానా వచ్చింది.

నువ్వెళ్తూనాటిన మొక్క

జీవితానికి సరిపడేన్ని పూలని పూసింది.

నువ్వెళ్తూ విసిరిన నక్షత్రం

ఆకాశానికి సరిపడేన్ని వెలుగుల్నీ చిమ్మింది.

 

హటాత్తుగా-

పగళ్ళకోసం రాత్రులు

రాత్రులకోసం పగళ్ళు

విరహగీతాలు పాడుకోవడం మానేసాయి.

పోగొట్టుకున్నవేమిటో పూర్తిగా మరిచిపోయాక

మిగిలినవన్నీ పగళ్ళని వెలేసిన రోజులే అని తేలిపోయాక

మునిమాపుమూలమలుపులో

పావురాలకోసం గింజలు జల్లుతున్నప్పుడు

చీకటి అంచున పిడిబాకులా తళుక్కుమని

మళ్ళీ నువ్వుకనిపించావ్.

రంగుల్ని మింగేసి

చిత్రంగా చీకటిని ఉమ్మేసావ్.

 

ప్రశ్నల్ని మాత్రమే వెతుకుతున్నప్పుడు

నా దేహం నీకుంచెగా మారిపోయింది!

సమాధానం ఏమిటా అని చూస్తూ వుండిపోయాను.

దాని రంగేమిటా అని ఎదురు చూస్తూ వుండిపోయాను.

.

రవి వీరెల్లి

 

కుందాపన (2017) సంకలనం నుండి           

The Room… Nyayapati Srinivasa Rao, Telugu, Indian

Because I can’t help it

I enter the room

Saying open sesame

To the lock blocking my way.

If some letters

Slip through the door

I have to pick them up.

Of course,

I may as well ignore and walk in.

  

The animate,

The inanimate, and I

In this Room are

So familiar to one another 

That, even when the doors were closed

We feel as if we were watching

A wonderful attraction

At the City Center.

True!

There were times when I felt

Lonely or Grave yard silence in this Room

But not anymore.

 

It is in this Room

That I achieved self-control.

Creating my own alter egos

I learnt living in my own company.

(I must acknowledge the yeoman service

Rendered by my Room in this endeavor)

My room saved me

From blaming others like Selkirk.

What more,

Even before I started loving the room

It had started loving me.

This Room’s influence on me

Is not just great;

It is utmost.

Because I live

Away from my home and people

I can cite many examples:

The railway station

No longer looks as invaluable

As the Cashmere Shawl.

 

Whenever I think of trains

My eyes no longer

Get bleared with swelling tears.

Didn’t I tell you

I achieved self-control in this Room?

If I am the soul of this Room

The Room is my bod.

 

Just as we come back and

Re-read a sentence

While reading a book…

At times,

While locking the door

I forget what I wanted to do

And, opening the door

I walk in instead

  

When I stand at the threshold

Of my Room as I lock it,

I look like a follicle of hair

Coming out of an inflated mole.

 

In that well known fable

Just as the fox and the crocodile

Negotiated friendship on the seashore

The camaraderie between

Me and my Room

Lasts forever.

.

Vasu

(Nyayapati Srinivasa Rao) 

(Born 17 Nov 1964)

Telugu

Indian


 

Born on 17 Nov 1964 in Berhampur, Odisha, Vasu (Nyayapathi Srinivasa rao) is an IT professional working and living in Bangalore. He wrote mostly during the period 1987-93 and published his collection of poems, titled “కాసేపు” (For A Little While) in 2004 with a fore-word by eminent Telugu poet, critic and litterateur, Vadrevu China Veerabhadrudu. He breathes and lives poetry and adores all great poets of all ages, regardless of genre and political affiliations. He firmly believes – with strong justification – that Sri Sri is the greatest of Telugu poets for without him, Modern Telugu Poetry would not have been as
diverse and rich as it is today. He is active on Facebook.

 

ది రూమ్

 

తప్పదు గనుక

అడ్డుపడిన తాళాన్ని తీసేసి

రూమ్లోకి వెళతాను.

తలుపు సందులోంచీ

వుత్తరాలు జారిపడితే

వొంగి అందుకోవాలి.

లేదా తిన్నగానే వెళ్ళొచ్చు.

రూమ్లో సజీవులూ,

నిర్జీవులూ, నేనూ

ఒకర్నొకరం ఎరుగుదుం గనక

తలుపులు మూసుకున్నా

మా కందరికీ సిటీ జంక్షన్ లో

చోద్యం చూస్తున్నట్టే ఉంటుంది.

రూమ్లో ఏకాంతం, శ్మశాన నిశ్శబ్దం

ఒకప్పుడు కనిపించేవి.

ఇప్పుడు కాదు.

 

రూమ్లోనే ఆత్మనిగ్రహం సాధించేను.

ఏకోనేకోనమస్మి అనుకుని

సాయం సృష్టించుకోవడం

నేర్చుకున్నాను.

 (ఇందులో రూమ్ సహకారం ఎంతైనా ఉంది.)

సెల్కిర్క్ లాగ నేను నిందకి దిగకుండా

రూమే నన్ను సేవ్ చేసింది.

అంతెందుకు? 

నేను రూమ్ ని ప్రేమించక ముందే

రూమ్ నన్ను ప్రేమించడం 

మొదలుపెట్టింది.

నా మీద రూమ్ ప్రభావం ఎంతైనా కాదు.

ఎంతో ఉంది. 

ఇంటికి దూరంగా ఉంటున్నాను గనుక

దీనికి ఉదాహరణలు ఇవ్వగలను. 

ఇప్పుడు స్టేషను ఆవరణ

కాశ్మీరు శాలువలా కనిపించడం

మానేసింది.

 

రెయిళ్ళని తలుచుకుంటే పూర్వంలా

పొగనీళ్ళకళ్ళు ఎర్రబారట్లేదు.

చెప్పానుగా నేనీ రూమ్‌లో

ఆత్మనిగ్రహం సాధించానని.

నేను రూమ్ ఆత్మని. 

రూమ్ నా శరీరం.

ఒక్కోసారి మనం

పుస్తకం చదువుతూ చదువుతూ

చదివిన వాక్యమే మళ్ళీ

చదవబోయినట్టు

రూమ్ బయటకొచ్చి తాళం వేస్తూ

వేస్తూనే

తాళం తీసి రూమ్ రూమ్‌లో కెళ్ళిపోతాను.

నేను రూమ్

బైట నిలబడి తాళం

వేస్తూ గడపమీద

నించుంటే

దృశ్యం ఉబ్బిన

పుట్టుమచ్చలోంచీ

వెంట్రుకబైటపడినట్టుంటుంది. 

 

అదేదో కథలో

నక్కకీ మొసలికీ

చెలియలికట్టముందు

చెలిమి కుదిరినట్టు

నాకూ, నా రూమ్‌కీ ఎన్నాళ్ళైనా

పొసుగుతుంది.

.

(25 జూన్ 1987) 

వాసు

(Nyaayapati Srinivasa Rao)

“కాసేపు” కవితాసంకలనం 2004

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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