SriSri's Surrealist Poetic Puzzle - Part I

SriSri’s Surrealist Poetic Puzzle

         "కాకి కేమి తెలుసు సైకోఎనాలిసిస్

ఆటవెలది ద్విపద కత్తగారు

5,3,2, ఆముక్తమాల్యద -"

"kaaki kEmi telusu saikOenaalisis/aaTaveladi dvipada kattagaaru/5,3,2, aamuktamaalyada -"

O Lord of Seven Hills, what is the meaning of this? Even if we break our heads, it is difficult to fathom its essence. It is not proper (scholarly unbecoming) merely to brush it aside as “just a meaningless little rhyme”. Surrealist poetry is like that, its style. Yet, even if we contemplate very strenuously, even if we think very deeply, we may not decipher it. It’s baffling.

What is the essential point in this poem? What is the puzzle (1) here?…. Who is this great poet? Who else? “This century is mine” – so he said , so he declared with  a thump on his thigh, Mahakavi Srirangam Srinivasarao (2). By joining the first letters of his surname and his name, he coined the pseudonym: “Sri Sri”. Thus evolved a most meaningful, rhyming, poet-stalwart. Who else but he, could pen such surreal poems? Of course, people also say Narayana Babu also too wrote surrealistic poetry.

What is surrealism? We know its goal (i.e., to baffle the reader, hold him captive, and grab his attention. Make the reader stop in his tracks!), but what is its quality? SriSri explained its quality with an example. If we read it, we would go a bit crazy, become perplexed.

"జీబ్రాకు, Algebra చిహ్నాల

లాంకోటు, పాంకోళ్ళు తొడిగి

సాహిత్య పౌరోహిత్యం యిస్తే

వెర్రికాదు, Sur-Realism రా సోదరా!"

If we get (grab) a zebra 

Drape it in a long (trench) coat  with algebra symbols

Put him on wooded sandals

And bestow priesthood, of literature

It is not crazy, but surrealism, dear brother!

This definition makes us all stupefied, dumbstruck. [Translator’s addendum: Among Telugu community a common disparaging remark is – 'అడ్డగాడిద'. “You are  an upright donkey with two feet”. Quite likely, SriSri may have such an epithet(s) in his mind while composing this poem. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, deep in his sub consciousness, he had this vivid image; he must have encountered such a situation. After all he worked at the All India Radio, also he had a stint at a newspaper. So, he must have crossed paths with such a person. A totally incompetent nincompoop, dressed in a suit, given a big title (like director, editor, managing director, program director) and was put in charge of a key literary/journalism program. Perhaps, such a person has acquired lots of formal degrees, like B.A., M.A., from a university. What a havoc on Telugu literature and culture, it would create? How can a gifted artist, poet, scholar work under such oppressive pitiable conditions? Perhaps, these are the underlying factors, colorful images that prompted SriSri to compose this poem. Of course, on the face of it, the whole thing looks a bit unrealistic, surrealistic. A dream scenario. But that is the beauty of it. There is enormous humor embedded in the little poem, but only very few readers can grasp it! We must also remember here one more important factual detail: SriSri was a student of zoology. Zebras are a sort of (hybrid) cousins of asses and horses!]

In (Dr. C. N. R.) Narayana Reddy’s “Modern Telugu Poetry: Traditions and Experiments” (doctoral thesis), we find a reference to this poetic puzzle. Dr. Reddy’s comment is like this: “Because Amukta Malyada is a rather tough mature literary work (prabandham), he wanted to poke fun at it by using those numerals, 5,3,2. Perhaps.” Thus C.N.R. too left the riddle as an unsolved poem, he gave us no convincing answer. On top of it, Dr. Reddy tried to ascribe his own opinion to SriSri by saying, “SriSri wanted to say – irrelevance (out of context), meaninglessness, and jugglery of sound are the characteristics of surrealism, surrealist poetry”. One may portray surrealism (poetry) as absurd poetry, but it is not proper to say such poetry as meaningless. In any type of poetry, there will be some shrewdness, but it will only be one of the factors. Just a part; meaning – shrewdness alone cannot determine what is poetry and what is not. Here, in this context, we have to discuss one very pertinent incident related to our poet.

I think, during the sixties (1960’s), the very famous literary critic, late, Sripada Gopalakrishnamurty wrote a long essay on “Modern Telugu literature” in “Bharati” magazine. It went on for months, that review article. In that essay, he praised “Mahaprasthanam”. While paying tribute, Sripada said of SriSri, “in later years somehow the poet lost his talent, as a consequence, he started playing rhyming games with miscellaneous poems.” As an example, the critic offered this –

తురాయి కంటె

ఆకురాయి కంటె

కీచురాయి కంటె

హిమాంశురాయి (3) గొప్పవాడు

“Greater than a turayi

Greater than a file

Greater than a cricket

Is Himanshu Roy – the greatest (4)

Copyright by the author 2014, except the original cited Telugu poems.

"Inta telisi" - A Kshetrayya Padamu

“inta telisi” – A Kshetrayya Padamu

“O Gopala of the Muvva= village, you are such a learned person. You are the wisest. Still after knowing so much, even after having so many numerous good attributes, how come you have such a bad habit (quality)? Do you want to test our relationship (bond)? Is that why you are acting so obdurate? My Lord, tell me, please.

Perhaps, miffed at me, you’ve stopped coming home. Do you have any (other) female friends? Have they called on you? For me, you are the sole boy friend. You represent (are) all my female companions, too. When I reflect, I find you are my only god, my only celestial solace.

After all these days of acquaintance, have you made me into a stranger? And have you deserted me thus? Do you think I have any (royal) private staff, here, to look after me? Do they (does anybody) really care for me? You are my only true private (confidential) person, whom I can fully trust (and confide). No one but you, care about me really. When I think, when I ponder carefully, I realize you’ve become my entire life.

O the Gopala of Muvva, you being the repository of Lakshmi, won’t you take care of me? Why, are you still dithering? Is it because (any of) my (jealous) friends are having fun at my expense (schadenfreude)? For, you are my only close friend(s). Whenever I think, I think about you only. Later, i.e., when we meet, I will tell you all about the secret of my bliss. Of course, who else but you, you (Krishna) are the source of all my joy.”

Rather than a line to line* translation,  here I have attempted a detailed commentary on the well known Kshetrayya lyrical composition. Over the years I have dabbled in singing, both Carnatic and light music, ventured a little bit into lyrical compositions, and poetry. This piece, into which I stumbled by pure accident, has captured my total attention and kept me spellbound for about four days. Yes, four days, it took for me to learn its complete meaning and practice its lovely tune. And of course, Smt. Rao Balasaraswati’s rendering helped me a lot. What a pity? I must have first come across this song in the old BW ‘Devadasu’ movie, in late ‘60s. I saw the movie at least three or four times, yet I did not pay attention to this gem then. What can I say, such are the preoccupations of youth. Adi Sankara says it more poetically about the afflictions of youth!

Now, just a little more about the song’s meaning. I think, here, in this song the poet is considering the plight of our Radha, a forlorn gopi, Meera, or a sincere devotee. All of them are pleading with Lord Krishna. [These songs have been widely used for dance items; they still are the favorites of many Bharatanatyam and Kuchipudi teachers and choreographers. Now, in the modern India, real Kings and princes maybe rare. But in earlier glorious times, these songs were sung in royal courts. At such occasions, probably, the artist (danseuse) may have applied the lyrics’ meaning to her own plight, situation. Nothing wrong in that. That is the beauty of a great art. It will provide ample meaning to each subject, to every situation, will yield meaning to any given context.] How gently, is the asking in the first stanza? In the larger life, don’t we come across a number of situations – when a child suddenly stops visiting her parents’ home, just on some frivolous misunderstanding? How does a mother feel? Or, how does a wife feel when an estranged husband stops coming home? Any separation or estrangement of two souls (hearts) is a troubling emotion. Yet such a desperate state can also lead us to a higher state – a state, where the heart readily softens and melts. [I would not go into the details here, it needs an entire article on the meaning of beauty, (Indian concepts of) aesthetics, and the focal point of “love” and “bhakti”. These issues were very aptly addressed by many of our classic poets and critics. The late Prof. P.S. Sastri of Nagpur has written much on this very important beautiful topic. Due to the limits of time and space, I would gently refer the reader to those works for further elucidation of this subject.]

Much of our (Indian) classical music operates on this principle: It all begins with evoking softer feelings and emotions in the listener’s heart. And if I may say, it is not easy moving the heart(s) of a spectator. Any or everyone can jump and dance to a beat; anyone who has witnessed a wedding parade will attest to the effect of loud rhythmic drum beat. But, only some select (classical, Carnatic, or Hindustani) songs have the power of moving us really. When you listen to a Tyagayya, Annamayya, or Ramadasu song, you too weep with it, marvel at its beauty, and think repeatedly about its meaning for days at a time. In such inner explorations, one suddenly hits an immovable mountain or an unbreakable glass wall. Then momentarily, we are totally helpless – like the poet himself. Because all our faculties, worldly riches, everything we possess is utterly worthless. We discover then, we are not alone. We are not the only sufferers in this world. Radha suffered, our sister Mira suffered, and countless people still suffer this day – reasons aside, that is the ground on which we exist, patiently trudging on this earth.  If someone thinks or pretends that he is above this “scourge of endemic suffering”, then either he does not have a heart or does not have the capacity to imagine. He may buy a balcony seat and attend a grand opera or drama; still she may not ‘get’ it.

In such a heightened state, we are able to discover the meaning of music, poetry, or dance. In that short duration of “molten emotional state”, spontaneously we may have an insight into the meaning of religion, Eswara, and truth. It is in this context, only in such extremely rare situations, we arrive at the meaning of great musical compositions. Without any doubt, then, we can truthfully say: The artist has succeeded. And really, our great Telugu composers like Kshetrayya have left us a great heirloom silver, to study, appreciate, and enjoy. Just a phrase from such great compositions can, and do bring a mutation in our mind. Often they leave a footprint of blessing on our lives grace in our lives, in the wake of such dance or musical performances.

Finally, I conclude with one observation: Only a great rasika, a sensitive poet, or a consummate devadasi (I mean no disparaging to this clan of devoted artists, I hold utmost respect and affection for them) will experience the essence of this exquisite lyrical composition. Many others may understand it intellectually, but they may not get it, feel it in their hearts. I have nothing but praise to all the three artists in the movie - the singer (Smt. R. Balasaraswathi Devi), the dancer, and the music director, Sri. Subburaman. The dancer has given complete meaning to each and every phrase of the song. 

(I must expressly record my thanks to many here. Without their blessing and help, I would not have understood the meaning of many Telugu lyrics. I bow and prostrate at the feet of my great grand father (himself a very great pundit and yogi), my maternal grand father (I only know him as Venkatavadhani), and my maternal grand mother. She knew the gist of many of the Hindu scriptures, could quote original Sanskrit lines from the Vedas. I pay my respects to my paternal grand father, Kamayya and my paternal grand mother. Also, to my dear in-laws. It is really their pious devotion, endless trips to many holy sites, and their steadfast adherence to the “essential core dharma”, that has guided me throughout life. If I know anything a little bit about the (Hindu) classics, it is solely due to their affection and kind protective gaze. As Newton had somewhere humbly stated, if I am able to reach certain intellectual pinnacles in life (or if I am able to fly high and see the majestic heights of pure joy at times), it is because they have kindly taken me into their fold and taught me – and taught me, they all did, mostly in absentia. I learned the languages from N. Gangadhara Sastri, Mr. Raju, B. Venkateswarlu, and others. My teachers (unlike the modern uninterested pedagogues) took keen interest in me; both in college and school they were kind and very helpful. Often they would pamper affection on me and propel to greater heights. To these people, I humbly dedicate this short article as a small gesture of gratitude. What else can I offer them now?)
The video and audio clips are available at: 

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=O0UkOWa4Xk8

http://www.oldtelugusongs.com/newsongs/vintage/Devadasu_1953-RBalasaraswatiDevi-IntaTelisiyundi-Kshetrayya_CRSubbaraman.mp3

Copyright  by the author 2014

---

= A historical village, nestled in Krishna District, adjacent to Kuchipudi.

* Perhaps there is an English translation of this song some where. Yet, I have my doubts and misgivings about translations of Telugu works, particularly done by (transplanted) non-native speakers or even native speakers with strong prejudices against faith (cf. the late poet Sri Sri).

Lyrics of "Inta telisi" - A Kshetrayya Padamu

ఇంత తెలిసియుండీ ఈగుణ మేలరా

పంతమా మువ్వ గోపాలా నా సామి                               (2)

అలుక చేసి ఇంటికి రావైతివి, చెలికత్తెలున్నారా, పిలువ వచ్చేరా

చెలికత్తెలైన నీవే, చెలువుడవైన నీవే

తలచిచూడ నాపాలి దైవము నీవే                                      ||ఇంత||

వింతదానివలె నన్ను వేరుచేసి రావైతివి, అంతరంగులున్నారా, నన్నాదరించేరా

అంతరంగమైన నీవే, ఆదరించెనా నీవే

చింతించిచూడ, నా జీవనము నీవే                                     ||ఇంత||   

శ్రీనిధి మువ్వ గోపాలా  నన్నేలరా, నా నేస్తులెవరైనా  ఆనందించేరా

నా  నేస్తులైనా నీవే, నమ్మి తలచినా నీవే  

ఆనగ పలికెద నా ఆనందమైనా నీవే                                  ||ఇంత||

inta telisiyunDi iiguNa mElaraa

pantamaa muvva gOpaalaa naa saami

alukacEsi intiki raavaitivi, chelikattelunnaaraa, piluva vaccEraa

chelikattelaina niivE, celuvuDavaina niivE

talacicuuDa naapaali daivamu niivE |inta|         || inta ||

vintadaanivale nannu vErucEsi raavaitivi, aantarangulunnaraa, nannaadarincEraa

antarangamaina niivE, aadarinchenaa niivE

cintincicuuDa, naa jiivanamu niivE                      || inta || 

Sriinidhi muvvagOpaalaa nannElaraa

naanEstulevarainaa aanandincEraa

naanEstulainaa niivE, nammi talacinaa niivE

aanaga palikeda naa aanandamainaa niivE    || inta ||

Film: Devadasu (BW)

Music: Subburaman

Lyrics: Kshetrayya

Singer: Smt. Rao Balasaraswati

The meaning and commentary for this beautiful lyric will be given in the next post. I start the new year (2014) and the auspicious uttarayana festival season with this heart moving Telugu composition. May the playful Gopala keep a benevolent gaze on this writer too, as he did centuries ago on Kshetrayya. All high, profound rasa spring waters must originate from Siva, Saraswati, or Krishna. 

Snapana (Ablutions)

Snapana  (Ablutions)

There are some things -

Things, which are unique

Certain things we buy, barter, acquire

Some things, we just receive ’em

Through pure luck

They come into our homes

No, we may not have asked for them

But they arrive at our doorstep

They come into our midst

On their own, they enter our abodes

Several such things are with us

The one-of-a-kind cactus is

One of them

Till very recently

I simply considered it to be

Just a plant, rather a succulent one

But a plant is Siva too

So says: The Yajur-veda

So proclaims the white Morinda

In Srisailam

Once I was giving

A misting, to its lustrous green stem

And gentle watering to its roots

Always I try to use

Cool, clean water sans the minerals

Either directly from rainwater or

The basement dehumidifier

Its dark green succulent exterior

Would hold not even a droplet

Not even a tiny one

Everything just rolls down

Like the water we pour over a

Siva-linga

Throughout the 365 days

Through all the phases of moon

Through the twenty-four hours

Through all time

This cactus shows no external signs

Of life, it is wrapped into itself

Lost in some

Deep meditation -  like a sthanuh

Yet

It is full of life

And you can observe it

If you watch very carefully

If a stray twig hits it

Pricks it by accident – it gets bruised easily

Leaving a scar

During summer

When I leave it on the deck

I often notice -

Invariably it gets wounded  with

Wind tossed branches from the

Big maple, walnut overhanging trees

With a cut here and a nick there

It bears all such abuse with calm demeanor

Not once, never in its entire life

Did it complain of any abuse

Water or no water, light or no light

Food or no food

More than twenty years

It has stayed with us like a

Very obedient Indian daughter

When it came to us

Barely it was a two inch ball cactus

Now

A green fluted column

Of fifteen inches

Resembling the Linga of

Daksharama, near Kakinada

What I give it – is very minimal

A peach colored clay pot

And a handful of dirt

I repot with utmost care

And of course infinite love

It has no thorns, only remnants of

Long gone needle bases,

(Like long forgotten personal grudges)

I mix loose soil, perlite

Sand, and at times a bit of bone meal

At times with a pinch of lime

And then, I just leave it to

Soak in the sun, near the south facing glass door

That’s it, that’s all. Then it does not ask

For anything, neither water nor fertilizer

Like our thirsty tropical flowering hibiscus

Weeks, even months would go by

Without a drop of water, even without a glance

From its caring gardener

In early spring

I see its awakening

Waking from dormancy

I witness fresh growth on its crown

The glistening freshly formed soft

Green succulent tissue, and of course

Several flower buds too sprout

Then suddenly on cool summer nights

It gifts us delicately fragrant white

Trumpet like flowers

It is as if Siva Himself

Is in our midst

With a cool shiny crescent moon

Effusing sweet aroma all around

It came to us

From far away south America

Via Albuquerque

Through a friend

In a shriveled sunken state

They call it – Echinopsis seminudus

Unasked, it came into our home

It brought us hope, happiness

I learnt more about life

About religion and meditation

From it, than through any number of

Books and tedious discussions

It taught me patience

“Be content with whatever

you’ve, be devoted

and a miracle may happen”

Copyright by the author  2013

Banana Plant

Banana Plant

            Banana (Musa) is a classic tropical plant. Its large leaves make an emphatic pleasant statement in any room; it gives a soothing (cool green color) feeling as an element of interior decoration. The plant is also prized as an ornamental plant (with or without the fruit). Of course, it symbolizes auspiciousness and sacredness in the traditional (Sanatana) Hindu ceremonies; according to one purana story, the plant represents a lady. In cold places too, it can be successfully grown in green houses or indoors in large pots. I happened to notice lots of banana plants in the Pittsburgh (Phipps conservatory) botanical garden.

            Many vegetables in the plant kingdom tend to be acidic – their tartness covers a wide spectrum, ranging from the tart apple (normally found early in the season) to the extremely sour tamarind. There are very few vegetables that are either alkaline or neutral. Raw banana is on the alkaline side. I first came to recognize this alkaline nature of banana, during my pre-college days. The ashes of dried banana stem and leaves exhibit this property very vividly. Using turmeric as (pH) an indicator, one can see the color change due to banana ashes. Thus, (raw) banana culinary dishes are valuable in lessening the deleterious effects of acidic foods. 

            My own association with this plant goes back to my teenage years. Our mother wanted to provide us with homegrown tasty bananas. Bananas are an excellent source of energy for growing kids, function as an excellent snack, particularly after exhausting physical activity. In those days, we had a retired teacher in our street, he had more than fifty banana plants in his garden. Often he had to remove the overgrown suckers (pups) and discard them, as part of thinning. Upon mother’s request, the teacher gave us four baby banana plants: two of Chakkerkeli (చక్కరకేళి, Poovan, Mysore AAB) and two Amrutapani (అమృతపాణి, Rasthali, Silk AAB).

            We brought them home (I carried couple of stems on my shoulders) and gently planted them next to our kitchen. We could see them right through our kitchen window. I still have vivid memories of our little kitchen garden. Situated in a coastal village, we had ample access to good quality water. The canal water (off of Godavari river) met all our needs; but mother was many years ahead of the times, and she did not want to waste our precious potable water. The bananas were irrigated with our bath water and kitchen washings (grey water). Yet the plants never complained, they were full of green foliage, without any disease, and enjoyed the tropical (near vertical) bright sun rays. Now I think: If they got a bit alkalinity from our bath water, it didn’t bother them, they (the plants) are alkaline too.

            Soon, they plants grew by leaps and bounds, they just went on putting weight (with increasing girth) and big leaves. In the village, you could never offend anyone, nor deny a friendly request. Often, neighbors would drop by our house and request a few plantain leaves. We could not tell them, “no”. So, mother would go around the plants every week and deliberately tear the plantain leaves. So, that way we did not have to give away large leaves to neighbors! Bananas need their precious large leaves for their own food production (photosynthesis). Just imagine how much food the tree (though it is not a real tree) has to produce and store for yielding a big cluster of 150 fruits.

            In the village, the plants grew quite well during first year. But they did not show inflorescence for many months. Mother got a bit worried and she promptly sought our farmer’s advice. “Just apply a bit of super phosphate, madam, everything will be alright”. He cautioned us to use only moderate amounts of fertilizer and that too, far away from the root system. Luckily, then, we had a large fertilizer warehouse in our backyard, and within a matter of weeks, we had our first banana fruit. Success at last! They were the best naturally ripened bananas I have ever tasted. Come to think of it, city folks nowadays go gaga (or bananas) over organic food. We had them, decades before, in villages and small towns. Beans, snake gourd, bottle gourd, eggplant, or amaranth, you name it, we had grown (mostly without any inorganic fertilizer) organically with no pesticide then. But more than the ripened fruit, what surprised both mother and myself was this: That last, ultimate or penultimate small leaf. Then slowly, the appearance of a big compound flower with many helical tiers (hands, అత్తములు). Mother made tasty dishes with the flower and the inner white stem too. Once or twice, mother had the big fruit suspended from overhead wooden beam – as and when I got hungry, just plucked a ripe yellow banana and enjoyed the sweet taste, with its strong amyl acetate flavor. It was at least four five years before I synthesized the ester in chemistry lab.

            What a marvelous tropical plant! In exchange for a little care and a bit of grey water, this great plant gave us everything, from cool shade, tasty fruit, to unique vegetarian dishes. When I finally discarded the massive stem in village canal waters, I had to bid a sad goodbye to it. I enjoyed its smooth trunk, via a last floatation ride on the waters. Ladies still use its buoyant concave stems as tiny boats to carry their oil lamps on waterfront.

Indoors Care

            Obviously, when we grow this plant indoors in a pot, we may not always get the fruit. It may take several years for the plant to gain maturity. Here, in our local temple, I did see the potted plant bearing fruit. But the fruit was quite small – more like a part of still life in a painting (or the fake plastic fruit seen in a hobby store).

            Several years back, I bought a little banana plant in a 4” pot from a local superstore for $ 3.00. Banana likes larger pots. A spacious growing container will provide ample room for the suckers. The plant does not demand high quality soil and this fact is borne out by the experience of south Indian farmers. I use whatever soil I have on hand: a bit of top soil mixed with one part compost and one part leaf mold. You can add a bit of perlite and some sand. Good drainage helps, but the plant can tolerate a bit of overwatering.

Repotting

            In pots, banana plant tends to give suckers (పిలకలు) all around. Most banana plants do not have any seed (useful for reproduction). New plants are grown either from suckers or by tissue culture techniques. The small offshoots look very attractive, like little children, they too ask for separate pots. The first  time I tried separating a sucker – it proved total disastrous.  Either its corm got injured or it failed to grow new roots rapidly. There are two types of suckers with banana plants: Some are in close proximity to the main stem and some that are spaced away from the mother plant. It is very difficult to separate the in-grown suckers from the mother plant. To eliminate overcrowding, such closely spaced (baby) suckers are cut off with a sharp knife. [It is a good practice to periodically clean gardening tools (pruning shears, knives) with soap water and rubbing alcohol].

            It is a bit easier to handle the outlying suckers. These suckers can be gently separated and grown into mature plants. Separation is best done during repotting process (fair weather helps too. Spring, summer, or fall times are the most appropriate periods for repotting). When I removed the root-ball from the old congested pot, I could see the entangled root system. We had to patiently gently separate the roots first, then with a sharp (kitchen) knife, we carefully sliced the soil – thus three separate plants with intact root balls were formed.

            For good drainage, the pot bottom was filled with coconut shells, broken (ceramic & clay) pot pieces, pine needles, and birch twigs. After centering the plant, the sides were packed with compost soil. Though we tried our best, getting the plant straight and centered in the pot is always tricky. Right now all plants are doing extremely well, putting on new leaves, and growing in height and diameter. In my experience I have never encountered any serious pest problem with banana. Though some banana varieties are prone to disease. I am not sure about the exact banana type in my possession; looks like we got a red banana variety. Copyright 2013

(Dedicated to T.S.L. and my innocent village folks)

Lyrics of Telugu Song "niili megha maalavO"

నీలిమేఘ మాలవో, నీలాల తారవో

నీసోయగాలతో మదినీ దోచిపోదువో

నీ మోములోన జాబిలి దోబూచులాడెనే

నీ కురులు తేలి గాలిలో ఉయ్యాలలూగెనే

నిదురించు వలపు మేల్కొలిపి దాగిపోదువో

నీ కెంపు పెదవి తీయని కమనీయ కావ్యమే

నీ వలపు తనివి తీరని మధురాల రావమే

నిలిచి వదేల నాపిలుపు ఆలకించవో

రాదేల జాలి ఓ చెలీ ఈ మౌనమేలనే

రాగాల తేలిపోదమే జాగేల చాలునే

రావో యుగాల ప్రేయసీ నన్నాదరించవో

Film: Madanakamaraju Katha

Lyrics: G. K. Murty

Singer: P.B. Srinivas

niilimEgha maalavO, niilaala taaravO

niisOyagaalatO madinii dOchipOduvO

nii mOmulOna jaabili dObuuchulaaDenE

nii kurulu tEli gaalilO uyyaalalUgenE

nidurinchu valapu mElkolipi daagipOduvO

nii kempu pedavi tiiyani kamaniiya kaavyamE

nii valapu tanivi tiirani madhuraala raavamE

nilichi vadEla naapilupu aalakinchavO

raadEla jaali O chelii ii maunamElanE

raagaala tElipOdamE jaagEla chaalunE

raavO yugaala prEyasii nannaadarinchavO

       Some time back, I posted the lyrics of this hit Telugu song at my Sulekha blog. But as I check now, it is not to be found. Usually I have a copy on my computer - still, it is a bit irritating not to find your old articles. Can't help it, that is how the Internet works, you just have to live with its faults. 

       

      Coming to this marvelous song: What can I add? Beautiful melody, the tune is same as that of the Hindi hit song, "chaudavi ka chand", sung by Rafi saab. P. B. Srinivas made an excellent rendering. Two lines catch my attention. In the first stanza, "having aroused love in me, (why) you disappear (or hide)". In the second stanza, "your sweet coral-colored lip". Many romantics (lucky folks! bless their hearts)  come across such situations; but a good poet can give a precise expression with the right shade of emotion. For those who understand the lyrics, the song still brings back memories of golden Telugu cinema. 

Translation of "ne pogadakunte"

Translation of “nE pogaDakunTE “

So what?

What do You lack?

What do You miss?

If I don’t praise (Your glory)

You know my mind (Don’t You?)

Those, who dwell in Your grace

Like

The Suka, Sanaka,

Prahlada, Narada

Rudra (Siva)

And other devotees

(When) They all worship You

So what?

What do You lack?

For

Providing food and sustenance

There, are

My wife, scholars, and community

For helping with (music lessons and) singing hymns

I’ve the

Son of Wind (Hanuman)

Now

Daksha, Indra, and other celestials

Have become very dear relatives

O Lord with lotus eyes

The One extolled by Sri Tyagaraja

Being a boy

If I don’t praise (Your glory)

What do you lack?

You know my mind.

Tyagayya (at times I prefer to call him Tyagayya, cf. Annamayya) profusely acknowledges the debt to elders, teachers, contemporary society, and ancient rishis in a number of songs. In some instances he may have expressed a slight difference of opinion with cohorts (nadupai palikeru comes to mind). But wherever he expressed gratitude, his sentiments were always warm and heartfelt. I sense a feeling of authentic thankful gesture in this song and “danDamu peTTEnuraa kOdanDapaaNi cuuDaraa” (see one of my older posts at Sulekha).

[This is a translation of the Tyagayya kriti, “nE pogaDakunTE niikEmi kodavO?”. I learnt the song from a cassette (rendition) by Dr. Balamurali. I hope younger artists like Dr. Pantula Rama will one day present their own interpretation of such timeless compositions. Certainly there is a vast reservoir of musical talent hidden in today’s youngsters – one fervently hopes budding singers remain optimistic, persevere, and pursue Indian classical music either as a vocation or avocation. Money or no money, awards or no awards. Per se, art has its own rewards.]

I will post the lyrics (and perhaps commentary) in a future write-up.  Copyright © 2013