Reflections and Retrospective (Of a Blogger)

Reflections and Retrospective (Of a Blogger)

It is not for want of ideas or topics that I am writing this post. Purely I want to take a little break from all the noise of current wars, the lingering aftereffects of Covid pandemic (ex: children’s falling school grades), and the food shortage, etc.. At times it seems appealing to wade into controversial topics (ex: politics, religion) but one can get stuck in the muck of the moment and lose the larger picture of life. Any way there is no point in getting the blood pressure up and losing mental equanimity over the price of milk, gas, fad (the Zeitgeist, a fancier word) of the moment (ex: AI, Artificial Intelligence), or the ubiquitous temperamental weather. 

Years ago I started blogging on poetry, Telugu literature, Carnatic music, science, and gardening. There were some miscellaneous topics like bodily upkeep too. The articles were mostly non-controversial and they helped me polish my writing (communication) skills and share some hidden beauty in (500 year old) ancient musical compositions and nature. That the blogs cumulatively attracted more than a million (~1,000 k) page views speaks some thing about the sites’ durability and continued interest among its readers. And the readers are scattered all over the world; bulk of the visitors are from US and India with a smattering of page views from Canada or Australia. Occasionally a dance student or Carnatic music fan requested for the lyrics of a rare Kshetrayya padamu or the meaning of a popular Ramadasu kirtana. I’ve always acceded to such requests and posted the musical pieces on my site. All this work I assiduously did with care within my time constraints and without any reward per se (except a pair of pearl earrings!); I simply considered this as part of paying tribute to my homeland, teachers, and family. To my surprise some of the articles have withstood the test of time and they turned out into a set of “benchmark critical essays”. Whether any of these posts influences the Indian youth (or contemporary Telugu generation) – I cannot comment. Literary or musical interests do not rub on everybody easily; it does not matter whether they are of highbrow or lowbrow type. Some get it and some don’t – that’s the beauty of life. Hobbies, i.e., non-monetary idle diversions – ideally they should be honed during the prime of life, if they have to be of any help or lasting value in life. 

So like the little sparrow (see a Puranic story about Garuda) on the sandy beach, I’ve kept on writing, adding attractive nature photos, several original Telugu compositions, and a few exploring pieces on the timeless ancient Sanatana faith (dharma). Through these writings I too have benefited. It sharpened my abilities in observation, expression, translation, science, and arts. Here, at this juncture I just want to express my thanks to all the visitors, the random browsers, and keen readers of both the websites: Google and Sulekha. Though I do not know the readers personally, though I’ve not seen any of them personally like many authors I feel a special kinship with all of them. One may consider such a relation as purely a figment of imagination, but then the conscious world is not the only tangible worldly thing in this universe. I am sure a Viswanatha or Tagore would agree, even Adi Sankara will nod in unison! Like pure aural music this mode of communication works wonders only through words, sentences, and passages; it is shorn of all other glitzy bling-bling as in a video clip or reel. The early morning chirping bird catches our attention though it is invisible and far away tucked in the branches; yet occasionally a flying pileated woodpecker or blue jay betrays its identity through a raucous screechy call. Copyright 2026 by the author

The Reception Hall (Short Story)

The Reception Hall (A tete-a-tete)

There I was in front of another patient in the reception room. I had to while away forty minutes waiting. This was before the Corona virus pandemic and so we could chitchat without the masks and all that hoopla. Of course, the privacy regulations of healthcare (HIPPA) were in force already.

“Hi, how are you? Are you too waiting for the physical therapy?”

“I am alright. My daughter is getting the therapy. Actually first I’ve to get spinal surgery done and then follow it up with post operative PT.”

“Your daughter, she must be young?”

“Yea, she is young but with modern computer screens, etc., they develop neck or shoulder pains quickly. And that’s why she is getting some massage and exercise.”

“You must be from here, I suppose. I mean locally from Fayetteville, this part of Finger Lakes.”

“I am and I am not. Originally I graduated from here, studied Environmental Science. Got a job and married and all that. Then got separated and now I am trying to connect with my daughter. I left my job here and went to Rochester to live with my parents.”

“You did. Why? What happened?”

“Well my parents both needed home care in their twilight years. First it was my father, he was in wheelchair and needed full time supervision. I did not want to put him in some old age nursing home and leave his fate to careless caregivers. So, I left my job and went to live with them in the Kodak city.”

“Was it difficult for you? Making the decision, the financial burden and daily work.”

“It was. But I had to do it. As parents they did everything for me while growing up. They did without expecting anything from us.”

“But, still you had to do the cooking, cleaning bed, and bath.”

“Yes, father was ok till the last one year or six months. Then he went downhill rapidly, with the loss of bodily functions and memory. I did not mind the work. But slowly I became more understanding. It can happen to anybody. He was a proud father, came up through bootstraps, and he provided us with everything.”

“And then you provided the same care to mother also?”

“Yes. They both were good friends and supported each other. After father’s passing, she barely lived couple of years. But I am fortunate to be with them during their last days.”

“Looks, now you’ve to pick up the pieces. What? How long it has been?”

“Now I will come back here and look for a job after almost six years. This is where I still have a few friends. And most of all I like the peaceful beautiful nature around.”

“Yea, I too am captivated by the clean lakes, the fall colors, and clean air. No complaints about the vibrant nature around. Your work is close to nature, I suppose.”

“We do environmental assessment, its impact by new developments, construction, and the safeguarding of fresh water lakes. We are trying to drastically reduce the use of salt in winter and its spillage into the streams and creeks around.”

“I see. So, I cannot blame the PWD if there is a bit of snow and roads less passable in winter. We just have to cope up with it with less salt. Just learn to drive cautiously, I suppose.”

We’re almost close to our conversation. His last words still ring in my mind and they’re etched forever in memory.

“My parents did the diapers, tolerating my cranky childhood tantrums, fed, and educated me up to college. At least I took care of them in their neediest moments. If I have to do it again, I’ll do it without the slightest twinge.”

So, here is an educated gentleman who put his life on hold to serve elderly parents. Maybe there were some assets involved or it could involve minor obligations for the son. But still in this age who would do it? I’ve seen some families shunting off their decrepit mother or father to the nearest nursing home shirking off familial responsibilities. It is happening now in the Indian subcontinent back home too. 

I think I understand these difficult issues by reading Ramayana (Sravana Kumar) or Panduranga’s life. How mistaken I was! They say every society will be judged finally by the care shown to children and elderly parents. No wonder – the Green Lakes, the intense azure blue skies, and the bountiful apple trees bear a testimony to my friend’s goodness and love towards his parents. As they say, some are always like want, want; and some others know nothing but giving. (To All the wonderful Fathers. Father's Day falls on the third Sunday in June here.) Copyright 2026 by the author

Lucy Gray Poem (Telugu Translation)

Lucy Gray Poem (Telugu Translation)

(This poem was a part of our High School English course. Wordsworth is considered  as one of the giants of nature poetry; he had an almost mystic connection with the natural surroundings, the vibrant outdoor environment, and the flora. He had that uncanny insight into the “soul of nature”. Though we studied his poems (Daffodils, Lucy Gray, Lines Composed A Few Miles  above Tintern Abbey) we did not fully imbibe their beauty, sensitivity, and the silent music beneath the surface. I do not blame our English teachers – they did their best to communicate the poetic essence. But the barrier of a foreign terrain, climate, plants, and linguistic curtain remained in our classrooms. Now having lived in snowy mountains with vast stretches of wetlands for many years and with brief European visits  I’ve developed the perception to appreciate these bygone romantic poets. 

Often on the International Mother Language Day (February 21) or the Andhra Pradesh Formation Day (November 1) I find the urge (pull) to pen a poem, piece, or essay to highlight the beauty of my mother tongue. Here is a much belated effort to make amends. I give the Telugu translation of this unique Wordsworth poem – it pulls at the hearts of parents and children alike. I did not try to follow any prosodic meters; but the reader will glean through some natural sound or rhyme. My sole concern is to bring fidelity to the theme and story of Lucy Gray. I hope both the young and grownups will find this work “poetically interesting” and captivating. Children are the blooms of future; they are the sole custodians of innocence, beauty, and carefreeness. The present chaotic times sorely need the laughter of children. No AI tools were used for this translation)  

లూసీ గ్రే 

1. తరచు విన్నాను లూసీ గ్రే గురించి

అలా అడవుల్లో తిరిగేటప్పుడు 

తెల్లవారు ఝామున 

కనిపించేది ఆ ఒంటరి పిల్ల 

2. నెచ్చలి గాని,  చెలికాడు గాని  

ఎవరు తెలియదు లూసీ కి 

ఓ వెడల్పైన చిత్తడి బీడు మీద ఉండేది 

ఆ ముద్దుల పొన్నారి కుటీరపు ఇల్లు 

3. అల్లా ఎక్కడో జింక పిల్ల ఆడుతూ 

ఆకుల్లో కుందేలు చెవులు కదులుతూ ఉంటాయి 

చూడచ్చు వాటిని ఇప్పటికీ అక్కడ 

కాని మనోహర లూసీ మొగము 

ఎన్నడూ కన్పించదు ఇక   

 

4. “ఈ రేయి గాలివాన, మంచు తుఫాను 

(హిమ గాడ్పు) వస్తుంది,పట్టణానికి వెళ్ళాలి నువ్వు. 

ఆ, లాంతరు తీసుకొని వెళ్ళు అమ్మాయి 

అమ్మకి మంచులో వెలుతురుకి

దారి కనిపించడానికి” 

5. “వెళ్తాను, తండ్రీ ముదముతో

ఇంకా మిట్ట మధ్యాహ్నమే 

గడియారము రెండు కొట్టింది ఇప్పుడే …అదిగో  

చందమామ దూరంలో తొంగి చూస్తోంది”

6. అంటూ, తండ్రి కట్టెల త్రాడు తెంచాడు 

ఎండు కఱ్ఱలని వరుసగా పేర్చాడు 

ఇంతలో లూసీ హరికేన్ లాంతరు

తీసుకొంది చేతులోకి 

7. చడీ చప్పుడు లేకుండా, కొండ మీద జింకలా 

ఎగురుతూ, కాళ్లతో దుమ్ము (బరఫ్) లేపుతూ 

ఓ తెల్ల మేఘాన్ని సృష్టిస్తూ …

8. అనుకోకుండా ముందుగానే వచ్చింది 

ఆ (బరఫ్) తుఫాను

ఆ పిల్ల అటు ఇటు తిరిగింది 

లూసీ ఎక్కింది ఎన్నో కొండలు, ఎన్నో గుట్టలు 

కాని నగరం చేరలేదు  

9. ఆ దురదృష్టపు తల్లితండ్రులు 

తిరిగారు సుదూర ప్రాంతాలికి 

కానీ ఆ నిశ్శబ్దపు కటిక చీకటిలో 

ఎటువైపు పోయేది? దారి ఎటువైపు?

ఎక్కడ వెదికేది?

10. తెల్లవారగానే చూస్తే వాళ్ళు కొండమీదున్నారు 

పైనుంచి చూస్తే ఆ బరఫ్ తో నిండిన

పిండి వెన్నల లాంటి  

తెల్లటి చిత్తడి బీడు దూరంలో కనిపిస్తోంది 

అదిగో అల్లంత దూరంలో - ఉంది ఓ చెక్క వంతెన

వాళ్ళ ఇంటికి రెండు వందల గజాల దూరంలో 

11. భొల్లున ఏడ్చారు - ఇంటివైపు తిరుగుతూ 

విలపిస్తూ దారి పొడుగునా 

“స్వర్గం లో కలుస్తాము మరల” 

అక్కడ బరఫ్ లో లూసీ చిట్టి పాద ముద్రలు 

పసి గట్టింది వాళ్ళ అమ్మ 

12. మరల వాటిని వెంబడిస్తో 

ఆ కొండ దిగువకు జారుతూ 

ఆ పిల్ల అడుగుల వెనకాలే, వాటి వెంట వెళ్తూ 

అంతలో తెగిపోయిన ముళ్ల కంచెలోంచి 

నిడువైన రాతి గోడ ప్రక్కనుంచి 

13. ఆ తర్వాత, వాళ్ళు దాటారు విశాలపు మైదానం 

అవే గుర్తులు, అడుగులు 

వాటి వెంటనే వెళ్లారు, క్రమంలో విడువుకుండా

ఆ వంతెన దగ్గరకు వచ్చారు  

14. అక్కడ (బరఫ్ నిండిన) తెల్లని కాలువ గట్టుపై నడుస్తూ 

ఒకదాని వెంట ఒకదాని అడుగుల వెనకాల 

ఆ చెక్క బల్ల వంతెన మధ్య దాకా …

ఆ తర్వాత పాద ముద్రలు లేవు 

15. ఇప్పటికి ఈ నాటికి అంటారు: 

“ఆ పిల్ల బ్రతికే ఉందని,

ఆ తీయని లూసీ గ్రే 

ఎక్కడో ఆ పొదల్లో ఉందేమో” అని 

16. ఎత్తు పల్లాల్లో ఎగురుతూ 

కేరింతలు కొడుతూ వెళ్తుంది ఆ పిల్ల 

వెనక్కి చూడకుండా 

ఓ నిరాల పాట పాడుతూ 

ఆ ఈల పాట గాలిలో తేలుతూ …

Copyright 2026 by the author

 

  

 

  

 

  

 

  

  

Brittle Dry Leaves (Nature Poem)

Brittle Dry Leaves

There
Yonder just a
Few clusters of
Dried leaves
They hang on the denuded
Maple, walnut, oak, or hawthorn
I can see them through
Our bedroom glass window

Often I wondered
About them
Why still cling on to
The mother tree
In this wintry 
Season
Why?
For the utilitarian
Modern man
They serve no purpose
Normally the tree shuts
Off all fluid during the 
Chilly autumn, then a sudden
Night freeze, a snap
The leaves turn up
Rather, display
Their colorful underwear!
And still keep a loving company
To the mother
These barren trees with dry bark
Barely enough to protect from 
The wind chill –
Enow, this spectacle alone
To trigger the image of “the world’s
Wretched, helpless poverty-stricken
Naked human mass of black hole”
Who talks to these trees?
In this dark cloud covered
Overcast season
In these freezing, frigid
Temperatures, tell me?

No, the world - particularly
The nature is not so
Cruel as we seem to think
The trees get visits from
The wandering deer
The bushy tailed squirrels
The blue jays, chickadees,
The hammering woodpeckers
The crows, doves, and even an 
Intermittent osprey
Even in this dead of winter
But these dried brittle leaves
Talk to the tree
In hushed whispers
As I watch them
I can see the winds
They record every single
Rustle, the slightest movement 
Of wind
No disturbance escapes ’em
They are almost like the
Sensitive tip of an atomic
Force microscope (AFM)
I cannot listen to the 
Whistling wind currents
But I can see each
Passage of aerial currents
They, together with the underneath
Murmuring waterfall
And the happy wooden
Landscape
With a flickering snowy veil
Brings a much needed
Morning cheer to us
The leaves, one may think
Them dead – but they
Are more alive now 
One day they may
Decorate the nest of a
Pregnant red squirrel!
Nay, there is more life
Among those dry
Brittle leaves
Than I can ever think of  

Copyright 2026 by the author

"Minakshi Me Mudam" Song - An Exploration

Mina lochani = One (the Devi) with the eyes of a fish; [There is an interesting story about fish and its children. Similar to the Guru, a fish supports its children with just its looks or gaze. This is true of turtles also (see the Wiki about Olive Ridley Turtles)]. Many think that raising the young or caring for a plant or pet requires direct touch and feeding. Yet in nature life happens and grows on its own, perhaps under the loving gaze of mother Earth or the Mother. 

Many birds feed their young with delicate nutritious food, at times even slightly masticated (or regurgitated) protein rich portions. But the swans are a little different; they guide and watch their babies (cygnets) wander on soft spring grass and nibble the little green shoots. No direct feeding like the cardinal or robin birds. 

Here in this composition Sri Dikshitar simply asked Meenakshi Devi for “indescribable joy”. He begged only for the elusive joy. Many things in the world can be given a name, a meaning, or apt description. But what is joy? This is something like a blob of mercury – if you try to catch it, it slips and rolls away from your hand. Yet we all know (feel) it is there some where, in some form; we come across such descriptions of joy in poetry (Keats line: “A thing of beauty is joy forever”. Also the Telugu song by Samudrala Jr. “andame anandam  అందమె ఆనందం" ) 

Maana matru = respected Mother; matangi = Parvati; mEyE = worth knowing; 

Siva jaye = Lord Siva’s consort, the form of energy, (loosely) companion of Lord Siva. The epithet (jaaye) also connotes a wife who begets children, here in this context (for) Siva. For the entire creation and its peaceful existence the Mother becomes the source of Lord Ganesa and Kumara Swamy (Sri Subrahmanya Swamy). Earlier during the birth of Kumara Swamy She had put an injunction on all the Devas thus: there would be no additional members (offspring) to the Devas, thereby limiting the number of Devas to just thirty-three crores (see Tyagaraja kirtana “endaro mahanubhavulu”). Of course Devas can bless humans or Yakshas and indirectly gift children (ex: Arjuna was born through the blessing of Indra). 

vidhu vidambana vadane = a face that compares or excels the effulgence of Moon.  

One has to make the pilgrimage to the temple town (Madurai) in Tamil Nadu and visit Minakshi Devi. The whole city and its neighborhoods are under the purview of Devi; like Annapurna in Varanasi, here in the south Minakshi keeps a watchful eye on its people, animals, and nature surroundings. From M. S. Subbulakshmi, Madurai Mani Iyer, to Sri Ramana Maharishi many great personalities are associated with Madurai. Minakshi's compassion and benediction are beyond human imagination; Her grace brings peace and much needed relief to the devotees.

Complete lyrics will be given in the next post. Also, the missing stanzas or phrases will be incorporated through editing soon. 

 

A Purple Stem (Nature Poem)

A purple stem

To
Many it’s just a cut flower
Just a stem of gladiolus
But, for me
It has been a friend
Of decades
Once our garden
Had a patch, nay
A crop of 30 – 40
Gladioli!
Mostly they were 
Of purple hue, with silky
Texture
They’d last there almost two months 
In the front yard
Next to the driveway
Dancing in the wind
Glistening with the pearly
Raindrops
Year after year
They blossomed without fail
In this freezing zone 5 -
Till a jealous friend
Cast her glance
With a sly comment:
“How come you get
such lovely long floral stems?
I never had luck with ‘em”
That’s it - killed them all.
Or it could be due my own neglect
They perpetually need fertile soil with good
Drainage. They don’t like getting
Their feet wet or cold during the heavy
Autumn downpours and severe
Snow storms.

But
Let’s leave it all aside for now.
Let me enjoy
This single stem from
This season, happily 
Ensconced in a porcelain vase
Last year we lost quite
A few to a pesky virus or thrips; the buds
Didn’t even open – a blackened bud or
A premature disfigured clump of dry petals
Is all we got
But we’re lucky this year
Got five or six stately lanterns
Of colorful gladioli 
Ranging from purple to pink
One even with crinkled petals
And a dose of central dark patch
Now I am transported to the
Carefree days of my college days
Oh, those freshman English lectures
From an elderly scholar with 
Utter devotion to the subject and
Deep love to the young students
He
Told us the meaning of “unheard melodies”
And what is beauty:
Still to this day
It rings in my mind the line,
“A thing of beauty is a joy forever”
This little six-inch stem of
Gladiolus proudly proclaims (confirms)
It. 

Copyright 2026 by the author

Furry Rodentia (Long Poem on Nature)

Furry Rodentia

I did not mind
Sharing our house
With you, your blind new born

We all need a place to dwell
A cozy shelter from the gnawing chilly winter
From the freezing rain
And the hot steamy summer sun
We endured your riotous
Goings, comings, scratchings,
Screeches, mild mumblings
For months, seasons, almost two years

I still remember
Your sudden startling entrance
It was a heavy snowstorm day
In mid December
I was lying down, taking
A brief nap, a much needed rest
For a full recuperation
I too was awfully cold inside
The hearth yet to be kindled
Rudely awakened by your 
Knock on the front porch

In a frenzied rush
I bolted out to seek the troublemaker
With a 1500 watt halogen flood lamp
Did I frighten you? I’m sorry
You had crawled into the little opening
In the eves on the front porch
Perhaps frantically searching
For a vacant apartment
For the hard winter

Maybe your leafy den got too wet
With heavy snow
Or inundated by the fall flash floods
Too late -
To build another nest atop the maple tree
Much of the foliage on ground trampled with snow

I tried, in vain, to scare you
You had your own emergencies
Life’s exigencies – we all have from time to time
An impending addition of 2,6, or 8
Little clasped-eyed naked babies

Then, on that summer afternoon
You were distraught
You tried your best 
To 
Save, retrieve, the fallen young
Perhaps a weakling 
The last one to
Learn walking, seeing.
Your frantic attempts
Desperate crawling vertically
Must have hurt your paws
Delicate toenails
All without success
What a Herculean effort?
You did the best
As a loving mother. 

It was then
We 
Decided 
You would be better off 
In our backyard, in the tall trees
In the midst of walnut, maple, willow
Groves next to the 
Murmuring cool cataract
With a house at the level 
Of our second floor
You too liked that sky view
A rare panoramic purview
Of peachy red sunsets
During the cool months

Sorry,
I did not give you enough notice
That is customary
For any decent landlord
It is due even for 
A free boarder, a freeloader, a delinquent tenant!
I felt bad when you
Hurt your mouth, incisors
In the cage, with only a black walnut to chew
If you were in my little village
You’d have gotten
Plenty of coconut trees
To play with
And all those tender coconut
Flowers, tiny acorn-sized
Green coconut fruits

In a Rajasthan city
You got even a majestic temple
With silver bells and brass platters
Full of tasty sweet dishes
Why not?
You are the majestic carrier
Of Lord Ganesa
Thus, you too are 
Very dear to the Great Mother
The daughter of Silver Mountain
Annapurna – what a majestic peak
What a celestial abode
Of the First Couple

Strange, you too got
Gradations of color
Like all humans
Most surprising
Some of your kin
Have coal-dark coats
And some, even red haired tails

Sri Rama blessed you with
Three stripes on your back
A gesture of gratitude
For helping with the bridge construction
To Lanka

I am just a simple friend -
Like two good neighbors
We look at each other
Across the 
Double pane glass window – 
You munching on a baby walnut
With a curled tail, 
Basking in the morning sunshine on a sumac twig
A rare visual greeting on a wintry day

On hot summer days
You play around my potted
Mango and hibiscuses, on our deck
Strange friends, we are
Yet, perhaps we are part of
The same Brahman!
In the garden of
Brahma’s creation!

Copyright 2026 by the author