Saturday, September 12, 2026

Double Impatiens

Double Impatiens (ముద్ద నీళ్ల గోరింట)  

My association with impatiens (నీళ్ల గోరింట) goes back many years. It was in the village I first noticed this vibrant flowering plant. The flowers (single ones) in hot summer days barely last a day. Some of the flowers yield seeds for the next growing season. The common English name “impatiens” is attributed to its seedpods – they are so impatient to sprout (regenerate) that at the right temperature or moment they just crack open and disperse the little (globular) seedlings into the air – to distribute their offspring in far off fields. 

In the tropical coastal village we come across this plant with many colors. Right after the monsoon rains they invariably sprout in the (same old) garden patch without much help. The Telugu name says, “Water Gorinta”. The vernacular Indian name, its etymology is worth pondering. Many plant (i.e., common) names have vivid history and meaning in the folklore.  The modern classification (credited to Carl Linnaeus) gives a binomial name – somewhat similar to the human personal identification. And then there is the whole long parade of DNA etc., giving each individual plant its unique genetic sequence; but it requires a modern ultra sensitive lab and full access to lots of databases for proper identification. I am reminded about the difficulties of old times with X-ray (or electron) diffraction patterns, their application for the identification of crystal structures.

Now, let’s ask the simple question: Why did the earlier Telugu farmers and housewives name this plant as “nilla Gorinta”? nilla = water. The plant’s stem and leaf parts are succulent; they hold water (at least aqueous). To understand Gorinta, we need to probe further. It appears in China (and other parts of Asia) people used the leaves, flowers, and alum to color fingernails – sort of a homemade nail polish. Mehindi (Gorinta, Lasum Albania) is also used for coloring hands and nails. So, probably that is how the name in Telugu “nilla Gorinta నీళ్ల గోరింట” came to be. But what a wonderful plant this Balsamina? With varied colors, height, and leaf designs it covers a whole range of geographical areas: South Asia, Himalayas, Africa, and North America. Through human intervention the species has spread to every continent now. 

As a school going kid my fascination with nature was colorful just like the vibrant six seasons in the tropical Indian subcontinent. That was then – a time in the distant past with vivid sounds and colors. The summers brought us jasmines, Cashmere bouquet, and the sweet smelling mangoes. The dry hot summers were followed with heavy downpours of the monsoon season. In the village the rainy season meant trudging through the sticky muddy roads and watching the centipedes multiply overnight. They would try to intrude into the house through the open veranda and question the strict boundaries between “a dwelling” and “muddy garden”. But then the wet season also brought to our doorstep lots of aromatic gardenia flowers, champaka, and the profuse colorful “impatiens”. I could never figure out how the impatiens popped up suddenly, almost overnight from previous season's seeds. Mostly in the hot tropical days the flowers would stay fresh just for one day and then slowly wither away. We must pay our debt and gratitude to many farmers, housewives, and young children for preserving many plants. At a time when we are constantly losing many plants and fauna we are fortunate to have lots of impatiens, marigolds, and mums still in our midst. A wealth of herbal medical compounds is present in these plants. The humble mint alone can help us with many stomach disorders. 

Now, coming to this double impatiens. We got this plant probably from the local Farmers Market. Now it is almost three years old. Normally impatiens plants are annual ones (here in the containers); we have to keep growing them from seeds or cuttings for each season. This double flower variety (cultivar) has no seeds; that is how the growers make money. But it is easy to grow from the cuttings. Just take a two or three inch cutting and stick into the moist soil. Here, in the northeast US the winters are very cold and hard. We have to bring the potted plant indoors for the cold season. With minimum watering and some reasonable light the plant survives the winter. Then as the spring arrives it becomes very lively and starts putting new leaves and growth.  

Mostly the potted impatiens plant (Cf. jewelweed in the wild) is considered as an annual. Our double impatiens is more than three years old.  Many potted plants complain about getting their feet wet during heavy downpours. But this impatiens thrives in excess water. It puts out more flowers during such wet days. On such days the plant looks like a cluster of braids with heavy double flowers. It appears that the three-year-old container plant is behaving more like a perennial little shrub than an annual flowering plant.

For any herbal doctor this plant is a veritable source of organic compounds; they have identified almost three hundred compounds. The plant’s leaves, stems, and roots are utilized for a number of ailments: rheumatism, pain, fractures, inflammation of nails, scurvy, carbuncles, and bruises, etc. The organic compounds are extracted (separated) with either hexane or aqueous-alcohol mixtures.

In closing I want to remember two personalities that helped me understand plants and nature more intimately. Long time back the south Indian newspaper used to run a column on gardening by a horticulturist (R. R.). Those weekend articles used to be fun to read and they were very informative. Here in US for several decades J. W. would treat us to the wonders of birds, turtles, and nature on weekend radio program. We came to appreciate the value of wetlands (చిత్తడి నేలలు) through such experts. Wetlands preserve nature’s diversity, soil fertility, and they act as efficient buffer zones to protect the adjacent urban centers from heavy floods. I want to express my gratitude to such stewards of natural beauty. My articles on gardening may serve as a token of appreciation of such simple people. Copyright 2026 by the author



Tuesday, September 8, 2026

Lyrics of "varadaraja ninnu" Song with Meaning

స్వరభూషణి - రూపకం 

వరదరాజ నిన్ను( (నినుఁ) గోరి వచ్చితి మ్రొక్కేరా  || వ || 

సురులు భూసురులు చుట్టి చుట్టి సేవించే         || వ || 

వరగిరి వైకుంఠమట - వర్ణింప( దరముగాదట - ని

ర్జరులను తారకములలో( - జంద్రుడై  మెఱయు(దువట

వర త్యాగరాజనుత - గరుడసేవ జూడ               || వ || 

varadaraaja ninnu( gOri vacchiti mrokkEraa

surulu bhuusurulu chuTTi ChuTTi sEvinchE

varagiri vaikunThamaTa - varNimpa( DaramugaadaTa-ni

rjarulanu taarakamulalO( - jandrudai me~rayuduvaTa

vara tyaagaraajanuta - garuDasEva juuDa


Ninnu (ninu) = you; kori = desiring; vacchiti = have come; mrokkEra = (I) pray to you, salute you;

Surulu = devatas; munulu = the rishis; bhu-surulu = vipras, Brahmin devotees; chutti = going around, circumambulate; sevinche = serve with devotion; 

nirjarulanu = the celestials, devatas; tarakamulalo = among the stars; (among the stars of celestials O Varadaraja, You are like the Moon. Thus You outshine all others with all the splendor)

(A quick detour (digression) here: Tyagaraja shares with us some secrets of "upasana = ఉపాసన". That is in the tradition of bhakti, how do we approach the Lord (Rama)? It could be a flower, a leaf, scented water, uttering His attributes, or simply a physical act or gesture. The most important thing is - right now, at this moment how to focus on Varadaraja and put our total attention on the procession in the precincts of holy temple. 

Earlier I used to think (prematurely without proper exhaustive study) that only Annamacharya composed lyrics with exceptional picturesque imagery – bringing to our eyes the exact scenes with utmost fidelity and detail. I presumed (without scholarly evidence) in a hurry that Tyagayya’s compositions lacked vivid colorful painting of “an incident or scene”. I was utterly wrong; I changed my immature opinion right after this song. Of course, the songs in “Nauka-Charitramu” tucked away in some old cassette box also depict beautiful scenery. 

Now coming to the second stanza (pallavi): For a quick comparison (for those people who never got a chance to visit Kanchi City, TN), the Garuda seva function happens in Tirupati also every year. In the procession primacy is given to Lord Varadaraja. He (i.e., the utsava murti ఉత్సవ మూర్తి ) is ensconced (rather enthroned) in royal attire at the center with all other devatas surrounding on the slowly moving chariot; the car being pulled by Garuda, the celestial carrier of Lord Vishnu. There at the center every perfume (floral scent), light, flowers, offerings, and colors abound. All the other performers take a subordinate role (position) and act accordingly to serve the Lord (Narayana).  The procession proceeds slowly with stops (pauses) in between; there would be attractive glittering dances and chorus singing interspersed with divine chants along the procession. Obviously the composer visited the temple on such a special festive occasion and composed the song, probably extemporaneously on the spot. Here are the links to YouTube videos:

Rendition by Amritha Murali  

Though the song is quite brief with one stanza (pallavi) it captures our attention due to the undulating melody – like the undulating flight of a dove the sound stays vibrating in the air (and in our inner mind) for a long time. The famed temple is worth visiting at least once in a lifetime; luckily our parents visited as part of the pilgrimage to Tirupati. Lord Narayana (other than the peda Venkanna పెద వెంకన్న  at Tirumala) always is more accessible to the devotees, it seems. Of course we have to climb more than twenty steps to enter the main inner Sanctum Sanctorum.

If I may, I will conclude my comments with an observation thus: In our obscure yet modest vibrant village there were a number of temple processions. Often they used bring the "utsava murthis" on a cart drawn either by people or ox during the night, usually after 9 or 10 pm. The nights used to be a bit cooler then. Our mother would wake us up from deep sleep and we would go into the street with a platter full of rice, jaggery, turmeric, kumkum, and some flowers. With some luck mother would put a few rupees as a small token of "gratitude" to the priest. With half closed eyes we would stretch our necks to get a glimpse of our local "Venugopala Swamy" (or Siva) seated on the cart. Those little innocent acts of devotion taught us very invaluable insights into bhakti, tradition, and faith. For the young it is very important to put some reserve account in ones spiritual account; preferably it should start very early in life. Later the "peer pressure" and other worldly influences would interfere in spiritual growth. By sheer grace this post was completed at the auspicious eve of Janmashtami (Lord Krishna's birth).

Copyright 2026 by the author. 

Monday, July 20, 2026

Lyrics of "jaya jaya vaishnavi" Song

జయ జయ వైష్ణవి దుర్గే (అంబ) జయ జయ కల్పిత సర్గే
 జయ జయ తోషిత భర్గే (అంబ) జయ జయ కుచ జిత దుర్గే  

1. శ్రీకర సద్గుణ జాలే (అంబ) సిందూర  రంజిత ఫాలే 
పాకశాసన మణి నీలే (అంబ) ప్రాలేయ భూధర బాలే 

2. పాలిత కిసలయ చాపే (అంబ) పార్వతి లోకైక దీపే 
కాళిక కోమల రూపే (అంబ) ఖండిత త్రిభువన తాపే 

3. భక్త జనామర భూజే (అంబ) భాసిత లోక సమాజే 
రక్త మృదుల పాదాంభోజే (అంబ) రంగ దుత్తుంగ వక్షోజే 

4. శంకరి సత్కృపా పూరే (అంబ) సంభృత సన్మణి హారే 
సాంక వలిప్త శరీరే (అంబ) సంగ తాంగ కేయూరే 

5. వీణా వినోదిని గిరిజే (అంబ) విద్రుమ మణి సన్నిభ గిరిజే 
మానిత లోకసమాజే (అంబ) మదన గోపాలక సహజే 

jaya jaya vaishNavi durgae (aMba) jaya jaya kalpita sargae
jaya jaya tOshita bhargae (aMba) jaya jaya kucha jita durgae 

1. Sreekara sadguNa jaalae (aMba) siMdoora ramjita phaalae 
paakaSaasana maNi neelae (aMba) praalaeya bhoodharabaalae 

2. paalita kisalaya chaapae (aMba) paarvati lOkaika deepae 
kaaLika kOmala roopae (aMba) khaMDita tribhuvana taapae 

3. bhakta janaamara bhoojae (aMba) bhaasita lOka samaajae 
rakta mRdula paadaaMbhOjae (aMba) raMga duttuMga vakshOjae 

4. SaMkari satkRpaa poorae (aMba) saMbhRta sanmaNi haarae 
saaMka valipta Sareerae (aMba)  saMga taaMga kaeyoorae 

5. veeNaa vinOdini girijae (aMba)  vidruma maNi sannibha girijae 
maanita lOkasamaajae (aMba) madana gOpaalaka sahajae 

Sarge = creation, swarga; jalE = web, crown; phalE = forehead;
bhujE = kalpa-taruvu, a celestial tree that readily gives boons; 

(It gives me great pleasure to write about this extraordinary composer, Sri Narayana Tirthulu. His origins trace to Andhra Pradesh but he left his footprints across India from Varanasi to a village in Tamil Nadu. If my memory is correct I remember seeing such dance ballet compositions on the stage in my village. We used to have a small ashram run by two ascetic sanyasinis (సన్యాసిని, యోగిని, తపస్విని)  nestled beautifully next to the agricultural feeder canal. The ladies would pick pitchers of fresh water from the canal during early morning hours - thus preserving their spiritual purity, inner chanting, and solemn meditation. They would train the local high school girls in music and dance. Narayana Tirthulu's compositions are quite well known much of south India and Varanasi. There are several versions of this song on the Internet at :YouTube. I liked the voice of Sri Voleti Venkateswarlu and his tune. Here is the link: 
 I may have to visit this song in detail again sometime to explore its profound meaning. The Devi in Vijayawada comes to my mind while learning this song. In Telugu we fondly refer to this composer as "నారాయణ తీర్థులు". That "lu" is a honorific ending, it means "Sri Narayana Tirtha Sir". Certainly he deserves all the respect. Once the Devi or Lord Krishna appeared to him and fed him "పాయసము" (sweet rice pudding).  It happened when he had to lock himself in a room and avoided contact with the public - thus shunning even the daily alms seeking. Lord Krishna helps his devotees in mysterious ways, no doubt. That was his word in the Gita.) Copyright 2026 by the author



Thursday, June 25, 2026

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


Tuesday, June 9, 2026

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







Monday, June 1, 2026

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


 

  

 

  


 


  



 


  


  

Saturday, May 30, 2026

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


Wednesday, May 20, 2026

"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. 


 


Tuesday, May 5, 2026

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






Sunday, April 19, 2026

With Affection and Respect (To Mother)

With Affection and Respect (To Mother)

मात्रु देवो भव (तैत्तरीय उपनिषद) How do we remember the bygones? With time we lose precious siblings, relatives,  and close companions; thus we are deprived of a veritable source of fact checking. Whatever we remember is at the mercy of time and the fallible human brain cells (see Daniel L Schacter); the lucky few with extraordinary memory traits can still weave a reliable painted cloth of the yesteryears. Still we must feel privileged and fortunate to hold a bouquet of colorful blooms - of pleasant memories associated with our parents. Adi Sankara had extraordinary memory according to his disciples’ notes; in college we came to know about Lord Macaulay’s photographic memory feats of recalling long passages. 

In the village we needed to buy only a few items for the daily meals. Our kitchen garden was a rich provider of many vegetables: snake gourd, coconut, amaranthus, gongura, banana, white pumpkin, beans, bitter gourd, and others. In the cold winter months (November through January) we used to get bumper crops of beans on the vine. Mother had a miraculous green thumb. Whatever she touched it would flower profusely and yield basketfuls of vegetables or fruits. Sometimes we would experience heavy infestation with pests on the beans (Lablab, Val papdi, చిక్కుడు). Mother did not want any pesticide spray on the vegetable crops; often she would ask me just to write our gotra(m) (గోత్రము) name and hang it on the creeper to ward off the bugs. Come to think of it, I could’ve sprayed forceful water and washed off the pests at the earliest appearance – but there was no running (piped) water or spray bottle in the village then!

With severe budget constraints mother would prepare a variety of dishes (curries) with the homegrown beans. In one sense she was absolutely an expert in providing a nourishing protein rich food for her growing children. But I was barely in the teens and had the usual moodiness of a naughty child. Often I would come home for lunch with voracious appetite after brain straining morning classes (Telugu, English, Math, Sciences). Inevitably I used to fight with mom for a different course of lunch – may be brinjal, potato, or some other vegetable anything other than the ubiquitous organic homegrown “bean”. Her cooking was superb; she tried several variations with the beans with spices, tamarind, or jaggery. Then in the middle school I could not fathom the depth of our financial troubles. Somehow father was able to arrange for rice and those were the pre-ration card days in the village. Luckily our parents never had to seek ration from the state despite enormous insurmountable difficulties. In such difficult afternoons mother would cuddle me in her lap and gently caress my face with her rough hands while adjusting my curly hair. That sweet gesture would communicate her profound affection; soon I would forget about the whole issue, quickly gobble a few bytes, and get ready for the afternoon classes in a jiffy.

Mother often had to bear the brunt of her children’s sicknesses. She nursed our dear sister through a double dose of typhoid infection. Those were the days of severe antibiotics shortages and exorbitant drug prices in India; it was the pre-liberation time and the (modern) pharmaceutical industry was still nascent. Now the country can produce large doses of antibiotics, cardiac drugs, and a host of vaccines including Covid.

Some of my best and pleasant times with mother: The weekly oil massages and shampoo baths with ritha (soapnut seed, కుంకుడు కాయలు). During those precious moments she would tell the stories of Harischandra, Savitri, Dhruva, and others. Without explicitly telling me about ethics she transferred the essentials of a “dharmic living” in this complex mundane world. That teaching was enough for me for a whole lifetime; I rarely needed the self-study of Hindu scriptures, as they were part of our Telugu curriculum in high school and college. 

Adi Sankara summed up aptly the essence of motherhood, be it the divine or the earthly manifestation thus: There is only an occasional bad son but no bad mother in the entire universe. I feel the same when dwelling upon our mother’s qualities. Never did she ever reproach me even when I accidentally spilled cooking oil or broke the glass thermometer. I do not know whether I accomplished all of her aspirations; that is between her insight and my own conscience. But she would have been in the seventh heaven upon knowing about my advanced studies, international travels, and other modest achievements. She was so joyful when I got a modest torchlight as a present for excelling in eighth grade exams. I certainly missed her when I received a silver cup in high school or when I aced in College with first rank. 

As I wistfully reminisce now I realize - I’ve been careless in not preserving her music books and rare silken clothes (Benarasi sari, woolen blouse, etc.). But, being a loyal son I did learn Carnatic music assiduously and practice some of her favorite songs and kirtanas. We daily use and preserve her cooking utensils with love – often they remind us about her extraordinary culinary skills. Her ingenuity in creating delicious tasty dishes (tamarind rice, coconut-dal, gongura chutney) from scratch still makes me salivate. 

To me our mother is like a gandharva maiden who came down to the earth to teach us what is real music, tasty cooking, gardening, and other fine arts. She achieved all she had aspired despite challenging circumstances. In the most elemental sense what can a son or daughter really pay a mother? Except heartfelt gratitude and simple honest living according to her noble ideals. A mother simply gives abundantly to her children without asking – that she always did, readily with a sweet smile. I conclude with these simple incidents: often we would spontaneously cry in the movie theater watching emotional scenes in Satya Harischandra. Such tender moments taught me about art; much more than a whole year of Shakespeare plays in College. Often she used to see me off on the roadside for success in exams; that was a gesture of good omen, it always filled me with confidence before the annual exams (board). We never lose loving parents; they always reside in the deep recesses of our tender hearts. I feel privileged to be her son and I try to endeavor to earn her blessings every day and receive her “biksha”. Here in US Mother's Day falls on May 10th. Copyright 2026 by the author


Tuesday, March 24, 2026

New Year Musings (Poem)



New Year Musings

 

As a charming lad

Crooning songs atop the

Almond tree

Singing like the koel – is no big deal

In the youthful brimming days

Penning poems on Gul mohar

On the hopping hoopoe and straddling lapwings

And extemporaneously writing

Short haiku-like poems

Is no big thing either

 

During the unbearable wintry

Months

Trekking in minus 40 degree F

Standing erect like the emperor penguin

In the freezing snow showers

And blizzards

 

While

Being hit uninterruptedly

On the face with snowflakes

Daily walking for forty-five minutes

Then you come to know;

Or intimations

Of

What is Brahman, what ‘s ecstasy,

What’s Advaita

That is possible for only

A

Rajayogi Narendra,

Acharya Sri Rama Sarma, or Padmakar – only

They can unfathom it

Poets like me

People like myself swing

In the cradle of nature

Meditating on the essence of

The conglomerate embodiment of

The Eight entities (Copyright 2026 by the author)


(Translated from the Telugu original poem penned on the

eve of Telugu New Year)


ఉగాది స్వరాలు

 

చిన్నారి పొన్నారి చిఱుత కూకటి నాడు -

నాడు బాదం  చెట్టుపై నుంచి 

కోయిలలా  గీతములు పాడుట గొప్ప కాదు

నూనూగు మీసాల పాల పొంగు 

యౌవనములో తురాయి, రేల పూలపై

హూపుల మీద, తీతిర పిట్టల పై  

కొంగ్రొత్త

నానీలు వ్రాయటం పెద్ద గొప్ప కాదు 

కాదు,

తీవ్ర దుర్భర హేమంత, శిశిర ఋతువుల్లో  

సున్నాకి దిగువ, క్రింద నలభై డిగ్రీల 

ఫారెన్ హీట్ లో బిగిసిపోయే చలిలో 

స్థాణువులా చక్రవర్తి పెన్ గ్విన్ లా 

ముఖము మీద బరఫ్ 

ఎడతెరపి లేకుండా పడ్తుంటే 

నిర్భరముగా ప్రతిరోజు దినదినము

నలభై నిమిషాలు నడిచివెళ్తుంటే 

తెలుస్తుంది 

బ్రహ్మమేమిటో, ఆనందమేమిటో, అద్వైతమంటే 

ఏమిటో - అది కొందరికే సాధ్యం 

ఆచర్య శ్రీ రామ శర్మ, రాజయోగి  

నరేంద్ర, పద్మాకర్ లాంటి వాళ్ళకి -

నాలాంటి వాళ్ళు ప్రకృతి ఒడిలో 

ఓలలాడుతూ 

అష్టమూర్తిని ధ్యానిస్తూ …  అత్రి Copyright 2026 by the author






 


Sunday, January 25, 2026

Lyrics of "he sarade ma" song in Telugu script

హే శారదే మా , హే శారదే మా

అజ్ఞానతా సే హమే తారదే మా 


తూ స్వర్ కీ దేవీ, యే సంగీత్ తుఝసే

హర్ సబ్ద్ తేరా, యే హర్ గీత్ తుఝసే

హమ్  హై అకేలే, హమ్  హై అధూరే

తేరీ శరణ్ హమ్, హమె ప్యార్ దే మా


మునియో(న్ సమఝే గుని(ణి)యోన్ జానీ

వేదోం కీ  భాషా, పురాణోం కీ  వాణి 

హమ్ భీ తో సమఝే(, హమ్ భీ తో జానే( 

విద్యా కా హమ్ కో తూ అధికార్ దే మా 


తూ శ్వేత వర్ణి, కమల్ పే విరాజే 

హాథో( మె వీణా, ముకుట్ సిర్ పె సాజా 

మన్ సే హమారే మిటా దో అంథేరీ 

ఉజాలోం కా  హమకో తూ సంసార్ దే మా( 


hae Saaradae maa , hae Saaradae maa aj~naanataa sae hamae taaradae maa too svar^ kee daevee, yae saMgeet^ tujhasae har^ sabd^ taeraa, yae har^ geet^ tujhasae ham^ hai akaelae, ham^ hai adhoorae taeree SaraN^ ham^, hame pyaar^ dae maa muniyO(n^ samajhae guni(Ni)yOn^ jaanee vaedOM kee bhaashaa, puraaNOM kee vaaNi ham^ bhee tO samajhae(, ham^ bhee tO jaanae( vidyaa kaa ham^ kO too adhikaar^ dae maa too Svaeta varNi, kamal^ pae viraajae haathO( me veeNaa, mukuT^ sir^ pe saajaa man^ sae hamaarae miTaa dO aMthaeree ujaalOM kaa hamakO too saMsaar^ dae maa(


(I want to present this devotional song to Telugu singers on the eve of Vasant Panchami (వసంత పంచమి). The day is celebrated with Saraswathi puja. Many devotees are familiar with Sarada mata and the elements of Devi upasana (ఉపాసన): White flowers (తెల్ల తామర, మల్లి, నాగమల్లి), devotional songs, and offerings of milk or payasam (పాయసము). I heard this song several times but did not pay attention to the lyrics till now. Through sheer serendipity or fortuitous searching on the Internet I discovered its author as "Nirala". Many springs back I received a book of Nirala (Sri Suryakant Tripathi) as a gift. A scientist friend from Roorkee used to visit me and discuss several topics: Inorganic Chemistry, Jiddu Krishnamurti and spiritual matters. Dr. A. B introduced me to Nirala's lyrical poetry. With time I think I gained better appreciation of Hindi and Hindustani music. We can only ask the Devi for one thing:  "uplift us from the morass of ignorance and make us 'eligible' for wisdom, knowledge, science, and fine arts." Sri Anup Jalota  gave an excellent rendition of this song. Errors if any will be edited later.)


Copyright 2026 by the author