“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.oldtelugusongs.com/newsongs/vintage/Devadasu_1953-RBalasaraswatiDevi-IntaTelisiyundi-Kshetrayya_CRSubbaraman.mp3
Copyright by the author 2014
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).
