Thursday, January 30, 2014

A Plot of Mushrooms

A filament of white hair
flashes on my forehead
rather disconcertingly…

Like a ripened leaf

grazing against the branch,
Like, say, for the first time
the cruel Fall setting in rather too early…

the cracking sounds of aged dry branches
reverberate somewhere within me…

A new pain aches sitting heavy on the head

at the thought of  the year turning new.

Strange!

The childhood yearning of
growing big soon
grows like wart under eyes
Against the will now.

I can’t recall to have cast

the seeds of age on my cheeks.
Are these the very lofty shoulders
that coolly bore the melting age once
without a flinch?
What a pity! They are earth-bound now!

What a time Childhood was!

There were no masks.
No fears.
Nor worries about  the upcoming years.
Like these days
one never saw somebody else in the reflection
standing before the mirror;
Nor had to be conscious about his crown.

The second half of life

had become a white thorn pricking over head.
Know not what it feeds on
- it twins up overnight
however carefully
the weed is pruned meticulously everyday…
and the head had reduced to a plot of mushrooms
by the end of the year.
The forehead had become
a long desert of undulating sand dunes.

Oh! I must be crazy.

Can a yacht travel back in a gushing stream?
Can the head fail to ripe because mind did not?

How nice it would be

if there are dyes for the mind like we have for the head!

As time approaches

doubling up to devour
We need some new life-prisms now
to disperse white ray to colourful spectra.
We need some exotic spectacles
That can show both sides of the coin.


(Translated in English by S Murty Nauduri )
(Original in Telugu by K. Geeta,)




పుట్టగొడుగు మడి
.
నుదుటి మీదకొక తెల్ల వెంట్రుక
చికాగ్గా-
పండుటాకు కొమ్మను
ఒరుసుకుంటున్నట్లు-
శిశిరం మొదటిసారి
నిర్దయగా తలుపు విరుచుకు పడుతున్నట్లు
నాలో ఎక్కడో పెళపెళా
కొమ్మలు విరిగిపోతున్న చప్పుడు
కొత్త సంవత్సరం వస్తుందంటే
కొత్త బాధేదో నెత్తిన తడుతూన్నట్లుంది
ఎప్పుడు పెద్దవుతామా
అన్న చిన్నప్పటి
ఎదురుచూపు కళ్ల కాయలు
కళ్ల దిగువన వద్దన్నా మొలుస్తున్నాయిపుడు
అదేం విచిత్రమో!
ఎప్పుడూ చెంపలపై వయసు విత్తనాలు
జల్లినట్లు జ్ఞాపకం లేదు
కరిగి కన్నీరయ్యే
కాలాన్ని నిబ్బరంగా మోసిన
మేరు గంభీర భుజాలేనా ఇవి?
ఇప్పుడు నేలవైపు చూస్తున్నాయి?!
చిన్నప్పుడే నయం
ముసుగులుండేవి కావు
భయాలుండేవి కావు
కొత్త సంవత్సరపు బాధలుండేవి కావు
అద్దం ముందు నిల్చుంటే
ఇప్పటిలా
మరెవరో కనిపించేవారు కారు
తలమీద ఏముందో తడుముకోవలసిన అవసరం ఉండేది కాదు
జీవితపు రెండో భాగం
నెత్తిన తెల్లగా గుచ్చుకునే ముల్లయ్యి మొదలయ్యింది
ఏం ఎరువు పడుతూందో గానీ
నిద్రపోయి లేచేసరికి కవలలు పుట్టుకొస్తున్నట్లు-
రోజూ పనిగట్టుకుని
కలుపునేరి పారేస్తున్నా
సంవత్సరం గడిచే సరికి తలంతా
పుట్టగొడుగు మడయ్యింది
నుదురు ఎగుడు దిగుడు తిన్నెల ఇసుక ఎడారి అయ్యింది
అయినా నా పిచ్చి గానీ
ప్రవాహం లో నావ వెనక్కి ప్రయాణిస్తుందా!
తలపు పండకున్నా తల పండక మానుతుందా!
తలకు రంగున్నట్లు
మనసుకీ రంగుంటే ఎంత బావుణ్ణు
కాలం గబ గబా
మింగడానికి వస్తున్నా
తెల్లదనాన్ని మళ్లా రంగుల్లో విక్షేపించడానికి
కొన్ని కొత్త జీవిత పట్టకాలు కావాలిప్పుడు
నాణానికి రెండు వైపులూ చూపించే
సరికొత్త కళ్లజోడు కావాలిప్పుడు.

-కె.గీత
http://teluguanuvaadaalu.wordpress.com/2013/11/05/a-plot-of-mushrooms-k-geeta-telugu-indian/

Saturday, July 27, 2013

Cross-pollination blues

Cross-pollination blues
How long this bundling of organs into my tummy!?
How long is this- this saving the kite without the thread?
The body a struggle the manas another battle-
In the polychromatic world remaining unlettered- how long?
Which malady is there which doesn't touch the heart and the world?
What use is breathing and exhaling useless breath into absurd frame?
Except smearing the face with life's pollution
Except smearing in layers fresh coats of life's slush on the face daily
When thrown far away from the bonds of sweet affections and security
They unload down the clouds of camphor tears the burden
Many receive again the whims of childhood.
For all feeling of tiredness only a single intermission
For the central seat satisfaction is the only goal.
The whole world may grow wandering between two people
Let couples becoming pairs get along for hundred after hundred years-
Let them bluster becoming twigs, branches, and forests whole-
Why doesn't this insufferable nature leave?!
Is this (my) a warehouse
For the strength of wedding and the dissatisfaction of matrimony,
For the unbridled cruelty of masculinity?
Why doesn't this demonic desire disappear?
Why doesn't a re-stamping
Like war
Regilon
Time
Leave these people?
Enough if only this organ could be flung away
Enough if another creation would stop here-
(Translated by V.V.B. Rama Rao)
Original Poem in Telugu "Para Paraga Viragam" by K.Geeta

The time I'm a period

The time I'm a period
When the whole body is frozen into an abscess
When a private mount explodes silently
I make efforts in vain to clutch the pain in my grip
All of a sudden it gives a jolt
I in myself, solid becoming liquid
Then becomes a solid again
And then shattered to pieces.
Every month,having no other go,
I transform myself into pain- dead
Unable to plaster the wound that doesn't surface
Unable to grind the ribs into powder
Even unable to draw myself into a bundle of cosy sleep
Embracing the thirty-six hours of turbulence
Unable to remain a forced untouchable
Walking forward a few paces in civilisation
Becoming pale and rendered sleepless
Transforming aeons into moments
Becoming gasping leaps and sprints
Desiring to flatten the spine on the anvil
Toying with the idea of bundling this bother with chains of iron
Again and again, once every thirty days
Taking rebirths one after another
The period when crushed in gut-twisting agony
This period....
(Translated by V.V.B. Rama Rao)
Original Poem in Telugu "Nenu rutuvuneina vela" by K.Geeta


Sunday, January 8, 2012

Wanted Father


Image Courtesy: http://t3.gstatic.com

.

Father!

Let me pride thinking of you for once, before you die.

When I strain to figure you out

Your hands dragging my mother

Catching her by hair come to mind.

And the stamp of your foot on my neck

Still stands like a tattoo.

My childy little hands

That pleaded you unknowingly

Still grip those childhood nightmares.

.

Father!

I just long to like you before I die.

When you flash in my memory

Even the dozy eyelids at midnight

Open with fright shedding deep slumber

Recalling your inebriated babble and bluster.

Your troubled life seeking after justice

Shivers me in my shoes.

My cheeks benumbed by your slaps

Have made my heart insensitive to tears.

.

I yearn to wail heartily for you.

.

You thought your words work like whip for ever…

Thought that the leather you suppressed the siblings with

Would never give in…

Now, the same hands and legs badly seek a support, and

Your soul craves for the touch of love and affection.

All of a sudden you expect

Your children to discharge their filial piety,

And the wife to forget all her heart-aches

And condescend to serve.

.

Father!

I want to love you instinctively before I die.

True!

You pampered my brother

Buying him and changing his kids wear.

And once in a while, say, for BHOGI*

You bathed us three children with flair.

True!

By icing your love with five-star chocolates

You converted my younger sis to your way.

But

Never were you aware

That a father should give life to his children,

That a father is a splendid ornament to their mother,

That a father is a paradigm of reassurance.

.

Father!

I want to talk proud of you before you die.

.

Father!

I want to reclaim you before I die.

- Translated by N.S.Murthy


*BHOGI: Is a festival celebrated (mostly) in South India on the eve of Sun resuming his northward journey touching Tropic of Capricorn, by entering constellation Capricorn (celebrated variously as Pongal / Makara Sankranti etc.,


(Original Poem by K.గీత)

నాన్న కావాలి …

.

నాన్నా! ఒక్కసారి నిన్ను తల్చుకుని గర్వపడనివ్వు

మరణించేలోగా…

నిన్ను గుర్తు తెచ్చుకోబోతే

అమ్మజుట్టుని బలంగాఈడ్చుకెళ్ళిన నీ చేతులు కన్పిస్తాయి.

నా పీకమీద నీ పాద ముద్ర పచ్చబొట్టులా చెరగకుంది.

తెలియకుండానే అర్థించిన పసి అరచేతుల జతలు

బాల్యపు దుఃఖాన్ని అదిమిపెట్టాయి.

నాన్నా! నాకొక్కసారి నిన్ను ఇష్టపడాలని ఉంది మరణించేలోగా.

నువ్వు జ్ఞప్తికిరాబోతే

అర్థరాత్రి నిద్రకళ్ళకి నీ తాగుబోతుప్రేలాపనావాదాలు

స్వప్నంలోనూ జడిపిస్తాయి.

రచ్చకెక్కి మరీ రభసచేసుకున్ననీ బ్రతుకు

నన్ను నిలువునా వణికిస్తుంది.

చెంపదెబ్బలకి మొద్దుబారిపోయిన చెక్కిళ్ళు

అశ్రుధారల్ని గుండెకుసైతం స్పర్శ తెలీకుండా చేసాయి.

నీకై మనసారా వ్యధపడాలనుంది.

ఏటెల్లకాలమూ నీమాటలు కొరడాలనుకున్నావు.

ఎప్పుడూ నలుసుల్ని తొక్కిపెట్టిన చెప్పు తెగదనుకున్నావు.

ఇప్పుడు నీ కాళ్ళకీ చేతులకీ ఆసరా కావాల్సొచ్చింది.

మనసుకి ఇప్పుడు మమతానురాగాలు ఆవశ్యకమయ్యాయి.

పిల్లలంతా ఇప్పటికిప్పుడు పితృప్రేమాంకితులయిపోవాలి.

భార్య గుండెమంటలార్పుకుని, పడీ లేచీ, సేవలందించాలి.

నాన్నా! సహజంగా ప్రేమించాలనుంది నిన్ను మరణించేలోగా.

అన్నయ్య చెడ్డీలు మార్చి మురిపెంగా చూసేవు, నిజమే.

ఏడాదికొక్కసారి భోగి స్నానం

ముగ్గురికీ మనఃస్ఫూర్తిగానే చేయించావు

ఫైవ్ స్టార్ చాక్లెట్టు ప్రేమపూతతో చెల్లిని

బాగానే నీ పార్టీలో చేర్చుకున్నావు.

నాన్నంటే—

పిల్లలకి జీవితాన్నివ్వాలనీ

నాన్నంటే

అమ్మకి సరికొత్త ఆభరణమనీ

నాన్నంటే

ఒక భద్రతా నిర్వచనమనీ

నీ కసలు తెలీనేలేదే!?!

నాన్నా ! నువ్వు మరణించేలోగా

నిన్ను చూసి నేను గొప్పగా గర్వించాలనుంది.

నాన్నా! నేను మరణించేలోగా

నిన్ను దక్కించుకోవాలనుంది.

.

20.7.1992

కె. గీత

“ద్రవభాష” కవితా సంకలనం నుండి.

Friday, October 14, 2011

The Last Touch


My last respects to the feet visible on the funeral bed

This touch is the last memory of Daddy for all his life.

***

Daddy! Daddy!!

Did your sins agonize?

Or your telltale hand on mother’s neck torment you as wounds?

Ineluctable throes

Before heart rests or life ceases!

How moving was your wailing unable to endure, as

You substituted the voice failed three years hence, with your fingers !!

Whenever tears well up for you….

Your keeping guard dozing outside the rest room

Boxing my back when I did not heed your word,

My sister and I playing merry-go-round with your hands, and

the cracking of our bones as you removed the body-pack, once a year, for Pongal, …

Are the few, little , hazy memories that flash in my memory-scape.

Whenever mother’s eyes filled with tears

I felt like burning you with petrol

But strangely, yesterday, I wished you were rather alive.

Forsaking your duties

Living only for yourself

What did you achieve?

Extreme pleasure…

And extreme grief.

You became a specimen for people … how not to be

And couldn’t be a coveted figure in any heart.

Didn’t I tell you that you will be relieved and everything would be alright?

Being aware that death is the only cure for you,

I told you to buck up and not to worry.

How can I forget, when can I forget

Those eyelids eagerly searching for me in the last hour?

Your pangs entreating to hold your hand?

You were a devil that put my mother to every hardship.

You were a father who no one would ever like,

But Yet, I felt a part of me had burnt to ashes.

When brother called ‘Daddy!’ into your corporal ear

I had an urge to shake you up and take you back home.

As the filing logs concealed your hands and bosom

I felt like crying you can’t bear that burden.

When I mercilessly awaited your skull to incinerate in the raging pyre,

The grief piled up to heart’s brim, had ultimately burst out.

....................


-Transalated by NSR Murthy

Original Poem "చివరి స్పర్శ" by K.Geeta


Tuesday, November 23, 2010

Wanted Father


Father!

Let me pride on you thinking about you for once.

When I strain to figure you out

Your hands dragging my mother

Catching her by hair come to mind.

And the stamp of your foot on my neck

Still stands like a tattoo.

My childy little hands

That pleaded you unknowingly

Still grip those childhood nightmares.

Father!

I just long to like you before I die.

When you flash in my memory

Even the dozy eyelids at midnight

Open with fright shedding deep slumber

Recalling your ebriated babble and bluster.

Your troubled life seeking after justice

Shivers me in my shoes.

My cheeks numbed with your slaps

Fail to convey the sense of tears rolling to the heart.

I yearn to wail heartily for you

You thought you could whip with your words for ever.

The leather you suppressed the siblings with

Would never give in.

But, the same hands and legs

Badly seek a support now and

Your soul craves for a touch of love and affection.

All of a sudden you expect

Your children discharge their filial piety,

And the wife to forget all her heart-aches

And condescend to serve.

Father!

I want to love you instinctively before I die.

True!

You pampered my brother

Buying him new kids wear.

And once in a while, say, for BHOGI

You bathed us three children.

True!

By icing your love with five-star chocolates

You converted my sis to your way.

But

You haven’t learnt

What a father be like.

He must give life to his children,

Be a splendid ornament to my mother,

And a paradigm of reassurance.

Father!

I want to talk proud of you before you die.

Father!

I want to reclaim you before I die.

...............

Translated by N.S.Murthy

The Night when Train deceived It


Night secretly crawls over the rails.

When serenity suddenly rams into the crowds

Thousands of tombs come up in a tick.

The link to the dream- about-to-begin snaps.

And the voice that reverberated through the compartment

Assumes a sudden silence.

The hand that was turning a page or a paper till then

Recedes leaving no trace of itself.

And the night in no time becomes all a pell-mell.

Hardships and tears,

Fantasies and festivities,

Despairs and despicables, and et al

The train strongly hugs to its steely heart.

For some, the life’s script ends abruptly,

The corporal frames assume cadaverous looks,

And as for the severed limbs separated from source,

Bodies can never collect,

Nor can the train bring back to life, once done with.

Hapless signals stare helplessly,

Scraps of rails wail their heart out mutely,

The night continues to crawl restlessly

And as pitilessly.

.................

Translated by N.S.Murthy