ಚಂದ್ರನಿಂದ ಭೂಮಿಗೊಂದು ಪ್ರೇಮ ಪತ್ರ...

ಭುವಿ,
ನೀನು ಚಿರತರುಣಿ
ನಿನಗಲ್ಲದೆ ಇನ್ನಾರಿಗುಂಟು ಜೀವಕಳೆ?
ಆ ಉತ್ಸಾಹದ ಚಿಲುಮೆ, ಸೊಬಗಿನ ಗರಿಮೆ!

ನಾನಾದರೋ ಶಾಂತ ಶಶಾಂಕ
ತಾರಾಮಂಡಲದ ಅತಿ ಚೆಲುವ
ನನಗೇನಿದೆ ಕುಂದು ಕೊರತೆ?

ನಿನಗೇಕೆ ಆ ದೂರದ -
ಸುಡುವ ಸೂರ್ಯನ ಸುತ್ತ
ಸುತ್ತುವ ಸೊಕ್ಕು?

ಅವನಿಗಿಲ್ಲವೇ ಸುತ್ತ ಪ್ರದಕ್ಷಿಣೆ ಹಾಕುವ
ಸಾಲು ಸಾಲು ಸಖಿಯರು?
ನನಗಾರಿದ್ದಾರೆ ನಿನ್ನ ಬಿಟ್ಟು?

ಭುವಿ, ನೀನಾಗಬಾರದೆ ನನ್ನ ಪ್ರಾಣಸಖಿ?!

swapna sundari yodane love marriage flop aadaga...

this is again from a long time ago:-) ..

ake nanna swapna sundari,
kannada naadina kasthuri,
bengaloorina viswha sundari,
aadre bahle vayyari,
kalsiuvala divasa nanna,"hogi thagond bannree, tharkari".

Shubha Dina

I wrote this for a friend, on her bday a couple of years back -

munjaaneya manjinali,
suryana kiranagalu, thanditu mathonda varushava.

hosa baalina modala januma,
hosa belakanu thandu kodali,
santosha , santrupti, iveradu ninnadaagali .
dukha, sankata, iva edurisalu dhairyavirali.

namma muddina sakhiye,
ninna huttida habba,ninage saagardashtu khushiyu kodali.

The two tales of a City...

The disadvantage of living in a place too long is probably the fact that you get too comfortable with the city that was and you endlessly complain about the city that is...

But to have seen the change and to live life by the changing rules still , which most of us are involuntarily doing, gets you thinking, atleast once in a while... Owe this one to all the thinking I have done in the past few days... "with my theatre masks on - : ) one for the happy tale : ( one for the sad tale "

I squinted my eyes, at the sunlight spears
From the broad blue skies and fluffy cheers.

I spread my arms to embrace the twinkling stars
On a moonlit night, past the street light hours.

I waded, my feet in the merry, silvery lake
Across the humble dwellings painted like cake

I felt the seasons amble along in the splendid colour...
Of flowers yellow, pink and lavander, that shower.

I smelt the lovely gardens in the neighbourhoods
And walked along the tall spiny trees in the woods.

I heard a lilting tune, in the holy place nearby.
Found that in this little city, my joys truly lie.

I shed a tear once before, riding the wind over...
Brimming spirits oozed out often, never any lower.

I squint my eyes now, to look beyond the endless lines,
Of cars or people, who cannot read our traffic signs.

I spread my arms, to stretch, on this same old street,
Trying to avoid touch, amidst a tiring shoppers' fleet.

I wade through puddles, feet going sore, in the rains,
Walking on worn out roads and along overflowing drains.

I feel my life rush past me, in the big city's huddle,
Miss the friendly town with a puppies I could cuddle...

I smell the synthetic perfume, among all the phone calls,
In the neon lights of the sensational, olfactory malls.

I hear the cacophony of myriad horns waiting in impatience,
And endure the mindless music, switching radio stations.

I shed a tear again today, as my heavy heart within cries...
And the drop of regret is, for my city's despiteful demise.

And nostalgia...continued...

One of my favourite poems from school. There are a whole lot of T S Eliot's cat poems...but this, I guess, is the best.

Sidenote:
1) Check out this for more info on Macavity. It talks about the similarity between Macavity and Moriarty.
2) The Hindu, in its crossword once, had the anagram for T S Eliot as "toilets"!

Macavity: The Mystery Cat

by T.S. Eliot

Macavity's a Mystery Cat: he's called the Hidden Paw - For he's the master criminal who can defy the Law. He's the bafflement of Scotland Yard, the Flying Squad's despair: For when they reach the scene of crime - Macavity's not there! Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity, He's broken every human law, he breaks the law of gravity. His powers of levitation would make a fakir stare, And when you reach the scene of crime - Macavity's not there! You may seek him in the basement, you may look up in the air - But I tell you once and once again, Macavity's not there! Mcavity's a ginger cat, he's very tall and thin; You would know him if you saw him, for his eyes are sunken in. His brow is deeply lined with thought, his head is highly domed; His coat is dusty from neglect, his whiskers are uncombed. He sways his head from side to side, with movements like a snake; And when you think he's half asleep, he's always wide awake. Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity, For he's a fiend in feline shape, a monster of depravity. You may meet him in a by-street, you may see him in the square - But when a crime's discovered, then Macavity's not there! He's outwardly respectable. (They say he cheats at cards.) And his footprints are not found in any file of Scotland Yard's. And when the larder's looted, or the jewel-case is rifled, Or when the milk is missing, or another Peke's been stifled, Or the greenhouse glass is broken, and the trellis past repair - Ay, there's the wonder of the thing! Macavity's not there! And when the Foreign Office find a Treaty's gone astray, Or the Admiralty lose some plans and drawings by the way, There may be a scrap of paper in the hall or on the stair - But it's useless to investigate - Mcavity's not there! And when the loss has been disclosed, the Secret Service say: `It must have been Macavity!' - but he's a mile away. You'll be sure to find him resting, or a-licking of his thumbs, Or engaged in doing complicated long-division sums. Macavity, Macavity, there's no one like Macavity, There never was a Cat of such deceitfulness and suavity. He always has an alibi, and one or two to spare: At whatever time the deed took place - MACAVITY WASN'T THERE! And they say that all the Cats whose wicked deeds are widely known (I might mention Mungojerrie, I might mention Griddlebone) Are nothing more than agents for the Cat who all the time Just controls their operations: the Napoleon of Crime!

And nostalgia strikes

Over dinner with a friend...

And we remember the poems we loved in school... the ones that made an impression..

"Casabianca" by Felicia Hemans

The boy stood on the burning deck
Whence all but he had fled;
The flame that lit the battle's wreck
Shone round him o'er the dead.

Yet beautiful and bright he stood,
As born to rule the storm;
A creature of heroic blood,
A proud, though child-like form.

The flames rolled on–he would not go
Without his Father's word;
That father, faint in death below,
His voice no longer heard.

He called aloud–'say, Father, say
If yet my task is done?'
He knew not that the chieftain lay
Unconscious of his son.

'Speak, father!' once again he cried,
'If I may yet be gone!'
And but the booming shots replied,
And fast the flames rolled on.

Upon his brow he felt their breath,
And in his waving hair,
And looked from that lone post of death
In still yet brave despair.

And shouted but once more aloud,
'My father! must I stay?'
While o'er him fast, through sail and shroud,
The wreathing fires made way.

They wrapt the ship in splendour wild,
They caught the flag on high,
And streamed above the gallant child,
Like banners in the sky.

There came a burst of thunder sound–
The boy–oh! where was he?
Ask of the winds that far around
With fragments strewed the sea!–

With mast, and helm, and pennon fair,
That well had borne their part–
But the noblest thing which perished there
Was that young faithful heart.

The Brook (excerpts) - Alfred Lord Tennyson

I come from haunts of coot and hern,
I make a sudden sally,
And sparkle out among the fern,
To bicker down a valley.

By thirty hills I hurry down,
Or slip between the ridges,
By twenty thorps, a little town,
And half a hundred bridges.

Till last by Philip's farm I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I chatter over stony ways,
In little sharps and trebles,
I bubble into eddying bays,
I babble on the pebbles.

With many a curve my banks I fret
By many a field and fallow,
And many a fairy foreland set
With willow-weed and mallow.

I chatter, chatter, as I flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

I wind about, and in and out,
With here a blossom sailing,
And here and there a lusty trout,
And here and there a grayling,

And here and there a foamy flake
Upon me, as I travel
With many a silvery waterbreak
Above the golden gravel,

And draw them all along, and flow
To join the brimming river,
For men may come and men may go,
But I go on for ever.

The Wicked Postman - Rabindranath Tagore

Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me,
mother dear?

The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all
wet, and you don't mind it.

Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother to
come home from school.

What has happened to you that you look so strange?

Haven't you got a letter from father to-day?

I saw the postman bringing letters in his bag for almost
everybody in the town.

Only, father's letters he keeps to read himself. I am sure the
postman is a wicked man.

But don't be unhappy about that, mother dear.

To-morrow is market day in the next village. You ask your maid
to buy some pens and papers.

I myself will write all father's letters; you will not find a
single mistake.

I shall write from A right up to K.

But, mother, why do you smile?

You don't believe that I can write as nicely as father does!

But I shall rule my paper carefully, and write all the letters
beautifully big.

When I finish my writing, do you think I shall be so foolish as
father and drop it into the horrid postman's bag?

I shall bring it to you myself without waiting, and letter by
letter help you to read my writing.

I know the postman does not like to give you the really nice
letters.

The Coramandel Fishers - Sarojini Naidu

Rise, brothers, rise; the wakening skies pray to the morning light,
The wind lies asleep in the arms of the dawn like a child that has cried all
night.
Come, let us gather our nets from the shore and set our catamarans free,
To capture the leaping wealth of the tide, for we are the kings of the sea!

No longer delay, let us hasten away in the track of the sea gull's call,
The sea is our mother, the cloud is our brother, the waves are our comrades
all.
What though we toss at the fall of the sun where the hand of the sea-god
drives?
He who holds the storm by the hair, will hide in his breast our lives.

Sweet is the shade of the cocoanut glade, and the scent of the mango grove,
And sweet are the sands at the full o' the moon with the sound of the voices
we love;
But sweeter, O brothers, the kiss of the spray and the dance of the wild
foam's glee;
Row, brothers, row to the edge of the verge, where the low sky mates with the
sea.

Couplets... as good as can get

These are actually the lyrics of a song I've been listening to, the voices grace the song anyway, but the lyrics are genuine poetic soup for the soul ! And my rhyming attempt to translate..... inline

Presenting Nida Fazli's couplets - Dohe...

mai.n royaa parades me.n bhiigaa maa.N kaa pyaar
dukh ne dukh se baat kii bin chiThThii bin taar

I cry far away from home, wet as my mother's love cries
No words, no letters, it's our sorrow as binding ties

chhoTaa karake dekhiye jiivan kaa rustaar
aa.Nkho.n bhar aakaash hai baaho.n bhar sa.nsaar

Squint your vision to view life and the differences unfold
An eye seeing the vast skies, an embrace of the whole world

leke tan ke naap ko ghuume bastii gaa.Nv
har chaadar ke gher se baahar nikale paa.Nv

Guaging my stature, seeking new roads, leaving towns behind
To find a befitting mattress, but my legs outstretch every find

sabakii puujaa ek sii alag-alag har riit
masjid jaae maulvii koyal gaae giit

All worship and prayer means the same, but differs in expression
A pontiff in his mosque is like a cuckoo in musical confession

puujaa ghar me.n muurtii miira ke sa.ng shyaam
jisakii jitanii chaakarii utane usake daam

The altar may bear idols, of God and his consort in splendid decor
But at the geates of heaven, it's your deeds that are accounted for

Nadiya seeche khetko, totha kuthre aam
Suraj Thekedhaar sa, sab ko baate kaam

The river quenching thirsty fields, a parrot pecking at a mango sweet
At the start of each day, the Sun watches over the industrious fleet

saato.n din bhagavaan ke kyaa ma.ngal kyaa piir
jis din soe der tak bhuukaa rahe fakiir

Each day of the week, equals another, as God's generous gift,
The day, a tramp oversleeps, hunger lingers in the day's drift!

achchhii sa.ngat baiThakar sa.ngii badale ruup
jaise milakar aam se miiThii ho gaii dhuup

In the company of the noble, an associate seeks reform
As the summer's mangoes make the sun rays sweet and warm

sapanaa jharnaa nii.nd kaa jaagii aa.Nkhe.n pyaas
paanaa khonaa khojanaa saa.Nso.n kaa itihaas

Dreams are a cascade through sleep, for eyes awake, in thirst,
Of the centuries of losses, gains and a never ending quest!

chaahe giitaa vaachiye yaa pa.Dhiye quraan
meraa teraa pyaar hii har pustak kaa Gyaan

All holy books, preach alike, all religions the same
To love each other, is the universal rule of the game!

ummmm.... :)