నీ రుధిరం
నీ ప్రాణం
ఈ జీవితం
ఈ దేహం
నీ కూరుపు
నీ ఓరుపు
నీ శ్వాస
నీ బాస
కత్తి కాచి
వేదనోర్చి
వెసలు దీర్చి
నన్ను కూర్చి
కానరాని దైవాన్ని
కణ కణానా దాచుకుని
చరిస్తున్న దేవతవి
మా దిక్కు వి
మా అమ్మ వి
నీ రుధిరం
నీ ప్రాణం
ఈ జీవితం
ఈ దేహం
నీ కూరుపు
నీ ఓరుపు
నీ శ్వాస
నీ బాస
కత్తి కాచి
వేదనోర్చి
వెసలు దీర్చి
నన్ను కూర్చి
కానరాని దైవాన్ని
కణ కణానా దాచుకుని
చరిస్తున్న దేవతవి
మా దిక్కు వి
మా అమ్మ వి
అసందర్భ ప్రేలాపుల
అసాధారణ ప్రజ్ఞా పాటవాలు
వికట కవుల పాండిత్యాలలో
మరుగుపడుతున్న కవిసార్వభౌములు
రామరాజ్యంలో అశేష రావణ బ్రహ్మలు
నాయకులు లేని కథలు,
నీతి లేని నేతలు
ఆలోచించి అధమమౌతున్న తర్కవేత్తలు
బరువుకు తప్ప పనికిరాని భారీ కాయాలు
నలుగుతూ నడుస్తున్నాను
విషవలయాలు దాటుతున్నాను
గరళమొక్కసారి మింగే దేవుడైన శివుడికి
క్షణక్షణం గరళం సేవిస్తూ పోటీనిస్తున్నాను.
Hostile world filled with hoards of unknown faces lit up with smirks remind me time and again that I’m an unwelcomed surfer in the quaint streets. With “values” on a meteor trip and “the values” plummeting in to the abyss, the lost World seemingly a bliss and the current giving all counts a miss, I find myself in middle of nowhere with eye of that storm approaching fast from everywhere. Doyens walked, so did dinos. Stones aged into mountains, clothes and cloaks eased into strips. Phases of development throwing up faces so (un)true, accolades and epitaphs pasted with same glue.. this dot in galaxy douses me in despair, with its relics and rituals far from fair
The Ray’s land swayed to the lullaby of the lyricist with rivulets of emotions finding their faces.
Specs of art strewn canvasses entwined in chords of maestro’s “sangeet” engulfed the stretch of lawns astride the school of free thought.
The speaking pots on wonder wheels, the muses of mono string beetles , the vibrant colours of fabrics of varied lengths and the fluttering free goers flying in trance sets up this landscape at par with His House. Pretty faces, peaceful braces, divine dances and driving totos …Culture at its civilized best, appears as if that revered kingdom returned with its prime.
Sanskrit is rocking Germany.
This was the news trending few days ago.
Strange…Isn’t it?
The language of the mythical world(so called) which we conveniently contested many a times, is being professed as a unique and advanced tool of communication.
Denting our sobreity of eulogising English as the “Queen”(‘s) of languages… Which we held on to and propagated after numerous English ruminations which saw Sanskrit slide and brushed aside as rustic and rudimentary by the inhabitants of the banks of Indus where it originated.
The “Throne” perpetrated in to the souls of “Bharatas” through memes, flushing out the stone aged Vedic dialects and customs, and planting, superimposing the “English” in vernacular and culture of the diaspora south of Himalayas
We, the “Bharatas”, took refuge in the “polished and mannered” language of the evolved colonialists to “progress”, shunning the Deva Bhasha.
And Alas! These Europeans found it fascinating to learn, practice and put to use(for their advantage) what we rejected and obliterated with sheer hard work and imported wisdom. (How uncultured and vintage ridden it can get..oops)
How funny these guys, The Europeans, are to call their mother “maathey” and not mummy (Egyptians appear to have forgotten their history…)which is, as we say
“cool”.
The “progressive”(the western), thus, progressed in progressing their agenda with catchy and glamorous phonetics(borrowed from host of dialects around the world) to prove to the simple Indians that they are perched a level above them.
To equalize and in an attempt to meet the eye of the fairer, the Indians(masters) thought they must compete with the
“learned” ( say learners, may be) to master the Foreign language in progressive spirit.
Thus we shifted to a different savoury by twisting our tongues and our friends of foreign lands sweetened theirs by the nectar called “Sanskrit”
Somewhere I read that age is just a number…
You are as young as you feel….
With this sense of adduced intrepidity I started my cruise in this journey of life overlooking the passing milestones.
However, my hair hatched plans of its own and veered on to a tangential path taking pride in displaying it’s true colours, the white, the whiter and the whitish.
Oh dear, to put this indiscipline of the faculty of hair in order, my adorable brain passed the thoughtful and intelligent instructions, in the most discreet manner possible, to the mischevious faculty of department of Hair, telling them to behave.
Basking in the Silver linings, the Faculty of department of Hair felt annoyed, infact, dismayed and decided to relinquish their appointments robbing the Department of Head of the sheen and exposing it to the vagaries of environment (saving “overhead costs” in terms of hair care to the United States of the Body).
The age, dear friends, and it’s display, hence, isn’t just managing numbers. It’s pleasing a lot of faculties and institutions, without any ego, and pledging allegiance to the State of the United States of the Body, all the time.
The half man’s roar quelled that temerity of many a fiends who dared to catechize devouts while Evolved Seraphic fish pulled the barque afloat to keep alive the sapiens. The cooter holding that massif to churn to shower benevolence on mortals, that ” giant” dwarf professing wisdom with his foot on iniquitous ruler, the bowman, the flautist to name such few.
Knowledge swooning on the stem tickling the naval, worlds of wealth at His feet relaxes the MahaVishnu.
The frame instantly toppled the hatch marks darting to scale new “weights” as that “many”cured, deftly chiseled cast lying inert defied logical BMIs. The fluffy mane icicled with “globes” squeezed shut, that deemed paradise, strapped stripped and marooned, lolls without a quaver.
The brawl to top the charts of athleticism at the cost of many a delicacies culminating into this torpor, the learned designers of diet charts scrambled, in vain, for that magical recipe to shake that unending stupor.
Fat bellied or the “packed” are picked alike, roasted at similar intensity where none labours to keep score of the size and weight of the heap of clinkers.
So live, love , laugh…and more so EAT your way as our future cadavers can’t.