Tempest of time (poems)
-Kondapalli Niharini
Translated by Elanaaga
Lustre of Erudition Surrounds Her
If people born in a family of great tradition hold the flag of defiance, it causes some surprise. If they follow the same path of rationalism and struggle throughout their life without retreating to the destination, it projects Telangana nature that overtakes the family tradition. PendyalaRaghavaRao was one flag that fluttered with such a nature. Even if the shortsightedness of those who cannot recognisearmed struggle as a bigger movement for independence is spurned, he stands as a popular M.P. of Warangal constituency, and as a writer as well. Neeharini is his daughter. China Pendyala is their native place. Neeharini is the gumption sprouted there as a tender branch. All this is a smaller half; her in-laws’ place is the greater half.
Pravara had commented about Siddha: “Your words are mantras. The place where you set your foot is sacred like Prayaga. The water used for washing your feet is a replica of the celestial Ganga water reflected on the earth.” These words depict the exact nature of KondapalliSheshagiriRao, and Neeharini became his daughter-in-law. His world of paintings is vast. Unlike the modern artists who got fame due to the sales of their paintings, he won the hearts of art lovers by reflecting the Indian spirit. Hugh MacLeod remarked thus: “Art suffers the moment other people start paying for it.” Thomas Merton’s quote, “Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time,” applies perfectly to MacLeod.
If we see from the perspective of the Indian spirit which says marriage is not just a personal affair of husband and wife but a union of two families, readers would get to know correctly the evolution of KondapalliNeeharini as a poet. KondapalliVenugoplaRao doesn’t write poetry but makes Neeharini compose his emotions. Neeharini’slines of poetry are known to evoke deep emotions of heart:
Scripting the death sentences of
the unwritten definitions,
I will imagine the corpse
of his sin in the mat’s roll.
I am time;
I am the life that cannot return.
I am a quiver; a burnt heart of
charmless jungle devoid of moonlight!
All the raindrops that fall from the sky have the same innate attribute, i.e., the same moisture, the same coolness, and the same melting nature. But while one converts its birth into death by falling into a polluted lake, another falls on trees and leaves, washes the mud, reaches the roots, and turns into greenness. Some raindrops fall in pearl oysters and convert the muddy worldto gold.
Neeharini has honed her literary creativity in the lustre of the erudition that surrounds her. She has been contributing in her way to the fields of Telugu poetry, criticism, and research.
I have been keenly observing her poetry from the release function of her book,ArraTalupulu, in SundarayyaVijnanaKendram about a decade ago to her NirnidraGaanam and EnimidoAdugu. I read this KaalaPrabhanjanam with the same zeal. This book comprises poems written in the past two or three years. This is a weird and difficult time – one replete with sadness as well. Many families have lost their loved ones in this period, many were crushed financially. Migrations, returns, and the unstable lives that lost livelihood have moved the hearts of poets and writers. Adesh Ravi has questioned in one of his songs: “Is there a bigger disease than poverty?” Several poets and writers have posed and faced similar questions.
All the villages along the path
became morsels of food for them.
They are walking with
suitcases full of ruthless tears.
Long is the walk
says Neeharini. Common people were pushed into a situation in which they could not reach their native places unless they walked on foot for a few weeks. Some have died in the journey, while it was inevitable for pregnant women to give birth to babies along the roadside. Composing a poem on this subject, Neeharini has symbolised Corona as a heap of darkness. This is a great poetic muse among all the poems that have appeared during the period of Covid.
I know not where from
this heap of pitch darkness has dropped.
And why is it silent?
It entered the pot of heart,
but brain-churning hasn’t happened.
The war of life did not end either.
What is this dark night whispering?
On another occasion, she says, “Isolating ourselves/ we break your shackles”
The ‘Banyan Tree’ poem in which she opines that trees should be adopted like how children are adopted shows her respect for the Nature.
Similarly, she wrote a poem, seeing the Pacific Ocean in America. The following is the first line of the poem:
No single scene can go without wounding me.
This poem indicates that a famous poet was alluded to in it. In the past too, she composed a poem on VaravaraRao when he was arrested. There was a protest in that poem.She recited it on the podium of a literary meeting. The ‘Pacific Ocean’ poem has reminded me of this other poem.
She says,
Leave the eyes;
you’re wetting my feet here!
Reintroducing yourself
who got caught among poems.
You are an abode for ocean fires;
we are drinking with our hearts,
tears are hanging from our eye-lids.
The poet depicts the scene with wet eyes filled with inner grief. This poem makes us revisit VaravaraRao’s famous poetry book, Samudram.
These days when national integration seems to be becoming strong, the rulers have decided to hand over agriculture, too, to multi-national companies. This would upset farmers. Poets and intellectuals are perturbed by the incident of a car being run over the rally of farmers protesting peacefully. Now, poets need to be highly vocal again stating that they are taking the side of farmers. There are many poems on farmers in this book. Neeharini says that even the daily work a farmer does, is tantamount to a struggle.
Two bulls and a plough take
the avatar of a farmer.
He is the brainchild of the sun,
the own and direct son of the world.
A farmer is an unusual warrior who erects
a fence around his eyes to protect the crop.
Few poets have written about woman farmers. GangulaShayireddi, GavvaMurahariReddi, PallaDugaiah et al have talked respectfully about the conduct of farming women. DuvvooriRamireddi says that it is because a woman farmer is bringing home rice grains that everybody has something to eat. KondapalliNeeharini has given a new name of haalini to a farming woman. As far as my knowledge goes, nobody has used this word earlier. The poetess remarks that unlike the ladies in the families of landlords, those in the families of peasants work equally with men. She says,
He is the vigour of thrashing the bundles;
she has the skill to winnow the chaff from the grain.
It is not known whether these lines were written playfully or with great reflection, but there is a ‘suggestion’ in them that skill is more important than physicalvigour. The import that a family cannot run properly except under thethrifty management of a woman reaches the readers. Only a deft poet can compose lines such as these. In these poems, universal thoughts seem to be competing with those of the present day. “That which explains the way of time’s passage is life,” she says. In another wonderful poem, she links paper boats with life. In yet another one, she charmingly records the purposes of the morning walk thus:
Feet are moving to cool down the heat,
to compensate for the restiveness of last night.
The feet are walking
reminiscing the tales of chasing hares!
In another poem, she says, “Like weaving poetry, uniting family/women cross the roads of ups and downs, /make corrections to their journey.” Describing a book, the poet says in a poem, “It’s a wonderful spirit, /for it corrects our thoughts.” This poem is a highlight of this anthology of poems. It goes like this:
Like a mother who directs a crawling child
Like the father who teaches his son how to run
Like the teacher who dispels fear from the mind
Like the temple that tells God is present
in the heart of one and all
Like the worldly wisdom
that teaches lessons of life,
the book, emitting countless
beams of light are our world.
It is heartening to notice that in this book, there are more poems which recorded the poet’s powerful feelings than those composed for festivals, occasions, needs, and demands. In the poem, AksharaTarpanam, there is a philosophy to which man is subjected to when he is perturbed. In Dharma Ganta, there is a warning that ‘you are the king as well as a pawn to the empire of your individuality.’ Poems written on bonum, lady police, Osmania University, P.V. NarasimhaRao, Republic Day, BalaSubrahmanyam, Kaleshwaram Project were meant for particular occasions. Yet they are charming.
There are many lines in this book that can be quoted as examples to say nobody can escape from the ideas being ushered by modernity, despite having a strong traditional influence. It would be a real mistake to assume that this poet stands a little away from feminism.
This book comprises several poems that were written from the perspective of women. She used the beautiful word ArraMandaralu(Shelves of Hibiscuses) only due to her dislike for another word VantintiKundelu(a ‘rabbit’ restricted to kitchen… metaphorically). Yet her intention was the same. OotabayiKanneeru(tears of the fountain), too, pertains to women. See how keen is her view as a feminist:
Taunting words at home turn into embers
even before childhood isn’t over
and age is not ripe for responsibilities.
The age difference between brothers is played up,
yet wounds of sex determination are born.
School precincts are not those of heart.
Tender branches are grafted,
untoward thoughts are attached,
and some whirlwind is made to rage.
As college life commences,
male eyes’ hunt for girls begins.
KondapalliNeeharini’s poetry is addictive. It is anunquenchable thirst too. She yearns for poesy whether she is in the U.S. or in Hyderabad. Poetry is oxygen to her. I wish that her poetry is further honed in the lustre of the erudite persons belonging to her family. I extend my hearty compliments to her.
– AnuguNarsimha Reddy
***
2. These Persons too, are Present Here
Hopes with no rest provided much work,
made them immerse in heart’s lake in the past.
With a livelihood of small mats and bags
of rags on heads, some legs have been walking
breaking the merciless locks.
They are walking unendingly
in parallel lines like those of railway tracks.
Taking small babies in their arms they’re walking,
dragging toddlers along with them.
Unlike in the past,
their trudge is not accompanied
by the cowries of laughter.
Dogs’ loyalty followed them
for somedistance.
All the villages along the path
became morsels of food for them.
They are walking with
suitcases, full of ruthless tears.
Long is the walk,
for they may bear children on the way!
May get old, or even die.
Non-stop is the walk
with not reaching the destination.
They have no bonds of love here;
left their near and dear long ago.
Followed others suit,
moved to far-off places
hoping to reach the horizon.
They are inevitable to cities,
for they become colourful walls,
marble floors, tiles, lights, granites
or the din of the concrete mixers.
Like the answerless questions
that don’t yield to life’s grammar,
they are continuing their walk.
They left the silent vibrations of
the marvellous high-rise edifices they built,
their huts along the city roads as well.
The sorrow of plastic tents is not with them;
they are now competing with the sun,
pursuing the walk to find the affection they lost.
We closed the schools, temples;
would not allow masjids, churches to open.
Made cinemas colourless, shut function halls;
stalled the cheerful thoughts of transport.
Roads are shining with the wielding of batons,
offices bowed to the lockdowns.
Not liking the social distancing,
we closed the trades in markets.
Forgot these people who considered
the cities as their feeding mothers.
We are safely sitting in our homes,
but the workers are walking
as migrating bodies on the red hot roads!
These people too are here along with us,
along with those who long for them,
and along with the time!
*****
(To be continued-)
ఎం .ఏ. తెలుగు , తెలుగు పండిత శిక్షణ (20 ఏళ్ళ బోధనానుభవం), ఉస్మానియా విశ్వ విద్యాలయం లో ‘ ఒద్దిరాజు సోదరుల జీవితం-సాహిత్యం‘ పై పరిశోధన చేసి , డాక్టరేట్ పట్టా పొందాను . నిత్యవిద్యార్థిగా నిరంతర సాహిత్య పఠనం . పెద్దల మాటలను , కొత్తగొంతుకలను వినడం ఇష్టం .