Thursday, May 20, 2010

K Siva Reddy - Poetry

Contemporary giant Siva Reddy is a friend.
We met at a literary meeting recently.
Later he sent some of his anthologies.

I find that with the advancing age, there is a shift in his expression.
I found on some blog, perhaps on Pustakam, some one wrote that Siva Reddy's poetry is more of musings these days.
I do and don't agree with that statement!
Yes, the intensity of thoughts will sure gets to go down with the age.
I have a typical example in the following poem!
Is it a poem?
Or musings as was said in the blog?
To me, it is very meaningful.
It is very true!
It is something that everyone will not accept like here!
There are some very simple truths that everyone and his neighbour knows!
But, it takes a Siva Reddy to tell them like this!

My Translation

If we are not there

We think for ourselves
That if we are not there, how these people would live
How the world would be able to continue
They would be alright even if we are not there
The world would go great guns even if we are not there.

You think that you steer the wheel of the world
That all is linked with you
That would only it would dawn when your cockerel coos

No, even if you are not there, the vehicle would keep moving
Children would be born, would grow up
Fall in love, get married
Would be sad glad and unhappy
Laugh like never before
Birds fly, winds blow, flowers bloom
The guy and the gal when sit together
Moon would appear, millions of violins like tiny flowers would say in the winds
Nights also would be heartening
They would cajole each other
They would weep on each other’s shoulders
Would be shocked, wicked, and fall everywhere
Lend a hand to the fallen and lift him up

More than when we are there
The world would be much better
It would be more meaningful and beautiful

Nothing would be lost if we were not there
Than our not being there

I have another poem for you here!
This is typical Siva Reddy!
Inch by Inch

Moves inch by inch
Sometimes just does not
With a broken wing, would struggle
Like Duryodhana with thighs broken
Helpless, would fall to the earth
Like broken to four or five pieces and
Struggling to join them up
Smiles a smile sans lips

Now and then
Laying a hand on cloud’s shoulder tries to walk
To the birds or tender saplings
Makes an appeal to give a little age

Now and then
On the anvil of the wayside blacksmith
Would extend red

Another time
Would roll in the gutter
From the municipal tap
Would drip a drop at a time
With hair let loose
Weeps sitting under the Margosa tree
In the winnowing basket of the fortune teller tribal women
Remains as rice grains and cowry shells

Turns self into the same fortune teller, and prophecy in detail
Drawing lines with lifted hands
Moving not moving, happening not happening, smiling not smiling
Telling not telling,
Looking into open hands rub the face with the palms
Like a mad woman
Singing, cursing
Drawing its feet goes away “The Time”

Both these pieces are from the latest anthology "Posaganivannee"
What a title?
 Let us enjoy good poetry!

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