UNDER THE PIPAL TREE

                                                     
                                              UNDER THE PIPAL TREE


     
               


















   

       











                               1)        The temple yard with massive trees
                                     Strong pillared structures with leafy domes
                                     A spacious shelter for birds and monkeys
                                     Around which pilgrims bow and roam.
                                     Praying to thousands of black curved forms
                                     Engraved on stones, eye-catching charms.

                          2)       Devotees pray with humble hearts and stay
                                    With eyes closed, mumbling divine names;
                                    The pleasant cool breezes throw away
                                    Their worries and light Bhakti's flames;
                                    They offer rows of lights deckt with dark red
                                    And yellow powder, to snakes without dread.

                          3)       Pouring milk in streams over serpent-stones
                                    Chanting mantras in pious tones;
                                    As scents of myrrh and camphor spread
                                    Reciting prayers couples tread
                                    A festive glow surrounds the place entire
                                    With colorful blooms and lamp-lit fire.

                         4)       The priests busied themselves with rites
                                   Chanting slokas and waving lights
                                   Aspiring for booty from devotees there
                                   Tied to one place to earn their labor's share;
                                   The graceful hooded gods beseem to say
                                   Lessons of truth to those who truly pray.

                         5)       Like saints installed under the peepal trees
                                   Unmindful of weather and intense heat
                                   No venomous shapes, but divinities indeed
                                   Wish-fulfilling gods without greed
                                   Giving progeny and domestic bliss
                                          Removing time-old curse with mental peace.



                                  

     










                         6)       Round and round the devotees turned--
                                   Around the stony serpents adorned
                                   With jasmine and rose-plaited chains
                                   Tinged with saffron-mixed-yellow grains--
                                   Seeking blessings from serpent-deities
                                   For their family's health and longevity.

                        7)        The serpents shone with mysterious glow
                                   As if responding to their feelings' flow
                                   Their eyes opened wide gazed so bright
                                   Hissing blessings with hoods upright;
                                   Denizens of three worlds in various forms
                                   True ornaments of gods and nature's charms.

                       8)         Paired serpents intertwined in graceful pose
                                   Some like hydras with multiple hoods rose;
                                   Milk-tinted glistened with sleek silver shine
                                   With full-spread hoods and moon-lit eyne
                                   Upright standing on folded coils
                                   Benefactors of the sons of the soil.

                       9)         The primates viewing the devotees meek
                                   Skipped and played  hide-and-seek
                                   Leaping over the harmless serpents carved
                                   Giving no chance to mongrels starved
                                   Seizing offerings with lightning speed
                                   Shocked devotees wonder at their greed.

                       10)       Bless us, Holy symbols of creative force!
                                   Driving the diverse folds of the universe;
                                   Harbingers of bliss and mystic force divine
                                   That lies concealed in human spine;
                                   Unwind the potent forces of our mind
                                   Unfold the lotus sealed in conscience behind.


              Ref:            

              a)    Bhakti= Deep devotion
              b)    Mantras = devotional hymns with mystic power"
              c)    Slokas  =  devotional metrical verse
              d)    dark red and yellow powder= vermilion and turmeric used in worship
              e)    saffron-mixed yellow grains= rice grains mixed with vermilion and
                     turmeric powder, used in worship.
               f)    time-old curse= the burden of curse caused due to indiscriminate
                      killing of cobras by people, called naga dosha.
              g)    The lotus = In yogic terminology the lotus symbolizes 
                     spiritual enlightenment

               Note:  1)  In Indian tradition the peepal tree is considered as very sacred--
               a veritable symbol of Holy Trinity, Brahma, Vishnu and Shiva. 
              Generally under its branches small stone idols of gods, especially those
              of serpents, are seen in many temples. Lord Krishna also told Arjuna
              that among mighty trees, his power has assumed the form of the peepal
              tree. So people walk with devotion around this tree (Pradakshina) with
              the hope of getting blessings of this wish-fulfilling tree.

             The idols of serpents occupy a very prominent place in Hindu mythology. 
             They are considered as symbols of pro-creation and domestic bliss.
             Lord Subrahmanya (Son of Shiva and Parvathi) is worshipped in the form
             of a serpent symbolising creative force and the mystic force called 
             kundalini which lies concealed inside the spine. Many gods are shown
             wearing serpents as ornaments to indicate their mastery over this mystic
             power. This serpentine power spreads through all worlds of creation
             which is shown as multiple folds of creative force like that of the coils of
             Anantha, the lord of all serpents.   

                                      =========================                    
                                   
          25th February, 2015                                             Somaseshu G                        
                            

                                     

             

UNDER THE GRAPEVINE

                                                UNDER THE GRAPEVINE








 











     













                                    1)       Under this green canopy sweet
                                               A welcome treat in blazing heat
                                               A wholesome crop of grapes, a lovely sight
                                               Clusters pendent like orbs of delight.

                                    2)       How meekly do they bend so much
                                               To crush their juice on tender touch
                                               A heavenly nectar indeed
                                               No strenuous effort I need.

                                    3)      No time to lose in brewing spree
                                               Fresh juice just prest enough for me
                                               A lavish feast by Nature laid
                                               God's magnanimity I said.

                                    4)      These smooth white sacs with silky sheen
                                               Like Persian maids in paintings seen
                                               Those black smooth clusters with swarthy mien
                                                Like Ethiopes in Roman chambers shine.

                                     5)      The dusky reddish band did seem
                                                Raw tribal folk with ruddy gleam
                                                The greenish bunch like dryads peep
                                                Covered in leafy colors deep.

                                     6)      I lie in deepest contented mood
                                                Under this rustling verdant hood
                                                No casual words of thanks convey
                                                My gratitude to their company gay.

                                     7)      Lovely globes do lightly swell
                                               Melting sweetly in every cell
                                               Refreshing with soft jelly cream
                                               A rich lush realm of delicious dream.

                                    8)      Far from grimy dust-laden spot
                                              A concrete jungle burning hot
                                              Beneath this dark green trellised vine
                                              A cool bower care-free and fine.

                                   9)      I dreamt of Persian plates with dates
                                             Adding pleasure to the royal taste
                                             Of frothing juice with silky shine
                                             A splendid pleasure-dome divine.

                                 10)     I can't escape from dusty din
                                            This blazing heat, pollution's sin
                                            This bushy shelter with sweetened shade
                                            Gives me relief from griefs man-made.

                                                         ++++++++++++++++++++


                                       
                              Ref:  1) Ethiopes  = Dark-colored women from Ethiopia

                                        2)  Dryads    = nymphs inhabiting in trees
                                                                                  

                 Note: Dear Readers,

                 This is a nature poem composed by me after reading 
                 Andrew Marvell's poem "The Garden" which transports us from
                 the dreary world of pollution in to the pure world of Nature, who
                 bestows on us all her bounties and gives us relief from all our
                 worldly worries. In Contemplation of her pristine beauty our 
                  minds are transformed to "a green thought in a green shade."
                                         
                                 As Andrew Marvell Said :

                                         "Society is all but rude
                                           To this delicious solitude."

                                                           *********************************

                         17th February, 2014                                            Somaseshu G

                                                                 
                                                 

ODE TO A MILKMAID

   

 











               1)   There she moves like a dryad of the trees
                      Dressed in rustic clothes with curious design
                      With a long stick in her hand to drive her kine
                      Treading with casual air through morning breeze
                      Her braided hair dallied with wild bowers
                      The creepers shed on her dew-decked flowers.

                2)    She runs freely through village green
                        Leading her cattle with a lusty shout
                       Through winding ways she moves about
                        A buxom lass in her lovely teens
                        Munching peanuts or home-made bread
                        A care-free happy spirit she spread.

                3)     Resting awhile in dark green shade
                        Keeping vigil on straying beasts
                        Letting out a sharp cry in mid-day's heat
                        She treads with nimble gait to the sheltering shade
                        To quench her thirst from grass-laden brook
                        Splashed water and dangling locks she shook.

                4)     Humming now and then a rustic song
                        Driving her cattle with casual ease
                        Care-free, unperturbed with joy and peace
                        Like an uncrowned queen she flits along
                        Till sunset, as the sky turns dusty brown
                        She returns to her hamlet far from town.



           

  














  

           














                5)     At eve she brings pails of milk warm with foam
                        With pots upon her head well-poised she walks
                        Along with friends she merrily talks
                        With beaming eyes she doth merrily roam
                        Her unblemished smiles like stars in milky way
                        Add grace to her face as fresh as lotus gay.

                6)     Her jingling anklets ring rhythm to her gait
                        Her bangles tinkle as she moves apace;
                        Bearing her burden on her head she glides with grace
                        Hard labor adds joy to her state
                        In her bright folded attire doth she appear
                       The gopi of Brindavan filled with cheer.

               7)     Sporting with blue-skinned Lord in human form
                       Sharing the nectar of ecstatic bliss
                       The fair milk-maids of Mathura kiss
                       The foot-prints of Krishna with youthful charm
                       Beside the dark blue waters of Jamuna calm
                       Listening to Krishna's flute with affection warm.

              8)      As gopis played, frolicked and screamed
                       Treating the Lord as their dearest mate
                       Forgetting all, in ecstatic state;
                       A veritable, visual feast it seemed
                       As pea-cocks danced and birds full-gazed perched still
                       While cattle stood entranced on vale and hill.

             9)       No more can I behold her in these times
                       Where are those jingling bangles and pretty smiles?
                       Where are those fresh milk-foaming pails?
                       No lovely lass with ringing chimes;
                       With a raucous sound a milk sachet thrown
                       Skimmed and frozen, as the milk-man rushes down.

                                     =====================   


           1)  Dryad-- a nymph inhabiting the trees according to Greek legends.
           2)  gopi  -- a milk maid or cowherdess
           3) Brindavan  -- the place where Lord Krishna played with gopis.
           4)  kine           --- an archaic word for "cattle or cows"  

         Note: In this poem I tried to re-create the typical rustic climate where the
                   milkmaids graze their cattle and move freely through green pastures
                   and engage themselves in country pastimes and sports. They seem
                   to be carefree and spend their time happily in the company of their
                   friends and cattle. In this context one is reminded of the legendary
                   gopis who had the fortune of spending their time with Krishna and
                   sang and danced with him near the banks of Jamuna. In sharp contrast
                   we in modern times wake up on hearing the raucous cry of the
                   milk-man who throws a sachet of milk in haste and rushes off without
                   any greeting smile in a quite unemotional and mechanical routine way.

                                      *************************************************
          11th February, 2015                                         Somaseshu Gutala 
            

                

THE DESERTED VILLAGE

                                                  THE DESERTED VILLAGE


      

 



                                                   Blank Village like a page,
                                                   Two or three streets, a cage;
                                                   Blank dust on burning lanes
                                                   Barren hills without a crane
                                                   Or a tuft of coiling green
                                                   Or a stretch of water seen;
                                                   Rocks appear like ruined cells
                                                   Heaped around like broken shells;
                                                   Like a massive poem sans sense
                                                   Vital meaning, depth immense;
                                                   Black hills without a rill;
                                                   Barren soil remained sad and still;
                                                   Climate dry to clip our wings
                                                   Without lilt of inner springs;
                                                   Fraught with boredom, we lie to rest
                                                   Sluggishness spreads like a pest;
                                                   Time limps too slow on her crutch;
                                                   A heart-chilling foggy touch;
                                                   Life drags hard  through dreary slush
                                                   Static like Oxus in wintry hush;
                                                   Living like ants in dull rutted ways
                                                   Like icy shapes, like monotonous lays.








          

  
                                                   Dwell there now few cronies old
                                                   In a few, old rotten houses cold
                                                   Ringed with thorny shrubs and grass
                                                   By that way no stranger pass;
                                                   Heard no more thrilling rustic lays
                                                   Heard no more hymns of gentle  grace;
                                                   Heard no more damsels anklet bells
                                                   Heard no more bleating sounds from dells                                                                                           Heard no more sounds of chirping birds
                                                   Heard no more sounds of lowing herds
                                                   Gone with changing times all creeds
                                                   Lost all values and heroic deeds
                                                   Soon to be engrossed by selfish sharks
                                                   Smoky stacks and factory stocks                                                                                                            Seen there only ruined walls or wood  
                                                   Shattered statues in a melancholy mood .
                                  
                                                                    /////////////////////////////////////

        Ref:     The Oxus River : Nowadays called as Amou-Darya flows through central Asian 
                    countries like Tajikistan, Turkmenistan, Uzbekistan and Northern border of
                    Afghanistan before joining the Aral Lake. In winter the upper reaches of the 
                   river  remain completely frozen for more than two months.
                                           
      Note: 
                    Dear Readers,  Just as a sequel to my previous poem "The Village Barber" I
                    have penned this poem after reading Oliver Goldsmith's famous poem with the                             same title published by him 1770.  The poem opens with these thrilling lines:

                     "Sweet Auburn! loveliest village of the plain
                       Where health and plenty cheered the laboring swain."

     and where the poet deplores the depopulation of the English countryside due to fast
     urbanization and rapid spread of industrialization. 
                     
                       "Far far away thy children leave the land
                         Ill fares the land, to hastening ills a prey
                         Where wealth accumulates and men decay."

  I thought of  giving another title to my poem, but could not find another one to suit my  
 theme; so let me borrow his title as a kind of paying a glowing tribute to this great 
 Augustan poet who followed the Neo-classic tradition scrupulously and claimed applause
 in spite of  his slender poetic output.The village was deserted not only by people and other  creatures, but also by far more precious core values like culture and tradition. 
                         
                                                ****************************
                                                    
            4th February, 2015                                                           SOMASESHU GUTALA
                                           
                                           
                                           
                           

The Village Barber

                             THE VILLAGE BARBER ( In Blank Verse)


        

  



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                             He is the only one well-known to everyone
                             In that village; a petty saloon where he works
                             Regaling every customer with his friendly talk;
                             Tidy and neat he maintains that place;
                             His words so lucid as the looking-glass;
                             His manners so gentle like fresh shaving cream;
                             Massaging our limbs with soothing movements;
                             He plies his tools with adroit skill
                             Trimming our hair with playful art;                           
                             He treats all with self-same welcoming looks
                             About local incidents with seasoned remarks
                             His simple friendly talk impresses one and all;
                             Even landed gentry visit and await their turn
                             Seated in his humble abode without any fretful mood
                             Glancing at the sensational items and news;
                             As he attends to his work with reverence due
                             Assuring them of quick service in a courteous tone;
                             He knows the knack of winning their hearts
                             They too kindly respond in whatever way they could
                             Helping him unsolicited by all means;

                       

                             Though naive and unsophisticated by birth
                             He works alone unperturbed by his homely cares;
                             A lonely bread-winner to feed many a mouth
                             But never complained about his personal cares:
                             Never did he ask or demand more;
                             With a cheerful countenance and patient looks
                             With balanced ease he enjoys his profession;
                             Without enslaving himself to vicious habits;
                             What paltry amount we gave, he took with a grateful smile;
                             Reflecting upon our feeble minds brooding over trivial things
                             We wondered at his calm and composed demeanor
                             Untouched by mean avarice and worthless strife;
                             We thought of so-called noble millionaires
                             Without any sympathetic humane feelings;
                             We find noblest examples of happy contented life
                              Even in simple persons of noble means
                             Hidden like gems beneath rough seeming shells
                             A living example of honesty inspiring our self-centered minds.

                                        ********************************


     20th January, 2015                                                           G.Somaseshu

     Note:
       Dear Readers, Some of you might have heard of the famous 18th century poet "Oliver Goldsmith". In the age of rationalism and industrial revolution, when many poets extolled the urban living ways, he exposed the plight of deteriorating values, tradition and customs as found in interior villages which were reeling under the pressure of urbanization. "The Deserted Village" (1770) is a fine poetic rendering of the social conditions of the rural life which gives a very lively and realistic sketch of various rural characters of those times. The characters of the "Village School Master and "The Preacher" are superbly delineated. In my poem I tried something in that vein to portray the character of the village barber who always appears cheerful and entertains his customers without dwelling too much on his personal problems. He lives in the moment of joyous living with strong faith in God and in his abilities to face the challenges of life. In this context one is reminded of Wordsworth's poem on "The Leech-gatherer" in which the poet describes and praises the old man's spirit of perseverance, fortitude and the spirit of independence.
                                              **********************

                         

We find no time .......

       

                                         WE FIND  NO  TIME

(What is this life if full of care/We have no time to stand and stare

 ) --W.H.Davies     

too much time with machines

                                                 
 

preoccupation with shopping

Office life

 



















                             1)      We find no time to look at the beauty of sunsets
                                       We sit still drugged before our T.V.sets
                                       We find no time to fill our eyes
                                       With rosy miraculous sunrise.

                             2)       We find no time to see the pastures green
                                       With wayside yellow blooms so fresh and clean
                                       We find no time to tinge our smile
                                       With depth of love bereft of guile.

                            3)       We find no time to sit at ease
                                      And leave the world as God may please;
                                      We find no time to pluck our feelings
                                      And lyricize ours  with wonderful meanings.

greedy rush to grab all

too much bound by time

       
                                    

 

stressful life

             

  










                                  
                            4)     We find no time the noble poets to read
                                    We find no time our elders to heed
                                    We find no time to help others in need.
                                    We find no time to put words in deed

                           5)     We find no time to check our greed.
                                   We find no time to check our speed
                                   We run like wild, wild beasts -- a prey
                                   To disease, old age and pollution's sway

                         6)     Ever stuck neck-deep in work for wealth
                                 We fret ourselves and creep to death
                                 Steeped in desires misusing our time
                                 We die like wasted blooms in wintry clime.

                                       +++++++++++++++++++++++++++ 

      21st August, 2014                                                   SOMASESHU GUTALA