MUSINGS

 











                                                                 
















                  1)     My eyes too weak to see Thy holy feet
                       My ears too deaf to hear Thy voice sweet
                       My smell too dull to sense Thy presence fine
                       My tongue too numb to chant Thy name divine.

             2)      My touch too inert to touch Thy sacred heart
                       My mind too ruffled with distractions fraught
                       My span of thought too short to soar and fly
                       To reach Thy heavenly realms too high.

            3)       Thou, boundless ocean of Love and Mercy !
                       Thy name enough to cross this turbulent sea
                       Of earthly troubles of egoistic illusion
                       And grant Thy beatific thrilling vision !

            4)       Ev'n beasts and birds have found Thy grace
                       Why can't my mind with intelligence trace
                       Thy cool benign presence within my heart
                       Like lovely sunbeams by red lotus caught.

            5)       With a language bestowed with meaningful sounds
                       Yet still I can't know Thee-- beyond my bounds !
                       I can't decode Thy mysterious thought and sense
                       With my intellect clouded with delusions dense.

            6)        Flitting like a bee from flower to flower
                       I ran after worldly wealth, joys and power
                       Not a moment I found to sit calm and quiet
                       To gaze upon Thy feet and feel really blest.

            7)       Trapped like a rat in momentary pleasures
                       I found scarce time for silent, serene leisure
                       To pray to Thee with tearful gratitude
                       Set me free from these temptations crude.

            8)       These vile passions, like vixen wait for chance to find
                      To pounce upon my fickle and tottering mind
                       My worldly knowledge no match to fight and decide
                       The righteous path and resist their raging pride.

            9)       My limping mind too weak to give a firm, strong hold
                      Thinking too long my woes become too manifold --
                      My wisdom is but a frail leaking ship ;
                      How can I come out of their crushing python-grip ?

           10)      Only Thy name to liberate me from this maze 
                      No masterly guidance to brighten my dismal gaze
                      No yogic mysterious skills for me to dream
                      No more dallying with my musings, my Lord supreme !

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

      16th November, 2016                                    Somaseshu Gutala




   
                     

WHAT USE ?

               




















                Mother of all worlds ! What use to force Thy thoughts ?
             A foolish thought indeed ! All-knowing One ! Time's meed       
             You give-- not more or less -- we ignorantly plead
             Forgetful of this truth ; our fate is already wrought
             None can ingeniously escape from his lot ;
             You smile, I know, Thou, blessed fount of glee !
             You know our ultimate ends and we like feeble reeds
             Move to and fro in winds of anxiety caught.     

             Ignorant of our goals of where we end
             We strive to strike new ways to alter and mend
             Our ways, though we do know -- beyond our hands
             How selfish people seem ! In spite of burning sands
             We dream of rich harvests to suit our greedy taste
             Craving beyond what we deserve, our peculiar state.

                        #######################


  5th November, 2016                                       Somaseshu Gutala
              


              
                     


                   

THE FESTIVAL OF LIGHTS

                                   

                                                                    (  I  )

                            It is no more a festival of lights I found
                       It is a pandemonium of deafening sounds                           
                       It is no more a joyous occasion to wait
                       It is an unavoidable, expensive plight ;
                       No more do we aspire for shooting stars
                       Our purse is burnt too much with scars ;
                       No time to invite and honor our in-laws
                       Behind our mirth there lurks a pinching loss ;
                       The rich may rave and sound their joys to the skies
                       The poor man's hut in darkness lies ;

                     

                                                ( I I )

                       When every heart is lit with mercy and wisdom
                       When earth becomes a heavenly kingdom
                       When every hut and hamlet smiles with delight  
                       When every man respects others' true rights 
                       When every house is free from habits  vile
                       When every heart is free from hatred and guile  
                       Then the real festive glow in true spirit I find
                       In every eye and heart and mind ;
                       Till then this is but a poor pantomime
                       A flashy show of lights without reason or rhyme.

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

      
  1st November, 2016                                      Somaseshu Gutala                        
                       
                                 


  

THIS NIGHT IS THEIRS

                     













                           

                                                         



                         







                                                                     ( I )
                 
                          With eyes wide-open as if to enjoy every sight
                     In tattered clothes, their teeth with joyous grin  
                     Sparkled white in the brilliant glow of bursting crackers
                     And many-lined winking candles kept on the walls ;
                     They watched the pageant of multi-colored joys
                     Denied to them-- without a pinch of jealousy ;
                                                
                                                     ( I I )

                     The shooting crackers like dragons fly into the sky
                     Spouting widening curves of fiery flowers ;
                     A jet of light from flower-pots brightens their eyes ;
                     They shout with joy and hilariously dance with zeal
                     Gazing at the revolving rings of whirling fire ;
                     The loud report of bursting bombs rebounds at once 
                     From their joyful shouts and accolades of delight ;
                     One moment they do seem like rulers of the world
                     Unmindful of their trouble-torn existence ;
                                     
                                                   ( I I I )
                                                         
                    Their scanning eyes alight on half-burnt squibs 
                    Torn bits of wrappers and colored cones half-burnt ;
                    They grab them with swift enthusiastic pull ;
                    These children wander away from their gloomy huts
                    Their dark dungeons tucked in some remote slums ;
                    Yet festive mirth exudes from every pore of their limbs
                    From their shabby faces with disheveled hair ;
                    This night is theirs ; their burning bellies filled 
                    With doles dropped by people in charity ;
                    Tomorrow they have to return to their dreary work
                    Uncertain of earning their daily bread, to feel
                    The bite of grinding poverty, to sweat
                    Amid'st dust-ridden squalid surroundings.

                      
              Accolades of delight= a special privilege to feel delight     


   28th October, 2016                               Somaseshu Gutala

                                  

THE SONG OF RADHA

                                 1)      If I see thee, my Lord, again
                                    I feel heaven clasped in my arms
                                    Thy thrilling presence warm
                                    Makes me heaven disdain

                          2)      If  I see thee again, my Love!
                                    I feel at once uplift above
                                    With wings of moon-light sheen
                                    To fly above the meadows green.

                          3)      If I hear thy music again my Lord !
                                    Thy dulcet soft-toned words
                                    I feel God's voice whisper within           
                                    And soothe my inner doleful din.

                          4)      If I view thy graceful form again
                                    My life is given not in vain ;
                                    A passionate hug I do not wish
                                    A gentle touch only I cherish.

                          5)      If I gaze into thine eyes 
                                    A wave of thrill will rise
                                    Through that blue glistening pair
                                    I see myself sublimed and fair !

                          6)      If I feel thy touch again
                                    I feel afresh and free of pain
                                    What blissful realms can't I attain
                                    If you stand by me and be all mine !

                           7)     If I have thee all myself                
                                    I value not base gold and pelf ;
                                    A simple, sweet lyrical life
                                    I live indeed as thy dearest wife.

                           8)      No sweetest lines can I express
                                    Thy charming form beyond my guess
                                    Benumbed my mind and feelings fine
                                    Athirst for years for thy love divine ! 

                           9)    Bedecked with pea-cock's plumes come soon
                                   To dance with us in bright full moon
                                   The banks of Jamuna yearn for thee
                                   Play thy flute again for us with glee.     

                         10)     No pearls or gems of purest shine
                                   No diamonds culled from richest mine
                                   I crave, Blue-complexioned Lord !
                                   My earnest love, please, don't discard !

                         11)     No splendid wealth or royal pleasures
                                   With rustic sports of Gokul measures
                                   Listen to our hearts' humble appeal
                                   Lord of cowherds! our anguish feel !     
                
                       12)      Come soon to see the vales of Brindavan
                                  To sing, to play, to dance and run
                                  Thy cowherd friends, thy dearest mates
                                  Look for thee, our bliss, our God incarnate.
                              
                                   
                      
     Notes :


     Gokul = The place where Krishna spent his childhood. It is 16 kms  from Mathura. Here Krishna met Radha for the first time.

     Brindavan = The place where Krishna spent his childhood in the company of his cowherd friends and played pranks on them. The Gopikas or milkmaids enjoyed his friendship and affection. It is 11 kms from the city of Madhura. The 8km long Goverdhana Mountain is near this town.

    Jamuna = The river ( also called Yamuna)  flows through Brindavan and Mathura. Krishna played with his friends and milkmaids on the banks of Jamuna.
                              
19th October, 2016                                     Somaseshu Gutala
                                   


                                    
                                    

                                    
                                   

                                    
                                    

                  
                                    
                 
                                     
                                      



                                               

I DO NOT FEEL TOO MUCH

                              Let others blame my acts
                              Let them whisper behind my back
                              Let them face me with their masks
                              Let them betray my secret tasks
                              Let friends become my foes at once           
                              Let them revile me as a dunce
                              Let people sneer me as I pass
                              Let love disappoint me -- no loss ;
                              I do not feel too much, my Lord !
                              But when Thou dost my hopes discard
                              Unmoved by my sighing prayers
                              Untouched by my flowing tears
                              I feel worst damned, oh God !
                              I can't bear it ; it is too hard !

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

                                                                                  

      10th October, 2016                              Somaseshu Gutala
  

ON THE BANKS OF SIPRA

View of the river Sipra

               

The Kaliadeh Palace built in 15th century

Road leading to Mahakalehswar Temple

Ghadkalika Shrine worsipped by Kalidasa

Lord Mahakaleshwara

                                       
                            1)         Like God's cool glance
                                   The moonlight bloomed
                                   Like the fragrance of flowers
                                   From arched jasmine bowers.

                      2)         They fell upon the lap of the lake
                                   So soft without a stir
                                   A  Thousand moons mirrored
                                   As the breezes rippled over the waves
                                   Of blue mingled with silver gleams.

                      3)         Sporting with bulbous flowers
                                   Light mauve, blue and snow-white hues
                                   Lulling their limbs to dreamy delight ;
                                   Oh lucky hearts in such a calm, cool night !

                      4)         The self-same light perhaps, beside
                                   The banks of Sipra once charmed
                                   The bard of love to write about
                                   The pretty damsels of Ujjain.

                      5)         With tipsied eyes and scented sighs
                                   With fresh-washed flower-plaited hair 
                                   Searching for their lovers amidst the flowers
                                   As snowy dew trickled from shady boughs.

                     6)          The same light once showed them the way
                                   As they lingered in their frantic quest
                                   Like darts of Love humanized
                                   Like dryads in charming virgin guise.  

                     7)          With myrrh and jasmine-perfumed long hair
                                   Smeared with sweet-smelling gums and raisins
                                   With big black painted doe-like  eyes
                                   With rose-watered light bodies slim
                                   
                    8)            With sandal-scented breasts and rosy cheeks
                                   With henna-painted designs on their feet
                                   With champaks and kimshuk blooms in their locks
                                   With golden ornaments decked with pure gems.

                    9)            Reflecting the full moonlight on their arms
                                   Caressing around their slender  throats
                                   In multitudinous sparkling colors
                                   Of rubies, sapphires and emeralds pure.

                  10)            The same light shone more bright on crystal walls
                                   Brightened the lofty towers decked with gold
                                   And silvered the sacred sands of flowing Sipra
                                   Where Lord Shiva shone with ash-smeared glow.

                  11)           The light that slept once on throbbing breasts
                                  Of maidens once, now lies on barren sands ;
                                  On ruined grey huge blocks of stone
                                  Deprived of glory Wrecked, disfigured and lone.

                   12)          The shores of Sipra with secrets of timeless lore
                                  Seemed still, unmoved amidst the noisy town
                                  Where none could find the far-famed poetic scenes
                                  Of the greatest bard distilled in sweetest words.


      6th October, 2016.                                        SOMASESHU GUTALA

                                  

     


 ============


 


Note :  The Sipra, also Kshipra, is a river in Madhya Pradesh, in Central India. The river rises in the ujjaini situated in Indore district, and flows north across the Malwa Plateau to join the Chambal River at the MP-Rajasthan boundary in Mandsaur district. It is one of the sacred rivers in Hinduism.The holy city of Ujjain  is situated on its east bank. The legendary king Vikramaditya , on whose name Vikrama Saka (58 B.C.) was formed, ruled here. Kalidasa, the famous poet, was said to have been one of his court poets and scholars. So Kalidasa might have lived in first century B.C. But historians think that he was the court poet in Chandra Gupta Vikramaditya who ruled Gupta empire from 380 A.D. to 415 A.D.

"Meghadootham" (Cloud Messenger) was one of the best lyrical works of
 Kalidasa. In that poem he paid special attention to describe the beautiful surroundings of Ujjain and Sipra river. So historians think that he might have belonged to that place. Ujjain is a famous pilgrimage spot where the temples of Lord Mahakaleswara and Goddess Mahakali are located.



              
                                   
                      

                      

                                             

WHERE ARE THE CHARMS OF THOSE FESTIVE TIMES ?

         








                                           











                             Where are the charms of those festive times ?
                        No songs, no ring of dance, no pageant
                        To thrill our vision with spectacular tints ;
                        Same hours with no remarkable chimes 
                        As blank as this saucer without a glint
                        Of painted palm or cherry red or gliding thyme
                        A heavy meal and then to sleep sometime
                        Or watch T.V. or read through silent print

                        Or chat casually till we feel our time half-spent
                        And then again to sip some hot-flavored drink
                        Or spatter some loose-plaited words in ink
                        Or walk, if time permits, on dusty pavements
                        Where we see only thorny shrubs devoid of green
                        As if Nature too felt the stress of dreary tinge ;
                        A damsel dry with a burning stomach seen
                        Some lewd fellow to tug at her ragged sari-fringe ;
                        A cur retreats vexed by the swarming flies ;
                        A sickly red color pervades the evening skies
                        The moon  with a deadly pallor dimly glows
                        The festival goes by without memorable show.

                                      
                                    ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^               

      30th September, 2016                                         Somaseshu Gutala