DONKEY--DRIVERS

                       

                                           
                                                                   ( I )

         1                Yonder wander the donkey-drivers

                                    Dressed in diverse patched clothes so queer

                                    Shouting at their hard-working herd

                                    Which bear the load of red, soft earth

                                     Placed on either side of their backs in gunny bags

                                     Like panniers : they humbly pace onward

                                     Like submissive lads without any complaint --

                                     A train of donkeys with mute downcast looks ;

                                     Their masters walk behind their cavalry

                                     With canes in their hands and whistling soft ;

                                     The donkeys shed their load in a heap

                                     To go back again to get their sacks re-filled ;

                                     From morn to eve they drudge ; their masters

                                     Watch them as they drag on and nibble at

                                     The way-side grass with heads bent low ;

                       

                                                                       (  II  )

                                     The drivers shout "a-hey ! " to spur them move

                                     And at sundown the donkeys return

                                     The lads ride on them like brave knights ;

                                     A vagrant race, living in the lap of Nature ;

                                     They leave their beasts beside their tents

                                     To wander and graze freely in the lawn ;

                                     At night sitting beside their fire

                                     Smoking their raw country cigars

                                     They chit-chat in their queer rustic cant

                                     And play upon their flutes and drums

                                     Old tunes and sing old stories steeped 

                                     In mysterious times of yore when knights

                                     In search of heavenly dames and demons

                                     Rode freely like these lads upon their steeds

                                     Through different climes and wooded terrains

                                     Conferring with strangers and sages mild ;

                                     And fought dire battles with horned giants wild.

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

              3rd June, 2016                                             Somaseshu Gutala


            Note : This poem written in blank verse portrays a common scene in villages where donkeys are still used to carry heavy bags and luggage. The boys who drive them appear very active and enthusiastic. They shout and participate in their work without showing any feeling of boredom. The donkeys are also very patient, hard-working and meek in their behavior. They are uncomplaining and accept their lot in performing burdensome work. After the work they are let loose to graze on the wild grassy plain on the outskirts of the village where the vagrant boys live in make-shift tents. The boys enjoy their leisure and ride on donkeys with a sense of thrill just like knights in the fables of the past who rode on their horses to fight with demons and  protect ladies from the clutches of these cruel monsters. The boys spend the night happily sitting around fire and singing songs about ancient heroes and feel a sense of adventure even in their humble tasks. As Robert Frost beautifully said " The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows."  In short enjoy your work and find happiness in whatever you do.

INTIMATIONS OF NATURE (Revised )

 



             
                                               

 

                                                      
                                                                  (  I  )

                         Laugh like white pearls of fresh dew on flowers
                    When Spring brings cool refreshing showers ;
                    Open your eyes like lotus buds in fresh morn
                    When the sun shines red like golden corn ;
                    Breathe gently sensing every touch
                    Of morning breeze without hurrying much ;
                    Wake up early in morning like birds or blooms
                    Don't lie down buried in slumber's gloom ;
                    Enjoy every sip of morning coffee
                    In every sip, fresh warmth with a sense of glee ;
                    Unfold the dreams like pea-cock's rain-bow feahers
                    Blend hopes with earnest efforts together ;
                    Compose they wandering mind calm and crystal-clear
                    Like whispering waters rippling near ;
                    Laugh untarnished by scheming thoughts
                    A self-made den of evil wrought.

         
   


  



                          
     



                                                    (II )

                    How cheerful looks ev'ry bloom and blade of grass
                    Not sullen filled with feelings gross
                    They smile even in scorching weather dry
                    Till they fade away with a gentle sigh ;
                    How birds do fly like angels agile
                    Flying from branch to branch with no sense of guile ;
                    Though ringed with thorns smile like a rose
                    Hope shines forth soon through darkened woes ; 
                    Little monkeys frolic and leap with a jolly grin
                    They don't bother whether they lose or win ;
                    How fish enjoy swimming through purling streams
                    With glistening bodies in sun-lit beams ;
                    How children play laughing with loudest noise
                    A sense of care-free ease rings through their voice ;
                    How squirrels frisk with dynamic spirit
                    Arouse thyself, face life with hope and grit.

                                              ( III )

                    Each and every herb holds some lesson
                    Unfold thy bosom's inner vision ;
                    Nature, the greatest scripture in universe
                    Not to be found in base pleasures of thy purse ;
                    Explore more truths undiscovered by you
                    Expand thy view and start on a journey new ;
                    Mere wandering from place to place like a fool
                    Will not afford true joy and conscience cool ; 
                    Treat Mother Nature with a compassionate heart 
                    Generous gift of God given to us unsought ; 
                    Hurt not your pets for devilish pleasure
                    If not, you have to pay and have to suffer ;
                    Treat them with affection and caring love
                    Let them be free, uncaged and let them move ;
                    Run like a fawn breathing fresh mountain- air
                    Bond with Nature, so beautiful and fair ! 

                                      
 

                              
                                                   ( IV ) 
                                                          

                   Nature's most precious gifts we plunder with guile                                                In most cunning ways with our modern style

                   The beasts that yield sweet milk, we tend

                   Once old, to butcher's knife we send ;

                   Dwell on gracious God's plenteous store

                   Given unasked with His mercy galore ;

                   Let's not befoul the air with dust and vapors impure

                   Our health spoiled by ailments beyond the cure ;

                   Let's not kill the creatures in waters clear

                   Polluting our life source, the rivers near ;

                   A heinous slaughter of innocent souls

                   Is this our life's chosen ultimate goal ?

                   Let's not disturb Nature's tranquility 

                   With blaring sounds of Satanic revelry ;

                   Let not our craze for pleasures destroy this earth

                   The only place where beings take their birth ;

                   Protect our planet or we will perish

                   A life in harmony with Nature, always cherish.

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

  Note : This poem written in couplets though not comparable with Wordsworth’s well-known poem “Intimations of Immortality” ode, is inspired by the great poet’s earnest dedication to Nature whom he treated as his nurse, teacher and guide. His whole life is influenced by Nature who gave him many precious lessons and directed him to tread on the right path.  He has such an intense attachment with Nature that every herb and flower touched his heart moving him to tears. In the modern materialistic age we have become too thick-skinned to feel and experience such noble sentiments on seeing Nature. But it is an undeniable fact that having intimate connection with Nature improves our health and gives us peace and joy. That is why our ancestors deified Nature and  expressed their gratitude in a devotional manner. Even scientists gave a strict note of warning on destroying and polluting natural resources. Let us at least for our survival realize the importance of Nature and try to protect her purity and not destroy her for our temporary and materialistic pleasures. We revere gods only when we revere the gifts of God.

     23rd May, 2016                                          Somaseshu Gutala

       


 

Is it ?

  

                                Is it destiny's trick to make us aspire

                                To pine and  strive for what we deserve not 

                                 In self-made web of miseries caught

                                 In hellish flames of agony to perspire ?

                                         

                                Is it destiny's trick to hurl our dreams into hellish fire

                                 Our friends stab us in the back whom we trust a lot

                                 Our helpful acts and love so soon forgot

                                 Our ideals crushed by their destructive desire ?

                  

                         

                                

                               My bosom questioned loud again and again

                                 Time smiled a mysterious smile-- no answer plain :

                                  Life is a mixed fabric of pleasure and pain

                                  Nothing remains unchanged, seek not for gain

                                  Accept whatever comes with a balanced mind :

                                  Lessons of life with faith and hope in every event find

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

      

"Things happen to you and you just let them happen."

                                                                    -- John Hilton

     19th May, 2016                                               Somaseshu Gutala                                                                                    

                                      

The Mango--Cutters

 

Mango Cutter at work

Mango-cutting tool

                        1)   The branches laden with round mangoes bend
                             Raw, sour and green, not yet ripened
                             In diverse shades of green and yellowish brown
                             A colorful bounty by Nature thrown
                             Like parrots peeping through dense leafy glade
                             The mangoes swing in the coolest shade.

                      2)    We went to the market in early hours
                              To look for mangoes fresh and sour
                              A yearly ritual for us to choose and take
                              Raw mangoes for spicy pickles to make;
                              The vendors shouted loud to come and buy
                              Too hard to choose, our luck we have to try.

                     3)      Tasting the samples one by one
                              Too sweet or sour to pick fit ones
                               None can decide and there is none to ask
                               Selection of things--a difficult task ;
                               Our tongue too confused; yet we picked the best
                               To neighbor's judgement we leave the rest.


        

                     4)      Too noisy seemed the market today
                              Through justling crowd we pushed our way
                               Heaps of mangoes in baskets seen
                               Some big, some small in different shades of green
                               Armed with long cutting tools some young boys sat
                               Ready to cut our mangoes on the mat.

                     5)      With bottles of water and a cleaning rag
                              We stood before a boy and opened the bag
                              Swish, swish, he cut the fruits with easy grit
                               Into perfect pieces not wasting a bit;
                               He spread them neatly on a plastic sheet
                               For us to wash and wipe them neat.

            

                    6)       We patted the boy for his well-done deed
                               Agile and active with no sense of greed
                               We gave him a few mango slices along with some tip ;
                               He tasted them with thrill and smacked his lips
                               The mango-cutters had  a lively and busy trade
                               During this time of pickles good profits they made.


    

Ladies preparing the pickle

                         
                 

                 

Pickle stored in the jar

                   7)         The ladies busied themselves to mix and prepare  
                                The pickles in basins with scrupulous care
                                To add spices in right measure with experienced skill
                                A pungent smell tickled our nostrils with thrill
                                When they mixed the mango pickle pouring oil :
                                Getting together they lightened their toil.

                  8)           With ruddy glow the pickle shone like delicious sunrise
                                A welcome gift from summer's surprise
                                Though hot and dry to make us thirsty a lot
                                Cool melons, grapes and mangoes summer brought
                                Her spicy gift throughout the year will last
                                Thrilling our taste buds with her memories hot.

                                 
                   

Mango Pickle in a basin

           Note :
                     1) Mango Cutter-- one who cuts mangoes with a large cutter fitted at one                            end to a long wooden block.  

                     2)  Justle -- push roughly

                     3) grit ---    strength


        
        Dear Readers, "The Mango-Cutters" describes the common scene we notice in bazaars during summer when people are busy in proper selection of raw mangoes to prepare their tasty pickles that will go on stimulating their taste buds throughout the year. A spicy gift for you to taste and enjoy.

                               
    ( Dedicated to All Mango-cutters and women who add spice to our tongues and our lives as well)

  16th May, 2016                                                            Somaseshu Gutala

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