Sunday, January 26, 2025

On Sharing Books

           

                    


                                



                                  


            

                     

1.    Here the vast store of knowledge lies in rows

Noblest musings and thoughts in one place

The mount of Olympus with Muses nine here stays;

In fresh- bound volumes, what a splendid show?

Like caged birds in glass-sheeted cupboards

A whole mass of inexhaustible load

Even to count them many days it needs;

New members added on various themes and creeds.

 

2.       "None should dare to touch them", writ on board

     Like a cautious fire-spitting dragon he guards

Glancing at each treasure with warm regards;

None should come near this accumulated hoard

So many lives we need to go through this vast

Expanse of knowledge, inestimable-- its cost;

With great efforts he amassed this precious treasure

He allowed none; to look at them, his sole pleasure.

 

3.         He multiplied his treasure day by day

No stone left unturned to collect a lot;

A rich repository of knowledge he got

None should touch his wealth he used to say

Like a conglomeration of stars they shine

Inaccessible to others, a diamond mine;

He is reluctant with his rare books to part

To another world, he can’t take them he bought. 

 

4.     He read with interest keen and spent many hours

Reading large books resting in his armchair

Closeting himself from daily works and cares;

He found no time to gaze at hills, brooks and flowers

Burying himself like a mole, much knowledge he got

He found no time to chat and share his thoughts.

His ambition to gather more made him even to dare

Ever he grabbed books-- never dreamt even to share.

 

5.    Sharing books with others means sharing noble thoughts

Ideals sublime, and feelings of noble hearts;

Sharing, a worthy act of helping others a lot;

Influencing others’ attitudes and their acts;

Due to fear of losing his rare gems he did decide

Not to give away any book from his treasure, his pride;

At least he could demand precious books in return

Till he gets back his precious possession.

 

6.    To feel the touch and the smell of printed page

In this digital age, to own books a great

Thing indeed and deserves due praise to state;

Makes one happy and takes him back to bygone age.

When people reveled in reading and writing skills

When people felt proud of their books with thrill

Now scarcely seen such patience in booklovers few

Fondness for books, not seen in this generation new.

     

7.    Let us spend at least some cash to sustain

The noble act of reading books that gives perpetual calm

A due balance between digital and printed forms

A useful spending of time and nourishing the brain.

This precious heritage let us pass on and train

Our next generation to read and knowledge gain;

Books are life-long friends and masters that lead

They are pole stars and voice of noble souls indeed.

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


26th January 2025                         Somaseshu Gutala

   

 

 

 

 

 

Saturday, January 18, 2025

VIRTUAL GHOSTS

 

              


                                


                          

1.     We live like ghosts away from human touch

  Stark reality we scoff and hate

  As slow, not smart—a sluggish state;

  Our technology we boast so much

  In virtual world we wish to dwell

  Confined to computers, tabs and cells

  Like beasts cramped in impregnable cage

  We love to live in a complicated maze.

 

2.     Too lazy we are to use our bodies and move out

 We have become too static and stout

 Depending on machines to solve our doubts

 Our human relations slowly fade out

 We need not go to office, work and talk

 With others or go for a friendly walk

 Fast vehicles we have wherever we to go

 In this faster society we hate to be slow.

 

3.    Onslaught of gadgets made our work so swift and fast

We are too lazy to draft, count and write

Default-letters and mails made our work very light

Our writing skills and personal style we lost

Our fingers feel reluctant to pen our thoughts

The skill of calligraphy is a thing of past.

In writing, thoughts flow out from our heart

Our sensations respond with intimate touch a lot. 

 

4.    Our stamina disused lose vigor and will not be smart

 Bombarded by ready-made and go-easy ways

Our innate spirit and skills do they replace

Our instinctive talents in digital web caught

Our artists challenged by quick-machines a lot;

Our working style is perturbed and distraught;

By this fast-paced, fast, digital onslaught, a lot

With zillion bits of information vast.

 

5.  Surroundings shape our living, heart and mind

Depending ever on artificial machines;

Our response too turns mechanized and routine;

So dry and so shallow that others cannot find

The meaning and purpose of what we write or read;

We lose mutual trust and understanding indeed

The golden wand of inspiration we really lose

Our style becomes too dull, diffuse and loose.

 

6.   Technology made our world, a miraculous sphere

    Widened our perceptions and enhanced our powers;

    Created new hybrids, crops, creatures and flowers;

    Yet took away our peace and bred impending fears

    Of nuclear war, selfish nature and mistrust

    Enslave not your conscience to pleasure and lust

Let us put this God-given power to good use

Not for destruction, unrest and misuse. 

 

7.    Though made easy our work, these devices tear

Away our earning means and left men in despair

Our innate skills and talents shrink away and wear

To banish livelihood for gains is not just and fair;

If all your labors go in vain, how do you feel?

All your service ignored and thrown like a peel

How many lives driven away with least concern!

A bolt from the blue, a stunning tragic turn!

 

8.  Machines should not make us ciphers mere

   Without human feelings, progress sheer waste;

    A ruthless competition leads to greed and hate

    Don’t drudge like slaves without plan clear

    Use devices with due restraint and purpose

    Don’t lose your worth and values and become worse

    Don’t live like virtual ghosts and lifeless tools;

    Hone your own skills and live with righteous rules.

 

               **** ------------------- ****


    18th January 2025            Somaseshu Gutala

 

 

 

    

 

  

       

     

 

 

 

   

 

Sunday, January 5, 2025

Musings of a cheated husband

                      

                



          

                 There is deception in the air I breathe

                 There is pollution in the water I drink

                There is poison in the food I take

                The sky above me seems to fall

                The earth under me seems to shake;

                Uunseen deceit seems to creep under my seat;

               The tie around my neck seems to become

               A hanging rope to strangle me;

              My new shoes seem to pinch my foot;

              The pet dog that licks my boots

              Seems to leap and assault me;

              My love has turned a corpse

             To clasp me in her coldest grip;

             The blade I shave with

             Stole half the hair of my upper lip;

             The mirror I stand before

             Mocks at me with an image crooked thousand-fold;

             My own feet seem to stamp my name down

             My own hand seems to set fire to my fame;

             My own finger seems to prick at my eyeball;

             My better half committed the grievous folly;

             Oh, God! My own children I think as mine

             Seem to share not my flesh and blood

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

Telugu Original by: A. Surya Prakash

           (Patita Pati Aantarangangikamu)  

Translated by : G.Somaseshu                   5th January 2024

 

 

Sunday, December 29, 2024

Our Hearty Greetings

                             

          

                               

1.    You brag not about your degrees and merits

       You don’t show off your knowledge

       You boast not about your status and state;

       You do your duty with patience and grit

       No fanfare or applause you desire;

       To service you dedicate your time entire.

       Sincere work and duty in learners you inspire.      

 

2.    You maintain simple and sober living style

       You keep your conscience cool and clean;

       Without entertaining vicious thoughts mean;

       In idle talk your time you never waste;         

       No crafty means enter your mind

       And none you dislike or hate.

       You greet everyone with a friendly smile.

 

3.    In prestigious office for decades you perform

      Treating patients from hamlets and towns.

       With equal care and attention

       Without anger or frown

       Doing assigned tasks with attitude calm.

       Cordial relations with all you did maintain

       Despite busy schedule without stress and strain.

 

4.    Retirement did not make you lazy and still

       Your rich experience with knowledge you got

       Gave you a precious chance to impart wisdom

       To students, future doctors to hone their skills.

       Despite busy schedule, you are in good health,

       Befitting your knowledge and experience long

      You made best use of time in useful ways.

 

5.   You made best use of your experience long

      As a physician and as a professor wise

     You are honored with the prestigious prize

     Conferred by Royal Society of England Great.

     We feel proud delight on this occasion rare

     Hearty felicitations with you we share.

              ****-------------------****   

     

  (DEDICATED TO DR.A.T.N , WHO WAS CONFERRED THE PRESTIGIOUS AWARD) 

     

     

29th December, 2024              Somaseshu Gutala 

 

 

                               


Saturday, December 21, 2024

The Cradle Swung by Air

                                    

                      


                                                             


              

                  Hearing the crying baby sound at night

                  Nature herself played the midwife’s part;

                 When the child opened the eyes

                 No fairies sang their ditties;

                 The owl and the gnat hooted and shrieked

                 In mutual competition;

                 The bat fluttered its wings

                 And none welcomed the new soul into this world;

                 None bounced with joy

                 And none felt what- more- I- lack

                None gave sweets

                None sang lullabies;

                None called the astrologer

                To predict the child’s future;

                None threw merry parties

                And gave a name in ceremonious show;

               None felt unbounded thrill

               And none touched the heaven’s frill;

               Lillies and jasmines bloomed in infant’s smiles;

              Yet none desired to gather or share

              The child was cradled in the same old crib

              The same in which his elder brother was swung.

              The child sucked milk from the bottle

              As his mother, too weak to suckle;

             The child grew thin as a stick;

             Alas! The future citizen of India!

             None covered him with warm clothes

             When he shivered in dark night cold

             None shielded him from burning heat.

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

           Telugu Original

          (The Cradle swung by air.. (A Surya Prakash.)

           Translated by:

           Somaseshu Gutala):           21st December, 2024)

Saturday, December 14, 2024

Leave the flames alone

 


                  


         

            For heavens’ sake do not put out the flame

            Don't  Drive it away from innocent dwellings

            Don't fear it sears and scorches our near and dear;

            Don’t argue that these fires are unnecessary;

            If the spark just goes out, it will be a disaster;

            There won’t be any light left;

            We shall lose all fervor and

             Life will come to a standstill;

            Darkness will freeze our souls

            The heart will turn into a stone;

            Winter will gnaw at the bones and

            The throat will turn dry as a biscuit

            Fretting and fuming for no reason;

            Why are you quenching the burning heart

            With indolent tears?

            Don’t lie like corpses----

            You are not statues

            Leave them alone—let those fires burn.

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

            Original Telugu: A.Surya Prakash;

            Translated by: Somaseshu Gutala  

                                     14th December, 2024.

             Note: The flames represent man's aspirations.

 

 

 

          

 

Sunday, December 8, 2024

Vibrations

 

            


                                  


                          

                                 

                    A bird cries a weird cry somewhere

                    A dog whines and weeps bursting its throat

                    A star cut off from the sky

                    Sinks down towards the earth;

                    From somewhere, a lizard

                    Dropped at once on my head;

                    I haven’t yet enjoyed

                   The jasmines and moon-lit night

                   Still hope has not yet gone from my life;

                   Till now life was spent

                   In clearing the ground

                  Of its thorns and nettles.

                  I haven’t yet paid back

                  Half the sum of what

                  I took from this world;

                  I haven’t yet packed off

                  For my last final tour;

                 Why so early the guard is waving

                 The green banner at me?

                 Like a withered leaf

                 My body quivers

                 In the hot whirlwind.

                 Hope struggles hard in this last battle

                 I was steeped in tears

                My head was hard-hit by troubles

                And yet none has lent a helping hand

                Life’s boat is tossed up and down

                Amidst the torrential surging flow;

               Still, I seek for a straw around me

               I yearn not for heaven

              With dancing damsels;

              I like this earth, though

              It has no tempting nectar;

             No achievements I added to my credit

             I do not cry for higher things

            Stretching too far beyond my reach

            I do not like the chilly kiss of icy death

            And dreadful, graveyard silence.

              ***********---------- ***********

         Telugu Original: A. Surya Prakash

         Translated by: 

          Somaseshu Gutala               8th December 2024

    




Sunday, December 1, 2024

What is this country’s gift?

 

             


                                

                        The smell of the soil makes you

                        Swell with lively zeal;

                        The first showers of the season

                        Make your heart dance like a pea-cock

                        With feathers full unfurled;

                        Whenever I touch my first morsel

                        I cannot but think of you;

                        Not a strip of cloth on your body

                        Not a handful of food to fill your stomach;

                       The crop you reap with hard toil

                       Will not reach your mouth;

                       Not a pair of shoes to protect your feet;

                       Not a blanket to guard you

                       From the bite of wild winter’s fangs;

                      This raw soil under your feet

                      Became your shoes and this sky

                     Became a blanket to cover your limbs;

                     You seem like a lone camel in the desert

                     Bearing a heavy burden;

                     Though you lack food

                     You gave manure to tend your crops;

                     You crushed your bones and shed your sweat

                     And made yourself a manure

                     To nourish this soil;

                     The seeds you planted grew into green life;

                     Famine falls to your lot

                     Due to drought or floods;

                    We claim the fruits

                    That should be yours;

                    To work quietly is your part

                    To strike, to protest, we claim as our right;

                    If you do the same, we suffer and can’t survive;

                    If you ask me downright

                  “What is your share?”

                   What can white-collared workers

                   Like me, answer

                   Except hang our heads down with shame?

                   You are the man who ploughs the soil

                   We claim the fruits of your hard toil;

                   You are the man who reaps the crop

                   We claim the crop as ours;

                   You sweat under the horrid heat

                   We rest beneath the cool shade

                   You burn with hunger

                   From overeating we suffer;

                  Name is yours;

                  Result is ours;

                 Work is yours

                 Words are ours;

                 Practice is yours

                 Precept is ours;

                If you open your third flaming eye

                If you rear your furrowing plough;

               Our sins will burst

               Our plunder will be out

               And turn to dust.

        *************************

    In Telugu: A.Surya Prakash  

   (EE Desham neekemi Ichchindi?)

   Translated by: G.Somaseshu           1st December 2024