UT-1-XI-2013-14

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B8qUyTkGux7edk1aQXhLUW02T1k/edit?usp=sharing

UT-5-XI-2013-14

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B8qUyTkGux7eWHFoZGY3RlNDeGM/edit?usp=sharing

UT-4-XII-2013-14

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B8qUyTkGux7eTjlFeDRWdXNmNmM/edit?usp=sharing

UT-2-XI-2013-14

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B8qUyTkGux7eRFpuNThBVUd2QVU/edit?usp=sharing

An elementary school classroom in a slum - Lesson Plan

https://drive.google.com/file/d/0B8qUyTkGux7eZG54YzNDc081T3M/edit?usp=sharing

Where were you my love

ಒಂದು ಮುಸ್ಸಂಜೆ ಹಾಗೇ ನಡೆಯುತ್ತಿದ್ದೇನೆ. ಪ್ರಾತಃಕಾಲದ ಸಂಧ್ಯಾಕಿರಣದಂತೆ ಆತ ಎದುರಾದ. ಮೊದಲ ಪರಿಚಯ. ಕಣ್ಣು ಮಾತನಾಡಿಕೊಂಡವು. Impression at first sight. ಮನಸ್ಸಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಆಲೋಚನೆಗಳ ಸುಂಟರಗಾಳಿಯೆಬ್ಬಿಸಿ ಆತ ಹೊರಟುಹೋದ.

ಷಿಕಾಯತ್ ಮಾಡಬೇಕೆನಿಸುತ್ತಿದೆ, ಆದರೆ ಯಾರಿಗೆ ಹೇಳಬೇಕೋ ತಿಳಿಯುತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ. ಈಗ ಪರಿಚಯವಾಗಬೇಕೇ ಇವನು? ಇಷ್ಟೊಂದು ತಡವಾಗಿ? ಒಬ್ಬನ ಜೊತೆ ಕಮಿಟ್ ಆಗಿ, ಅವನೊಡನೆ ಸಂಸಾರ ಮಾಡಿ, ಮಕ್ಕಳನ್ನು ಹೆತ್ತು, ಇದ್ದ ಅಂದವೆಲ್ಲ ಕರಗಿಹೊಯ್ತಲ್ಲ ಎಂದು ಕೊರಗಿಕೊಂಡು, ಪ್ರೇಮ ಋತುವು ಮುಗಿದುಹೊಯ್ತಲ್ಲ ಅಂದುಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತಿರುವಾಗಲೇ, ನನ್ನ ಭ್ರಮೆಯನ್ನು ಓಡಿಸಿ ಪ್ರೇಮದ ಚಾಪ್ಟರ್ ತೆರೆಸಿದ್ದಾನಲ್ಲ ಇವನು!?

ಎಷ್ಟೋ ಜನ ಪರಿಚಿತರಾಗುತ್ತಾರೆ. ಜೀವನದ ರಹದಾರಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಗುರುತುಗಳೇನನ್ನೂ ಉಳಿಸದೆ ಬಂದ ದಾರಿಯಲ್ಲೇ ಹೊರಟು ಹೋಗುತ್ತಾರೆ. ಕೆಲವರು ಕಡೆಯವರೆಗು ನಡೆದು ಸ್ನೇಹಿತರಾಗುತ್ತಾರೆ. ಇವನು, ಯಾವುದೇ ಅಪಾಯಿಂಟ್‍ಮೆಂಟ್ ಇಲ್ಲದೇ ನೇರವಾಗಿ ನನ್ನ  ಹೃದಯದ ಛೇಂಬರ್ ನೊಳಗೆ ನಡೆದು ಬಂದುಬಿಟ್ಟನಲ್ಲಾ? ಅದು ಹೇಗೆ ಬಂದ? ಅದು ಅಷ್ಟೊಂದು ಸುಲಭವೇ - ಹೃದಯದೊಳಗೆ ಬರುವುದು, ಮನಸಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಗೂಡುಕಟ್ಟಿಕೊಳ್ಳುವುದು? ಮನದ ಬಾಗಿಲನ್ನು ಮುಚ್ಚೇ ಇದ್ದೆ. ಬಹುಶಃ ಎದೆಗೂಡಿನ ಕಿಟಕಿ ಹಾಕುವುದನ್ನು ಮರೆತೆನಂತೆ ಕಾಣುತ್ತದೆ. ಮುಂಗಾರುಮಳೆಯ ಆ ಸಂಜೆ ತೀಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದ ಗಾಳಿಗೆ ಎದೆಯ ಗೂಡಿನ ಬಳಿ ಏನೋ ಸದ್ದು. ಕಿಟಕಿ ಹಾಗೇ ತೆರೆದುಕೊಂಡಿತು. ತುಂತುರು ಮಳೆಗೆ ಮೈಯೆಲ್ಲಾ ಮುದ್ದೆ ಮುದ್ದೆ. "ಆಯಿಯೇ, ಬಾರಿಷೋಂ ಕಾ ಮೌಸಮ್ ಹೈ; ಹರ್ ಗಲೀ ಆಷಿಕೋಂ ಕಾ ಮೌಸಮ್ ಹೈ" ಪಂಕಜ್ ಉದಾಸ್‍ನ ಗಝಲ್ ಮನಸನ್ನು ತಾಕಿತ್ತು. ಆಷಿಕೀ, ದಿಲ್, ಪ್ಯಾರ್, ಮೊಹಬ್ಬತ್...ಈ ಪದಗಳ ಮೇಲೆ ತುಸು ಕೋಪ, ಸಾಕಷ್ಟು ಕ್ರೇಜ್ ನನಗೆ.

ಮೈ, ಮನಸ್ಸು ಎರಡೂ ಸೇರಿಕೊಂಡು ನನ್ನೊಡನೆ ಜಗಳಕ್ಕೆ ಬಿದ್ದಿವೆ. ಮಾತುಮಾತಿಗೂ ಅವನನ್ನೇ ನೆನಪಿಸುತ್ತಿವೆ. ನಿಂತಲ್ಲಿ ನಿಲ್ಲಲು ಬಿಡುತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ. ಮನಸ್ಸು ಅಲ್ಲೋಲ ಕಲ್ಲೋಲ.  ನಿಜ ಹೇಳಬೇಕಂದ್ರೆ ನನ್ನ ದೇಹವೀಗ ಅಲ್ಲೋಲ ಕಲ್ಲೋಲ.

Where were you my love?

ಈಗೇನಾ ಬರುವುದು?

ಸೆಳೆತ.....ತಪ್ಪಿಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳಲಾಗದಷ್ಟು ಸೆಳೆತ

feminity....masculanity ಯ ಮಧ್ಯೆ

ಅಂತ್ಯವಿರದ ಸೆಳೆತ

ಎರಡು ಅಯಸ್ಕಾಂತ ಧೃವಗಳ ಮಧ್ಯೆ

ಎರಡು ದೇಹಗಳ ಮಧ್ಯೆ ಅವಿರತ ಸೆಳೆತ

ನಿಮಗೆ ಮೊದಲೇ ಹೇಳಿಬಿಡುತ್ತೇನೆ

ನನ್ನದೇನೂ ತಪ್ಪಿಲ್ಲವೆಂದು

ನನ್ನ ಮೇಲೆ ಅವನು ಸಮುದ್ರವಾಗಿ ಪ್ರವಹಿಸಿದರೂ

ಆತನ ಮೇಲೆ ನಾನು ಬೆಳದಿಂಗಳಾಗಿ ಸುರಿದರೂ

ಅದಕ್ಕೆ estrozen ನ್ನೇ ಹೊಣೆ.

ತೆಲುಗು ಮೂಲ : ಮೆಹಜಬೀನ್

ಕನ್ನಡಕ್ಕೆ : ಹರೀಶ್ ಗಂಗಭೈರಯ್ಯ 

[ತೆಲುಗು ಕವಿಯತ್ರಿ ಮೆಹಜಬೀನ್ ಬರೆದ ಲೇಖನವೊಂದರ ಕನ್ನಡ ಅನುವಾದ. "Highly influenced by Arun Sagar's poem 'Where were you my life' ಎಂದು ಸ್ವತಃ ಕವಿಯತ್ರಿಯೇ ಬರೆದುಕೊಂಡಿದ್ದಾರೆ.]

[05.01.2014, B-6/23, JNV Puducherry]

ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಎಷ್ಟೊಂದು ಕಣ್ಣುಗಳು

ಕುರುಡುಗಣ್ಣಿನ ಕನಸೊಂದು ಚಿತ್ತಾರ ಬಿಟ್ಟಿತ್ತು
ಬೆರಗುಗಣ್ಣಿನ ಜಗಕೆ ಪತ್ತಾರ ಓದಿತ್ತು
ಕಣ್ಣಲಲ್ಲ.......ಕತ್ತಲು ಮನದೊಳಗೆ

ಕಾಣುವ ಕಂಗಳಿಗೆ ಕಂಡದ್ದೆಲ್ಲ
ಆಚರಣೆ ಇಲ್ಲದ ಆದರ್ಶಗಳು
ವಾಸ್ತವದ ಪರದೆಯ ಮೇಲೆ
ಕಳ್ಳವೇಷದ ಪ್ರದರ್ಶನಗಳು
ಸಂತೆಯಲ್ಲೇ ಉಳಿದುಹೋಗಿವೆ
ಬಿಕರಿಯಾಗದ ಕನಸುಗಳು

ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಎಷ್ಟೊಂದು ಕಣ್ಣುಗಳು
ಕನಸುಗಳಿಗೇ ಬರ
ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಹೊರಗನ್ನು ಕಂಡವರು ಬಹಳ
ಒಳಗನ್ನು ಅರಿತವರು ವಿರಳ
ಮಸ್ತಿಷ್ಕದ ಕತ್ತಲಿಗೆ
ಅನುಭವದೀಪದ ಕೊರತೆ

ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಭೂತಕ್ಕೂ ವರ್ತಮಾನಕ್ಕೂ ಸಂಬಂಧವಿಲ್ಲ
ವರ್ತಮಾನಕ್ಕೆ ಯಾವುದೇ ಭವಿಷ್ಯವಿಲ್ಲ
ಆಶ್ಚರ್ಯವಲ್ಲ
ಕಡು ವಾಸ್ತವ

ಅಳಿದುಳಿದ ಅವಶೇಷಗಳ ನಡುವೆ
ಆತ್ಮಾಭಿಮಾನ ಕಾಣೆಯಾದಾಗ
ತರಗೆಲೆಗಳಂತೆ ತೂರಿ ಹೋದದ್ದು
ನಮ್ಮವೇ ಬದುಕುಗಳು

ಹೌದು. ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಯಾರ ನಸೀಬಿನಲ್ಲೂ ಬೆಳಕಿಲ್ಲ !

ಆದರೂ
ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಮೇಲೇರಿದರೆ ಪಟ್ಟ
ಜಾರಿ ಬಿದ್ದವ ಕೆಟ್ಟ
ಎಂದು ನಂಬಿದವರೇ ಎಲ್ಲ....
ಅಸಲು ವೈರಿ ಯಾರೆಂದು ತಿಳಿಯದೆ
ಕತ್ತಲಲ್ಲಿ ಕರಿ ಬೆಕ್ಕನ್ನು ಹುಡುಕಿದ ಕುರುಡರೇ ಎಲ್ಲ

ನನ್ನ ಕಣ್ಣು ಗಳು
ನಕ್ಷತ್ರಗಳೊಡನೆ ಮಾತನಾಡುತ್ತಿವೆ
ಅದೂ ಯಾರಿಗೂ ಅರ್ಥವಾಗದ ಭಾಷೆಯಲ್ಲಿ
ಈ ಅನಂತ ವಿಶ್ವದಲ್ಲಿ
ನಾನು, ನನ್ನದು ಏನೂ ಇಲ್ಲವೆಂದು
ತೆರೆದ ಕಣ್ಣುಗಳಿಗೆ ತಿಳಿಯುತ್ತಿತ್ತು
ವೈರಿಯ ನಿಜ ಬಣ್ಣ ಬಯಲಾಗಿತ್ತು

ನಸುಕಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಆಗಸದಿಂದ ಹಾರಿಬಂದ
ಹದ್ದುಗಳ ಕೊಕ್ಕಿನಲ್ಲಿ
ನನ್ನ ಕಣ್ಣುಗಳು

ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಎಷ್ಟೊಂದು ಕಣ್ಣುಗಳು
ಎಷ್ಟೊಂದು ಕನಸುಗಳು

ಕಾಣೆಯದದ್ದು ಮಾತ್ರ
ನನ್ನವೇ ಕಣ್ಣುಗಳು
ನನ್ನವೇ ಕನಸುಗಳು!

ಬದಲಾವಣೆ

ಆತ ಹಳ್ಳಿಯಲ್ಲಿದ್ದಾಗ
ನೆಂಟರಿಷ್ಟರಿಗಾಗಿ ಕಾಯುತ್ತಿದ್ದ
ಅವರೊಡನೆ ಕಷ್ಟ-ಸುಖ ಹಂಚಿಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತಿದ್ದ
ಬಂದವರನ್ನು ಆದರದಿಂದ ಸತ್ಕರಿಸಿ
ಹೊಲ ಗದ್ದೆಗಳಲ್ಲಿನ ಬೆಳೆ
ಕಾಡಲ್ಲಿ ಅರಳಿದ ಹೂಗಳು
ಕೆರೆಯ ಸುತ್ತಲಿನ ಹಸಿರು ಹುಲ್ಲು
ದನ ಕರುಗಳು
ಕುರಿ ಮೇಕೆಗಳು
ಹಳ್ಳಿಯ ಯುವಕರ ನಡವಳಿಕೆ
ಹೀಗೆ ಸುಮಾರು ವಿಷಯಗಳ ಬಗ್ಗೆ
ರಾತ್ರಿಯೆಲ್ಲಾ ಮಾತನಾಡುತ್ತಾ
ಭಾವ ಪರವಶನಾಗುತ್ತಿದ್ದ.

ಆತ ಒಂದು ದಿನ ಪಟ್ಟಣಕ್ಕೆ ಹೋದವನು
ಹಳ್ಳಿಗೆ ಹಿಂದಿರುಗಿ ಬರಲಿಲ್ಲ
ಈಗ ಯಾವ ನೆಂಟರಿಷ್ಟರಿಗಾಗಿಯೂ
ಕಾಯುವುದಿಲ್ಲ ಆತ.
ಅವನ ಮುಂದೀಗ ಒಂದು ಟಿ.ವಿ.
ಕಾಲಹರಣ ಮಾಡೋಕೆ, ಮಾತನಾಡೋಕೆ
ಭಾಷೆ ಅರ್ಥವಾಗದಿದ್ದರೂ
ದೃಷ್ಟಿ ಮಾತ್ರ ಅದರೆಡೆಗೇ
ನೆಂಟರು ಬಂದರೆ "ಬನ್ನಿ" ಅಂತಾನೆ
ಅವರನ್ನು ಕೇಳುತ್ತಾನೆ -
ಊರಿನ ಆಗು-ಹೋಗುಗಳ ಬಗ್ಗೆ
ಇತಿಹಾಸದ ಪುಸ್ತಕದಂತೆ.
ಹಳ್ಳಿಯ ಕೊಳಕು ರಾಜಕೀಯದ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಕೋಪ ಅವನಿಗೆ
ಊರು ಬದಲಾಗೋಯ್ತು ಎಂದು ವಟಗುಟ್ಟುತ್ತಾನೆ
ತಾನು? ಬದಲಾಗಿದ್ದೇನೆಂದು
ಒಪ್ಪಿಕೊಳ್ಳುವ ಮಾತೇ ಇಲ್ಲ.
ಊರಿನ ಒಳ್ಳೆಯ ಸುದ್ದಿ ಕೇಳಿ
ನಿಟ್ಟುಸಿರು ಬಿಡುತ್ತಾನೆ
ಊರಿನ್ನೂ ಜೀವಂತವಾಗಿದೆಯೆಂದು.

ಈಗ ದೊಡ್ಡ ನಗರಕ್ಕೆ ಬಂದಿದ್ದಾನೆ
ನೆಂಟರೇ ಬೇಕಾಗಿಲ್ಲ ಅವನಿಗೀಗ
ಅವರಿಂದ ದೂರವಿರಬೇಕೆಂಬ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನ
ಯಾರಾದರೂ ಅಪ್ಪಿತಪ್ಪಿ ಬಂದರೋ
ಒಳಗೊಳಗೇ ಬೈದುಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತಾನೆ
ಏರುತ್ತಿರುವ ಬೆಲೆಗಳ ಬಗ್ಗೆ
ನಗರಗಳೊಡನೆ ಗಂಟುಹಾಕಿಕೊಂಡ ಬದುಕಿನ ಬಗ್ಗೆ
ಸಿಡಿಮಿಡಿಗೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತಾನೆ.
ಬೀಸೆಣಿಗೆಯ ಗಾಳಿಯನ್ನು
ಬುತ್ತಿಯೊಳಗಿನ ತುತ್ತನ್ನು
ಹಾಸುತ್ತಿದ್ದ ಚಾಪೆಯನ್ನು
ಈಗ ಯಾರೊಂದಿಗೂ ಹಂಚಿಕೊಳ್ಳಲು ಇಷ್ಟವಿಲ್ಲ ಅವನಿಗೆ.


ಹಿಂದಿ ಮೂಲ: ತ್ರಿಪೇನ್ ಸಿಂಹ ಚೌಹಾಣ್
ಕನ್ನಡಕ್ಕೆ: ಹರೀಶ್ ಗಂಗಭೈರಯ್ಯ.

కలయిక మరియు ఇంకొన్ని కవితలు

[These poems are published in the August-2012 edition of Saahitya Prasthanam, a literary monthly.]

కలయిక

ఎప్పుడు కలిసి

ఎప్పుడు విడిపోయామో 

తెలియదు.

ఇప్పుడు మళ్ళీ కలిసాము

దాహమున్నంత తృప్తి

తృప్తి ఉన్నంత దాహం

ఇప్పుడు కూడా ఉంది

దాహము తృప్తి కవలపిల్లలు

అంగడములో దాగుడుమూతలు

ఆడుతున్నట్టనిపిస్తుంది.

ఆమె

అందరూ అంటారు 

ఆమె లేదని

నేనంటాను

ఆమె ఉన్నదని

సాక్షి?

నేనే!

ఆమె లేకపోతే

నేను లేకపోయేవాణ్ణి కదా!

కాలమంటే

బ్రతుకు 

రంగులలో

మన రంగును 

కలిపేది

బ్రతుకు

బ్రతుకంటే 

చిత్రమూ కావచ్చు

తలరాత కావచ్చు

మనకిష్టమున్న రంగులతో

రూపొందితే చిత్రం

ఇష్టములేని రంగులతో

యేర్పడితే తలరాత!

ఆ మూడు రోజులు

మనంత మనము

సరదాగ అడుగులు వేసేవారము.

అది గతం.

నేనిప్పుడు ఢిల్లి వదిలి 

మరొక నగరానికి పోతున్నాను.

అక్కడ నాకిష్టమైన ఉద్యోగం దొరికింది

వెళ్ళడానికి ఇంకా మూడు రోజులున్నాయి

నీవన్నావు.....

ఆ మూడు రోజులు 

నాకోసమే!

బైపాస్

మేలుకొన్నవాడికి బ్రతుకు

ప్రతి మలుపులో వేచిఉండి

ఎదురు వస్తుంది!

పడుకొన్నవాడిని బ్రతుకు

మౌనంగా బైపాస్ చేస్తూ

వెళ్ళిపోతుంది!

గజల్

నీవు వెళ్ళిపోతే 

బ్రతుకొక

గజల్ అవుతుంది!

నీవు తిరుగి వస్తే

గజలే

బ్రతుకవుతుంది!

మౌనంగా

మౌనంగా

పూవులా

వికసించాలనిపిస్తుంది

తావిలా....అలా....అలా

గాలిలో

కలసిపోవాలని కూడా.

[పంజాబి కవయిత్రి అమృతా ప్రీతమ్ స్మృతిలో ఆమె చెలికాడు ఇమ్రోజ్ వ్రాసిన ఆత్మకథలాంటి కవితాగుచ్ఛం "అమృతా కే లియే నజ్మ్ జారీ హై" నుండి స్వీకరించిన కవితలివి.]

పచ్చ పూల చైత్ర మాసం

వీధివీధులలో

రాలిన పూలు

మొసులువారిన సువాసనలు

మేము రోజంతా 

ఒక ఉద్యానవనంలో

పూల చట్టుకింద పడుకొన్నాము

పరస్పరం

మౌనంగా మాట్లాడుతూ

వింటూ

అప్పుడప్పుడు చూసుకుంటూ.

రాలుతున్న పూలు 

ఒక సారి చేతుల పై

ఇంకొక సారి మెడపై

మరొకసారి పెదవులపై

ముద్దులు పెట్టాయి.

ఆ మాయాసుగంధం

మా ఊపిరిలో

మా కల్పనలో

కలిసింది.

అప్పుడప్పుడు

చెట్టు కూడా పూలతో మాట్లాడినట్లు

అప్పుడప్పుడు 

ఆ సువాసనలో తేలిపోతున్నట్లు

అనిపించేది.

ఆ సందర్భానికి తెలియకపోవచ్చుకాని

తరువాత జరిగిన సంఘటనకైతే

తెలిసింది.

ఏదో ఒక రోజు

ఈ మూడు రోజులు

మా జీవితములోని 

మూడు కాలాలుగా మారిపోతాయని.

[పంజాబి కవయిత్రి అమృతా ప్రీతమ్ స్మృతిలో ఆమె చెలికాడు ఇమ్రోజ్ వ్రాసిన ఆత్మకథలాంటి కవితాగుచ్ఛం "అమృతా కే లియే నజ్మ్ జారీ హై" నుండి స్వీకరించిన కవిత ఇది.] 

Wasted Tears

After writing a subject paper in their Board Exams, some of the students came out of the hall with their eyes filled. Girls in particular were weeping to the buckets. The perplexed teacher who was bothered about his subject average and the impending training he would have to attend if results came down came running holding his chest. In a minute the Warden, the Head Master and many other teachers gathered trying to fathom the cause of their howling. Guesses started pouring in from all directions. “Oh…paper must have been hard”; “Ehe..prrrt…these people wouldn’t have prepared well..now why crying?”; “pooraa saal masti kare..ab paper hard aaya to rote…kaiku rote re gadhe naalaayak.” Thus went the comments on. Some of us guessed it correctly that they were deprived of something, so they are crying.

But finally when someone mustered up courage and asked the girls for the reason for their crying, some girls vomited all their pains out. “Sir…sir…that Attender uncle and that Watchman uncle came and gave the “COPY CHITS” only to some students and not to all of us…umm….umm…ummm. We didn’t get even a single chit sir.”

The wailing went on till they wrote another subject. It seems the ‘Social Justice’ was done in that exam and no tears were shed thereafter. 

Oblivion

Moments after the dusk hanged itself

I lay awake all alone

Beneath the star strewn sky

Staring incessantly at them

I sensed the secret they wished to share;

I could fathom the depth of my own self

Though their language was alien to me.

They seem to be telling

That I am a speck in the universe so infinite

And my life just so insignificant

And so full of hitch and hatred

So full of blood and tears;

Yet, I wander amidst stray dogs

Rummaging for pride, fame and name

Peeling out every bit of shame.

And by dawn, the maid raked out

The scrap of I, me and myself

Along with the dead leaves.

ಬದಲಾವಣೆ

ಆತ ಹಳ್ಳಿಯಲ್ಲಿದ್ದಾಗ

ನೆಂಟರಿಷ್ಟರಿಗಾಗಿ ಕಾಯುತ್ತಿದ್ದ

ಅವರೊಡನೆ ಕಷ್ಟ-ಸುಖ ಹಂಚಿಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತಿದ್ದ

ಬಂದವರನ್ನು ಆದರದಿಂದ ಸತ್ಕರಿಸಿ

ಹೊಲ ಗದ್ದೆಗಳಲ್ಲಿನ ಬೆಳೆ

ಕಾಡಲ್ಲಿ ಅರಳಿದ ಹೂಗಳು

ಕೆರೆಯ ಸುತ್ತಲಿನ ಹಸಿರು ಹುಲ್ಲು

ದನ ಕರುಗಳು

ಕುರಿ ಮೇಕೆಗಳು

ಹಳ್ಳಿಯ ಯುವಕರ ನಡವಳಿಕೆ

ಹೀಗೆ ಸುಮಾರು ವಿಷಯಗಳ ಬಗ್ಗೆ

ರಾತ್ರಿಯೆಲ್ಲಾ ಮಾತನಾಡುತ್ತಾ

ಭಾವ ಪರವಶನಾಗುತ್ತಿದ್ದ.

ಆತ ಒಂದು ದಿನ ಪಟ್ಟಣಕ್ಕೆ ಹೋದವನು

ಹಳ್ಳಿಗೆ ಹಿಂದಿರುಗಿ ಬರಲಿಲ್ಲ

ಈಗ ಯಾವ ನೆಂಟರಿಷ್ಟರಿಗಾಗಿಯೂ

ಕಾಯುವುದಿಲ್ಲ ಆತ.

ಅವನ ಮುಂದೀಗ ಒಂದು ಟಿ.ವಿ.

ಕಾಲಹರಣ ಮಾಡೋಕೆ, ಮಾತನಾಡೋಕೆ

ಭಾಷೆ ಅರ್ಥವಾಗದಿದ್ದರೂ

ದೃಷ್ಟಿ ಮಾತ್ರ ಅದರೆಡೆಗೇ

ನೆಂಟರು ಬಂದರೆ "ಬನ್ನಿ" ಅಂತಾನೆ

ಅವರನ್ನು ಕೇಳುತ್ತಾನೆ -

ಊರಿನ ಆಗು-ಹೋಗುಗಳ ಬಗ್ಗೆ

ಇತಿಹಾಸದ ಪುಸ್ತಕದಂತೆ.

ಹಳ್ಳಿಯ ಕೊಳಕು ರಾಜಕೀಯದ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಕೋಪ ಅವನಿಗೆ

ಊರು ಬದಲಾಗೋಯ್ತು ಎಂದು ವಟಗುಟ್ಟುತ್ತಾನೆ

ತಾನು? ಬದಲಾಗಿದ್ದೇನೆಂದು

ಒಪ್ಪಿಕೊಳ್ಳುವ ಮಾತೇ ಇಲ್ಲ.

ಊರಿನ ಒಳ್ಳೆಯ ಸುದ್ದಿ ಕೇಳಿ

ನಿಟ್ಟುಸಿರು ಬಿಡುತ್ತಾನೆ

ಊರಿನ್ನೂ ಜೀವಂತವಾಗಿದೆಯೆಂದು.

ಈಗ ದೊಡ್ಡ ನಗರಕ್ಕೆ ಬಂದಿದ್ದಾನೆ

ನೆಂಟರೇ ಬೇಕಾಗಿಲ್ಲ ಅವನಿಗೀಗ

ಅವರಿಂದ ದೂರವಿರಬೇಕೆಂಬ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನ

ಯಾರಾದರೂ ಅಪ್ಪಿತಪ್ಪಿ ಬಂದರೋ

ಒಳಗೊಳಗೇ ಬೈದುಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತಾನೆ

ಏರುತ್ತಿರುವ ಬೆಲೆಗಳ ಬಗ್ಗೆ

ನಗರಗಳೊಡನೆ ಗಂಟುಹಾಕಿಕೊಂಡ ಬದುಕಿನ ಬಗ್ಗೆ

ಸಿಡಿಮಿಡಿಗೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತಾನೆ.

ಯಾರೊಂದಿಗೂ ಹಂಚಿಕೊಳ್ಳಲು ಇಷ್ಟವಿಲ್ಲ ಅವನಿಗೆ -

ಬೀಸೆಣಿಗೆಯ ಗಾಳಿಯನ್ನು

ಬುತ್ತಿಯೊಳಗಿನ ತುತ್ತನ್ನು

ಹಾಸುತ್ತಿದ್ದ ಚಾಪೆಯನ್ನು.

ಹಿಂದಿ ಮೂಲ: ತ್ರಿಪೇನ್ ಸಿಂಹ ಚೌಹಾಣ್

ಕನ್ನಡಕ್ಕೆ: ಹರೀಶ್. ಜಿ.

ಶಾಲೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಬೇಸಿಗೆ

ಬೇಸಿಗೆ ರಜೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಶಾಲೆಯನ್ನು ಕಂಡಾಗ

ಗತಿಸಿದ ವೈಭವವನ್ನು ಕಳೆದುಕೊಂಡ

ಸಾಮ್ರಾಜ್ಯದಂತೆ ಕಾಣಿಸುತ್ತದೆ.

ಬಿಕೋ ಎನ್ನುವ ತರಗತಿಗಳು

ತಮ್ಮ ತಮ್ಮಲ್ಲೇ ಮಾತನಾಡಿಕೊಳ್ಳುವ ಗೋಡೆಗಳು

ಸುಭಾಷಿತಗಳು, ಚಾರ್ಟುಗಳು

ಪ್ರೇಕ್ಷಕರಿಗಾಗಿ ಕಾದು ನಿಂತ ರಂಗಭೂಮಿಗಳಂತೆ

ಮಕ್ಕಳ ಮಾತು ಕೇಳದೆ ಮೂಕವಾಗಿವೆ.

ಮಿನುಗು ತಾರೆಗಳಿಲ್ಲದ

ಕತ್ತಲ ರಾತ್ರಿಗಳು ಈ ಕಪ್ಪು ಹಲಗೆಗಳು!

ಪೈಪೋಟಿಗೆ ಬಿದ್ದು ಕಟ್ಟಿಕೊಂಡ

ರಂಗು ರಂಗಿನ ಕಾಗದದ ತೋರಣಗಳು

ಕಿತ್ತು, ಹರಿದು, ಕಳೆಗುಂದಿ

ತೂಗಾಡುತ್ತಿರುವ ದೃಶ್ಯಗಳು!

ಗುಟುಕು ನೀರು ಕುಡಿಯಲು

ತನ್ನ ಬಳಿ ಯಾರೂ ಬರುತ್ತಿಲ್ಲವೆಂದು

ಒಂದೊಂದೇ ತೊಟ್ಟು ಕಣ್ಣೀರಿಡುತ್ತಿದೆ

ಕೊಳಾಯಿ.

ಪುಟ್ಟ ಪುಟ್ಟ ಕಣ್ಣುಗಳು

ತನ್ನ ಹೂಗಳನ್ನು ನೋಡುತಿಲ್ಲವೆಂದು

ಬಾಡಿಹೋಗಿದೆ ಪುಟ್ಟ ಸಸಿ!

"ಸೈಲೆನ್ಸ್! ಸೈಲೆನ್ಸ್! ಎನ್ನುತ್ತಿದ್ದವರೇ

ಈಗ ಈ ಭೀಕರ ನಿಶ್ಯಬ್ದವನ್ನು

ಸಹಿಸಲಾಗಿದ್ದಾರೆ.

[ತೆಲುಗು ಕವಿತೆಯೊಂದರ ಆಧಾರ]

ಬೇಕು..ಬೇಡಗಳ ನಡುವೆ

"ದೇಶ ಬೇಕು, ದ್ವೇಷ ಬೇಡ." - ಸ್ವಾಮಿ ವಿವೇಕಾನಂದ.
"ಹೆಣ್ಣು ಬೇಡ, ಮಣ್ಣು (ಗಣಿ) ಬೇಕು." - ರೆಡ್ಡಿ ಬ್ರದರ್ಸ್.
"ಹುಡುಗಿ ಬೇಕು, ಮದುವೆ ಬೇಡ." - ನಿತ್ಯಾನಂದ.
"ಗೆಳೆಯ ಬೇಡ, ಗೆಳೆಯನ ಹೆಂಡ್ತಿ ಬೇಕು." - ಹಾಲಪ್ಪ.
"ಮದ್ವೆ ಬೇಡ, ಮಗು ಬೇಕು." - ಕುಮಾರ ಸ್ವಾಮಿ.
"ಡಾಕ್ಟರ್ ಬೇಡ, ನರ್ಸ್ ಬೇಕು." - ರೇಣುಕಾಚಾರ್ಯ.
"ಕಟ್ಕಂಡೋಳು ಸಾಯ್ಲಿ, ಇಟ್ಕಂಡೋಳು ಮಂತ್ರಿ ಆಗ್ಲಿ." - ಯಡಿಯೂರಪ್ಪ.

చివరకు మిగిలేది.....!!!!???

ధన కనక సంచయ సంగ్రామములో
రేయింబవళ్ళు లెక్కించకుండా శ్రమించి, కూడబెట్టి
మోజు మేజవాణీల కాంచన మృగమును వెంబడిస్తూ,
శరీర దారుఢ్యత కోల్పోయి
రుజావ్యాధిగ్రస్తుడై, కృశించి, మంచాన పడి,
కళ్ళు మిటకరిస్తూ, గతించిన ఆరోగ్యమును గూర్చి స్మరిస్తూ,
భార్య పిల్లల ముఖాలు చూసి రోధిస్తూ,
సంపాదించిన సొమ్ము ఆసుపత్రి పాలు అవుతుంటే
చివరకు నీకు మిగిలినదేమిటి?
నలుగురి భుజాలపై ప్రయాణం!
ఎక్కడికని తెలియని శ్మశాన మౌనం!
ఆరడుగుల గోతిలో సుదీర్ఘ శయనం!

- ఓ అజ్ఞాత ఆంగ్ల కవి దర్శనము.
[ఈ కవిత సాహిత్య ప్రస్థానం మాస పత్రిక, నవెంబరు 2010, లో ప్రచురితమైనది]

बेवफा के साथ

एक दर्द था सीने में, बाँटा भी तो बेवफा के साथ
कुछ सपने भी थे आँखॊं में, सजाया भी तो एक बेवफा के साथ
कुछ अधूरी लम्हॊं को समॆट के बिताया भी तो एक बेवफा के साथ
अब तुम्हें इल्झाम कोई क्या दे, तुमने बेवफायी किया भी तो एक बेवफा के साथ।

- संगमित्र भट्टाचार्य।

I Slew the Seven Horses of the Chariot of the Sun

[Namdev Dhasal's poem Mee Marale Sooryachya Rathache Ghode, which means I Slew the Seven Horses of the Chariot of the Sun. Translation - Dilip Chitre]

The wicked have injured the Earth
Poets know all about it
Only poets can save the Earth
From extinction.

Man, You Should Explode

[This is Namdev Dhasal's poem from the collection called Golpitha. Translated by Dilip Chitre]

Man, you should explode
Yourself to bits to start with
Jive to a savage drum beat
Smoke hash, smoke ganja
Chew opium, bite lalpari
Guzzle country booze—if too broke,
Down a pint of the cheapest dalda
Stay tipsy day and night, stay tight round the clock
Cuss at one and all; swear by his mom’s twat, his sister’s cunt
Abuse him, slap him in the cheek, and pummel him…
Man, you should keep handy a Rampuri knife
A dagger, an axe, a sword, an iron rod, a hockey stick, a bamboo
You should carry acid bulbs and such things on you
You should be ready to carve out anybody’s innards without batting an eyelid
Commit murders and kill the sleeping ones
Turn humans into slaves; whip their arses with a lash
Cook your beans on their bleeding backsides
Rob your next-door neighbours, bust banks
Fuck the mothers of moneylenders and the stinking rich
Cut the throat of your own kith and kin by conning them; poison them, jinx them
You should hump anyone’s mother or sister anywhere you can
Engage your dick with every missy you can find, call nobody too old to be screwed
Call nobody too young, nobody too green to shag, lay them one and all
Perform gang rapes on stage in the public
Make whorehouses grow: live on a pimp’s cut: cut the women’s noses, tits
Make them ride naked on a donkey through the streets to shame them
Man, one should dig up roads, yank off bridges
One should topple down streetlights
Smash up police stations and railway stations
One should hurl grenades; one should drop hydrogen bombs to raze
Literary societies, schools, colleges, hospitals, airports
One should open the manholes of sewers and throw into them
Plato, Einstein, Archimedes, Socrates,
Marx, Ashoka, Hitler, Camus, Sartre, Kafka,
Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Ezra Pound, Hopkins, Goethe,
Dostoevsky, Mayakovsky, Maxim Gorky,
Edison, Madison, Kalidasa, Tukaram, Vyasa, Shakespeare, Jnaneshvar,
And keep them rotting there with all their words
One should hang to death the descendents of Jesus, the Paighamber, the Buddha, and Vishnu
One should crumble up temples, churches, mosques, sculptures, museums
One should blow with cannonballs all priests
And inscribe epigraphs with cloth soaked in their blood
Man, one should tear off all the pages of all the sacred books in the world
And give them to people for wiping shit off their arses when done
Remove sticks from anybody’s fence and go in there to shit and piss, and muck it up
Menstruate there, cough out phlegm, sneeze out goo
Choose what offends one’s sense of odour to wind up the show
Raise hell all over the place from up to down and in between
Man, you should drink human blood, eat spit roast human flesh, melt human fat and drink it
Smash the bones of your critics’ shanks on hard stone blocks to get their marrow
Wage class wars, caste wars, communal wars, party wars, crusades, world wars
One should become totally savage, ferocious, and primitive
One should become devil-may-care and create anarchy
Launch a campaign for not growing food, kill people all and sundry by starving them to death
Kill oneself too, let disease thrive, make all trees leafless
Take care that no bird ever sings, man, one should plan to die groaning and screaming in pain
Let all this grow into a tumour to fill the universe, balloon up
And burst at a nameless time to shrink.

After this all those who survive should stop robbing anyone or making others their slaves
After this they should stop calling one another names white or black, Brahmin, Kshatriya, Vaishya, or Shudra;
Stop creating political parties, stop building property, stop committing
The crime of not recognising one’s kin, not recognising one’s mother or sister
One should regard the sky as one’s grandpa, the earth as one’s grandma
And coddled by them everybody should bask in mutual love
Man, one should act so bright as to make the Sun and the Moon seem pale
One should share each morsel of food with everyone else, one should compose a hymn
To humanity itself, man, man should sing only the song of man.

సెప్టెంబర్ 5 ఉపాధ్యాయ దినోత్సవం ఎందుకు?

సాత్వికుడు, దార్శనికుడు, ఒజ్జలకే ఒజ్జ అయిన శ్రీ సర్వేపల్లి రాధాకృష్ణన్ గారి జన్మదినం సెప్టెంబర్ 5 అని మనకు తెలుసు.

వారు భారత రాష్ట్రపతి అయిన సందర్భంగా అతడి పూర్వ విద్యార్థులు దేశము నలుమూలనుండి ఆయన జన్మదిన సందర్భంగా ఆయనను అభినందించడానికి వెళ్ళారు. అతడితో విద్యార్థులు, "మీరు మా జీవితాలను నిర్మించారు. మీకు వేనవేల కృతజ్ఞతలు" అనారు. దానికి అతడు, "నేనే కాదు, యే విద్యార్థి జీవితాన్నైనా నిర్దేశించేది వారి ఉపాధ్యాయుడే. జాతి భవితను నిర్దేశించేది ఉపాధ్యాయుడే. కావున ఈ దినాన్ని ఉపాధ్యాయ దినోత్సవంగా, గురు పూజా ఉత్సవంగా జరుపుకోవడంలో ఔచిత్యం ఉంది" అని పేర్కొన్నారు.

అతడి జన్మ దినాన్ని ఉపాధ్యాయ దినోత్సవంగా జరుపడం గురువులను నిజంగా గౌరవించడమే!