[English Ghazal] Shadow

 

 

 

The setting sun now bleeds into an aching shadow,
My restless heart reflects a long, aching shadow.

Your voice once mingled softly in the evening air,
Now every silence casts a slow, lingering shadow.

Was love a vow that trembled on your parted lips,
An apparition turning into a cold, lethal shadow?

I trace your name upon the darkened windowpane,
With tremulous hands, forming an illegible shadow.

If you would but turn and let your eyes feed on mine,
I’d live forever in this moment, a quiet, tender shadow.

If you must leave, leave behind some fragments of you,
That final touch to ease a lingering, aching shadow.

Ilakea waits where evening melts into night,
Learning to hold a faint, iridescent shadow.

 

[Translation] Alarshara Parithapam

 

 

 This is a mesmerizing padam by the multi-talented king-composer Maharaja Swati Thirunal of Travancore, a contemporary of the great musical triumvirate — Shyama Sastri, Thyagaraja, and Muthuswami Dikshitar. Where the triumvirate shaped the architecture of Carnatic music, Swati Thirunal brought to it a courtly refinement and literary sensibility all his own — composing with equal ease in Sanskrit, Malayalam, Telugu, Kannada, and Hindi, moving fluently between devotion and desire. That he left this world at just thirty-three years of age is one of Carnatic music's great tragedies. One can only wonder at the incredible possibilities, had he lived on. 

 This padam was written for the celebrated danseuse in his court, Suganda Valli, whom he addresses here by the epithet Kalamozhi — the sweet-voiced one. Set in raga Suruti, whose warm, lingering phrases seem made for longing, the song is a masterclass in viraha — love-in-separation. A nayika speaks to her sakhi, her confidante, pouring out her anguish as evening falls. Every element of the natural world — the setting sun, the mountain breeze, birdsong, moonlight — conspires against her, turning beauty into torment. And then, in the final charaṇam, Swati Thirunal does what he always does: the lover's plea dissolves seamlessly into a devotee's prayer to Padmanabha, the Lotus-eyed, the Lotus-naveled — and we realize the yearning was always, at its deepest level, sacred.

 I have attempted a translation that stays close to the original word order and imagery, trying where possible to echo the meter and cadence of the Malayalam. Any translation of poetry is an act of loving imperfection — but I hope this conveys something of the original's beauty.

pallavi
alarshara paritApam colvatin-nalivEni pANi bAlE

anupallavi
jalaja bandhuvumiha jaladhiyilaNa yunnu malayamArutamETTu mama manamatitarAm bata vivashamAyi sakhi

caranam 1
valarunnu hrdi mOhennOmalE taLarunnu mama dEham kaLamoLi
kusuma vATikayatiluLa vAyoraLi kulAravamatiha kELpatu madhi kAmadhini dAnamayi sakhi

caranam 2
shashyum cenkanalAyi samprati sUna sharaNummE ripuvAyi shashadharanErmukhi
sarasanODini melle bhrshAtayatAmmAm akhila shucamAyE kathayAshu sudati nI

caranam 3
jaladhara sadrsha sObhanenkAntan shrI jalajAkSanabja nAbhan kalayati kimu kOpam
kAruNya veTinjnyuLLilamalam bata tAmasEna kimiha jAvanmama sAdhayEpsitam

(Lyrics Courtesy:  ww.swathithirunalfestival.org/compositions/alarsara-paritapam)

Translation 

 

 Pallavi

The flower-arrows' anguish — how shall I tell of it, 

O gentle-handed maid with dark serpentine tresses?

Anupallavi

The lotus' friend descends into the ocean, 

The Malaya breeze begins to stir — 

Alas, sakhi, my heart is rendered 

Utterly, utterly helpless.

Caraṇam 1

Desire swells within my heart, O tender one, 

My body grows languid, Kalamozhi — 

From the fragrant garden rises

A resounding bee hum -that

Bestows a deepening anguish 

 Upon the fevered mind, O sakhi.

Caraṇam 2

The moon itself has turned to burning coal, 

The flower-arrows, once my refuge, are now my foe — 

O moon-rivaling face, O tender-glanced one, 

Gently, deeply, this torment wracks me — 

All has become but sorrow, all 

Tell me swiftly, O fair-toothed one, tell me.

Caraṇam 3

My lord, radiant as the dark rain-cloud, 

The glorious Lotus-eyed, the Lotus-naveled — 

Does he still hold his anger? I plead 

For mercy — enough, enough within this heart — 

Alas, what use this long delay? 

While I yet live, fulfill my heart's desire, I pray.

 

Here is a link to a mesmerizing rendition by Sreevalsan Menon

 

[Translation] ஆண்டாளின் நாச்சியார் திருமொழி - கற்பூரம் நாறுமோ

 

 

What form does bhakti take? In deep veneration it evokes intense spirituality. Can one express romantic love towards the divine? Great saints have done this time and again by adopting the 'Nayika Bhava' 

Andal's expression of her love for the lord through her mock anger and jealousy in these two pasurams, is a lyrical treat. 

கருப்பூரம் நாறுமோ கமலப்பூ நாறுமோ ,

திருப்பவள்ளச் செவ்வாய்தான் தித்தித் திருக்குமோ

மருப்பொசித்த மாதவன்தன் வாய்ச்சுவையும் நாற்றமும்

விருப்புற்றுக் கேட்கின்றேன் சொல்லாழி வெண்சங்கே.

 

உண்பது சொல்லில் உலகளந்தான் வாயமுதம்

கண்படை கொள்ளல் கடல் வண்ணன் கைத்தலத்தே

பெண்படையார் உன்மேல் பெரும்பூசல் சாற்றுகின்றார்

பண்பல செய்கின்றாய் பாஞ்ச சன்னியமே !

 

Do they smell of camphor? Or like the lotus flower?

Do the divine lips deep red as coral taste incredibly sweet?

Eager am I to learn of the taste and fragrant mouth

Of the one who broke the elephant Kuvalayapeeda’s tusk

Won’t you enlighten me, oh you sheer white conch, from the deep blue sea?

 

You feast on the nectar of the mouth (Who measured the three world with his foot)

And slumber in the palm of the sea hued lord

Hordes of women are hurling curses at you 

Many indeed are your injustices, you insensitive Panchajanya.

Here is a link to a rendition of this song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PWZfQQnCPlA

 

[Poem] A HATE POEM (Written About oneself)

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A HATE POEM (Written About oneself) 

 

Hey there! Walking with your head in the air

Looking down on us mere mortals with disdain

Do you really think you have the best brain? 

You swaggering, pompous know all

I’m forever plotting your downfall.

 

You nod at our jokes sagely

Then posit a theory airily

You were cottons and talk of abstinence

Shaming our silk ‘n’ gold with a cold countenance.

 

You jump up and take the mike

Whenever opportunity strikes

Then you sing, speak, put on an act

Don’t you have any tact?

Fooling others with your humble act -

But you don’t fool me 

 

I see through your ruses ‘n’ your subterfuges

You large weasel strutting about like a gazelle

Do you delude yourself that you’re fit for da Vinci’s easel?

Why do you dress up even to throw out the garbage

Like a film star at an inauguration, you cabbage?

You top heavy, arrogant, megalomaniac

I’m waiting to down you with a killer wisecrack.

[Poem] An AndAdi

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AndAdi –(Hindi -Anth + Adi) where a form / variation/ root of the ending word of the first line becomes the first word of the next line. This form has been long in use in Tamizh literature since the Sangam period.

AndAdi can be written composed either as couplets quatrains or longer pieces.  


 

Her heart grows restless

 Rest is a word from the past

Passing from childhood has made her truant

Truancy a badge youth prides

Pridefully she wore her beauty and youth

Youthful longings and pleasures she sought

Seekers easily find recalcitrant love

Love that thrives on the blood of innocence

Innocence, the sacrificial lamb of maturity

Mature though she grew yet she pines for the ravager

Ravaging lips that plundered her body endlessly

Endless tugs at her earlobes, restless the serpent explored

Exploring, his voice grew hoarse, “I love you!” he said

Sayings have a way of winning tremulous hearts over

Overhead an angel shed tears as he envisioned her pain

Painful was the moment when he left without a word

Wordlessly she watched his indifferent retreat

Retreating into a shell the girl is now a shadow of herself

Self-destruction who do the youth seek it out eagerly?

Eager as moths that rush towards flames hastening their deaths?

[Poem] Comance (Romance) in Rorona (Corona) mites(times)

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It was quite a tall task to write a poem using pun, malapropisms and spoonerisms.

 

 

Comance (Romance) in Rorona (Corona) mites(Times)

The poached cotato that hibernates in the sofa rises

Examines its surroundings in profusion (confusion)

Proceeds to the kitchen eager for a solution

That morning delusion - the pancake(panacea) for all ills-

Ambles in without a preamble.

Non greeting, non hugging, grunting, tapping

The shemale inversed (immersed) in music and

Demands accusingly “Where’s my coffee?”

“It will come!” she thunders from a music infused ear

Though she often thunders from empty headphones.

They are magnates (magnets) in north pole.

He lingers.

 

Looking askance at his countenance she misreads the presence.

She does a break dance-

Jiggles, wiggles, tickles his knuckles - he stumbles, fumbles.

Grabs her waist - mid stance.

She regards the eye of her guy

Eagerly. The beaver plonks her down - the killer joy.(Kill joy)

 

“Break fast!” He mouths pronouncedly.

“Compost ...err... bread toast!” she shouts.

There escapes a snort from a seething snout. The hulk ambles off in a huff.

There goes my russet potato manacle clad ( A spinoff of Shakespeare’s famous line Look the morn in russet mantle clad) she muses, sighs and retreats.

Dead meat trapped in lives dead beat.

[Ekphrastic Poem] Bruno Catelano's Sculpture

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PROMPT

Art cannot be divided into sections and often one flows into the other. Painters may use a great work of literature as their theme while poets can be inspired by paintings and sculptures.

This is a sculpture by a

  modern sculptor, Bruno Catalano. Bruno Catalano (born :-1960 - ), is a French sculptor, most renowned for creating sculptures of figures with substantial sections missing.

He has created life -size bronze sculptures, called, ' Les Voyageurs'. The one here is called, 'Fragments' and is located in Venice, Italy.

 

 

THE REFUGEE

He takes the plunge

Into impossible waters

Hounded by a greater fear

Carrying nothing but a few belongings in a blue bag

A truckload of memories

A tome of suffering, of loved ones

Left behind or are long gone. 

 

Caught between the devil

And the deep sea

He finds solace in its embrace

He is the fleeing refugee

Having nothing more to lose

Death in a choppy sea is solace

It will permanently erase all memory

But fate always has a different plan.

 

Casting him ashore in an alien land

It even saves his blue bag

Will he survive?

Will life be any different?

Will be questions that rise and fall

Like sea waves

A shadow of his former self emerges

Grows in stature as hope rises

It grows, it glows -

A faith reinforcing conflagration.

[Poem] Some Thoughts on Forgiveness

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If you haven’t sinned at all

But you're told “I forgive you”

Would it offend?

I suppose it would.

Not only that -

It would incite indignation

And open the doors to be forgiven in turn.

What of the juvenile

Who was absolved of a brutal rape/murder?

Who walks free today?

Condoned on account of his age

Does the condonation suggest

That he hasn’t done any wrong at all?

Will the mother ever forgive or forget?

Forgiveness is a myth

As long memory exists

Despite all the coaxing to move on

It lies somewhere

An inert dog in the sun

Who suddenly wakes and bark.

[Poem] 3 Concrete Poems

Day 9
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[Poem] Ekphraistic Poem

Day 6

An Ekphrastic Poem based on Jheronimus Bosch’s Painting The Garden of Earthly Delights

 

I am a child clement

I have no need for raiment

I am the child of god, the father of man

Before Noah’s arc

Before the flood

And the fear it instilled

Before Satan talked or walked

Before Eve’s flagrancy

Before One became Three?

Heaven, Earth, Hell

After the first man fell.

If it were a fall why then a ball?

Why the wild party, the orgy?

Why the vagrant Profligacy?

Every man, animal, being

Indulging in amorous coupling?

What if I drew a wrong analogy?

A gross misreading of a great allegory?

Perhaps the painting is from right to left?

What if I am the consciousness that sleeps as you dream up galaxies?

Or what if I am extra-terrestrial

Armed with machines industrial

In a world where men and women are equal

I gave light, music, I built transport buildings, museums.

But perhaps man fell 

As he is wont to fall

Every mortal greed stems from the flesh

The centre couldn’t hold?

In a blood thirsty virus’ strangle hold

The World burned whole

                   And

Manu or Noah was United

With the Pluralistic One?

[Poem] Dreamscapes

Trudging the yellow sand

While the sea stands -

A massive wall of undulating alum

I gather pearls from open clam

Shells, that lie scattered in the fog

Like cranberries in a bog

I am a boat unfettered, free

Floating upon a dancing sea

With senses lulled by the tender breeze

I join dolphins in unihemispheric sleep

I wake to the sound of thunder and lightning

In a boat that resembles a drum with no holding

I career this way and that upon a violent sea

While rain falls in torrents around me

My scream is an echo that floats in from afar

Through squinched eyes I spy a boatman with an oar

My spirits rise, perhaps he would steer me to the shore?

He gives out a blood curdling howl, I tumble and fall to the ocean floor.