Wide eyes-2

V.N-2
It is now, the last third of the night, the third Jamu as they call it, the four
hour span, from 2.00 a.m to 6 a.m. Even that is slowly creeping to a close. He is not yet fortunate to get a glimpse of Hema Sundari. “Have I reached the rendezvous earlier than scheduled”, Ranganayaka wonders. “Perhaps the missive that I sent her through the maid Nancharamma, did not reach her.” , he worries.
He had smeared a thick, dark paint all over his body.”Is it the reason, that she is unable to perceive my presence”, he wonders.
Lifting his head up, he tries to look deep inside the room through the open window. Luckily the moon casts off , the thick veil of clouds behind which it hid, drenching the garden in a deluge of light. Hema Sundari must definitely have noticed him , for she gently walks towards the window and stands there. ” Oh! So you could reach here, thank God.”, she says pleasantly. A streak of light has darted from amidst the mango leaves on to her forehead. Ranganayaka lifts his face a bit and looks at the big eyes of the young lady, oblivious to his surroundings.
The soft dull moon lit her countenance , glistening it tantalisingly . A light pink hue ,as of milk , a wee degree over-boiled. Through the thin veil and beneath her forelocks, her wide eyes spanning almost to the ears. twinkle like a pair of wriggling fish caught in a snare. In the ethereal glow of the moon, the girl, just about twenty years of raging age, appears before him looking verily like a fairy. “Am I indeed awake or is it a dream?”, he wonders.
Both of them desire, nay crave, to fall into a slumber in an inebriating embrace. But alas, no scope even to talk endearingly for a moment .Ranganayaka is afraid some one would easily notice him if they talked even a bit louder. With a still stare , he takes a deep swig at her divine beauty. The smile that sparkled over their lips mingled entrancingly with the the moon light that pervaded the sky like the white shower of Wild Sugarcane (rellu grass) plumes.
A wild thought sparkles out across his mind. He decides to tell it to her. Immediately with bated breath he jumps out towards the window and catches hold of a widow-rod and steadies himself….

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Wide eyes.

Here is my attempt at translation, into English, of a few opening paragraphs of a famous Telugu novel ‘Visala Netralu’ (Wide Eyes ) of Pilaka Ganapati Sastry, which I read long decades ago, in the Telugu weekly ‘Andhra Patrika’

In the sky, long lines of dark clouds play hide and seek with a limpid light. On the ground , streaks of light and darkness are racing, one behind the other. Above, over the clouds it is a vast expanse, a milky ocean of clear alabaster. Whichever way you look, there is the glitter of twinkling stars.
But in Nichulapuram, it is bleak and inky. Darkness all around..
With bated breath, Ranganayaka is climbing the mango tree . His body is lacerated, here and there. It doesn’t bother him a wee bit. No, it ‘s not even an ant-bite, so to say. With a bit more of strain he could reach the top branch. He stays there for a while, then crawls ahead little by little, hides himself within a thick cluster of tender leaves. He looks warily all around the mango grove to see whether any one has found him. No trace of any one anywhere .
He lifts his head and looks out at the window of the mansion, at a distance of two or three yards from him, dimly-lit by a dull light. He lets out a sigh, and keeps on looking steadily, eyes wide open, at the window.
The moon who hid himself behind a blanket of thick clouds, peeped brightly for an instant and then disappeared behind the clouds. The fragrance of mango blooms, kindled a wee glow of intoxication within his heart. A dog barks some where in the distance. In a branch nearby, a squirrel lifts its tail and runs off. Ranganayaka shudders a little bit. and composes himself. The rustling of dry leaves, as they swirl down in the light breeze reverberates within his heart quietly.

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Why bicker , bro. You live your life. And let him, his.

Here is somethingin Telugu, for such siblings that are at loggerheads with each other.
I’ll try to translate it into English , a while, soon.

నాకు నాదో విజ్ఞప్తి:

భూమి తిరుగుతోంది, కాలం గడుస్తోంది.
మనుషులు మారుతున్నారు, రోజుల్ని మారుస్తూ.
సమాజంలో మార్పులు తెర్లుతున్నాయి,
కడలిపై కెరటాలులా,
అప్పుడప్పుడు సమస్యలకు సమాధానాలు తెస్తూ,
మరి కొన్ని సార్లు సుడిగుండాలను, ఉపరితల ద్రోణులను
(నేను సైతం గొప్ప మాటలు ……….)వెంటబెట్టుకునీ,
సమస్యలను జటిలం చేస్తూ, దుర్ఘటనలనూ, విస్ఫోటనాలనూ
ప్రపంచం నలు దెసలలో యెక్కడెక్కడి నుంచో తోడి తెచ్చుకునీ,
అంతూ పొంతూ లేని ఈ ఆటూ పోటుల కెరటాలముందు నా సమస్యలేపాటివో,
ఈ కక్షలేపాటివో, ఆకాంక్షలే పోటీవో?
నా వాకిలో, నా ఇల్లో, నా ఊరో, నా నుయ్యో, నా దేశమో వీడి ప్రపంచంలోకి పోయి చూడాలేమో ?
అప్పుడైనా తెలుస్తుందో లేదో, నా కాంక్షలూ, నా కక్షలూ అర్ధ రహితమైనవో, సార్ధకమైనవో?
అవి,కదలీ కడలి కెరటాలపై నురువుపిండి బుడగల వంటివేనేమో?
అవును కాదేమో ?
యెంత చెట్టుకి అంత గాలి.
నా సమస్యలు నాకు అగమ్యం,
నా అహం నాకు రమ్యం.
నిజమే.
ఆయినా నేను సైతం, ………..
ఆ నీవు సైతానా? ,
(నేను కాదు,నీవే సైతాన్, నీ అబ్బ సైతాన్,
నీ అమ్మ సైతాన్, అదే మన అమ్మ సైతాన్.
మన అమ్మా? అదెక్కడుంది? నీ యెంకమ్మా?
అవును నీది యెనకమ్మా, నాది ముందమ్మా, గుర్తుంచుకో.)
ఆ ఎక్కడున్నాం మనం, అదే నేను,
ఆ , పేను సైతం,
ఐ మీన్ నేను పైత్యం….
సారీ పేను పైత్యం
అదే నేను సైతం,(అమ్మయ్య!)
తాము సైతం,
(త్వమేవాహం కనుక , క్షమించాలి)
గల్లీలో తమ్మి సైతం,
గొంది లోఅన్న, సరే తంబి, సైతం
సమస్యలు తెచ్చిపెట్టుకోవటం, ఇతరులకు తెచ్చిపెట్టటం,
సమస్యలను తీర్చడం వలె కష్టం కాదు గనుక,…
సమాజానికి ఉన్న సమస్యలకు తోడు
కొత్తవి నా మూలంగా, మన మూలంగా ఏర్పడకుండా,
మనం ఇంకా వేర్పడకుండా, (మళ్ళీ త్వమేవాహమా?హన్నా?)
చెయ్యగలిగిన ప్రయత్నం చేయ రాదా ?
చెయ్యి రాదా?

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From an old school to a new school of thought!

Ghummakkad

If you look at Chennai, it is deeply rooted in its culture. Old temples and schools to the colonial architecture to the 21st century cool hotels and clubs. It’s all there. And I was going to see this change in a span of two hours.

I was with the ladies of Ladies Circle 4 of Chennai, who first took me to a project called the Madrasa-I-Azam H.S.S. at the Umdah Bagh. This school, which is spread over a couple of acres is on the popular Annaslai, and maybe the only piece of land, which is not yet commercialized. The ladies are undertaking the restoration of the auditorium located toward the back side of this plot and at the same time commissioning new furniture for one of the classrooms.

Madrasa-I-Azam was started in 1761 by His Royal Highness HE Wallajah Nawab Md.Ali Khan Bahadur, ,as a school for the education of…

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Hope eternal.

These dainty blossoms, bring back , those moments of bliss, that we shared.They are so very like those that you have tried to interest the-mundane-work-a-day-me in, when we were young. I especially cherish the one that you held in your hand that day ages ago, that had whetted my my appetite for you . It’s still fresh in my mind, that pure pink heavenly rose. Years have gone by. Looking at you now like this makes me doleful. But my misery is still tinged with a fondness for all that we have gone through, the hills and the vales together, all the years that have gone by, a bit too swiftly, to my rue. I live in a kind of stupor, a paramnesia, wary of looking into your tired, listless eyes. Instead I look at those blossoms in profusion and I steal a glance at you, now and again.You too are looking at them , in a distracted wistful manner. The spring is here . Perhaps it is yet not too late in the day, to, together, kindle the crumbling embers to glow, if only for a few precious moments more.

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#4 चन्दन चर्चित (Chandana Charchita or Haririha Mugdha)

here is a blog that can delight jayadeva’s devotees.

Jayadeva's Gita Govinda

Alternate names

Candana Carcita, Chandhana Charchitha
Haririha Mugda, Harir iha Mugdha

Updated Apr 2013

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It’s a carnival . It’s Holi in Ayodhya too.

Rama is sitting in the lotus posture in the assembly hall . His eyes are closed, he seems to be meditating.
Sita, newly wed, approaches him stealthily , taking care that her anklets do not jingle. She has a golden pitcher in her hand. She is in two minds. Then she nods and bends down at Rama’s feet and smears his feet with colour . Rama opens his eyes, looks at his feet and at the enticing sight of his smiling bride running away. He laughs and chases the girl. She runs swiftly into the abode of Kausalya and hugs her. Kausalya looks at the girl with affection . She says ” What is this, my child ! Why is your bosom heaving like this ?! Are your mischievous maids at you again?”
But it takes her only a li’l while to grasp the matter.
Rama meanwhile gets water and colours mixed in big cauldrons in various hues. He fills the coloured water in a number of spray guns and secures them in a sling bag and goes to his mother’s abode.
He does not find his wife, but he knows she is hiding there somewhere.
” Mamma, this lass has smeared me with colour, while I was praying and she is hiding now behind you like a thief. Deliver her to me.”
Sumithra and other lady folk , coming to know of the hustle-bustle, go into Kausalya’s chambers. Diverting the attention of the young lad, they try to spirit the girl away. Rama senses this. He rushes in front of them takes out one of his spray guns and squirts his darling with colours.
Dasaradha too had rushed to his queen’s parlour meanwhile and looks around.
There are big vessels of coloured water in readiness there.Rama had set his sling bag aside .He has handed over a golden mug to Sita and has taken another in his hand . The young couple are intently bathing each other in coloured water. Others too are drenching the couple and one another in colours.
Lakshmana is looking at his brother and Sita and at their blood-shot eyes with apprehension. Urmila is staring at Lakshmana. Bharata and Satrughna are looking at the spectacle from the balcony and at one another enquiringly whether to join the melee.
Dasaradha glances at Kausalya and looks around for a pitcher. She already has one, filled to the brim in her hand.

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