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MODERN KANNADA POETRY
(A Few Specimens)

Introductory Note by Prof. V. SITARAMIAH

Towards the end of August 1955, a Symposium on ‘Modern South Indian Poetry� was held at the Indian Institute of Culture, Bangalore. All the Southern Languages were represented: the Telugu by Prof. Sampath Raghavachar from Anantapur; the Tamil by Sri Tiruloka Sitharam from Tiruchi; the Kannada by Sri V. Sitaramiah, Bangalore; and the Malayalam by Mahakavi Sankara Kurup from Ernakulam. All except the Mahakavi presented the poetry personally. He could not be present; but the scripts he had sent were read by a few Malayalam friends locally. Sri Masti Venkatesa Iyengar presided over the Symposium.

A feature of the function was the reading of the poems first in the original tongue and then, immediately after, in translation. The idea was to let the listeners hear the lilt and cadence of the poems in the sister languages before they heard the rendering in a foreign tongue. The experiment evoked interest and enthusiasm.

The poems printed below are not by any means the best written by the authors but are a fair sample of their work in some one or two of their characteristic moods. The translations are kept near the original texts and have had the benefit of the authors� revision. The poems of only two poets–of Sri M. Govind Pai and Sri. G. P. Rajaratnam–are not included, for they are hard of rendering. These poems are unique: Pai’s on ‘the Sea� and G. P. R’s on ‘Teaching the wife cycling� and ‘the lady, my wife�.

The following are the poets presented:

(1) ‘D.V.G.’–Sri D.V. GUNDAPPA is a well-known writer and Man of Letters whose is easily the most massive intellect on our literary scene. As poet, dramatist, critic, biographer, and student and servant of public affairs his place is among the greatest in our part of India. His preference is for the classical forms of expression. This poem is made up of a few stanzas selected from one of his poems in the ‘Nivedana�.

(2) �SRINIVASA.� is the pen-name of Sri Masti Venkatesa. Iyengar whose is the largest name in modern Kannada literature. His style in poetry is simple and clear, and would perhaps have won for him reputation for greater profundity if it was more difficult and grandiloquent. But his achievement is high in any form of composition which he has contributed. �Kaka’s Song� is from his Play ‘Kakana Kote� and has a quality which one associates with the ‘Song of Ariel� in Shakespeare’s ‘Tempest�.

(3) Prof. D. R. BENDRE is the purest lyrical poet in modern Kannada. His love songs and mystical pieces are equal to the best in any language. When he uses the folk style of Northern Karnataka, his poetry is richest and most compelling. The intensity and moving power of these pieces will speak for themselves.

(4) ‘KUVEMPU� is the name by which Dr. K. V. Puttappa–now the Vice-Chancellor of the Mysore University–writes. His is the most considerable contribution to modern poetry in our parts. His ‘Ramayana Darsanam� in the epic mould won for him the Sahitya Akademi’s award last year, for the best work in Kannada since Independence. This came as a crowning piece to his earlier work which is itself big and various by any standard. His earlier lyrics have a naturalness, colour and charm which made the poet dear even in the earlier phases of his development.

(5) Principal V. K. GOKAK (�VINAYAKA.�) has written some of the most individual poetry of our time. His ‘Songs of the Sea� are a real departure from old song. �Bala deguladalli� is a new type of composition where he portrays persons, attitudes and values. For earnestness and vigour his composition has few peers in contemporary Kannada.

(6) Sri P. T. NARASIMHACHAR is one of the sweetest singers in modern Kannada. His Song-Plays are a new gift to our literature. His piety and devotion link him with the Vaishnava singers of all over India and more particularly with the South Indian ones richly laden with the tradition and culture of this ancient land.

(7) Sri K. S. NARASIMHASWAMY, who is now about 38 years of age, is the youngest poet represented here. He has given us many beautiful pictures of young love and conjugal felicity; but he has substantively changed tune recently and added a new dimension to his soul. His voice is keen and courageous and themes new and vital.

Later generations than feature here are already pushing forward with achievement and will, presently, be more fully on the scene.

(8) The last poem is by one who signs himself ‘V. See� ^l and comes in the period between Numbers 3 and 4.

The idea was first to publish all the poems read at the Symposium as a ‘Transaction� of the ‘Institute of Culture�. But as the scheme could not take effect, this Kannada section of it is presented here with the Institute’s kind permission. Triveni has been foster-mother to much positive talent before now, and for over a quarter of a century been the meeting place of litterateurs from all over India. Its mission has been the promotion of friendship and understanding between writers of the neighbouring literatures. So it is as well that Triveni should present this Symposium. And how hospitably and graciously it does that!

THE SONG OF THE WAYFARERS

(Selections)

By ‘D.V.G.�
(D.V. Gundappa)

Wayfarers are we, O friends,
Leave us alone;
Involve us not in your town-life’s tangle;
We mean to walk alone.

We have come from afar, stay the night at the lodge,
And move forward soon from here.
At the behest of our Master we move about,
Nowhere should we stay for more than a day.

We have sought to stay at the temple lodge
With other wayfarers there.
We share our songs and news with them
And spend the night in company.

We have seen the weeping folk; and those who are merry
Those who frighten and those unafraid;
The villainous ones we have seen and the illuded ones,
And, some wise ones too.

Enough of your bustle have we seen;
We are like birds which seek their nests.
Speed must we forward, reach our home, and
Set down the burdens from our heads.

We are not constrained this way or that
Or afraid that our path is hard.
The feet of our Master we cherish at heart,
His words cheer us on the roads.

Fate’s mockery no whit frightens us;
We meet it gently when it comes;
We hold ambrosial essence in our hearts
To feed us and keep us strong.

The things we see we do not covet;
We eat the fruit we chance to get.
Our joys are ours, as your cares are yours,
We’ve stayed enough in your town, O friends.

KAKA’S WOOD SONG

By ‘SRINIVASA�

(Masti Venkatesa Iyengar)

On the top of the hill, in the heart of the woods,
There where the Kapini River springs;
Where the black pouring clouds gather
Quickly amass as one looks on;

There, where the leader-tusker with his herd and calves
Wanders at will under the moonlit sky;
Where the stag halts to look lordly on
Like a lion crested with its spreading antler;

There, where the deer, sighting the tiger’s eye,
Scatters its timid band of leaping fellows;
Where the parrot, the mina, the cuckoo
And the lines of flying birds,

Keep singing air on air with rising voice;
Where, on the sudden, the peacock raises his shrill scream
To strike the high boulder and resonate;
There where the honey-bee is content where it stays

Feeding on the one flower it steals;
Where champak and jasmine and amaranth
And the lily, her sister, blooms with them day after day;
Where the jalari emits the fragrance of its heart

And calls to you to step into her abode;
There where the spreading jack bears abundant fruit
Like bracelets for hands and feet all about;
Where the dark-red sandal grows rich and tall,
That’s where Great Madeswara loves to be
That’s where Madeswara moves about.

DO NOT LOOK AT ME SO

By D. R. BENDRE

Do not look at me so;
If you do what look could I return to yours!

In the Ocean of Samsara are countless rocks of sorrow
I know, though I know not where lies the other shore.
Let the lying child lie there; the rest is God’s will.
I cannot stop it. Why look you so again and again?

Where has fled the colour of your lips, which without chewing pan should shine
Like the lush-red of the parrot-bitten fruit?
To what rushing wind do your chin, your cheek, your face, your eye

Look queer, freighted with mortal menace
Like as Death caressed them there, bringing me needless fear.

At the wedding Dhara you held my wet hand; and, likely,
You still fancy it is cool; and will not let it go.
Even after finding the fire ash-covered, if the cloud
Were to topple to the earth
Where else is asylum for the earth?
Likely you trust the common saying and believe that I am God!

O woman, with eyes shining like the fruit of the kavali-briar,
Milk-smeared tho� washed with the dew,
Say, say, are these eyes I see before me yours?
They make me tremble and my life says suddenly,�
“Is this a corpse of the full moon come floating
In the sky during the noon-bright day?�

The rain has set foot in your eyes; off and on why laugh you like mad?
Like the cloud which stays its rain-drop on the pretext of a wind?

Weep if you will; let the floods flow; why vide a sorrow with hollow laughter!
Let the lids beat and shed the burden; but, stare not so,
Nor stay its upsurge with a tightened lip.

LOVE

By D. R. BENDRE

Measure your love thus and thus?
Why toil measuring it?
Be happy loving and beloved.

What you have is much; one’s ray is one’s day;
Other light is darkness;
Your camp is where you stay; your field is where you play;
The rest of the world is , away.

With a necklace made of pearls
Is your affection brightened?
And when you kiss an eyelid wet
Does the kiss mind the wet?
Even in the tear that boils out,
Does the fragrance not come out?

Pearl and ruby, gold and all,
Are stone and mud in luxury.
Foolish man,
They are a show, a fashion, a flourish,
A boast in life;
The basic truth is Love.

The seven heavens and the seven hells are its light and darkness,
Millennia and rebirths
Are fortress and battlement.

Suppose you mounted a throne
And sat close each to each,
Well, what in it is superior to the beloved’s arms?
You close your hearts and eyes
And admire you know not what.

Your hut may be beneath a tree;
Love can flourish there;
Joy can overflow.

THE LOTUS CHARIOT

By ‘KUVEMPU�
(K. V. Puttappa)

In Fancy’s sky, on the Rainbow riding with you I sit and float.
With a magic smile, O lovely one, You look like a cloud of fire.
The height I have reached I see
And a joy fills my mind,
A fear dawns that I may fall
And then it flags.
An unfading smile plays on your face, always
Like a peacock’s, happy.
The meaning of your silence I know not.
Our lotus chariot is afloat.

Then, when the golden chariot you brought and called to me,
I was playing in the dust.
A golden sunlight played about, and bird-song filled the sky;
With eyes awake was the world asleep.
I saw the colour of your chariot
And first was charmed by it,

I thought it was all some boyish fun

And took a ride on it.

Whereto you will take me, I then didn’t ask;
You make no answer when I do.
With your finger you but point to the space beyond.
A vacant sea-blue is all I see.
In the star-spangled sky with the moon, the Sun and the planets
Our chariot of art is flying;
How far forward? To what shore I know not or when.
Your lotus ride keeps on.
With suspicion sometimes atremble is
This bird of my soul.
Your smile is my trust as my Master’s witness.

Day and Night, morning and evening, keep rolling on,
Scattering the skies with colour;
And when I look on before me at your soundless sign
A vacant sea-blue is all I see.

THE QUESTION

By ‘KUVEMPU�
(K. V. Puttappa)

Why does the water flow?
It flows!
Not to join the sea?
It joins,
What of that?

The water,–to join the sea
does not flow;
It flows and joins the sea.
Nothing more.

Why burns the fire?
It burns;
Not to cook the food?
It cooks!
What of that?
The fire,–to cook the food
does not burn;
It burns and the food is cooked.
Nothing more.

Why shines the Sun?
He shines!
Not to light the earth?
Yes, it does;
What of that?
The Sun,–to light the earth
Does not shine;
He shines and the earth
Is lighted up.
Nothing more.

Why was Creation born?
It was born.
Not to work off Karma?
To work off;
What of that?

Creation,–to work off Karma
Was not born;
It arose and the Karma
Is worked off.
Nothing more.

TO THE YOUNG WRITER

By ‘VINAYAKA�
(Y. K. Gokak)

One is not one; it is a hundred and one;
Who knows this tale knows the true account.
Only he knows who has discovered that the One is without limit;
The lamp of his lifeillumines.

So rise; count the stars: In the one sky
Count the myriad twinkling stars.
Gather all the visions of this daedal earth
And to its tune make dance your heart and mind.

The sky swallowed up the message of all the incarnations:
The earth–their bodies; our mind–their words.
Earth, sky and mind are not yet satiate;
Those lives only are happy which have been lived with the saints.

Let remembrance of this keep you vigilant,
And that experience Divine of human kind be your inspiration.
When one’s birth and kind flower and ripen
Perfection comes within the span of man’s life.

Put your trust in no single faith; nor in a single path,
Nor tune to a single rhythm, howsoever sweet,
Nor shed a tear that nought is yours.
Such pride but pulls you to a fall;
Go, clasp the cloud; let your earnestness be
That the Earth is touchstone to all the philosophies.
Scatter yourself into space, nor be cribbed in a corner.
And may the blessings of the sky and the Earth
Guard you ever, at your base and crown.
(Selections from a poem of the
above name in Bala deguladalli)

THE SHADOW

By ‘Pu. Ti. Na.�
(P. T. Narasimhachar)

The Garuda flies above
And below it fleets its shadow;
An Eagle’s will is the Eagle’s way
The shadow’s way is where it moves.

On every field and on every house
On well and pond as it likes
On tree and shrub and hill and dale
It stays awhile as it moves.

Its fleet foot is like the wonder wind’s;
What trick can stay its speed?
You cannot catch nor can you tie it;
It moves ever nor will be stayed.

I see this and am moved to think,
Is not Gandhi a shadow such as this?
Wheresoever God’s will likes to move
This warrior moves always.

TO THE FIRST KING

By K. S. NARASIMHASWAMY

Yours is the lamp as yours are the winds;
May light never be out.
Yours is the ship as yours is the sea;
May life never be sunk.

The hills are yours and yours are the plains;
May love spread and smile.
Shine or shower, all are yours;
May they so remain.

A thunder there and a cloud here,
Yearn to adore you,
As there a bird or here a tree
Learns to salute you.

The roll of the drum and the song on the lute
Are echoes of your voice;
The giant epic and the lyric sweet
Are the sound of your feet.

The Buddha and the raging war
Are your reputation;
The midnight-hour and the rising sun
Are your revelation.

Famine and Wealth are your creatures;
All, in the end, are one.
Your motherly eye takes all in love;
All, to you, is one.

O Author of all this creation, who
Will not be President,
Lord and Ruler of this spreading world
Present though unseen:

You call to the people, show them a kingdom
Tell them to rule the land,
The palace-door you then open, to go-
And never once look behind!

Your sovereign might flows like a river
Of total renunciation;
Nor crown of pearls nor crown of thorns
Mark your departure.

A king such as you is within yet afar
Ever, alas, elsewhere;
While you are the life as you are the spirit
Of a kingless constitution.

THE FATHER’S THRONE

By K. S. NARASIMHASWAMY

Place me not upon your throne,
Or deck me with your moon-crown;
Your necklace of stars will be heavy round my neck,
I shall have none of your kingship.

Mock me not calling to me ‘child, my child�,
Nor treat lightly my strength.
Do not vest in me your kingship, now
That you have grown tired of it.

No, do not place me on your throne;
Let the flame of your prowess blaze on me.
I shall not be fed with cowardice of your fondling born;
Be your love hard as the diamond.

After how long is so much affection extended?
Your ways I cannot understand.
An unwanted child then, am today your joy;
Is selfishness your ethic?

My mother said this to me: On a day you seemed to have
Touched her charming shoulder
And I was born in the heart of a spreading wonder
Kissing the earth-flag.

In the desert she built a cradle of cloud for me,
Fanned me with dew, with fire, with storm;
Fed me with ambrosia from her breast.
What gladness was hers that a son like me was born!

Rain, River and Sea sang and called to me;
Harvest and life opened the loveliness of the earth.
My mother held me to her, and over hills and dales
She danced with joy to the tune of the cloud-drum’s beat.

She splashed on to my cheeks the sunlight of many a land
And carried me on her over the spaces of the sky;
And in the lion-camps of the hills and the forests
That daughter of fire brought me up.

You must have seen me on those days: I smiled
And beckoned to you with my little hands?
But what imperial insolence was yours then,
You moved away not once touching me!

Mother said: “Little one, call to him,
Crawl up to him forward, dear,�
And when, unheeding, you moved away she was
Distressed; and she cried, “What a man have we here!�

The stars sang, “One’s Mother is one’s God�;
The ignorant ones could but say, “She is Maya�.
You know the taste of the sweetness of my mother’s love,
I am son to that rich mother. Hear this now:

“I grew up without knowing you. I have known
Only a mother’s love, her loveliness.
She has faith that her son will grow up apace
To earn for himself the prowess of his sire.

“Teach me to live with no obligation to you;
Bless me that my life may ripen through suffering;
Obstruct me on paths where I seek not your aid;
Let the roads wax longer as I tread them.

“Be the father that torments his son; be his enemy.
So may my breath grow faint;
Be the rock on which spills the blood from my body
And see on it your name.

“Dust is the door by which I came, the door by which I leave.
A mother’s eye protects me in between.
All gold is the granite-fortress of that eye’s prison.
It were well you left me alone.

“I do not wait for the day when your kingship
Sans age, sans death will be ending.
Why come you to me now in the illusion that
You can ask your grown-up son to bear the yoke?

FEAR NOT!

(Abheeh)

By V. See
(Translated and read by the Chairman, Sri Masti Venkatesa Iyengar)

Riving the silence of the waters and the wilderness,
Crossing the hurdle of the horizons� width,
Drowning all sounds else and lifting up to view?
The great way to true life, hear the cry
Reaching all ears and spreading the message of the Deathless;
Fear not! Fear not! Fear not! From Eternity’s farther shore
It comes, to tread victorious the mound of thirty hundred years.

Out of the tabernacles made for performance of sacrifice
From the mouths of the victims of sacrifice and the doors of prison-houses
From mills which grind the helpless and the crosses piercing merciless,
From the cup of deadly hemlock, and the stake and the fire burning the living
Hear the cry arising! Fear not! Fear not! Fear not!
Hear this cry arise and scatter all weakness, all cowardice,
And feed hearts all motherlike with the life-giving nectar of courage.

It cries: “When, ever, did the nerveless, the weak of heart earn their soul?
“What, ever, will they do who wait ever for strength from elsewhere?
“What will they win, and when,
“Who shiver at thought of persecution from the resolute tyrant?
“Fear not! Fear not! Fear not!� This seed from which heaven takes birth
Has found place in man’s heart, has sprouted and is giving out shoots.
Itis nourishing and strengthening there the core, the marrow of Life.

It allows not men to stand or sit or to lie down;
It intrudes into their play and their pleasure and teases.
When in fatigue the eyelids droop as if they fain would close,
In new ardour, just by their side, it rises with a higher note.
Fear not! Fear not! Fear not! “Fear not,� is ever its text
And trumpets this lesson with high breath into the winds of the eight quarters of the heavens�
Commanding them to trumpet it, in their turn, loud and long.

Obstacles may arise; they may be wide as the earth, wide as the aeons;
The imperial master may roar, the heart within you quiver;
The smaller loyalties of tribe and faith, of country and companionship
May throw their confusing shadow across the path you tread.
Fear not! Fear not! Fear not! “Fear not� is the cry
That in the hour of darkness and suffering will point the way
And lift the veil that hides the beckoning face of Truth.

The mind that will not bend, the resolution to win through,
The steadfast purpose to walk unswervnig right on to Truth,
Vigilant refusal to submit to injustice ever
And the heart ever open in mercy, in loving tenderness,
These are crying “Forward !� these lead us onward while
Fear not! Fear not! Fear not! the formula that saves,
Is beating in our pulses and shaping our lives.

¹ This is how our friend, Sri V. Sitaramiah, veils himself –Editor, Triveni.