Thursday, 12 November 2009

ಆಜ್ಜಿ ಕವನ



ಕೈಲಾಸ ಪರ್ವತದ ಅರಮನೆಯಲ್ಲಿ,

ಶಿವನಿಗೆ ಬಂದಿತು ತಲೆ ನೋವು ಅಲ್ಲಿ.

ಕಾವಲುಗಾರರ ಅತಿ ಗೋಳಾಟ,

ಪಾರ್ವತಿಗೆ ಬಂದಿತು ಪಿಕುಲಾಟ.

ಗಿರಿಜೆಯು ಹೊಡೆದಳು ಗಣಪತಿಯನ್ನು,

ಮುರಿದಳು ಕೈಲಿದ್ದ ಕಡುಬನ್ನು.

ಕೆಲವರು ಹೋದರು ಕೆಲವರು ಬಂದರು,

ಕೆಲವರು ಮೇಲ್ಗಡೆ ನೋಡುತ ಕುಳಿತರು,

ತಲೆ ನೋವು ಸಹಿಸದೆ ಈಶ್ವರ ನಾಗ,

ಕಳುಹಿದ ಕಪಿಯನು ಕರೆತರಲಾಗ,

ಓಡುತ ಹೋದರು ಮಾರುತಿ ಬಳಿಗೆ,

ಕಾಡಿಸುತಿದೆ ತಲೆನೋವು ಈಶ್ವರಗೆ.

ಬಂದರು ಜನಗಳು ಒಂದಾಗಿ,

ನಿಂದನು ಮಾರುತಿ ಮುಂದಾಗಿ,

ಏನೆಲೊ ಮಾರುತಿ ತಾರೆಲೊ ಔಷಧಿ,

ಎಂದ್ಹೇಳಿದ ಶಿವ ತೊದಲುತಲಿ.

ಬಾಬಾಬುಡನ್ನಿಗೆ ಹಾರಿದನು,

ಗಿಡದಿಂದ ಬೀಜವ ಬಿಡಿಸಿದನು,

ಕೆಂಪಗೆ ಬಾಣಲೆಯಲಿ ಹುರಿದು,

ಮರಳುವ ನೀರಿಗೆ ಪುಡಿ ಬೆರಸಿ,

ಶೋಧಿಸಿ ಹಾಲು ಸಕ್ಕರೆ ಬೆರಸಿ,

ಬಿಸಿ ಬಿಸಿಯಾಗಿ ಪಾನವ ಮಾಡಿ.

ಈ ರೀತಿ ಹೇಳಿದ ಕಪಿಯೊಡೆಯ,

ಮಾಡಿಸಿ ಕುಡಿದನು ಜಗದೊಡೆಯ.

ಅಂತೂ ಈಶ್ವರನ ತಲೆನೋವು,

ನಿಲ್ಲದೆ ಓಡಿತು ಅಲ್ಲಿಂದ.

ಕಪಿ ಕೊಟ್ಟ ಬೀಜಕ್ಕೆ ಕಪಿ ಬೀಜವೆಂದು,

ಜನಗಳ ಬಾಯಿಗೆ ಧೀರ್ಘವು ಬಂದು,

ಆಯಿತು ಕಾಫಿ ಬೀಜವೆಂದು...

ಆಯಿತು ಕಾಫಿ ಬೀಜವೆಂದು...




ಎಲ್ಲ ಕನ್ನಡಿಗರಿಗೂ ಕನ್ನಡ ರಾಜ್ಯೋತ್ಸವದ ಹಾರ್ಧಿಕ ಶುಭಶಯಗಳು.
ಈ ಹಾಡನ್ನು ನಾನು ಚಿಕ್ಕವಳಿದ್ದಾಗ ನನ್ನ ಅಜ್ಜಿಯವರಿಂದ ಕಲಿತೆ. ನನ್ನ ಅಜ್ಜಿಯವರಿಗೆ ಈ ರೀತಿಯ ಜಾನಪದ ಗೀತೆಗಳು ಹಲವಾರು ಗೊತ್ತಿದ್ದವು. ನಾನು ಈ ಹಾಡನ್ನು ಮರೆಯುವುದರೊಳಗೆ ಇದನ್ನು ಇತರರಿಗೆ ಪರಿಚಯಿಸಬೇಕೆಂಬ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನ.


ಅಜ್ಜಿಯ ಕವನ ನೂರು ವರ್ಷಕ್ಕೂ ಹಳೆತು. ನಿಮಗೂ ಇಷ್ಟವಾಗಲಿ ಎಂದು ಬಯಸುತ್ತೇನೆ.

Friday, 30 October 2009

ek anek

Way back in the 90's when i was still in school, i used to wait expectantly for Children's day.
On November 14th every year all the teachers of my school became very busy arranging cultural programs for the students. In a reversal of roles, the teachers used to prepare skits, songs and dance and perform for us students, while we clapped, cheered and enjoyed ourselves.
Now, I have a haunch that my teachers also used to look forward to this event as much as i did, because i have realized that it is wonderful to be a kid when you are grown up.
The excitement simply cannot be expressed in words but must be felt and experienced.

So i will not talk much in this post, but will leave you with the pictures and the video.
I will end this post by saying that this play was a part of the cultural fest at office.


Watch the video, enjoy and do leave your comments. I hope it will remind you of all the old Doordarshan programs, as it did to me :) :)

The original Doordarshan video is here






Tuesday, 27 October 2009

Aaja bachpan ek baar phir



What is it I hear after a gong is struck? After the actual music disappears….

Should I call it an echo?

The sound waves are lost, but not quite...they seem to reverberate again, and once again…

I hear them in my ears or do I hear them inside my head?....

Do I really hear them at all….or do I just feel them?

Floating around a long time after the sound of music has actually passed…


Some memories are exactly like these gongs.

They come back again and again, even if they have happened in the long past

I seem to hear and see them so clearly…

and feel them in my heart too …

They reverberate inside me and leave me enchanted...

And I wish nothing else but to go back there just once more,

Just once more to those beautiful childhood days….

.

Who wouldn’t want to go back to those carefree and jolly days?

Days which were spent playing hide and seek,

Catching butterflies with huge saucers…

Scouring snails in abandoned houses....

Of all the naughty stuff done..some caught and some uncaught….

For that unblemished laughter, for that limitless fun….


After growing up, not many will get the opportunity to find them back.

If you do find it, it is priceless.


Subadra kumari chauhan has expressed this longing beautifully in her Hindi poem


Bar bar aati hai mujko, madhur yaad bachpan teri,

gaya le-gaya tu jeevan ki sabse madhur khushi meri.


Chinta rahit khelna khaana vaha phirna nirbhay swachand

Kaise bhula jaa saktha hai bachpan ka atulit aanand.


Unlike subhadra kumari chauhan, who found her childhood again in her daughter,

I too found my childhood, but elsewhere….

Though for a short while, it made me nostalgic and I felt like a kid once more…


How and when?


Coming up in the next post….stay tuned.



Saturday, 17 October 2009

Time....

She sits by the clear blue creek,

watching its grandiose mystique,

waiting for the golden sun on horizon,

tossing little grey pebbles one by one.


Time flows forever, like a stream

Or does the stream flow in time?

Time stops for no one they said,

Yet it stops the whole world, instead.


For it shall only turn on its own slow wheels,

all the bugging while its enigma it conceals.

The water and sky shall glow gold and sublime,

She has to fling her stones now, fling until its time...