Showing posts with label Chandra Mouli. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chandra Mouli. Show all posts

T.S. Chandra Mouli: In Conversation with Professor Basavaraj Naikar

Dr. Basavaraj Naikar. M.A., Ph.D., D.Litt. (California), UGC Emeritus Fellow, & former Professor and Chairman, Department of English, Karnatak University, Dharwad-580003, INDIA, is a bilingual writer both in Kannada and in English.   

His English publications include The Vacanas of Sarvajna, Critical Articles on Nirad C. Chaudhuri, The Folk-Theatre of North- Karnataka, Sandalwood, Sparrows, Beloved Poems, Kanakadasa, Critical Response to Indian English Literature, The Literary Vision, Perspectives on Commonwealth Literature, Indian Literature in English Translation, Glimpses of Indian Literature in English Translation, The Dramatic Imagination, The Dramatic Vision, English Literature in India: A Literary Communion, A Harbinger of Harmony, Sri Krisna Parijata, Nirad Chaudhuri As a Critic of Modern Culture, Focus on Indian Drama in English Translation, Indian English Drama, Essays on Comparative Literature and Translation, and Paradise Lost & Regained: A Modern Prose Translation.


 His The Thief of Nagarahalli and Other Stories was shortlisted for the Commonwealth Fiction Prize for the Best First Book from Eurasia for the year 2000. His first historical-political novel, The Sun behind the Clouds deals with the colonial encounter between Bhaskararao Bhave of Naragund kingdom and the East India Company during the 1857 Indian War of Independence. The same theme is dramatized in A Dreamer of Freedom. His second, philosophical novel, Light in the House deals with the life and mission of Sharif Saheb of Shisunal, an apostle of communal harmony between Hindus and Muslims. His third novel, The Queen of Kittur depicts the heroic life of Rani Chennamma of Kittur and her struggle with the East India Company around 1824. His Rayanna, the Patriot and Other Novellas depicts the extraordinary lives of Jakkanacharya, Kanakadasa, Raja Mallasarja of Kittur Kingdom and Rayanna of Sangolli. Bird in the Sky & A Pontiff of Peacockshire, delineate the miraculous lives of the super-saint of Hubballi, Sri Siddharudha Bharati and Nagalinga Avadhuta of Navilugund. His latest novels are Intrigue at Ikkeri, A Noble King of Bidanuru, The Warrior Queen of Keladi, A Democrat of Devotion, and A Glorious Emperor of Vijayanagara.

 

His translations from the Kannada into English include Fall of Kalyana, Sangya Balya: A Tale of Love and Betrayal, The Vacanas of Sarvajna, The Holy Water, The Frolic Play of the Lord, Sri Krisna Parijata, The Collected Short Stories of Kuvempu, The Mystic Utterances of Basaveswara, Mystic Warbles of Akkamahadevi, Ecstatic Wonder of Allamaprabhu and Songs of a Ferryman. 

 

 His critical and research articles in Kannada and English have been published in regional, national and international journals.  He reviews Indian literary works for World Literature Today, Oklahoma, USA and for many Indian journals regularly. His research interests include Indian English Literature, American Literature, Commonwealth Literature, Anglo–Indian Literature, Shakespeare Studies, Translation Studies, and Comparative Literature. He has a passion for music and philosophy in general.  He is married and has a son.
He lives in Dharwad, Karnataka, India.

                                                           *****

T.S.Chandra Mouli: Good morning Professor Basavaraj Naikar sir. We request you to share your views on translation studies.

Prof Basavaraj Naikar: Good morning, sir. I am glad to note that you are interested in translation studies.

T.S.C.M:I request you to share with us details about your childhood, education, career and academic as well as creative work.

Prof B.N: I was educated at the Practising School of the Government Training College for Men at Dharwad up to my fourth standard. Then I continued my education at the Municipal High School at Naragund, my native place. I was seriously trained in Hindustani classical music and used to participate in many programmes along with my guru, Sri Dattubuwa Thakurdas. My father wanted me to be a great musician by discontinuing my education, but my music teacher Sri Dattubuwa advised him not to discontinue my education until I pass my Matriculation Examination, and that I could shift to a musical career afterwards. Meanwhile my father expired when I was only 13 year and my younger brother Chandramouli was only ten. Thus there was a radical change of direction in my life. After passing my Matriculation exam from Naragund I went to Dharwad and joined the Karnatak Arts College and the Karnatak University and passed my M.A. in 1972. In my college days I studied English as my major subject and Kannada and Sanskrit as my minor subjects. In my M.A, I studied American Literature taught by Professor T.R.Rajasekharaiah and Indian Writing in English taught by Dr. M.K.Naik. By then Professor Armando Menezes had retired as a Professor & Head of the department, but used to teach us some texts. He was a classical scholar with knowledge of several European languages like Portuguese, French and German etc. He was a very inspiring teacher and very genial to his students. He recognized my artistic sensibility as I used to play on the stringed instruments like Bulbul Tarang and given me an excellent testimonial, which I have preserved even now. In my youthful enthusiasm, I had promised him that I would translate Milton’s Paradise Lost into my mother tongue, Kannada later in life. But I could not fulfil that promise until after my own retirement. Recently I have published Paradise Lost & Regained not only in Kannada prose form but also in English prose form for the benefit of all the graduate students. After passing my M.A., I was appointed as a Research Assistant in the Department of English at the Post-Graduate Centre of Karnatak University, situated at Gulbarga, where I carried out my doctoral research on Shakespeare’s Last Plays under the guidance of Professor T.R.Rajasekharaiah. Then I was promoted as Reader in English and again re-appointed as Reader at Karnatak University, Dharwad. Subsequently, I was promoted as Professor and served as the Head of the Department for three times and retired in 2009. Then I became a UGC Emeritus Fellow between 2011-2012 for two years and completed my project on “Representation of History in Indian/English Drama” successfully and published it from New Delhi.

T.SC.M: As we all know translations of literary works enrich a language and enhance opportunities of intercultural understanding. Kindly throw some light on the practice of translation in India.

Prof B.N: Although India has a rich tradition of as many as twenty two officially recognized regional languages; the translation activities have not been proportionate to its rich traditions, which is a sad state of affairs. Only recently some voluntary publishers have opened their eyes to the publication of translations, but there has been no systematic attempt by any Sahitya  Academy (including State and central) or University (State as well as Central) to get all the well-known Indian classics of all the major religions and cultures translated into Hindi and English at least, if not into other sister languages. The entire adventure is left to the sweet will of so-called big publishers, who are shamelessly commercial, nepotistic, communal and provincial in their selection of books for translation and publication. The translation of all the classics into all the twenty languages will result into a big number of 440 translated texts. But who will bell the cat? The Harvard University Press has set a model for the Indian academies and Universities to follow the adventurous task of getting the classics translated into English and Hindi. Translation will definitely enhance the understanding of people about their neighbours and will pave the way for national integration. In India translation has been the choice of voluntary scholars who are looked down upon as second-rate citizens with no proper recognition, fat prizes, awards and rewards for them. What I wish is that at least some four Central Universities of India in the north, south, east and west should begin the publication of a series of translations on the model of Harvard University by appointing or inviting veteran translators by offering them fat salaries. The classics of all religions like Hinduism, Virasaivism,  Sikhism, Jainism, Parsi and tribal cultures should be selected on a fair basis without any partiality or prejudice. Otherwise, the publication of translations will be slipshod and chaotic as it has been now.  In my view, the first priority should be given to the translations (into Hindi and English) of all the ancient and medieval classics and not to the modern or contemporary mediocre works like fiction and short fiction. It is surprising to know that many of the English translations of Indian regional texts are published in America and studied in their universities for the last two hundred years, but the same translations are neither available in India nor studied or taught seriously by our University professors due to their slavish colonial mindset.

 

T.S.C.M: Did you study translated texts as a child and as a student subsequently?

Prof B.N: I did not study any translated text as a child or even as a High school student. But when I joined College, I started reading some Kannada translations of the Ramayana, the Mahabharata, and the Bhagavata. I was really fascinated by A.R.Krishnashastri’s Vacana Bharata. As I was to be a student and teacher of English literature, I did not have to study Kannada translations extensively as it was outside the purview of my research and teaching. Later in my teaching career I read and appreciated the English translations of Greek classical Drama, French fiction and short fiction (of Flaubert’s Madam Bovary and Maupassant), German poetry like Goethe’s Faust, Dante’s The Divine Comedy, Spanish fiction like Don Quixote, and Russian classics like Mother, Crime and Punishment and Dead Souls and Sanskrit plays like those of Kalidasa, Bhasa, Bhavabhuti and Sudraka etc. You may be surprised to know that I found the English language in the English translations of European literature more fascinating than the English language used by the native British writers, perhaps because, as I think, it involves two slightly different cultures, regions, manners and philosophies.

T.S.C.M: What are the salient points of Indian tradition as regards literary translation, sir?

Prof B.N: There is no one India, but there are twenty two Indias hidden in the twenty two regional languages. Nobody can generalize about them. Even the big Central Sahitya Akademi cannot make any comments on such a problem.

T.S.C.M: Could you trace history of translation in Kannada?

Prof B.N: Kannada has a sufficiently rich tradition of translation. Shakespeare’s plays including many tragedies and comedies have been translated into Kannada right from the 19th century. Nilakanthegowda and Basavappasastri were the earliest translators. Masti Venkatesh Iyengar has translated a few plays of Shakespeare into Kannada. A few of Kalidasa’s plays and Moliere’s Tartuffe have been translated into Kannada and have been quite popular. BMSri is well known for his English Gitegalu. Nowadays there is an increase in the translational activities in Kannada, especially due to the Kuvempu Bhasa Bharati and offering encouragement to translators in terms of assignments and awards. It is getting a history of Kannada translations written by somebody, which is a welcome venture and will be highly useful to the future students and scholars. Nowadays several European and even Russian texts are being translated into Kannada by voluntary scholars, although there is no systematic direction to it. There is no systematic planning in undertaking the task of translations into Kannada.  For example, many Western epics other than the Iliad and the Odyssey have not been translated into Kannada. Similarly, the Chinese Yuan Drama and the Japanese Noh Drama have not been translated into Kannada. Leave alone Europe, even the plays and novels of other regional languages of India are not translated into Kannada in a systematic and on a large scale. Little is done, but there is more and more to be done. This apathy is due to lack of institutional encouragement to translations. Until and unless world literature in Kannada translation is prescribed, taught and learnt by the teachers and students, translation theory and practice will not thrive and comparative literature will not burgeon forth. In my view translation Theory and Praxis and Comparative Literature are the crying needs of the hour in India now. The Kannada scholar babble a lot about the concept of ‘Visva Manava’ but are not willing to read the world literature in translation, which is a great irony.

T.S.C.M: What differences one may notice between Indian aesthetics and those specific to Kannada, sir?

Prof.B.N: You mean Sanskrit aesthetics by Indian aesthetics. In my view there is no ‘Indian’ aesthetics. We generally mean Sanskrit aesthetics by Indian aesthetics.  There is a lot of difference between Sanskrit aesthetics and Kannada aesthetics, but it has not been theorized by our scholars so far. Nowadays they have started talking about a separate Kannada aesthetics or poetics, but it is very simplistic and not as scholarly as the Europeans have developed. Again the Kannada poetics has to be subdivided into Virasaiva poetics, Jain poetics and brahmanical poetics. The brahmanical poetics is a continuation of the Sanskrit poetics with its belief in the concept of Nine Sentiments (Nava Rasas) and eighteen descriptions (Astadasa Varnanas). It is still hung up on mythological themes and obsessions like the Ramayana, the Mahabharata and the Bhagavata traditions. But the Virasaiva poets of twelfth century Karnataka rebelled against the Sanskrit poetics and developed their own poetics by giving up the tenets of Sanskrit aesthetics. They gave up the concept of Eighteen Descriptions, rebelled against the elitist language of Sanskrit and advocated Bhakti literature which could be understood by the common man. But even then they did not overcome their obsession with gods, especially Siva. Likewise, the Jain poets also rebelled against Sanskrit poetics as well as Virasaiva poetics and developed their own forms of poetry based on their religion, but neither the Virasaiva nor the Jain scholars have developed advanced theories of poetics which could be placed in a wider perspective of the international theories. But the Jains also have not overcome their obsession with gods and spirituality. There is hardly any secular, elemental and universal depiction of man’s life in Virasaiva and Jain literature. They just talk about simple differences between different schools of poetics, only because they lack an international perspective due to their ignorance of English language and literature and the related philosophies. Here again some British or American or German or French scholar has to come and theorize their poetics for them, which is ridiculous. It is like the post-colonial theories developed by the Western scholars for the colonized people, who have that experience but cannot theorize about it. I complained against this desideratum as early as 1988 in a public lecture. Nowadays young scholars are toying with the idea of developing such theorization, but have not made any conspicuous progress in that direction. Many English professors who have turned out to be ‘great Kannada scholars’ babble a lot about the Western theories with supreme confidence, as their scholarship is nothing but an adventure of memorizing and summarizing. But they also cannot theorize about Kannada poetics as they lack the deep knowledge of old and medieval Kannada literary tradition, because they are too westernized and have no roots in their own cultures.

T.S.C.M: How did the practice of translation of literary texts enrich culture among Kannada speaking society?

Prof B.N: It has opened the vistas of world literature to the Kannada people to some extent, but not to a conspicuous extent. It is only bilingual scholars who engage themselves in this activity, which is not properly recognized and rewarded. The pure Kannada scholars (i.e. who know nothing about English literature) do not respond properly to these translations due to their ignorance and unwillingness to extend the frontiers of their knowledge.

T.S.C.M: Do you translate from Kannada into English or from English into Kannada, or both ways?

Prof B.N: I have translated from English to Kannada and vice versa also. For example, my Kannada translations include Androsina Kanye mattu Phormio, ,Jogibhavi mattitara Natakagalu, Nigudha Saudha, Govardhanaram, Bharatiya English Sahitya Charitre, Kempu Kanigilu mattitara Natakagalu, Vira Beowulf, Gilgamesh Mahakavya, Lusiads Mahakavya, Shakespearena Sunitamale, Kaledukonda Bhukailasa mattu Marali Padeda Bhukailasa, and Divya Prahasana or Danteya Darsana (which is to be published shortly).

Likewise, I have translated many Kannada works into English, which include The Frolic Play of the Lord, Sangya-Balya: A Tale of Love and Betrayal, Sri Krisna Parijata, The Holy Water, Fall of Kalyana, Collected Short Stories of Kuvempu, the Vacanas (mystic utterances) of Sarvajna, Basaveswara, Allamaprabhu, Akkamahadevi, Ambigara Chowdayya, Sri Satya Sai Baba’s Bhagavallila, and Paradise Lost & Regained: A Modern Prose Translation.

 These two experiences of translating from English into Kannada and from Kannada into English have sharpened my linguistic sensibility and knowledge and in turn helped me a lot in my creative writing of fiction, short fiction and drama also directly and indirectly. In fact, the experience of translation has acted as my impersonal teacher in the absence of real or willing teachers in my academic life. Initially I engaged myself in the act of translation due to my terrible loneliness (both physical and intellectual), which was a great curse for me during my exilic life at Gulbarga University, Gulbarga.

 

T.S.C.M: You are a well-known creative writer, eminent literary critic, erudite academic and prominent translator. Did you have any formal training in translation work?

Prof B.N: No sir. I did not have any formal training in translation. During my M.A. course, I had to opt for Indian Writing in English and American Literature in lieu of Linguistics and Phonetics. I hated phonetics as well as the arrogant teachers of phonetics with their up-in-the air feeling from the bottom of my heart. (The main reason for my anger with phonetics was not against it, but it was against the teaching of it at the post-graduate level. According to me this phonetics should be taught at the beginning level, i.e. PUC level of the college education and not at the post-graduate level. What they have been doing now is as ridiculous as putting the cart before the horse. I am dead against that practice.) But I read a lot about linguistics on my own and greatly appreciated Chomsky’s writings on language, because Chomsky was not a mere linguist but a philosopher. During my teaching career translation had not been popularized as it is now. So I had no formal training in translation. I learnt the art of translation on my own by trial and error method and my fascination for bi-cultural vision of life and ideologies.

T.S.C.M: What are the issues you encountered in translating fiction?

Prof B.N: The main problem for a translator from Kannada into English or vice versa is the two different linguistic sentence patterns. That requires an inwardness or intuition to communicate the thought of the source language to the target language without sounding very artificial. This is not always possible. What an Englishman says in a lengthy and complex sentence has to be divided into many independent sentences in Kannada. Contrary to this problem What a Kannada writer says or writes in many independent sentences could be compressed into one long and complex sentence. Both these arts require sufficient mastery over two languages, which is not a joke. It takes decades together to accomplish this expertise. Secondly, the difference between two texts belonging to two different cultures like the Western/Christian and Indian/Hindu cultures adds a lot to the problem. Many times we do not easily understand the meanings of English words with French, Greek and Latin quotations and other technical terms of religion and theology. Even if we understand them, it is not possible to find convincingly equivalent words for them. Similarly it is not possible to find English equivalent words for Kannada culture-specific words like pranalinga, prasadi and jangama etc.

T.S.C.M: Did you translate drama from Kannada into English? Share information, sir.

Prof B.N: I have translated Dr. Kalburgi’s Fall of Kalyana, Pattar Master’s Sangya-Balya and Kulagodu Tammanna’s Sri Krisna Parijata into English. I found all these plays very difficult to translate due to several songs or vacanas contained in them and the culture-specific technical terms of religion and philosophy, idiolects along with Sanskrit tags and several classical references in them. I had to struggle hard to domesticate my translation to the maximum extent. Many times I despaired, but then again took it as a challenge and completed the translation successfully. I found all these three texts tough to translate.

T.S.C.M: Which text proved tough to translate?

Prof B.N: My translation of Camarasa’s Prabhulinga Lile into The Frolic Play of the Lord was the most difficult of all for me to translate. I prepared the first draft of it as early as 1975 itself when I was suffering exile in Gulbarga University. The script was in the handwritten form. When after ten years or so, I wanted to get the same type-written, I had to revise it radically, as I had grown more experienced within the intervening ten years. My great guide Professor Rajasekharaiah had rebuked me by saying that I was wasting my time. But I knew that Prabhulinga Lile is a classic not to be neglected by any scholar. That is why it had already been translated into five South Indian languages like Telugu, Tamil, Marathi and so on before the seventeenth century itself. Again after my retirement, I tried to get the typed copy of the manuscript into a soft copy I had to revise it conspicuously and finally until I was totally satisfied with it myself and made it ready for publication. I found this text most tough to translate simply because I had to convert poetry, especially bhamini satpadi (six-lined stanza form) into modern English prose. I had to struggle with the words of medieval Kannada and their clear meaning by consulting dictionaries and Kannada scholars. Then it contains the most difficult to translate technical vocabulary of Virasiava philosophy and religion, metaphysics and cosmology. I faced the problem adventurously and solved the problem simply because I had been reading philosophy, both Western and Eastern right from my youth. Thus my knowledge of philosophy came to my help and conquered the difficulty.

 

T.S.C.M: You have dramatized a historical novel written by you in English. Why?

Prof B.N: I have dramatized not one but five of my novels into drama simply because I wanted to learn the difficulties involved in converting the same material from one genre into another. I wanted to learn the technicalities of trans-genre transformation. Then I learnt from self-experience that drama required a greater intellectual clarity than fiction and greater action than narration and greater compression than elaboration of fiction. The vast material, both historical and contemporary, has to be either shown on the stage or suggested through the dialogues, references and imagery. The time –factor will be haunting the playwright, who has to show within one or two hours what happened within fifty or hundred years. Besides, the dramatist has to be selective in his scenes and present only that which can be relished and tolerated by the spectators. Plus he has to entertain them also to some extent. The playwright’s vision of life or meaning has to be accentuated by music, scenery and the intelligence of the drama-director, because drama happens to be a co-operative art. But writing novels and short stories is comparatively easier, because there are no restrictions of time, space or action, or inhibitions or intolerances. He can indulge in the play of his extensive imagination, elaboration and linguistic skills to the maximum extent. I had felt this problem of trans-genre transformation when I was trying to summarize in Kannada prose some of the famous plays of Shakespeare like Charles Lamb. I found it rather difficult to convert Shakespeare’s plays into the form of easily readable stories. Thus the transformation of both kinds i.e. from drama into fiction and fiction into drama requires a lot of hard work, insight and double-edged talent. I wanted to face this problem and learn some insights by myself without anybody’s help, because nobody was there to help me in this adventure.

T.S.CM: Your translation of Kuvempu’s work is well known. Please elucidate your experiences.

Prof B.N: Kuvempu had been my favourite writer right from my graduate days in Karnataka Arts College where I had read some of his important critical essays and was fascinated by his melodious style. His Kannada style was Sanskritized vocabulary and elevated thought. Later I studied his provincial novels, short stories and mythological plays. I was surprised to know that nobody had bothered to translate his novels or stories into English until very recently. Many of the contemporary Kannada writers had neglected him because of their interest in self-aggrandisement and were trying to get their own second rate novels and stories translated into English. Besides I smelt a concealed streak of communalism in neglecting Kuvempu with regard to English translation. As I had read all of his stories during my teaching career and was fascinated by his provincial depiction of elemental and provincial life, rustic humour, pathos and tragedy, I was tempted to do my little service to him by translating them into English and give them a greater, national and international visibility. In 1982 itself I had translated one of his stories, ‘Audarya’ into English and sent it to Indian Literature, New Delhi (where it was published). I intimated the same to Sri Kuvempu by letter. I was extremely happy to receive his reply in his precious handwriting thanking and congratulating me for having done this service to him. This gesture testifies to the truth that great men are quite simple and responsive in their relation with people. By contrast, ordinary men do not even care to reply to our letters.

T.S.C.M: You have extensively translated Vacana poetry from Kannada into English. What motivated you to take it up, sir?

Prof B.N: Vacana Poetry happens to be great storehouse of spiritual wisdom, social satire about Vedic karmakanda and caste-and-gender discrimination. It is at once lyrical, mystic and metaphysical, though their degree may differ slightly from poet to poet. Right from my high school days I had read a few earlier translation of vacana poetry by S.M.Angadi, Armando Menezes, S.S.Basavanal, Srinivas Iyengar, P.G Halakatti and others published by Karnatak University and other institutes. All these stalwarts had done yeoman service to vacana literature and struggled a lot to give it national and international publicity and visibility. But when I grew from year to year in my intellectual life, I felt that their translations smacked strongly of Victorianism. I therefore thought of translating them in the modern style, which can appeal to the modern reader. Professor S.S.Bhusnurmath had translated the magnum opus, Sunya Sampadane (V vols) with detailed annotations along with other scholars like R.C.Hiremath, M.S.Sunkapur, S.C.Nandimath and Professor Armando Menezes and published it from Karnatak University, Dharwad around 1968-70. Then A.K.Ramanujan, who happened to be a junior colleague of S.S.Bhusnurmath at Lingaraj College of Belagavi before he left for Chicago in search of a better job, was inspired and guided by Professor Bhusnurmath to translate a few stray vacanas into English and publish them in some Indian local journals. But when he settled down in Chicago, he published his well known Speaking of Siva from the Penguin International Publishing Firm. So vacana poetry got some boost in terms of international publicity. Ramanujan was lucky enough to get an international publisher for his translation. Many British and American readers liked it. But unfortunately I did not like it for a variety of reasons. For example, I did not like his translating the proper names like Kudala-Sangama into Lord of the meeting rivers and Cennamallikarjuna into Lord of the white jasmines. Secondly I found his translation to be too American in its terseness and lack of emotion (of bhakti). He was influenced by the poetry of E.E.Cummings. His translation looked rather cut and dry to my Indian taste. In fact I quarrelled with his fan, Dr. Ayyappa Panikker, when he was alive by writing to him about my dissatisfaction with Ramanujan’s translation. Dr. Ayyappa Panikkar wrote back to me that I was right in my response to Ramanujan’s translation, but the Americans and Canadians and even the Britons liked his translation because it agreed with their materialistic taste. I have always felt that Ramanujan’s translation lacks the mystical aura of vacana poetry in it. (This does not mean that I am contemptuous of Ramanujan’s effort. I have great respect for him as a folklorist and I met him once at Dharwad when my teacher Dr. Mokashi-Punekar introduced me to him.) But this is only an ideological difference. I therefore thought of translating vacana poetry in my own way, in a modern way without bringing in the old-fashioned Victorianism. As vacana poetry deserves greater international publicity and visibility I have rendered my ‘squirrel’s service) to it in my humble way.

T.S.C.M: Do you feel there is sufficient encouragement and patronage for translation work in India?

Prof B.N: Sorry sir. There is neither proper recognition nor encouragement to translators in terms of translation fees, salaries, remunerations, prizes, or awards and rewards. Translators are treated as second rate citizens, who are not capable of original writing. This is a blatant lie. Although some snobs look down upon translators as second rate, they secretly wish their own books in regional languages to be translated into English and publicized worldwide, which is a great irony. Translators are potentially creative writers and masters of two languages and have insight into two cultures. They can be greater scholars than the original writers whom they translate. It is generally said that sometimes the English translation of a work in some regional language is far better than the original work as far as its international reach is concerned. It is commonly said that the English translation of Anthony Borges’ Hundred Years of Silence is far better than the original work. Likewise, Fitzgerald’s English translation of the Rubayats of Omar Khayyam is said to be far better than the original work. This happens because the translator happens to be greater than the translated author in scholarship, insight and perception. He lends his latent creativity to the translated work. There cannot be any world literature and Comparative Literature without the availability of translated works. When as the Chairman of the Board of studies of our University I had to frame the syllabus for a course called Indian drama in English Translation (as part of Indian Literature in English translation) I was hectically searching for English translations of some famous Hindi plays, especially historical plays or social plays or absurd plays, I could not find any. Therefore I had helplessly to prescribe the only available translation, Andh Yug by Dharmavir Bharati. It is a sad state of affairs to notice that in India it is the publishers who control the Universities instead of the Universities controlling the publishers (unlike in England and America). It is like a tail controlling the dog and not the dog controlling the tail. The Universities have to make do with whatever is available in the market, which is controlled by the commercial publishing ventures. Excellent historical plays of old days have not been reprinted by them, although there is a great academic demand for them in the University syllabi.

T.S.C.M: How can we sustain translation work, sir?

Prof B.N: The best way to encourage standard translation work is to set up a national level Institute of Translation, prepare a master plan of translation of all the Indian  regional classics from the earliest days up to the twentieth century, invite the seasoned translators by paying them fat and regular salary, scrutinize them in the committee of translators, publish and distribute them nation-wide. Then make the translation theory and practice compulsory in the colleges and universities right from the B.A. level up to the doctoral level. The Universities should award Ph.D. degree to a scholar who translates a great regional classic into English with a standard introduction and notes as it is done in European universities. Then institute grand Awards like Jnanapith Awards named as Savyasachi Awards for the veteran translators also by recognizing their life-time achievement.

T.S.C.M: Do you feel that Eurocentric theories and practices need be followed by Indians?

Prof B.N: The Eurocentric theories of translation are very insightful, scholarly and inspiring, but they are all formulated against the background of European languages. We must be inspired by them, but should develop our own theories of translation with special reference to our regional languages and literature. Vilas Sarang has written a book on the problems of translation from Marathi into English and offered some interesting insights. But such books are not available about other regional languages like Kannada, Tamil and Telugu etc. Our fake-scholars trained in CIEs and CIILs have not produced any handbooks of translation or bilingual or multi-lingual dictionaries, which are absolutely necessary for the progress of translation work. Once in my public lecture in a conference, I took the then Vice Chancellor of EFLU, Hyderabad to task for not catering to the needs of Indian students by preparing bilingual and multi-lingual dictionaries from regional languages to English (not from English to regional languages). He apologized and confessed to their inability to do so and promised that such work would be taken up in future. There are no thematic and pictorial bilingual dictionaries in India. Mere alphabetical dictionaries will not be useful to the students completely. Monolingual dictionaries are totally useless for Indian students. Different kinds of dictionaries of homonyms, antonyms, thematic dictionaries, dictionaries of words with similar beginnings or endings should be published and lexicology should be taught and practised widely in our Universities. An ambience for the translational work should be built up before launching upon the adventure of translation. Translation is an act of academic heroism.

T.S.C.M: Are retranslations needed? How do they contribute to the socio-cultural history of a speech community?

Prof B.N: Yes, very much needed. For example, many Greek epics have been translated again and again in every century in order to satisfy the target language readers. For example there are more than four verse translations and one prose translation in English of The Divine Comedy, but yet the meaning of these translations cannot be grasped totally by the Indian students and even the teachers. In such a situation, simpler and simpler translations are required for academic purposes. Prose translations of original verse or poetry are urgently required for the scholars for various reasons. For example, I cannot read a text in medieval Kannada easily as I have no patience with its antique vocabulary, tight poetic structure, rhyme and rhythm. I just want to know the summary of the theme of the poem for my enlightenment. In such a situation a modern prose translation of an epic poem or long narrative is a great necessity.  Similarly, while I appreciate the Shakespeare industry in the world, I expect eagerly for the British Shakespeare scholars to produce modern prose translations of all the plays of Shakespeare for non-British students and teachers. Having securely understood the logical (prose) meaning of the plays, the students may go back to the local (poetic) meaning of the original plays. If I understand your idea of a re-translation correctly, I wish to give my own example. I translated J.M. Synge’s The Well of the Saints into Kannada by thoroughly Indianizing it as Jogibhavi, which became very popular on the stage and was prescribed as a text for BA and MA of two Universities in our State, broadcast and telecast repeatedly. After nearly twenty years of this success, it occurred to me that I can re-translate my Jogibhavi into Standard English and I did so by entitling it as The Holy Water, in which I had presented the Indian culture back to Ireland. It was writing back to Ireland. In the first attempt the Irish English and the Christian culture were transplanted into Kannada idiolect and Lingayat culture whereas in the second attempt the Kannada idiolect and Lingayat culture were transplanted into Standard English and represented to the Irish readers. As Dr. O.P.Mathur (of BHU, Varanasi) opined, such attempt of re-translation was something unprecedented in Indian literary realm.

T.S.C.M: Do you feel that a translator should function as an interpreter also?

Prof B.N: Yes, a translator must and should act as an interpreter also. Otherwise he cannot communicate his vision completely to the target language reader.

T.S.C.M: What is your prognosis as regards translation work, sir?

Prof B.N: Sooner or later translation work will be recognized and encouraged as the Indian scholars will realize its enormous importance due to their intellectual growth and widening the horizons of knowledge.

T.S.C.M: Do you recommend special courses and workshops in academic institutions to enthuse learners to develop interest in translation activities?

Prof B.N: Yes, definitely. All the Indian colleges should introduce translation: theory and practice in all the language departments at the starting level, i.e. PUC level itself and should be continued up to doctoral and post-doctoral level with greater depth and width of the subject. If the students are trained like this gradually, they will be able to formulate theories of translation as the Western scholars have been doing. And for those unfortunate students and teachers who are not formally taught the art of translation, regular workshops should be conducted once or twice a year in the Universities and research Institutes.

T.S.C.M: What is your advice to budding translators, please?

Prof B.N: My advice to the young translators is that they should overcome their inferiority complex that is attached to translators right now in our country. They should know that translators are ambi-dexterous heroes (Savyasachis) with a mastery over two languages and two cultures. They should not only master the lexicons of two languages but also read extensively in the literatures of those two languages in order to acquire an inwardness into them or an intuition into them, if you like, so that they can be more and more creative in their translations. They should be proud of being cultural ambassadors and bridges between different cultures of the world.

T.S.C.M: Thanks for sparing your precious time to share your views and experiences about the art and science of translation, sir.

Prof B.N: Dear Dr. Chandra Mouli, I should thank you profusely for eliciting my views on this interesting subject.

*****

T.S. Chandra Mouli

T. S. Chandra Mouli, an academic, poet, translator and critic, is a Fellow of Royal Asiatic Society, Great Britain and Ireland. With 5 books of poems in English to his credit, he published 36 books including 10 books of literary translation and 21 books on literary criticism and ELT. His poems in English and translations of Telugu poetry and fiction are extensively published. He is the Chief Editor of VIRTUOSO, a Refereed Transnational Bi-Annual Journal of Language and Literature in English. Vice Chairman of AESI [Association of English Studies in India] for two consecutive terms, Dr Mouli made presentations in International Conferences in universities in China, Thailand, Philippines, Malaysia, Indonesia, the U.K, France, Sri Lanka, Brazil, Cambodia, Australia, Taiwan, Borneo [East Malaysia], Japan, Italy, Spain, Romania, Lithuania and Poland.  He is associated with International academic organisations as a senior member on Review Committees. He visited Vietnam and Singapore. He lives in Hyderabad, India.

******

Essentials of Living: Sony Dalia (Poetry)

Sony Dalia

Punch the Pandemic


As long as day was bright, shade was in demand
when shadows invaded, frantic search for light,
can’t man live in peace, sans envy, pride, fright?
Composure ensures safety to ship under command.

Caution good any day
can’t avoid some at times;
tact helps us sometimes
firm, soft words best way.

 Unhindered liberty harms, swarms, swallows
 thoughtless masses gather for eternal sleep;
 paranoid helmsmen sacrifice men like sheep,
 pandemic spares none, drives all to gallows!

 Uncaring folks cause pain
 move on, carry not strain;
 faith heals, cheers, fails none
 keep bonds strong, snap none!
***

 
Sony Dalia is the pseudonym of T.S. Chandra Mouli, an academic, poet, translator and critic, who published four anthologies of poems, Delightful Dawn (2011), Graceful Green (2012), Hopping on Hope (2015) and Sparklers (2021). The poet visited 18 countries across 4 continents to make academic presentations in International Conferences and hopes to visit Africa and North America in a couple of years. Hopping on Hope was launched in University of East Anglia, Norwich, U.K. Sony Dalia, who has been publishing poems in English for the last twenty five years, lives in Hyderabad, India.
***

Fiction: Unfathomable Feelings (L. R. Swamy)

Translated by: T. S. Chandra Mouli


[Please read the Postscript first]

I glanced one more time…
The sun rising just then looked like blooming on my mother’s face. I breathed serenely. The train was hurtling into brightness dissecting layers of darkness enveloped around. As we passed Coimbatore, probably in an hour we might reach Palakkad.
My spirit swelled with delight! After so many years my desire was going to be fulfilled. I was travelling with my mother to her place of birth!
I was not sure whether she was inclined or not to visit the place she belonged to. She never uttered a word about her feelings. Nothing she demanded. Her eyes appeared like the sky during inclement weather. 
Never opened up in pain or pleasure.
She was gazing through the window with rapt attention.
She was gazing through the window with rapt attention. Did her face glisten with joy? Who knew? I could not unravel by myself. From my childhood I could never read her. She pampered me with her love. But she did not implore for anything.
I was obstinate by nature. I always made a fuss about what I wanted to be done with my obduracy for any length of time. I remembered well to have stretched my tantrums for week once. It was during summer vacation, I made a big fuss about vising maternal grandmother’s place. As usual my mother did not utter a word.
“Why don’t you take me there? I have been asking from such a long time.”
She was unmoved.
“All my friends have gone.” Rising from the place I sat for my meal, I approached her. “Let us go there.”
She was silent!
“You must show me the place,” I cried loudly, shaking her shoulder with my left hand. I was stretching it too far.
She was unresponsive.
“What happened? My grandmother died? Tell me.” I shouted unable to control my temper.
My mother mopped her eyes with free end of her sari hem. Then very quietly told me, “You eat your meal my darling daughter. I will tell you later.”
 “What will you tell? Some tale you will narrate. This time it will not be possible. If you tell me that we would go, then only I will eat.”
Keeping hem of her sari across her mouth, she moved towards kitchen.
“Without a word you are going away.” I was in frenzy. “I don’t want this food. Nothing I want.” I kicked my plate.
In a flash she reached there and banged me. “Has food become so trivial for you!” 
She left the place sobbing. I stood there crying, looking at the scattered meal reminding mother’s trickling tears on floor.
Food was so divine to my mother! She was very kind to hungry people. Even when beggars came, if she felt they were hungry, she cooked a meal and served them, though cooked food was exhausted by then. I knew it very well.
When I was studying intermediate course…
I reached home around three o’clock from my college. Three kids appeared there, as I was crossing the threshold… they were beggars in the street… Sitting on raised platform in our front yard, they were eating their meal…standing beside them she was serving them food affectionately! 
I was mad with fury. Unhygienic fellows in rags, with running nose… they ate food there earlier also, I remembered. I disliked them. That aspect I disclosed to my mother too. But, still…
Of late they were trying to develop contact with a smile, on seeing me. At the bus station also, they tried to greet addressing me, “Akka!”, when I was busy conversing with my friends.
I was furious. I charged kicking their bowls of food. I got a tight slap.
Like a raging volcano my mother stood there!
“How dare you kick meal reaching a mouth, you… ill-gotten gain like girl!”
I was stunned. Anxiously I looked around.
“What do you know about pangs of hunger? One who had suffered knows it.” My mother broke into sobs.
“My father had to sell me, as he was unable to give a square meal.” 
It struck me like a bolt from the blue. What was my mother talking about?
Subsequently I learnt slowly.
My grandfather lived in an agraharam, where Brahmin quarters were located, near Palakkad. The poverty stricken family was the worst affected one. Five girl children… People in the agraharam visited houses seeking alms by telling about the details of star, day as per lunar calendar and served as cooks…ate when food was available… mostly slept on empty stomachs…
“Many nights we slept on empty stomachs,” she told me.
“My father used to go out after bathing early in the morning. He came back at noon. My mother waited keeping hot water ready for cooking a meal. She transferred the rice so fetched as alms [if at all he got] immediately into water kept ready for cooking.”
Tears tricked from her eyes, voice choked. After a minute suppressing grief, she further disclosed.
“Those were days of impoverishment. But time and growth of a girl halt not. Whether well fed or not, children grow with time…attain puberty. As one was watching we all reached marriageable age. Five grown up daughters ready for marriage! My father’s state was terrible like that of a rat that fell into trough of water and grains meant for cattle to consume.”
I listened intently.
“One day mamayya, my mother’s brother, came. He spoke with my parents. I don’t know how he managed, my father got me two long skirts and upper garments to wear spreading over shoulder, covering my bosom.”
“Then…?” I was inquisitive.
“I was so delighted that day. We didn’t see new clothes in the last four years. But my mother…”
“What ammamma did?”
“She did not allow me to wear new clothes. Entire day my mother was crying. Even at night she was grief-stricken.” 
Mopping her eyes once more she continued. “Next day I was given a traditional bath as on a festival day. She applied mixture of turmeric paste and lime that turned red on drying to my feet, as was done on auspicious occasions like weddings. Looking at me dressed in the new clothes she burst into sobs. I too cried. Don’t know from where she got, she prepared porridge like dessert with milk and rice. Feeding me she said, ‘You must be careful there dear daughter. There won’t be dearth of food or clothing.’ Then we started.”
“Where?”
“To this place!”
“Then, how old were you amma?” I had to mop my tears.
“I was just like you…same age. I, my mamayya and my father got down from the train here. In the railway station a couple of men looking like purohits, priests who conducted rituals, were seen. They had some secret talk with my father. We were all led to a temple. There I saw your father. I also saw your father handing over money to my father. He tied the knot around my neck that day.”
“Then what?”
“What is there? Like this… in this house… like this…”
“Did you know Telugu at that time?”
 “Absolutely no. Even this cuisine was unknown.”
“How did you manage?”
“Hunger knows not language or type of cooking, dear!”
“There after…?”
“I followed your father’s instructions. I learnt language and traditions of this place. Gave
 birth to you and you’re your younger brother.”
“How about…your father and mamayya…?” 
“They boarded the immediately available train. I never saw them again.”
“Didn’t you feel like meeting them?”
“Why not dear? But…I am not supposed to visit my parent’s home. After handing me over to your father, they performed obsequies for me on river Krishna banks and left the place.”
My mother bitterly cried in anguish.
River Krishna originating in western ghats moved towards the sea flowing in front of my home. Occasionally the river swelled with cheer and twirled. At times she wept inconsolably. Inundated us all when enraged. Now and then she was emaciated. Yet, the same river Krishna had been sustaining us!

Now, after nearly fifty years I was accompanying my mother to agraharam where she was born and raised.

My brother who came on holiday to India from America called me and asked me to accompany mother, who lived in Vijayawada with me, to agraharam near Palakkad. I learnt that he was transferred to that place. He lived in a rented house there!
My joy knew no bounds. 
After fifty years my mother was going to see her own home there!
She would meet her people!
She would spend the rest of her life in the soil she was born in!
The train halted.
“I wanted to stay in the agraharam amma!” he said the moment we emerged from the railway station. “But there are no decent houses. All are in dilapidated condition.”
He spoke truth. In evening as we visited the place, all houses looked like relics of bygone ages! Tiled structures in decrepit state reflected the impoverished condition of those who lived there. No signs of financial development made by the country were visible. No trace of life on roads could be seen. Emaciated bodies in tattered clothes without an upper cloth to cover, squatted on the raised platforms before every house, like embodiments of poverty.
“This is an old-age home, akka!” my brother joked.
“All are elderly people here. Anxiously await funds remitted by their children in far off places. Whether they send sufficient funds to these people is highly debatable.” 
My mother who was looking at each house keenly halted suddenly. She mopped her eyes with hem of sari.
“Any issue?” I asked her.
“Nothing, my daughter!”
“Tell me amma! What did you remember?”
“At that time I was ten year old girl,” she confided. “Roads were cut for installing poles for fixing power lines. Look here, in the pit dug for this pole, I came running and fell that day.” She paused for a minute.
“My father thrashed me like hell that day for falling in the ditch…”
“Very strange! Why should he thrash you? He was supposed to comfort you first…”
“How can I explain to you dear? If injuries are sustained, we should consult a doctor. For that money was needed. Situation was so pathetic that meagre amount worth a damaged shell too was not there. He shifted his helplessness targeting me.That’s all. Look here, this scar is a result of sutures used to close cuts on my chin that day.”
My heart grew heavy. I was startled to know how pathetic some lives could be.
We entered the agraharam streets where western light permeated. My mother searched for the home she was born in and raised. She could not locate it.
We reached Shiva Temple at the far end of a street. It looked like rush hour. Only ladies were on view! They were busy with circumambulation of the main shrine in the temple. We too joined them.
I noticed a lady constantly gazing at my mother. She took after mother.
“Akka…are you fine?” She embraced mother in a trice. She spoke fluent Tamil.
I could not understand a single word. Yes, mother spoke Tamil. But I could not.
Immersed in conversation they walked till a banyan tree at a distance.
Slowly visitors to the temple turned thinner. Those who could put across their turmoil to the God came out with relief. It was time for the temple to be locked.
Then they came near me…with swollen faces, red eyes… having cried to their hearts’ content…
“Dear daughter, she is your aunt.” Cheer overflowed in mother’s voice.
“She is in this place only. Her children are employed in Dubai.”
I could see clearly nascent moonlight spreading on my mother’s face!
After our supper, we sat on the terrace. Mother spoke eloquently! 
I never visualised the wealth of words treasured by her all the days!
That’s why it was said ‘a parrot is comfortable where it belongs to’!
A week passed by. Steady stream of relations and friends of mother continued every day. Her face was glowing. I was greatly relieved. I never saw her so happy! 
After my father’s demise, she continued to live alone in Vijayawada. 
If she could spend the rest of the days with such ease… 
I shared my feelings with my younger brother.
“Certainly akka!” he said. 
“With such an intention only I requested for a transfer to this place. I will be here for ten years. If required it can be extended by five more years. I think mother is in her seventy fifth year…”
That day I had to leave for Vijayawada. As I was packing my baggage, mother stood beside me.
“Pack my saries too, dear!” she told me.
I looked at her in surprise.
“I too will follow you to Vijayawada. Just now told him to buy a ticket for me too.”
“What happened amma?” I asked anxiously.
“You came here to settle well…has any one …brother’s wife offended you?”
“No dear!”
“Then… aren’t you happy here?”
“I am comfortable.”
“What is this amma? It is your own place. Those that speak your language…your sister, relations, friends… all are here. In your own town you can live with your son in the same house. He requested for a transfer to this place with that intention only.”
My mother did not speak.
“Tell me, who is there in Vijayawada to take care of you? I leave for America. You will be alone there… at this age…” 
“I will be really comfortable there, dear!”
I was speechless. Tell me, are feelings fathomable?

Post Script: It is historically established that poor Brahmin girls in Palakkad area were brought by their fathers to Vijayawada and sold to Brahmins there for monetary gain during the period 1940-1950.Widowed or aged men used to marry such innocent unmarried girls to spend the rest of their lives with them.
***
T. S. Chandra Mouli
About the Translator:
T. S. Chandra Mouli, an academic, poet, translator and critic, is a Fellow of Royal Asiatic Society, Great Britain and Ireland. He published 32books [19 edited anthologies of literary criticism and 9 authored works besides 4 books of poetry in English]. He completed translation assignments for institutions of higher learning. His translations of Telugu poetry and fiction are extensively published. He is Chief Editor of VIRTUOSO, a Refereed Transnational Bi-Annual Journal of Language and Literature in English. Vice Chairman of AESI [Association of English Studies in India] for a second term, Dr Mouli made presentations in International Conferences in universities in China, Thailand, Philippines, Malaysia, Indonesia, the U.K, France, Sri Lanka, Brazil, Cambodia, Australia, Taiwan, Borneo [East Malaysia] besides Japan, France and Spain [online]. He visited Vietnam and Singapore. He lives in Hyderabad, India.
***** 

About the Author:

L. R. Swamy, a prolific writer and winner of several awards, keeps a low profile and loves to lead simple life like major characters in his stories. He is a much respected, senior writer among Telugu creative writers. Lakshmanaayyar Rama Swamy was born and brought up in Kerala. Tamil is his mother tongue. Impact of Malayali culture and traditions are perceptible in his works. A chemical Engineer by profession and retired General Manager of Andhra Petrochemicals Ltd, he learnt Telugu while working in Visakhapatnam in Andhra Pradesh. He translates texts in Malayalam and Tamil into Telugu and Telugu fiction and poetry into Malayalam. But he writes fiction and poetry in Telugu. He won Kendra Sahitya Akademi award in 2015 for translation of Malayalam novel into Telugu. He translated more than 200 short stories and published 40 books so far. He is president of Mosaic Literary Association and Sahridaya Sahithi, Visakhapatnam, Andhra Pradesh, India.
*****

Translation: Telugu poems of Anugu Narsimha Reddy

Anugu Narsimha Reddy

Translated into English by: T. S. Chandra Mouli


Dr Anugu Narsimha Reddy is Secretary of Telangana Sahitya Akademi, Hyderabad. He is a special Grade Deputy Collector on deputation to the Akademi. He has published 10 books that include 5 books of poetry in Telugu besides works on literary criticism and translations. He has also edited 5 books of poetry and criticism.2 books written evaluating his works help one assess his calibre as a creative writer who has received 12 awards from different literary organisations. Author of hundreds of Telangana Rubayait, he is known for his amiable nature and integrity.


 Snap the Link

No folk tale narrates
presence of shapeless splinters of power,
no epic explicates
through which pore life exits
though human body is a sieve.
Lizards are known
Dinosaurs also are known
a bird is known
life that flies like a bird too!
Where is the link
for a reaction to an action,
how response is related to
deeds of an earlier day?
Count the tethers
in Yama’s hands, dear!
Two hemispheres
countries on the poles
tropical terrain
where it slithers silently
when it devours life---
unknown frailty,
known inability to combat.
You are unable to loiter
within confines of a room,
it has crossed borders already!
Corona is lame
only when one lends support
it spreads.
Corona is blind
it moves only if one shows path
showering light.
Corona is mute
despite your eloquence
it silently minds its work.
It is an airborne flame
on the move,
all places it touches
turn into ashes for a rebirth.
Whether the wheel whirls
or cotton puffs are afloat is unknown.
It cannot be immersed in water
nor can be cut with clippers ---
now every part of the globe
became a battle field
with an invisible enemy.
If only one can stay sans movement
its link gets snapped suddenly.
If only people refrain from handling
its empire collapses.
If all wear garland of hygiene
it slips away silently.
If only distancing is sustained
by all the concerned
it moves far away
and disappears totally.
Just three options for all---
to stay at home
to stay in hospital
or remain under a wreath!
 *****

Blue Jay
Is there any variance between
expression and existence?
Any veil parts verse and way of life?
Is there a plan
for adoration and anger?
In the absence of all these
what is there
to speak about him?
Whether by bus
or on a bicycle
or hiding in a car one may travel,
one needs to be punctual
if one desires to attend an event---
he asserts firmly.
Whether one buys books
or searches in google
if committed to submit script
one day in advance it should be ready,
he mandates.
No utterance should be like
deluge of a drunkard’s words,
what cannot be done
should not be accepted anytime,
in unfavourable times trusting elusive breeze
no point in winnowing harvested grain---
revolutionary light he sheds, whip in hand!
Whether poetry recitation
or detailing depths of stories
on platforms or polemics
Marxism his touchstone
Telangana his milestone!
When drilled bores were wide agape
soulfully speaking with cultivators,
on enquiring about misery of workers
who hanged themselves,
becoming a poetic Blue Jay
he shows direction in his songs!
As seats of power attract with aerobatics
with silvery moonlight of rewards
chasing him all around
he clarifies as a rural mother
who loves tranquillity of twilight!
During anti-liquor movement
confessed his weakness for drinks
and was never drawn that way,
a poet of peerless rectitude!
Learning of many turncoats
he candidly demands all
to speak only what one trusts,
practice what one preaches---
He is Sidhareddy*
nay
ever unswerving action ready!
Note:
 Sidhareddy*= Dr Nandini Sidhareddy is Founder, Chairman of Telangana Sahitya
 Akademi, Hyderabad. A renowned Telugu poet, literary critic and eloquent speaker, he
 has a number of publications to his credit.
*****

Hail Mother Kakati
Wiping tears of sadness
for the Plateau divested of water
conceiving concise forms of ocean
casting bottoms of balls of water
went away fixing to every village---
they were new age Bhagirathas!
They were visionaries
who could divine supply channels to irrigation tanks
that defied devastation with passage of time.
Like a mother’s loving heart
that castes an eye over children’s hunger
they were donors of irrigation canals
that fed crops to grow,
embodiment of paternal fondness
they structured sluices.
They were neo Mayas
who could envisage surplus water weir
of irrigation tanks that measured
capacity of ponds of water.
Moonlight of progeny occupied
their inner eyes---
fascinating fields of crops
that rolled along with times.
After enduring epics
these amazing human innovations
have defied flow of Time---
daughters of Kakatiya conscience!
Hail mother Kakati!
Hail the tank
that evokes the name!
*****

 Getting Hurt
I wish not to get wounded,
I desire to be watchful of
invisible arrows while moving
from the moment I wake up,
hone skills not to be target of
bullet like words
whenever I step out.
While on a stroll
someone comments
 “watch your step?”
As I drive a vehicle
someone else asks
 “where did you learn driving?”
When price of a commodity is enquired
my wife passes a snide remark
 “do you know how to bargain?”
I try to heal minor bruises
caused by uninvited arrows,
just then drenches suddenly
torrent of slinging slander.
Before one can recover composure
like honey bees swarming around
invisible smoke smoulders
from detonations of explosive scoops.
I try to explain truth
to the best possible extent,
venture to register answers
on heckling foreheads ,
attempting to apply palliative to the injury
I make effort not to get hurt at all!
In unnoticed battle field
amidst inaudible blasts of bombs,
concealed weapons,
explicit honeyed expressions,
in the midst of mooted morals
among undisclosed agendas
hoping to escape from all sharp knives
I wish to remain unscathed---
but reach home only after getting hurt!
 ***** 
T. S. Chandra Mouli
About the Translator:
T. S. Chandra Mouli, an academic, poet, translator and critic, is a Fellow of Royal Asiatic Society, Great Britain and Ireland. With 3 books of poems in English to his credit, he published 26 books [19 edited anthologies of literary criticism and 7 authored works]. He completed translation assignments for institutions of higher learning.
 His poems in English and translations of Telugu poetry and fiction are extensively published. Coolie the Sovereign [a play] and Black Lotus: Telugu Dalit Women’s Poetry may be mentioned as noteworthy among his translation works. He is the Chief Editor of VIRTUOSO, a Refereed Transnational Bi-Annual Journal of Language and Literature in English.

Vice Chairman of AESI [Association of English Studies in India] for a second term, Dr. Mouli made presentations in International Conferences in universities in China, Thailand, Philippines, Malaysia, Indonesia, the U.K, France, Sri Lanka, Brazil, Cambodia, Australia, Taiwan and Borneo [East Malaysia]. He visited Vietnam and Singapore. He lives in Hyderabad.

Translation: Yakoob’s Poems [Telugu to English]

[All poems in Telugu are translated into English by T.S.Chandra Mouli]
1. Border Line               

Living together too is an offence---
but, between every movement, action lie unknown lines.

1.Quite unknowingly between inerasable  lines
life started afresh also begins as a query
Five year old Sahir saying
‘Dada’s family is Allah’s
Ammamma, thathayya belong to God’s family’
begins life with the same query.
The little one’s life too 
finds it difficult to tide over rigid frame work of faiths.
In his playful acts, movements, behaviour
borders of religion
Ammamma’s house,Dada, Dadi’s residence
two different borders.

2.It is not a crime to love
sporting a mark on forehead, 
erasing it in village border also not a crime
Brought up, traditions are like striking measures of life.
‘Salutations to Saraswati’
‘ Allaho Akbar’
mark measurable differences in conjugal life.
Betwixt provocative religions 
from the names to roots of stretching sanctions
she remains as a Temple and I am a Mosque.
Henceforth
for this little one, mark of our association
which ‘Trishanku Palace’ has to be sought?

3.Philosophers too don’t divulge
if at all we reach a state sans religions
Atheists abandon not dots, bangles, turmeric stains.
Rationalists, non-believers leave not symbols of faiths
Perhaps, religion too
has acquired a right over body like blood.

4.Between a body and nation a borderline
separating self and religion
distancing a person and affinities


sli
      the
           ring
border line!
***  

2. Avval Kalima

You don’t believe my words
but, no one speaks of our problems
here too once again people who lost glory
ten or eleven generations earlier alone
reminisce, terming it our collective expression.

Perhaps, this is itself exploitation of experiences!

Actually ‘Nawabu’, ‘Muslimu’, ‘Sayibu’, ‘Turaka’---
whoever is known by such names, belong to those classes exclusively---
for those who enjoyed  lost glories of  empire, jagir, nawabi, patel
at least remnants of their pomp are alive,
we are  prisoners of our lives chained to work and survival. 
We are left ever with nothing to call our own.
What is left with us to call our own…
 We don’t know to address our mothers ‘Ammi Jaan,’
but know only to call them ‘Oyamma!’ 
We are expected to address our fathers--- ‘Abbu’, ‘Abbaa jaan’, ‘Pappa’.
How do we know? Nor our fathers too taught us.
How do we, who live in bamboo curtained inner homes, know
what ‘Haveli,’ ‘Chaar deewaar’, ‘Khilwat’, ‘Paradaa’ signify?
My grandfather used to state Namaaz was but bending and getting up!
Never learnt this language of ‘HiRrahman’, ‘Alla-ho-Akbar’,’Roza.’

Festivals mean pickled rice for us
Biryaanis,Talaavs,Palaavs,Sheer Khurmas for you
Sherwanis,Roomi Topees,Salam shahi shoes, 
clothes perfumed with ‘ithar’  are for you people,
we have for clothes fluttering breeze.

You may not believe, but if we tell 
fear haunts that we will be looked down upon!

Pentusaabu,Uddandu,Dastagiri,Naagulu,China Adaam
Laalu,Peda Moula,China Moula,Shakh Sreenivasu
Bethamcherla Moin,Patikatta Malsur---are these not our names?


Mentioning your families’ pomp, position with names like
 Shaikh,Sayyad,Pathan--- were we ever allowed to approach you?
Laddaf,Doodekula,Kasab,Pinjari…
we became traces of time where vocation was stung by caste.
We became ‘Binistees’ storing water in your homes
we were ‘Dhobi’, Dhobans’ washing your clothes
when your hair was trimmed we were called ‘Hazzams’
cleaning your toilets we became ‘Mehethar’. ‘Mehatharani’s…
remained tokens of time when our job was stung by caste!

As you say we are all Musalmans only!
We don’t dispute, but how about this discrimination?

We too like it---if unsettled balance sheet of ages
extricated in excavations is reconciled now, don’t we love it?
What is there to learn of common enemy afresh now
collusion of common friendship has to be decided now!
All those oppressed are Dalits—we don’t deny,
but definition of suppression is on demand now!

So strange---the language we use is not ours, they say!
What you call our language we don’t know
finally landed in chaotic state of mothertonguelessness.
Became outcastes for speaking in Telugu.
“Though a Muslim, you speak Telugu so well?” 
Just don’t know whether to laugh or cry!

All our dreams are Telugu, tears too Telugu
Asking for food when hungry or crying in anguish for help 
total expression is Telugu only!

We looked around when asked to perform Namaaz
were perplexed unable to understand ‘Azaans
searched for ‘ragas’ in the notes of  ‘Suuraas’ 
when we were asked to pray in a language not known to us
we lost the pleasure of praying too!

You won’t believe us
no one speaks of our agony.

Self-respect is a ‘Dastarkhan’ unrolled before all
it is not the sole right of a few well to do persons only to enjoy
whoever toys with the honour of a fellow human being
it is betrayal, rank  betrayal

Exploitation of experiences is a greater treachery!
***


3. Who Am I?  

I need to finalise a lot
you decide what is my religion soon.

You declare my sky, earth, the sun and the moon quickly
Tell me correctly, whether you bury me or cremate.
draw a line or picture on my face
looking through your lenses, using yardsticks.
In a world where my birth lace remains unknown
every dust bin owns me,
Every desire ,a faith that disowns me.
I just don’t know who am I
dear friends, you have your estimates
correctly evaluate who I am!

Those that examine my hands
those that attribute religion to my breath
those that relate my lament to some scripture
you are not my men!

What your history or religious books taught unnecessary now
I need  a little space to sit amidst people
I long for a loving soul
I require  for a morsel of food to douse my hunger
I want  a few drops of water to slake my thirst.
I belong to the religion of birds and animals
no energy now to detail  further.

Which religion relates to my birth
how far I know?

No proof available, tell me honestly
which kind lady gave me birth under some roof,
how I was flung into some dustbin.
I have neither historical records nor ballads
to probe the remote reasons and eras
to confirm place of my birth or reason for it.

I know how to imagine
but not how to confuse
whoever offers food when I am hungry is my man
I can place my bonds and brethren.
Answers to my questions unfold slowly
My decisions, my life---
all emerge from my thoughts now on!
***


4.  Fusion of Notes

Why do ragas blend…

Our ‘Buggavagu’ knows music
even the creek rasping across sand
even the young fish deftly dipping into the stream knows notes
spectacles landing on eyelids are musical
In fact
I hid myself beneath melody tucked under the bridge
learnt tunes from satiated sonorous hiss of 
entwined snakes making love in my presence.

I fixed string like ‘Mehrab’ across me who spread as a wall
only to fine tune myself
who  ever stretches a hand
I offer myself as a tune all over ‘Mehrab’.

Just for singing secretly
I bowed myself in humility
in the embodied forms of pleasured pain.

Why this unrest darling!
I presented myself to you!
I know well you won’t forsake or forfeit me
you are the light holding lamp for me!
You are lifeline knowing intricacies of my melody!
Allow me to spread into you!
Preserve within you bridges, brooks,’Mehrabs’ I need to tune


‘Mile Sur….’
***  


5.Box of Blessings

Drenched in rain
harassed in hot sun,
like essence of introspection of a great worker
from my village,my mother reached my home in city.

Mother is 
incarnation of motherhood that remains with unchanged meaning any time.

Mother is the one
who showers love untiringly
having performed ritual of birth at the altar of creativity.

From the village, crossing the borders
carrying a little love, some more sadness,
a few more eatables , mother in search of dear child.

Her main concern----
children’s welfare, lifelong
longing endlessly, untiringly---mother.

Mother remains compassionately, affectionately
holding her place, potential 
always unchanged, preserving eternally---

At times
when the cord holding me and the world
becomes feeble,
relationships get strained,
again from mother, from her compassion
a thin strip swirls strengthening itself.

Whenever agitation, exhaustion, listlessness
combine draining,
raising arms all over her body,
filling love in eyes
carrying message of peace, soothing balm
she lands on any spirit as a divine bird.

Mother explicates,
our origin, existence, destination,
explaining like a lesson,
offering slices of sweet lemon to relish
in her presence patiently presents.

Mother
inheritance of box of blessings
a refreshing breeze with cajoling touch.
Treasured in inner core
Amazing root of life!
*** 


6. Dark Alleys

Steps of darkness ahead.
Moistures of still wet feet on the steps
clusters of light on the wane in eyes, after blooming aplenty.

One has to locate direction like a bird
limbs open up in pain like sweet lemon
blurring layer in eyes fuses trees, birds and men.

Man also changes like seasons
shedding leaves, flowers
leaves and flowers shed
are eyes sans life---
Blue sky spreads across vision.

Trees spread black flowers all along the path
The moon fills dark moonlight in eyes
river quenches thirst with dark water.

Eyes fixed on finger tips 
squat on papers like rabbits.
Stick in hand connects
feet and hands with string of light.

Patting pavements feet locate address
Sound lights up inner vision
All along the way signs of touch stretch like eyes.

Unfolding ‘Padmavyuha’ complex ways
he keeps walking further, far away
till the edge of darkness!
***


Yakoob’s Bionote: Kavi Yakoob is a well-known name in the world of Telugu literature, a poet, researcher, writer and singer by choice and natural propensities. Published 4 anthologies of Telugu poetry , edited twelve books and has authored eight books on Literary Criticism. He was honoured with several awards over the years. He is also founder of Kavisangamam, a Telugu Poetry forum.Founder of Rottamaku Revu Poetryspace Foundation (RRPF) Currently, he is Associate Professor and Head of the Department of Telugu, in Hyderabad.
                                                                     *******

Translator’s Bionote:

T. S. Chandra Mouli , an academic , poet, translator and critic, is a Fellow of Royal Asiatic Society, Great Britain and Ireland. With 3 books of poems in English to his credit, he published 26 books [19 edited anthologies of literary criticism and 7 authored works]. He completed translation assignments for institutions of higher learning.
 His poems in English and translations of Telugu poetry and fiction are extensively published. He is the Chief Editor of VIRTUOSO, a Refereed Transnational Bi-Annual Journal of Language and Literature in English, approved by U.G.C.

Vice Chairman of AESI [Association of English Studies in India] for a second term, Dr Mouli made panel presentations in International Conferences in universities in China, Thailand, Philippines, Malaysia, Indonesia, U.K, France,Sri Lanka, Brazil, Cambodia. Visited Vietnam and Singapore as a tourist. He lives in Hyderabad.

                                                                      *****