My Kannada poetry ಕೆಲವು ಕನ್ನಡ ಪದ್ಯಗಳು

ರಷಿಯನ್ ಕವಿ ಲಿಯೊನಿಡ್ ಮಾರ್ಟಿನೋನ ಈ ಪದ್ಯಗಳು ನನಗಿಷ್ಟವಾಗಿದ್ದವು. ನಾನು ಇವುಗಳನ್ನು ಅನುವಾದ ಮಾಡಿ ಇಪ್ಪತ್ತೈದು ವರ್ಷಗಳೇ ಆಗಿವೆ. ನಿಮಗೂ ಇಷ್ಟವಾದರೆ ತಿಳಿಸಿ.

ನಾ ಹಕ್ಕಿಯಾಗಲಾರೆ

ನಾ ಹಕ್ಕಿಯಾಗಲಾರೆ
ಕೋಗಿಲೆಯೂ ಸಹ, ಗೆಳೆಯ

ನಿಮ್ಮ ಮನೆಯ ಕಿಟಕಿಯಲ್ಲಿ
ಊಹಿಸಿಕೋನನ್ನ,
ಖುಷಿಯಿಂದ ನನ್ನನ್ನು ಕಂಡ ತಕ್ಷಣ
ನೀನು ಹೇಳುತ್ತೀಯೆ
`ಅಯ್ಯೋ ಮುದ್ದಿನ ಮರಿ!
ಕಿಟಕಿಯನ್ನು ಬಡಿಯುತ್ತಿದೆಯಲ್ಲ!'

ಕಿಟಕಿಯ ಗಾಜನ್ನು ಬಡಿದೂ ಬಡಿದೂ
ನನ್ನ ರೆಕ್ಕೆಯೆಲ್ಲ ನೋವಾಗಿ
ನೀನು ಮೆಲ್ಲನೆ
ಒಂಚೂರು ಕಿಟಕಿ ತೆರೆದಾಗ
ಸುಸ್ತಾದ ನಾನು ನಿನ್ನ
ಅಂಗೈಯಲ್ಲಿ ಬೀಳುತ್ತೇನೆ.
`ಹೋ ಎಷ್ಟು ಚಂದ!'
ಎಂದು ಹೇಳುತ್ತ, ಬೆಕ್ಕನ್ನು ಓಡಿಸಿ
ಒಣಗಿದ ರೊಟ್ಟಿಯ ಚೂರನ್ನು
ಗಂಟಲಿಗೆ ತುರುಕುತ್ತೀಯೆ
ನಾನು ತಿನ್ನಲಾಗದಿದ್ದರೂ.

`ಎಷ್ಟು ಚಂದ!' ಮತ್ತೊಮ್ಮೆ
ಹೇಳುತ್ತ ನನ್ನ ಕೊಕ್ಕು, ಮೈಮೇಲೆಲ್ಲಾ
ಮುದ್ದಿನ ಮಳೆಗರೆಯುತ್ತೀಯೆ.

ನಾವು ಗುಲಾಮರಾಗಿಬಿಡುತ್ತೇವೆ……
……. ಎಷ್ಟೊಂದು ಮೂರ್ಖತನ!
ಇಲ್ಲ, ಎಂದಿಗೂ
ನಾ ಹಕ್ಕಿಯಾಗಲಾರೆ.

****
ಚಿತ್ರಗಾರ

ಒಬ್ಬ ಚಿತ್ರಗಾರ
ತನ್ನ ಮಗಳ ಚಿತ್ರ ಬಿಡಿಸಿದ.
ಅವಳು
ಮಧ್ಯರಾತ್ರಿಯ ಚಂದ್ರನಂತೆ
ತೇಲಿಹೋದಳು.
ತನ್ನ ಮಗನ
ಚಿತ್ರ ಬಿಡಿಸಿದ
ಅವನು
ದ್ರಾಕ್ಷಾತೋಟದಲ್ಲಿನ
ಕೋಗಿಲೆಯಂತೆ ಹಾರಿಹೋದ
`ಎಂಥ ಅದ್ಭುತ ಕಲೆ!'
ಮೆಚ್ಚಿಕೊಂಡರು ಚಿತ್ರಗಾರನ ಸ್ನೇಹಿತರು.
ಚಿತ್ರಗಾರ
ತನ್ನ ಸ್ವಂತ ಚಿತ್ರ ಬಿಡಿಸಿ
ಜನರಿಗೆಲ್ಲ ತೋರಿಸಿದ
ಜನ ಒಕ್ಕೊರಲಿನಿಂದ ಕೂಗಿದರು
`ಅದು ನನ್ನದೇ ಚಿತ್ರ!'

ಪ್ರೀತಿಯ ಪದ್ಯಗಳು

ಈ ಪದ್ಯಗಳನ್ನು ಬರೆದು ಬಹಳ ವರ್ಷಗಳೇ ಆದುವು. ಎಲ್ಲೋ ಮೂಲೆಯಲ್ಲಿ, ಮನದಾಳದಲ್ಲಿ, ಕಾಗದಗಳ ರಾಶಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಬಿದ್ದಿದ್ದ ಇವುಗಳನ್ನು ಹೆಕ್ಕಿ ಇಲ್ಲಿಗೆ ತಂದಿದ್ದೇನೆ.

ಈ ಬರದ ಬೇಗೆಯಲ್ಲೂ
ಬೋಳು ಮರದ ಮೇಲೆ
ಕೂತು ಹಾಡುತ್ತ ಮೈ
ಮರೆಯುವ ಕೋಗಿಲೆ
ಎಂಥ ಸುಳ್ಳುಗಾರ, ಅಲ್ಲವೆ?

***
ಎದುರು ಮನೆಯ ಹುಡುಗ
ಆಕೆಯನ್ನು ಕಡೆಗಣ್ಣಿನಿಂದಲೂ
ನೋಡದೆ ಹೂ ಗಿಡಗಳಿಗೆ
ನೀರೆರೆಯುವುದ ಕಂಡಾಗಲೆಲ್ಲಾ
ಆಕೆಗೆ
ಆ ಗಿಡಗಳಲ್ಲಿ
ಹೂವಾದರೂ ಆಗಿರಬೇಕಿತ್ತು
ಎನಿಸುತ್ತಿತ್ತು.


***
ಪ್ರೀತಿಯ ಸಂಕೇತವಾಗಿ
ಹೂ ಕೊಟ್ಟವನನ್ನು
ಗುಮಾನಿಯಿಂದ ನೋಡು
ಏಕೆಂದರೆ, ಇಂದಲ್ಲ ನಾಳೆ
ಖಂಡಿತ ಈ ಹೂವು ಬಾಡುತ್ತದೆ.


***
ಗೆಳತಿ,
ಹೂಗಳು ಮತ್ತು ಮೋಡಗಳು
ನಿನ್ನ ಸವತಿಯರಾಗಬೇಕಾದರೆ
ಕವಿಯೊಬ್ಬನನ್ನು ಮದುವೆಯಾಗು.


***
ಅಂಗೈ ನೋಡಿ
ಭವಿಷ್ಯ ಹೇಳುತ್ತೇನೆಂದು
ಹುಡುಗಿಯಕೈ ಹಿಡಿದ ಹುಡುಗನಿಗೆ
ಕಾಲವೇ ಭ್ರಮೆ ಎನ್ನಿಸಿ
ಸಮಯ ಹಾಗೇ ನಿಂತುಬಿಡಲಿ
ಎಂದುಕೊಂಡನಂತೆ.


***
ಹೂವಲ್ಲಿ ದುಂಬಿ
ಮಧು ಹೀರುವುದನ್ನು
ಪ್ರೇಮಕ್ಕೂ ಮತ್ತೊಂದಕ್ಕೂ
ಕವಿಯೊಬ್ಬಹೋಲಿಸುತ್ತಿರುವಾಗ
ಇದಾವುದರ ಪರಿವೆಯಿಲ್ಲದೆ
ಆ ದುಂಭಿ ತನ್ನ ಹೊಟ್ಟೆ
ತುಂಬಿಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳುವ ಕಾಯಕ
ಮುಂದುವರೆಸಿತ್ತು.

***
ಪ್ರೇಮದ ಮುಸುಕಿನಲ್ಲಿ
ಕಾಮ ಬೆಚ್ಚಗೆಅಡಗಿ
ಕೂತಿರುತ್ತದೆ ಎನ್ನುವ
ಫ್ರಾಯ್ಡ್ ಹೇಳಿದ ಸತ್ಯ
ತಿಳಿದ ನಂತರ
ನನ್ನ ಗೆಳೆತಿಯೊಂದಿಗೆ
ಪ್ರೀತಿಯ ಮಾತಾಡಲು
ಹೋದರೂ ಮೈಯೇಕೋ
ಬೆವರುತ್ತದೆ.

***
ಆ ಹುಡುಗ
ಸ್ತ್ರೀ ಸ್ವಾತಂತ್ರ್ಯವನ್ನು ಬೆಂಬಲಿಸಿ
ಅವಳೆದುರು ಭಾಷಣ ಹೊಡೆಯುವಾಗ
ಆಕೆಗೆ ಅವಳ ಅಭಿಪ್ರಾಯ ವ್ಯಕ್ತಪಡಿಸಲು
ಎಲ್ಲರಂತೆ ಅವಕಾಶವೇ ಕೊಡಲಿಲ್ಲ.

***

ನಲ್ಲೆಯ ರಮಿಸಲು
ಗಿಡದಲ್ಲಿ ನಗುವ ಗುಲಾಬಿ
ಮುರಿದು ಮುಡಿಯಲ್ಲಿ
ಮುಡಿಸುವ ಬದಲು
ಅವಳನ್ನೇ ಗುಲಾಬಿ ತೋಟಕ್ಕೆ
ಕರೆದೊಯ್ಯುವವ
ನಿಜವಾದ ಪ್ರೇಮಿ.

***

ಗೆಳೆತನದಲ್ಲಿ ಸುಖವಾಗಿದ್ದ
ಹುಡುಗ ಹುಡುಗಿ
ಅವರಿಗರಿವಿಲ್ಲದೆ ಪ್ರೇಮಿಸತೊಡಗಿ
ಅನಿವಾರ್ಯವೆಂಬಂತೆ ಮುದುವೆಯಾಗಿ
ಎಲ್ಲರಂತೆ ಗಂಡಹೆಂಡಿರಾದದ್ದು
ಅವರ ಬದುಕಿನ ದುರಂತ.

***

Birding at Savanadurga

Bangalore has a bird watchers’ club- Bng birds, whose group I have joined recently (To complement the interest of S, is one of the important reasons). They planned a birding trip to Savanadurga Hills. On Sunday 17th we were at Koshy’s, MG Road, sharp at 6.15 early in the morning. It was not as cold as we expected. The team left at 7 in a mini bus. Breakfast was served in the bus itself- sandwitches and hot samosas. There were plenty of bananas and an apple for everyone.
First stop was at Marenahalli tank where we saw cormorants, bar headed geese (which are migrated from China and Ladakh), painted storks and sand pipers.



Somebody rolled a stone and found a coiled baby viper. There was a discussion to identify it- a Russels viper or a saw scaled viper. S identified it as Russels and explained its characters.



Though Savanadurga Hills is very close to Bangalore (about 60 kms), I have not visited the place. The view of the huge boulderless hill is breathtaking.



Our trek started at Medicinal plants park in to the forest towards Arkavathy river.



It was a sort of a nature camp- someone examining animal droppings and someone trying to identify trees, butterflies and ofcourse birds- that is why we were there for!
A lot of birds were sighted- Ashy drongo, Black kite, Bonelli’s Eagle, Brahminy kite, Common Iora, Common Kestrel, Common Sandpiper, Common Tailor bird etc. etc.


S in the forest

On the river bed we took a break and enjoyed the salad snack made specially for the trip by Subbu. As we proceeded we saw a big crab and there was a heated discussion to touch it or not to, was the question. Someone said looking at its strong claws/mandibles that it might bite. Someone suggested to leave it undisturbed. Finally some one touched it and picked it up.


Crab

The crab was dead and dried!
On the riverbed pug marks were also seen and an expert among us identified it as leopard’s.


Pug mark

It was lunch time and we were told in advance to carry our lunch packs. We sat under a tree and we were so tired, we enjoyed every morsel of it.
Our return trek towards the bus started and the group had split in to sub groups. Our group for while lost track in the forest and finally found our way. Before leaving , we had a nice coffee while watching sunbirds in a shack hotel near the temple. While returning we stopped near Nayakanapalya tank and watched Ashy drongo, Asian koel, Bonellis eagle, Common Swallow, Little Egret, White breasted kingfisher etc. We saw Egyptian vultures soarking high up in the sky.


Watching Bonellis eagle through Madhu’s Svaroski spot scope.

It was late in the evening. I saw a farmer bring his bullocks to the pond.


Farmer

It reminded me of my days I used to spend in my childhood during holidays at my mother’s village. I also used to take the bullocks to the pond to to make them drink water every day- once in the morning and once in the evening.


Sunset

Sun was disappearing fast across the horizon. It was time for us to packup and leave with flying memories.

Outing at Bandipur

During November we along with Raju family decided to visit Bandipur and Mudumalai forests. We found a place on the internet and booked it by paying full amount in advance. It was a disaster. The place was not as was shown on the net. We cut short it by one day and returned a day earlier.

Inspite of that the trip was not as bad as the place we stayed. We enjoyed black tea and my daughter A still asks for it now and then.
Enroute to Mudumalai via Bandipur we found a wild elephant grazing on the roadside. It never bothered to look at us.



Most of the photographs were taken by S (That is the advantage of the digital camera. I need not have to worry about cost of film and its developing etc. etc.,) and he has done a good job also.

Deers also were not bothered by our prersence. Here a deer looking at intruders in its territory.


Deer

The early morning walk we took was a refreshing one indeed. R and A slept at room I went along with S and Raju along with family joined us. It was a nature walk. S was explaining about spiders and demonstrating how they catch their prey. Here is a photo of Nephila maculata, wood spider.


Spider

I took a snap of a dragon fly resting on the fence.


Dragon fly

While returning we visited Gopalaswamy Hill where the view is astoundingly beautiful.


The cool breeze on the hill made us to sit for a while and relax.


Group

At Mysore S experimented taking a few snaps of the cathedral.

Cathedral

Though we had visited Ranganathittu bird sanctuary several times, we visited again. S is very much interested in Ornithology. For his age, he studies and remembers a lot of things about snakes and birds (donot ask about his school lessons!). His interest made him to take a lot of bird photos.



White Ibis


Cormorant


River tern

Our boat went near a crocodile which was relaxing on a rock and never bothered to greet us!

It was a long break

It was a long break, I know. But it was a hectic quarter. A lot of unfinished works were glaring at me. I had to finish it and I am satisfied that it is all over….. well almost.

A bird in hand

Today is Saturday and my office closes as 12.30 in the afternoon. When I returned home, my Son S wanted me to take him to our GKVK campus for birdwatching. Birds are his latest obsession. R had gone to her usual saturday counselling (she works as a voluntary child counsellor). I told S that we should go with an expert. Instead, he can do the birdwatching in our small garden itself. Many a birds visit our garden and some have built their nests also. Having suggested him that I went to take a nap. When I wokeup he was very pleased- he did not only watch the birds he had taken few photographs also. Well, here they are.











And an odd man out!

Best things in life are only demowares!

I have started this post with a cartoon.
You will know the reason as you read on.



Few days back I was watching news on TV and the news scroll at the bottom was showing something which caught my eye. It read `Salmeterol causes death'. Something in me churned and I felt sick. Because I have been using Salmeterol for my allergic bronchitis since five years and it has helped me live a normal and pleasant life.

How much I have suffered! In the peak of my days of suffering I remeber I had written a small poem in which there was a despair call to death, the great saviour and comfort giver!

When did it start? About three decades ago- I was in 10th standard. One Sunday afternoon I went to tuition near Sharada Talkies on my bicycle. It was late and I pedalled fast. The class had started and I joined late. There was silence except for the teacher's words. But the students around me were watching me. My wheezing had caught their attention. I felt uneasy. I tried to control my breath in vain.

My sleeps were restless and disturbing. I was taken to hospital. I was given some tablets and syrup which helped me a little bit. I was taken to Dr.P in ETCM Hospital. All the medication never solved my problem completely. In fact it increased day by day. Every night was an uncertain one.

Once I went to Bethamangala to a relative’s house. That evening all of us went to the enjoy the beautiful lake (which is 1000 years old). The cool breeze was soothing. But the night was a suffering to me. I was taken to a doctor on a bicycle. Doctor gave me an injection which helped me a lot. A number of doctors were consulted. Every one said that there is no cure and only it can be managed.

My food was restricted, my movements were restricted. More than the cure I received a lot of unwanted sympathy. One day a sardarji with a bag was visiting every house telling that he would cure every disease on earth. He came to our house also. My parents believed him. They desparately wanted a cure for their son. He gave a powder and asked me to mix it with honey and eat it. He took some money and left. I ate it; it was nothing but coriander powder.

Another day my father said that an ayurvedic doctor at Bangalore is very famous for his medicines. One early morning, even before sun could rise we left K and went to Bangalore by bus. We went to the clinic. There was already a long queue. By the time the ‘Doctor’ came the queue and still grown long. There were a lot of people to control the rush. ‘Doctor’ had no time for consultation. He grabbed the money and thrust in to our hands a packet with small packets of some powder and asked us to take it three times a day with milk. I thought, so many people have come to visit this Doctor; surely they cannot be fools. I believed the ‘powder drug’ would work and indeed it worked. I felt better after somedays. Everyone at home was happy, but it was shortlived. We read in newspaper about our miracle ‘Doctor’. He was mixing steroid tablets powder in some herbal powder.

Back to square one. I joined college. Because of my frequent visits to my University Doctor, he became a friend of mine. One day my father asked me to go along with him to consult yet another doctor, who he said is very famous. But he is not an ayurvedic doctor, but an allopathic. He prescribed some tablets and asked us to taper it slowly. I felt tremendous relief after taking them. I looked and felt very healthy, gained weight- till somebody warned me. I was given steroids and I was told they are very dangerous. It was as if I was addicted to it. I had to struggle a lot to stop taking those drugs. The wheezing attacks were now much more severe and uncontrollable.

I learnt yoga and learnt to face life and trauma as it comes.

One day, after a year or so after my wedding, we were at K and on that day I had an attack which did not subside till evening. I asked my brother to take me to a doctor, who was my classmate during my PUC days and there I requested him to give me a intravenous steroid injection. Those were not the days of disposable syringes, particularly in a small town like K. I remember the needle piercing my vein, then suddenly everything went blank. When I opened my eyes, it was a day later and I was in a nursing home. Everyone around me had a frightened look. I was almost dead. My brother narrated the incident. When the doctor inserted the syringe needle in to my vein, suddenly I collapsed. Both doctor and my brother were scared. Immediately my brother ran out and had great difficulty in getting an autorickshaw. When he found one they took me to a nursing home. It seems two or three doctors examined me- there was no heart beat and no breathing. They took me almost for dead. Then a young doctor named Sudhakar examined me and gave me injections of adrenalin. It was like coming back from my death. If that was how people die I thought it was very easy and painless. Pain is only for living!

I was at Virajpet for almost 6 years. The most happiest and the treacherous life I have lead there. As I had already said, nights were uncertain. When the whole world is asleep, I used to be awake waiting for the twilight, so that I can go to a doctor. I kept syringes and medicines at home. R learnt to give IM injections. Sometimes when I was alone I learnt to inject myself with bronchodilators. Sometimes when they refused to work the nights seemed endless and every gasp for breath was an horrendous experience. There were no autos. Even when I could barely stand, I have tried to ride my bike. If I cannot at that time, probably I would never be able to. There were many such night rides.

I never thought, an involuntary and very easy activity like breathing would be so difficult when every inhalation and exhalation was like climbing a mountain. In the middle of the nights I cried, ‘Why me?’. I remembered Alexander Solezhenytsin’s words in his ‘Cancer Ward’ book: ‘Every man should have atleast one illness, or else he will not know his limits’.

Inhalers had entered Indian market. I was prescribed Bricanyl. It never helped me. In fact many a times it aggravated the situation. One day I travelled from Virajpet to Madikeri as I used to visit Madikeri Branch also on Mondays. That day’s journey is unforgettable because of the wrong reasons. I had slight wheezing and but it kept on increasing as left Virajpet. I kept on inhaling the drug though it is dangerous to exceed the dosage. I thought every other inhalation would decrease the attack, but every inhalation kept on increasing it. I had a miserable and torturous journey. 32 kilometres journey felt like a life time journey. I knew there was a nursing home at the entrance of Madikeri. The moment the bus stopped there, I ran to the doctor (though I could barely walk) and asked him to inject me a bronchodilator quickly. Though there were patients, he rushed and gave me medication and asked me to take rest. I wanted desperately to breath normally. After 20 minutes the attack subsided but not completely. Again I went to him and asked for another injection, which he obliged. After half an hour I thanked him and walked towards my Bank.

But later gradually frequency of attacks subsided. I started to use Asthalin inhaler which helped me a lot. A doctor at Bangalore prescribed Solmeteorol which further eased my breath. I was back to my ‘normal’ life, enjoying all facets of it, when I suddenly saw this news item which I mentioned in the beginning of this writeup.

Can somebody tell me why best things in life are only demowares?!!

A Biologist at Home

When I went to School to pickup my son S, he had a paper box held carefully in his hand and a lot of friends around him peeping in to it. He said the box has a beautiful spider caught in his School's garden. He brought it home, photographed it and let it go in the garden.



He tried to explain me about its fangs and how they catch the prey in its web.

On Sunday he went with his friend on their bicycles. They came back hurriedly and S had a cigarette pack in his hand. Even before my eyebrow could raise he said the cigarette pack contains a beautiful millipede.



Again photographic session and his explanations about its innumerable feet.



Coiled millipede stretched itself walked around and made itself into a question mark, as if to ask, 'OK, but why catch me?'



PS: The dot of the question mark is made by me in photoshop.

For the past two days he was busy in his 'research' on spiders. He scrolled through encyclopedias- both books and CDs and finally exclaimed that he has collected a lot of information and he wants to write a book on spiders!

He got down to it and wrote a book on spiders.



These days he is also busy in studying snakes. Though he has not yet caught one, he has fabricated tools and a net to catch them.

Watch this space!

Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth

It is the topic of death which is haunting me since 3 days. As we `Class of 82' are preparing for reunion and celebration of silver jubilee of our graduation, we got the bad news. Our classmate, R.A.Krishamurthy whom we fondly called MLA had an untimely death. He succumbed to liver cirrhosis- no he was not an alcoholic. Death due to liver failure is very painful, slow and miserable. Liver transplantation is beyond the reach of ordinary people. It drains all your money. You pray for the death to hurryup and finish the job. That’s what R.A.K. expressed when Dev went to visit him in the hospital.
I have had the first hand experience of watching a man die of liver cirrhosis when my brother in-law was in hospital 3 years back. I watched him everyday shuttling between conscious and unconscious realms, between hope and despair. Inspite of that we kept on telling lies to him, assuring him that he would get well and would return to his normal life. I knew, miracles never occur. Death does not differentiate between good and bad men. It neither differentiates between Jews and Muslims, between Shias and Sunnis, between Hindus and Muslims, between poor and rich and also between an inoocent child and a fanatical terrorist. And pain for everyone is always painful.
I have a TV tuner card on my computer. As I am typing this, I am watching the dance of death in Beirut, Lebanon and as well as in Haifa, Israel.



May be, Bush and Blair are also watching.



Nature is also taking its toll now. This year there are no rains in Bangalore. But north Karnataka, Maharashtra, Gujarat, Andhra, Orissa is experiencing heavy rainfall and people are paying with their lives.

It is disturbing…… death is everywhere.

Of comforts no man speak:
Let's talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs;
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
(Shakespeare in King Richard)

Uninvited Guests!

We were very happy when we moved to our new house. Our dream of living in our own home was a reality at last. We were just 2 plus 2 and everyone was happy with their own spaces- until one day when I got an urgent call from R.

I was on my way to office when my mobile slithered and vibrated in my pocket. It was a call from R and she screamed that we have an uninvited slithering guest at home. You guessed it right- it was a snake, a baby snake. I returned home. When R went to open the side entrance for the house maid to enter, she found to her horror a snake had already entered. Though I had seen people catching snakes by their tails with ease on TV, I was reluctant. Seeing the commotion some people had already gathered. There were few construction workers also. I opened the door and the snake moved to the adjacent garden and took shelter in a pipe. The whole pipe was carried by closing the ends and let off safely in a far off place. In the melee I forgot to photograph my `uninvited guest’.

On another day R said we have a peeping tom in the window. I checked and found a fellow sleeping on the window bar.



I caught him and left him outside. Now I have to tell you about this guy. After two days he was back in to my backyard. I caught him again and threw him away a little far off. When I almost forgot about him, he was back again. It is amazing and mysterious how it gets back. I have caught and thrown away this uninvited guest about five times at different and far off places, somehow he has managed to come back.



We have a tiled canopy in front on my house and everyday morning I used to be greeted with small chewed fruits and droppings. At first I thought it must be some bird since there were a lot of birds in my garden.



I waited outside at nightfall to see who that uninvited guest was. My uninvited guest came flapping its wings- but it was not a bird – it was a fruit bat. Well, he/she has made my tiled canopy almost its permanent shelter.



The garden and lawn of my home is home to many creatures – large and small. These garden lizards go hunting on day time and during night take rest in one of the potted plants.





Here are some more of our uninvited guests.







We have some invited guests also.




Now we are not just four- our family has countless members.

The term `barber'- is it barbaric?

Today my friend A spoke to me about my posting `Musings in front of a barber's mirror'. He said that I should not have used the term 'barber' because it is derogatery. No, I have not used the term in that sense. I view it as any other profession like a carpenter or a blacksmith or even an assistant professor. Anyhow, I have edited that posting and changed the term barber to hairstylist.

Reason For Hope

I watch news on TV for a few minutes after I return from office while sipping my tea. Serial blasts at Srinagar, Kashmir was the major news. Attacks were mainly on tourists. Tea tasted bitter. I looked out of the window. A sort of gloomy weather. It has not been raining though it is monsoon. Dust coloured clouds hover with no sign of water in it. I had to drop S for maths tuition. I decided to spend one hour around his teacher's home- there is a tree with a stone bench underneath. I took along with me the book 'Essential Zen' to cheer me up. The evening and the cool breeze soothed me a little bit. I read the book till the sun completely disappeared. Reading Zen has a magical effect.

He was offered the whole world,
He declined and turned away.

He did not write poetry,
He lived poetry before it existed.
He did not speak of philosophy,
He cleaned up the dung philosophy left behind.

He had no address:
He lived in a ball of dust playing with the universe.
(Jung Kwung)

I took a walk since I had another 15 minutes to spend. Moreover I could not sit on the bench further as mosquitoes had started attacking me. I thought, they also have a right to live. Another Zen koan which I had just read came to my mind.

A student asked Soen Nakagawa during a meditation retreat, "I am very discouraged. What should I do?"
Soan replied, "Encourage others"

All the cheerfulness I had forced upon me soon fizzled out when I reached home. News of serial blasts in Mumbai was there on all news channels. I felt very uneasy and restless. I am very discouraged and helpless. But how can I encourage others? While I was enjoying the cool breeze along with Zen, bombs had exploded in trains at Mumbai snuffing out many innocent lives. While I returned home, many people would never be able to.

I couldnot sleep. Browsed net for some news. Read about Zidane and Materrazzi. It seems Materrazzi insulted and humiliated Zidane and he retaliated with a head butt. But what did these innocent tourists in Kashmir or train commuters in Mumbai do to these killers? What did the parents, wives and children of these dead persons do these terrorists?

Two days back I had bought a book 'Reason For Hope' by Jane Goodall, the great Chimp researcher whose video 'Among the Wild Chimpanzees' (by National Geographic) I had watched several times. Instead of reading from the beginning I chose the chapter 'Death' where she had written the trauma and pain of losing her husband. In the Introduction she writes: '......People ask how I can be so optimistic in the face of so much environmental destruction and human suffering; in the face of overpopulation and overconsumption, pollution, deforestation, desertification, poverty, famine, cruelty, hatred, greed, violence and war. Does she really believe what she says? they seem to be wondering. What does she really think, deep down? What is her philosophy of life? What is the secret ingredient for her optimism, her hope?'

She has a reason for hope, and I believe we all should have, even it means waiting eternally.

Musings in front of a hairstylist’s mirror

I look at the mirror everyday, like everybody else- while brushing teeth, while shaving and while combing my hair. During such face-to-face episodes not much thoughts cross the mind except to determine when I should go for a haircut or shave my beard.

But this Sunday it was a different sort of face reading experience. I went to haircut with S, my son. He likes haircuts and is always eager to go for one. When I was a child, it was totally a different matter. I do not know why, but I hated haircuts, even now I feel miserable and vulnerable in a hairstylist’s chair. As a kid, I always felt hairstylist would make me look ugly. After haircuts, I hesitated to go out to play with friends fearing that they would tease me and prayed for restoration of my hair.

While hairstylist was busy with his scissors and comb I had ample time to read and observe the details of my face in the wide mirror in front of me. The front and back mirrors form infinite number of images and reminds of my physics lessons. Suddenly I felt I was becoming an old man (Just another five years to score an half century). I felt my face has more wrinkles than I had imagined and eyes more sunken. Most of the beard stubbles were gray and I thought, if I grew a beard I would look more like a very aged man. I forgot the hairstylist, my ears distanced itself to the click click sound of his scissors, the whole world vanished leaving only two people- me and my image in the mirror, each staring at each other. I felt like Alice, who entered the wonderland through the looking glass. Quickly I came out of it, but the visions of wrinkles and sunken eyes in my face laced with gloominess never let me go.

I shave everyday. Is it because of my anxiety of not to let people know of my age? Many of my friends do not colour their moustache. Why do I do it? Do I have an unknown fear, which I am afraid to explore? Few months back I decided not to colour my gray hair. R said I look like a sick man. At my hometown my cousin said I have a look of a respectable elder. How many more years I have? I am accustomed to young people calling me ‘uncle’ which reminds me of my elderliness.

Well, I always wonder- do our thoughts also age along with us? When we get old, do our thoughts also will be of thoughts of an old man? But many of my childhood memories are still fresh in my mind- my very first day at school, the snubbing of my teacher when I sang a song, the smell of ‘uppittu’ which was regularly served at lunch time in my PC Halli School, the anger in my dad’s face while thrashing me when I had forgotten addition and subtraction during my summer holidays …. Memories are in abundance. Does the glut of childhood memories indicate the sign of aging? Some philosopher said, ‘While the body may decline in function slowly, like the gentle falling of a leaf in autumn, the human soul never ages’, which reminds me of Victor Hugo’s words, ‘The heart does not grow old, but it is said to dwell among ruins.’

I look at my kids and I remember my childhood. I try to search myself in their naughtiness and playfulness; try to listen to my voice in their talks. A science book had said, ‘It is a substratum that lives on through generation after generation, transcending the millennia. It was the kind of immortality we have through our children. I am carrying within my beating heart the DNA of my father, and his father before him……’
So, I am a sort of an immortal! Or is it my father? Or his father?…..

Chunty aur Putti

Two days back I read in newspapers that some people kill squirrels for their `fur’ and skin in Bangalore. Well, this is a different story. Just read on…

One day I received a call from my poet friend LP. He wanted to know how and what to feed squirrel babies. I had read about people rearing squirrels and also that when they grow up they go out into the trees but still visits their foster parents once in a while. Though I knew that they eat nuts and since they are mammals they sure would drink milk. He asked me whether milk can be fed using a dropper/ink filler. I contacted one of my veterinarian friends. He also suggested a dropper but it should not be forced for it may choke the baby. My friend asked me to visit their squirrel babies. I rushed with my camera.



LP's rendezvous with the baby squirrles happened by accident. That morning LP and wife C left their home to the bus stop. They heard high pitched cries of squirrel babies near the gate of a house. They saw two squirrel babies. They also saw a crow on the gate. They sensed danger and chased the crow away. They waited there for some time hoping for the return of the mother squirrel. It was getting late for them. They knocked on the door of the house in front of which the squirrel babies were screaming and they requested the lady of the house to keep the squirrel babies in a basket and to release them if their mother comes around. If their mother fails to come, they said they would take them to their house in the evening. Carefully they placed them in a basket.



On their return in the evening the lady said that their mother has not arrived and she was doubtful of mother squirrel’s survival. She also said the babies have not eaten anything though they were given banana, rice etc. LP and C took the squirrel babies to their house and it was then they called me.



LP brought an ink filler and tried feeding milk. They drank a little bit. To improvise it, he wound a rubberband in front of the ink filler. It acted as a grip for the babies to hold on with their front legs while drinking milk. They recovered slowly and in a few days they became milk guzzlers. Though the quantity of milk they were drinking was less, they needed to be fed frequently- once in 3-4 hours. LP stopped going outside and even if he went he would return with in 3 hours to feed them. His midnight sleep also was in breaks as he used to get up in the night 2 times to feed them. LP said that one was a male and another female and he used to call them Chanti and Putti. Chunty was very weak and they were very much concerned about its survival and they used to take special care of him. Gradually they graduated from milk to bananas, apples. They tried all types of fruits. However rice flour was their favourite food.



They were scampering all around the house. They were recognising the voice of their foster parents and used to respond whenever they called. LP rolled a mat and kept it in a corner and were allowing them to climb them so that they can practice tree climbing. After 2 months they used to leave them on their balcony. Whenever they saw a shadow of a crow or heard the voice of a crow they would rush inside the house. Later they started to go out in to the terrace and return in the evening to the house. One day they did not return and C was worried. LP comforted her, saying they were no more babies and it is inevitable that they should leave them. After 2 days they returned, but not together. Now Chunty and Putti were living seperately on their own.



It is more than One year now. They are fully grownup and have their own mates. They visit LPs almost everyday and respond to their calls. Still today they buy a lot of eatables for them- corn, peanuts, rice flour and leave them outside where they regularly come to eat. They recognise their foster parents and eat from their hand. Now, who adopted whom is not yet clear.