Blog Archive

Tuesday, December 13, 2016

The Memoirs of an Eighty year Old- Episode VI

Episode VI- Grandpa and Whatsapp

Hi readers. This episode is all about Whatsapp. Yes, you read it right. It was some fifteen months ago when grandpa was first introduced to the advantages of having a smart phone i.e., being in constant touch with his widespread family using technology. Sure he had an iPad and used Skype but that was the extent of his technological usage.

Well he was seventy eight years old when the grand kids urged him to buy a new mobile. He was assisted and taught the basics of using the smart phone. The app was downloaded and explained to him. That's it. Now he is almost always on his phone sending and forwarding posts to us, much to the irritation of our darling grandmother. Any new post, be it a joke, a quote or a video, he immediately tells or shows it grandma, even when she doesn’t want to listen!

I get my daily dose of posts as well. The day feels kind of unfinished if there is no forward from grandpa. He naturally gets doubts sometimes regarding certain functions of the app or about some new features in the mobile phone. But he doesn't hesitate to ask us and understand about it. I just love how much eager he is know more about the technology instead of bluntly finding fault with it. Also he encourages others of his age to learn the basics at least so that they can also enjoy chatting with their people. 

There were quite a few times when I explained things to him and showed him the procedures of certain functions. He never hesitates to ask again and again if he doesn't understand. That attitude of his is something I always admire. 'Never give up on things that initially do not make sense. Things can be understood with effort.'

Grandma sometimes complains about grandpa checking his Whatsapp messages even in the middle of the night! Well when the family is spread across the globe in different time zones one needs to be online 24×7. Don't you think so? :) 

Sunday, December 4, 2016

The Love of an Umbrella!

On a busy rainy evening,
people walked around,
crossing the puddles on the street,
umbrellas in their hands and
warmth of home in their minds.

One umbrella travelling West,
fell in love with another, travelling East.
'Unite us, Oh dear God!'
prayed the umbrella, hoping for
a Happy Ever After.

The wind blew fierce
The rain grew heavy
The umbrellas flew 
 away from the clutches,
to come together on the rainy street. 

Paintings by Mrs Ratna Pochiraju 

Saturday, November 26, 2016

The Memoirs of an Eighty year old- Episode V

Episode: Family November

I was supposed to post about the life of grandpa and grandma in the railway quarters. But despite me having a bunch of data with me, it is all jumbled up and confusing. I need to have another big chat with grandpa to get the details right. That will have to wait since their house is currently filled with family, fun and mild chaos. So I decided to write about this family time. What is it to have your children, their spouses, and your grandchildren staying with you for a few days? I think its super fun and so does grandpa.

I have as usual been a regular visitor to their house despite the relatives. And why not, I am after all accepted as the extended family by almost every one of them. In a society where one’s own relatives act weird, having someone else’s family accept you with open arms tells about their upbringing. When the parents love all their children equally and give them the freedom to live their lives without too much interference, the love is reciprocated.

I have met grandpa’s youngest great-grandchild, a four year old girl; the daughter of their first grandson. The reason I am specifically mentioning her is because she became my cutest little friend in less than two days. We spent most of the evenings playing with the dolls in my house. She is a sweet girl with great imagination and good observation skills. There were times when she answered just like grandma, maybe she will turn out like her. J

The rest of the family is no less friendly. They have a way of involving you in their conversations and making jokes at each other. The mothers in this family are totally cool and casual, yet practical. At any time of the day we can hear chatter, laughter and some banter between them. I have seen that grandpa gets totally active with people around him. The more the number of people the more active he gets. And grandma is the “busy bee” as ever. She just cannot sit idle.

I am off to visit them again, so meet I’ll you in the next episode. Till then, be happy, be human.

Thursday, November 24, 2016

The Eternal Sky- Part IV: Star-struck, Love-struck

Star-struck, Love-struck

What can I say about the star-studded night sky? The scatter of tiny looking shinning dots across the vast dark sky, twinkling and winking at us, is a sight to behold. The moon is the guest here, with the waxing & waning and rotating positions across space.

Personally, I love the sky with no moon in it because then, the stars are the real heroes. The darkness emphasizes their beauty, their natural shine. As an amateur sky watcher, I love searching for different constellations spread over the vast expanse.

Being a layperson, I use a very useful app called the "SkyViewFree". It enables me to track all the planets, constellations, star trajectories and man-made satellites. How fun it is to be looking at a planet or a star and imagining that some extra-terrestrial life might be watching me at the same time!

The star formation, their lifespan, their death and the evolving of a  new star from the same dust makes the stars special. Look at a star that is possibly a million years old. Try to imagine the process it has endured to shine at us.

Each night when I look at the stars, I am star-struck, love-struck again and again.

Picture Credit: NASA (Instagram)

Sunday, November 13, 2016

The Mystic Stallion

Out of the swirling mist
into the valley
came a mystic stallion,
pale as silver,
strong & silent as air,
with its coal mane dancing
in the wind..

Reaching the crystal lake,
the mystic stallion appearing
golden in the sunset light,
stood admiring the dusk;
While I secretly marveled
the reflection of its majesty,
in the clear water of the lake.

Paintings by Mrs Ratna Pochiraju

Thursday, November 3, 2016


I was reading Agatha Christie’s 'They Do It With Mirrors' when I got a vague idea to use ‘Illusion’ as a main theme in an article. Later, visiting a store that sells electrical equipment I liked the various glass forms and designs. All the pieces gave different effects and reflections. I searched the internet for the meaning of Illusion and have many results ranging from mirage, hallucination, fantasy, sham, delusion, pretence and many more.

So I randomly asked a few people as to what is the first thing that comes to their mind when I say ‘illusion’. The replies I got were as different as the people where. So many perceptions, so many thought processes. I tried to define their answers in my own way.

Rainbow – a play of light and water drops.

Magician’s tricks – quickness of hands.

Ghost – product of the fear of unknown.

Mirrors – optical reflection.

Kaleidoscope – mirrors again. Reflections and refractions.

A straight line – depends on line of vision. Parallax error.

Joining of sky & earth – trick of mind. Wishful thinking, maybe.

Life – this is the reply I liked the most. It was given by my teacher. Sounds philosophical initially, but then all the above replies are a part of life.
What we see, hear, feel may be quite different from what actually is the truth. Life is most of the time a guessing game. Do we always see what we want to see or what others want us to see? I think it’s both. And that keeps us thinking and wondering about the versions of truth, the possibilities.

Now with so many people acting effortlessly in their daily lives, it has become all the more important to recognize an illusion and separate it from reality to understand the true nature of a person. The society demands and forces a person to create an illusion for the sake of others and one by one everyone begin to live the illusion to a point where they are no longer sure about the reality.

I suddenly remembered a poem I read written by Gabriel Okara, a Nigerian poet & novelist. This poem talks about the change in the society and the attitude of people from one generation to another. This poem, in its own way suits my version of ‘Illusion’. 

Once Upon A Time

Once Upon A Time
Once upon a time, son,
they used to laugh with their hearts,
and laugh with their eyes;
but now they only laugh with their teeth,
while their ice block cold eyes
search behind our shadows.
There was a time indeed
they used to shake hands with their hearts;
but that's gone, son.
Now they left shake hands without hearts
while their left hands search
my empty pockets.

‘Feel at home!’ ‘Come again’:
they say, and when I come
again and feel
at home, once, twice,
there will be no thrice-
for then I find doors shut on me
So I have learned many things, son.
I have learned to wear many faces
like dresses – home face,
office face, street face, host face,cocktail face,
with all their conforming smiles
like a fixed portrait smile.
And I have learned too
to laugh with only my teeth
and shake hands without my heart.
I have also learned to say, ‘Goodbye’,
when I mean ‘Good-riddance’:
to say ‘Glad to meet you’,
without being glad; and to say ‘It’s been
nice talking to you’, after being bored.

But believe me, son.
I want to be what I used to be
when I was like you. I want
to unlearn all these muting things.
Most of all, I want to relearn
how to laugh, for my laugh in the mirror
shows only my teeth like a snake’s bare fangs!
So show me, son,
how to laugh; show me how
I used to laugh and smile
once upon a time when I was like you.

Friday, October 21, 2016

The Memoirs of an Eighty year old- Episode IV

Episode: The Coolest Grandma

So far I have presented the Grandpa’s version of things. Now I am introducing his soul mate, his wife, my grandma; a very loving, sensible, practical, efficient and a strong woman.

Grandma was 14 yrs when she got married to my then 20 yr young grandpa. A year or two after the wedding she went to live with her husband and in-laws, a huge joint family. Then owing to grandpa’s job in the Indian Railways they moved to various places in the central and south India. I will tell you the details of their wedding and then lives in the coming episodes. (It is going to be super fun reading those :) )

As a mother of five daughters, a grand mamma of a handful of grandchildren and a great-granny of two girls she is one busy woman who is loved by all. Her no-nonsense attitude combined with a very rational approach and dry wit makes her a favorite. Though I am officially not family, I am always treated like one by her and grandpa. *Touch wood*

Belonging to a traditional, orthodox, Hindu- Brahmin family I expected her to be a rigid and stern women with predefined preferences; but she turned out to be so different! It took me a hour meeting with her to realize that she is her own woman who believes in flexibility of thought and an easy-going attitude. It has been two years since I’ve met them; my new grandparents, and they surprise me with their compassion and loving nature.

Grandma is one of those rare humans who do not preach equality, instead practice it in their daily lives. Grandpa of course is the same. Here are the two generous souls we hear and talk about.

My granny feels she doesn’t know much about the world! The truth is far from it as you might have already guessed from what I wrote. She sees all and has a very real understanding of the society we live in. It comes from observing people and their behavior without actually judging them for their lapses. The more time I spend with her he more I learn about her way of looking at things. I do not have to add that I totally like it and I am trying by best to follow it. Personally loving the detective stuff helps me, I guess. The detached view of situations is so important in this world.

It is going to be a little tough to write her versions of instances for she doesn’t seem to say much, especially when I ask. But I will definitely add bits of her opinions and comments in my coming episodes.

Saturday, October 8, 2016

The Solitary Leaf

Lying in the shallow water pool
barely rippling the surface,
looking brown and wrinkled,
waiting patiently for its friends to join,
thought the solitary maple leaf:
"My end is the beginning of new life.."

Painting by Mrs Ratna Pochiraju

Saturday, September 17, 2016

The Memoirs of an Eighty year old- Episode III

Episode: High School and Mode of travel

Continuing about the schooling grandpa says the selection of high school itself was not an easy task for his father. Their village did not any ZPHS though the villages on adjacent sides had one each. There were no proper roads from one village to another. The route was a mud road between the Krishna river canal and the bund that was constructed to stop the flooding river from entering the village. The bund he says is a high block wall build of mud and had a slope in one end which made walking on it a risky affair, especially for children and women. The risk was greater during the rainy season.

And so grandpa’s father asked around the village and found out that there was an art teacher in their village who worked in one of the ZPHS in the adjacent villages. The teacher was delighted to help and after clearing the entrance examination grandpa got admitted in 8th standard. Back then he said that the classes from 6th standard had different naming.
6th class- Ist forum.
7th class- IInd forum.
8th class- IIIrd forum.
9th class- IVth forum.
10th class- Vth forum.
11th class- VIth forum. (SSLC)
The 11th standard had the final board examination called the SSLC after which one could join Intermediate.

The school started and grandpa went along with the teacher to the school by walking 3 K.M. to the next village every day. Their uniform was a simple light colored shirt paired with half-length pants. Even teenagers rarely wore full length pants those days, it seems. Walking barefoot was no easy task and they ended up with nicks and pricks of thorns on their legs and feet.

After a year the art teacher got transferred to another ZPHS in the village on the other side and grandpa followed him to that school. The route they had to now take was in the opposite direction but the path was the same, between the canal and the bund. He made new friends and his juniors also joined the same school. So grandpa along with his group of friends traveled to and fro each day.

Grandpa continues saying life was simple and good. He says he topped the school with 52% marks in the SSLC board examination. Back then any student who crossed 50% marks was considered a brilliant student and getting 40% marks was an achievement. People were not so competitive about marks that they would treat their own friends as enemies when it came to studies. There was also rarely any secrecy about what they studied for examinations. This I feel is something today’s parents should realize and re-learn. 

Monday, September 12, 2016

Path to Infinity

Waking up on a misty morning
feeling tired and lost
in the race of the world
I reach the deserted dock.

The broken planks stare silently
daring me to walk ahead, making
my own path among the pieces,
to sail the success boat or drown into infinity!

Painting by Mrs. Ratna Pochiraju

Monday, August 29, 2016

The Lighthouse

The full moon rose from the sea
pure white against the black sky,
a circle among the twinkling stars,
illuminating the sand to silver dust.

The waves rolled higher and higher,
crashing against the rocks louder and louder,
arriving and leaving again and again,
turning the rocks black to silver to black.

Silhouetted against the vast sky, 
standing tall with head held high 
stood a sturdy Lighthouse sending,
beams of golden light into the roaring sea.

Listening to faint ship's horn,
from the gallery of the Lantern room,
was a little girl eagerly waiting
for her father to sail home...

Painting by Mrs. Ratna Pochiraju

Thursday, August 18, 2016

The Memoirs of an Eighty year old- Episode II

Episode: Schooling years – primary school

Listening to the stories of grandpa’s childhood I asked him to tell me about his schooling years. The education system back then wasn’t this competitive or stressful. Grandpa collected his thoughts and began by saying that he doesn’t remember much about his school till his 3rd standard. Being a merit student he was promoted to 4th standard mid- year, which meant he had to leave his classmates behind and go to the next higher class. This he says saddened him as a child but they share such good friendship that most of them are still in contact with each other even after all these years. 

The school he studied was an aided school which had classes up to 7th standard in only Telugu medium. The school building was donated by some rich person from the village and the classes were run by government teachers. When in the final class in the school one teacher advised grandpa’s father to send him to the ZPHS (Zilla Parishad High School) in the village adjacent to theirs for the higher classes. But those High schools had English language as one of the subjects and grandpa was not even taught the basics. So the same teacher whom grandpa considers his mentor selected a handful of bright students and began teaching them English in spare time after the school hours. 

It is because of this man’s selfless hard work and dedication that grandpa says he passed the entrance test and got a seat in the 8th standard in the High school. If the test wasn’t cleared grandpa would have had to either repeat 7th standard again in his local school or get admitted into 6th standard in the High school. 

Grandpa talks about his teacher with much love and respect. He says he can never forget how encouraging and supporting the teacher was. He continues saying that he along with grandmother used to go to his teacher house, take blessings and make sure they were living comfortably, whenever they could make time. The tradition of going for the teacher’s blessings and offering them new clothes was continued by his juniors and other friends as well.

Friday, August 5, 2016

The Eternal Sky- Part III - Drama At Dusk

Drama At Dusk

Sunsets are the most beautiful creations of Nature. Do you know that no two sunsets are same? At least to me, they are not. The glorious colors of sky ranging from golden yellow to hot pink, bright orange to a soft red with a few clouds scattered around and there you have, one of the priceless artworks of nature entirely free for us to see and feel.

Sunsets are dramatic. The unique play of colors, the constant traveling of the sun, (north to south & south to north), clouded or clear sky, all are a part of the drama. But this drama is peaceful and soothing. There is neither turbulence nor any hyper unspent- energy. The splash of colors lighting the treetops and turning them golden is a sight to cherish forever.

No matter what kind of day we have had, a sunset always manages to set it right just by its presence in the background. All we need is to take a moment and enjoy its beauty, breathe in the peace.

I personally never get tired of watching the sunsets every day. They are the best conclusion a day can have. The changing seasons, the clouds in various shapes and sizes only enhance the beauty to dusk and dramatize further.

Monday, July 25, 2016

The Shepherd Girl

In a pale patched frock
and worn out boots,
with her hair held by a blue ribbon,
walked a shepherd girl
herding her sheep,
followed by a faithful dog.

Standing atop the hill
staring into the vast space ahead,
wished the shepherd girl
with all her heart:
a better life for her family,
and an adventure for her soul.

Painting by Ratna Pochiraju.
Thank you for allowing me to use it in my blog.

Tuesday, July 12, 2016

The Memoirs of an Eighty year old- Episode I

Episode: The Talkies and Theaters

On a cold Monday evening I went to the grandparent’s house and as usual my grandma was watching her daily soap with grandpa dong his version of translation of the dialogues from Hindi to Telugu for fun. Then suddenly came the topic of translators used in movie theaters back then and how hilarious it was.

Grandpa began to tell me the procedure of going to the cinema theater and watching the film in the 1940’s and 50’s when he was in middle and high school.

Born and brought up in a village that was pretty far from the nearest town, he says life was good. Back then the films were only Black & White and released first in the major towns followed by the smaller towns and then finally came the turn of the villages. Every 3 villages had a small theater in the village that was biggest among those. He called the theater as the Touring Talkies.

The mode of travel from their village to the theater was a bullock cart with a tent or dome covering the passengers’ seat to protect them from outside weather. The cart had two bulls in tandem and an uncle or the father usually drove it. Since most families were big in number and lived together, the kids were taken to the cinemas separately by mostly the males of the family. After reaching the theater some grass was placed in front of the bulls and the carts were all lined neatly unlike our haphazard parking these days.

The seating arrangement in the theaters had three classes- Floor sating, Bench seating and Chair seating with floor being the cheapest. The younger ones of the family had the floor seating tickets while the elders had bench class. Only the ones considered rich took tickets for the chair class. So the families tried to arrive first at the theater and the younger ones ran inside to occupy their places on the block that separated the floor class to bench class. The elders sat immediately behind their children.

Grandpa continues, saying that the films then were longer in duration with a minimum of 3 hours and 3-4 intervals in between. The elders checked and counted their younger ones to make sure all were present. Vendors sold roasted nuts and special books which had the story of the cinema they were watching along with all the lyrics of the songs from it. He says these books are treasures and that people of his age group know all these songs by heart.

Some films from other languages, especially Tamil were also showed at times and then came the translators who were hired by the theater owners to translate the dialogues to Telugu. This grandpa says was so funny sometimes as the translators were not really proficient and ended up changing the meaning sometimes.

Once the movie ended the younger ones had to stand in a line near the entrance gates to get counted again and then the families left for their homes. 

The Memoirs of an Eighty year old- Introduction


The life in 21st century is so different and complicated compared to the 20th century. I say complicated and not advanced because despite all these technological inventions and facilities we have, we are always stressed out and so bus in our robotic routine that we hardly have time for ourselves let alone others.

So I got an idea to ask my Grandfather, by relation, to tell me about his childhood and growing years. He has seen the changes and increasing complexities in living conditions since late 1930’s. I am going to make a series of the random incidents and situations he tells me which are an integral part of his life. And knowing my Grandmother I am sure we’ll get to know some real funny incidents; she is totally a practical, rational and strong willed woman I’ve ever met.

The incidents I post may not be in any particular order as they tend to pick a random subject and relate the past. I’ll try my best to be exact with the translation (from Telugu to English) of the names and words used for certain things back then.

Wednesday, July 6, 2016

The Eternal Sky- Part II- The Looming Clouds

The Looming Clouds

I have written about the sunrise and morning rainbow in Part I  of the series.
The second part of my never-ending fascination with the vast sky deals with the monsoon sky.

Observing the varying cloud patterns and textures in different seasons throughout the year is a pastime of mine. The monsoon clouds (June- October) and particularly dense and rich in a much bigger size compared to the rest of the year. The cloud colors also are darker, ranging from pale grey to rich grey and soft black.

These are the clouds that reflect power, force, strength, and stability. Their silent presence covering the blue sky with their muted grey gives an impression of impending doom, whereas, in reality, these are the main cause of life in plants, farms, and forests.

Sure, these clouds have the capacity to destroy everything with a single strike of lightning; But the power to destroy is not misused by nature. Powerful yet distant, the grey looming clouds manage to pull and tug at the heart with their constant presence.

There was never a moment when I ever felt threatened by the sheer force of their wind or the magnificence of their rain and lightning. The sky with its unlimited span has always been my comforter and soother. I wonder at its patience to hold in control the power and look so graceful and regal!

Monday, June 27, 2016

The Eternal Sky- Part I- Beauty of Dawn

 I've always loved the sky- the unlimited span, the changing colors, the various clouds & their weird shapes, the sun, moon, stars & their changing positions, and finally the effect it has on people's moods.

Not being a morning person I tend to miss watching the sunrises, but yesterday I was lucky enough to watch and capture the most beautiful sunrise coupled with a rainbow.

      Opening my sleepy eyes to my mother's call, I noticed through my room window a burst of golden and pink clouds spread across the eastern sky ready for the sun to rise. When I got up to reach my mobile phone to take a picture, I saw one end of a rainbow towards the west. I ran into the balcony to get a decent view and to take pictures before the rainbow disappeared.

My father came out surprised to hear me running about at 5.40 in the morning. It usually takes me 15-20 minutes to get into active mode after I wake up unless of course, it is a rare occasion like this one.

     Realizing that I could see the complete arc of the rainbow, I was elated. The sky was pinkish-blue with a bright inner rainbow and a very faint outer one. The inner rainbow has red on the outside with blue on the inside. The outer rainbow has red on the inside and blue on the outside. This is because of the difference in reflection and refraction of light on the dew drops.

    Taking pictures of the rainbow and the dawn sky alternately I observed that as the sun rose, the rainbow lost color and slowly disappeared. The entire spectacle lasted for some 5-7 minutes, but it was the best morning of my life. The colors of the sky always do that to me. They bring peace, silent strength and a sense of content and happiness.

   I went back to sleep with a smile on my face and rainbows in my dreams.

Monday, June 13, 2016

Live Life

Fly across the sky
and collect the starry pebbles...

Swim across the ocean
and collect the shiny shells...

Walk across the forest
and collect the smelly nuts...

Live life the way you want
and breathe in the peaceful air!

Thursday, May 26, 2016


Lightning is such a paradox-
it illuminates the world
and strikes with force which
plunges the world into darkness;
all in the span of a heartbeat.

Thursday, April 21, 2016


Between the happy smiles
and the warm tears
oscillates the pendulum
called Life!!!


The sound of fluttering birds
in the dead garden...

The sound of fallen trees
in the city streets...

The sound of crushed hopes
in the broken soul...

The sound of advancement
from a city to smart city...

Wednesday, March 30, 2016

Memories, Words & Poems

In the strings of letters,
are my meaningless thoughts,
what if...
they get lost, like an innocent child!
I just hope they are safe,
to come back to me as a beautiful poem.

If writing a poem was a dream,
I would gladly fall asleep
closing my eyes tight to dream,
again and again & again,
on every dawn of my life.

In the memory fields,
the seeds of letters don not grow easily,
and bear the fruits of poems...
The words are squeezed,
from depths of the heart,
and then comes, a beautiful poem.

The words I write now,
trying to fit them on this sheet,
are the lessons I am learning,
from the greatest teacher, life.

No matter how fast the words tumble,
and how bizarre they are,
the words reflect my thoughts, my memories...
Maybe that is why,
the poems of my childhood,
have whisker'd letters.

Letters and words are just like us,
the more in a group,
the more noise they make.
For me, poetry is...
that hidden part of me,
I didn't even know existed!!!

Free Translation of a Telugu poem by Dr. Virinchi Virivinti Sharma

Friday, February 19, 2016

Another Spring Night

On an April evening, after a mild shower,
ancient silence surrounding the place..
Power cut! These are the days with nothing modern,
the familiar dusk-light of childhood days envelopes us.

The sprinkle of sunlight on the tree tops
from across the beautiful blue sky,
the droplets of sunlight hanging on tender leaves,
threatening to fall on the playing children.

A silken sheet of twilight appears,
the full moon begins to rise towards the apartment tower,
only to slow down midway & settle on the wall,
as though responding to an unseen signal.

An unknown mix of emotions,
excitement & uneasiness, not knowing what to do,
to speak or not to speak, tensed & happy
is the moon, as if meeting its favorite one.

The moon sensing its own turmoil,
decides to rise slowly, over the stairs,
onto the terrace, throwing waves of silver light,
with houses resembling boats, another spring night has begun!!!

Free Translation of a Telugu poem by Sri Vadrevu Ch Veerabhadrudu

Saturday, January 16, 2016

An Amber Dream!

Once upon a midnight
I noticed an universe
with an amber dream
outside my window
parallel to my world.

My world had friends,
enemies, objects & half-finished jobs.
The parallel universe was a beauty,
with vast, blue sky,
a few pure white clouds & eternal grace.

I sat upright on my bed,
and began to think,
How should I bring together
the parallel worlds?
Can I even attempt it!

Between the branches,
among the tree leaves,
the golden lamp swung
helpless, I stared at its glow,
awake till the dawn.

One part of me took the lamp,
and traveled into the amber dream
while the other stayed back,
to wake up at dawn,
& start the old life again!

The amber dream remained a pleasant dream,
which my reality never met!!

Free Translation of a Telugu poem by Sri Vadrevu Ch Veerabhadrudu

Friday, January 1, 2016

My Tiny Bird

A tiny little bird
lands on my windowsill,
sings for me to wake up,
on every delightful morning.

Bright as a candle flame,
awake before the dawn,
you keep flying around,
to help the sun rise.

Such a tiny little bird,
where is your throat,
where is your heart,
i cannot help but wonder!

My bird begins to sing,
its tiny body vibrating,
letting its heart out,
to be one with nature.

I do want to sing,
and forget my worries,
just like you,
my tiny little bird!!!

Free Translation of a Telugu poem by Sri Vadrevu Ch Veerabhadrudu

Concert of Stars

The city has fallen asleep
and heaven began its concert,
reminding me of the fishermen,
who go to fish at midnight, into the heart of sea.

The curtain of clouds,
give way to the bright stars,
to flaunt their talents,
unaware that i was awake, and witnessed the magic.

The language unknown to any,
the sounds understood only by babies,
the concert continued till dawn,
and now i wonder, will i ever sleep again!

Free Translation of a Telugu poem by Sri Vadrevu Ch Veerabhadrudu