ಮುಂಜಾವು

ಮುಕವರಳಿ

ನಗುವರಳಿ

ಬೆಳಗಾಯ್ತು

ಪುಟ್ಟ ಗೌರಿಗೆ.

ಪ ಪ ಪಾ ಕೇಕೆಯೊಂದು

ದೂರದಲ್ಲಿ ಕೇಳಿತ್ತು

ಆಳದಾನಿದ್ರೆಯಲ್ಲಿದ್ದವನಿಗೆ.

ಮೃದು ಬೆರಳುಗಳು

ಎಳೆಯುತಿದ್ದವು ನನ್ನೊರಟ ಗಡ್ಡವ;

ಕಣ್ಣ ಬಿಟ್ಟವನಿಗೆ

ಸಿಕ್ಕಿತ್ತು

ಬೆಲ್ಲದಾ ನಗು.

ಸುಖವೆಂದರೆ

ಇದ ಬಿಟ್ಟು ಬೇರುಂಟೇ?

ಸೌಂದರ್ಯ ಮತ್ತು ಚಂದ

ಗಡಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಹೋಗುವುದು ಎಂದರೆ ನಾ ಮುಂದೆ ಎನ್ನುವ ವಯಸ್ಸು. ಅಜ್ಜ ಗಡಿ ಕಟ್ಟುವಾಗಲೇ ಎಡದೆತ್ತು ಯಾವದು, ಬಲದೆತ್ತು ಯಾವುದು ಎಂದು ಕೇಳಿ ಗಾಡಿ ಹೊಡಿಯುವುದರ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಬಹಳ ಗೊತ್ತಿದೆ ಎಂದು ಹೆಮ್ಮೆ ಪಡುವುದಿತ್ತು. ಎತ್ತಿನ ಮುಗದಾಣ ಹಿಡಿದು ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ದೂರ ನಡೆಸಿದರೆ ಏನೋ ಸುಖ. ಆದರೆ ಅಂದು ಮಾತ್ರ ಸೋಮಾರಿತನ. ಅವಾಗ ತಾನೆ ಹತ್ತರ ಪರೀಕ್ಷೆ ಮುಗಿದಿತ್ತು. ಕೊಸಗುಟ್ಟುತ್ತಾ ಮನಸಿಲ್ಲದ ಮನಸಿಲ್ಲನಲ್ಲಿ ಅಜ್ಜನ ಜೊತೆ ಹೊರಟಿದ್ದೆ. ಮೇ ತಿಂಗಳ ಉರಿ ಬಿಸಿಲು. ಹಳೆ ಮಳೆಯ ಸುಳಿವಿಲ್ಲ. ಗಾಡಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಬಿಳಿಹುಲ್ಲು ಹಾಕಿ ಅದರ ಮೇಲೆ ಕಂಬಳಿ ಹಾಕಿತ್ತು.ಅಜ್ಜ ಗಾಡಿ ಬದಿಯ ಅಟ್ಟಣಿಗೆ ಹಿಡಿದು ಕುಳಿತಿದ್ದ. ನಾನು ಗಾಡಿ ಹೊಡೆಯುತ್ತಿದ್ದ ಮಾದನ ಜೊತೆ ಮು೦ದೆ ಕುಳಿತಿದ್ದೆ.ನಾವು ದೊಡ್ಡಳ್ಳಿ ಬಿಟ್ಟು ಅನಂತಪುರದತ್ತ ಹೊರಟಿದ್ದೆವು. ಬೇಸಗೆಯ ಒಣಗಾಳಿ, ದೂಳು ಉರಿಬಿಸಿಲು. ಬೇಸರ. ಯೊಚಿಸಲು ಆಲಸ್ಯ. ಎತ್ತುಗಳು ಒ೦ದೆ ಸಮನೆ ನೆಡೆದಿದ್ದವು. ಎತ್ತಿನ ಗ೦ಟೆ ಮತ್ತು ಗಾಡಿಯ ಕೀಲಿನ ಹೊರತು ಎಲ್ಲಡೆ ಮೌನ. ಆಗಾಗ ಮಾದನ ಹೊಯ್ಯ ಹುಶ್ ಎಂದು ಎತ್ತುಗಳನ್ನು ಹುರಿದಿಂಬಿಸುವುದು ಬಿಟ್ಟರೆ ಪರಿಸರವೆಲ್ಲ ಏಕಾನತೆಯಿಂದ ಕೂಡಿತ್ತು; ಮತ್ತು ನಮ್ಮ ಜೊತೆಯಲೀ ಬರುತಿತ್ತು. ಸೂರ್ಯ ನೆತ್ತಿಗೆರುವ ಹೊತ್ತಿಗೆ, ಗಾಡಿ ಮೂಲೆ ಮನೆ ಮಂಜಣ್ಣನ ಮನೆ ಎದರು ನಿಂತಿತು. ಮಂಜಣ್ಣ ಅಜ್ಜನ ಹಳೆಯ ಗೆಳೆಯ. ಎತ್ತರದ ಆಳು. ಅವನ ಕ ಠಿನ ಮುಖ, ಮೊಂಡು ಮೂಗು , ಪೊದೆ ಹುಬ್ಬು, ಕುರುಚುಲು ಗಡ್ಡ , ಮಾಸಿದ ಸಾಟಿ ಪಂಜೆ, ಮನಸ್ಸಿಗೆ ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ಕಿರಿಕಿರಿ ಮಾಡಿತ್ತು.ಮಂಜಣ್ಣನ ಮನೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಗಾಳಿ ದೂಳು ಇಲ್ಲದಿದ್ದರೂ ಇದೂ ರಸ್ತೆಯ ಬಾಗವೇನೂ ಅನಿಸುತ್ತಿತ್ತು. 'ಉರಿ ಬಿಸಿಲು, ಒಂದು ಮಳೆ ಇಲ್ಲ, ಈ ವರ್ಷ ಏನೋ' ಎನ್ನುತ್ತಾ ಮಂಜಣ್ಣ ಅಜ್ಜನ ಸ್ವಾಗತ ಮಾಡಿದ. ಮನೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಎಲ್ಲ ಹೆಂಗಿದ್ದಾರೆ ಎಂಬ ಕುಶಲೋಪಚರವೂ ಆಯಿತು. ಅಜ್ಜ ' ಅಬ್ಬಬ್ಬ ಏನು ಬಿಸಿಲು, ಮೊದಲು ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ನೀರು ಕೊಡು ಮಹರಾಯ' ಹ೦, ' ಕಮಲೀ, ಏ ಕಮಲಿ ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ನೀರು ' ಒಳಗಡೆ ಮಾತು ಕೇಳಿಸಿತು, ಬಹುಷಹ ಮೊಮ್ಮಗಳಿರಬೇಕು . ಒಳಗಡೆಯಿಂದ ೧೬ - ೧೭ ವರ್ಷದ ಹುಡುಗಿ ಬಂದಳು. ಕೆಂಪು ಕುಬುಸ, ನೀಲಿ ಲಂಗ ತೊಟ್ಟಿದ್ದಳು. ಅಜ್ಜ ಅಡಿಗೆಮನೆಗೆ ಎದುರಾಗಿ ಮಣೆ ಮೇಲೆ ಕುಳಿತಿದ್ದ . ನಾನು ಅವನ ಎದುರಲ್ಲಿ ಅಕ್ಕಿ ಚೀಲದ ಮೇಲೆ ಕುಳಿತಿದ್ದೆ. ಅವಳು ನನ್ನ ಹಿಂದಿನಿಂದ ಬಂದು ಅಜ್ಜನ ಎದುರು ಲೋಟ, ಸಣ್ಣ ಬಾಳೆ ಎಲೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಬೆಲ್ಲ ಇಟ್ಟಳು. ನಿದಾನವಾಗಿ ನೀರು ಹನಿಸಿದಳು. ನನ್ನ ಹಿಂದಿನ ಕಿಟಕಿಯಿಂದ ಅವಳ ಬೆನ್ನ ಮೇಲೆ ಬೆಳಕು ಬೀಳುತ್ತಿತ್ತು. ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ಉದ್ದವೇ ಎನ್ನುವ ಜಡೆ, ದುಂಡಾದ ಹಿಮ್ಮಡಿ, ನೀರೆರೆಯುತ್ತಿರುವ ಕೈ , ಕಿಟಕಿಯ ಬೆಳಕಿಂದ ಹೊಳೆಯುತ್ತಿರುವ ಕೆನ್ನೆಯ ಒಂದು ಪಾರ್ಶ್ವ ನನ್ನ ಹದಿಹರೆಯದ ಕುತೂಹಲವನ್ನು ಹುರಿಗೊಳಿಸಿತು. ತಾಮ್ರದ ಚೊಂಬು ಲೋಟ ಮತ್ತು ಬೆಲ್ಲದ ಬಾಳೆಯನ್ನು ಕುಶಲವಾಗಿ ಕೈಗೆತ್ತಿಕೊಂಡು ನನ್ನ ಕಡೆ ತಿರುಗಿದಳು. ನಾನೆಲ್ಲಿದ್ದೇನೆಂದು ತಿಳಿಯಲೇನೋ ನನ್ನಡೆಗೆ ಒಂದು ನೋಟ ಹರಿಸಿ ಲೋಟ ಇಟ್ಟು ನೀರು ಹನಿಸಿದಳು. ಅವಳು ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ಕತ್ತು ಬಗ್ಗಿಸಿ ಮೊಣ್ಕಾಲಮೇಲೆ ಕುಳಿತು ನೀರು ಹನಿಸಿತ್ತಿದ್ದಳು.ನನ್ನ ಮೈಮನ, ಹೃದಯದ ಮೇಲೆ ಕಂಪನವೊಂದು ಹಾದು ಹೋಯಿತು. ಬೆಳಗಿನ ದೂಳು, ಗಾಳಿ ಏಕನತೆ ಈಗ ಅಲ್ಲಿರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ' ಇನ್ನು ನೀರು ಬೇಕ' ಎಂಬ ಮಾತು ಸುರುಳಿಸುರುಳಿಯಾಗಿ ತೇಲಿ ಬಂತು. ಮೂಕನಂತೆ ತಲೆ ಆಡಿಸಿದೆ. ಕಮಲ ಅಥವಾ ಅವಳ ಅಜ್ಜ ಕರೆದಂತೆ ಕಮಲಿ, ಸೌಂದರ್ಯ ಪ್ರತೀಕವಗಿದ್ದಳು. ಇದನ್ನು ನಿಮಗೆ ಹೇಗೆ ಹೇಳಲಿ? ಹೀಗೆ ಹೇಳಬಹುದೇನೋ. ಬೆಳಗಿನ ಸೂರ್ಯ, ಅಲ್ಲಲಿ ಮಂಜು, ಲವಲವಿಕೆಯಿಂದ ಹಾರುವ ಹಕ್ಕಿ, ಗದ್ದೆಗೆ ಹೊರಟಿರುವ ರೈತರು, ಕೆರೆಯ ಮೇಲೆ ಏಳುತ್ತಿರುವ ಹಬೆ , ದೇವರಿಗೆ ಹೂವು ಕುಯುತ್ತಿರುವ ಮಕ್ಕಳು, ಮರದ ಸಂದಿಯಿಂದ ಬರುತ್ತಿರುವ ಬಿಸಿಲ್ಗೋಲು ಹೀಗೆ ಇವೆಲ್ಲರ ಒಟ್ಟು ಚಿತ್ರಣ ಅಪ್ರತಿಮ. ಇವುಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಒಂದೊಂದು ಚಂದವೋ ಅಥವಾ ಒಟ್ಟು ಚಿತ್ರ ಚಂದವೋ ಹೇಳುವುದು ಕಷ್ಟ!! ಇಲ್ಲಿಯೂ ಹಾಗೆ ಇತ್ತು.ಮಿಂಚಿನ ತರ, ಹಿಡಿಯುವ ಮುನ್ನ, ತಿಳಿಯುವ ಮೊದಲು ಹಾದು ಹೋಗಿತ್ತು. ಕಲೆಗಾರ ನನಗಿಂತ ಚೆನ್ನಾಗಿ ಹೇಳುತ್ತಿದ್ದನೇನೋ. ಈ ಸ್ಫೂರ್ತಿಯ ಮೂರ್ತಿ ಭೂಮಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಹೇಗೆ ದೇವರಿಗೆ ಗೊತ್ತು. ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಪ್ರಕೃತಿಯು ಎಲ್ಲಿಯೂ ಎಡವಿಲ್ಲ. ಹಣೆ, ಕಣ್ಣು, ಮೂಗು, ತುಟಿ ಅದರ ಮೇಲಿನ ನಗು , ಈ ಮುಖಕ್ಕೆ ತಕ್ಕ ದೇಹ. ಎಲ್ಲವು ಒಂದಕ್ಕೊಂದು ಸೇರಿಕೊಂಡು ಸುಂದರ ಗೆರೆಯನ್ನು ಮೂಡಿಸಿತ್ತು. ಸಂಗೀತ ಗೋಷ್ಠಿಯಾ ಹಲವು ವಾದ್ಯಗಳು ತಾಳ ತಪ್ಪದೆ ನುಡಿಸಿ ಸುಮಧುರ ಗಾನವಾಗುವಂತೆ, ಅವಳೆಲ್ಲ ಅಂಗಾಂಗಗಳು ಬಳ್ಳಿಯಂತೆ ಹೆಣೆದುಕೊಂಡು ಚಂದದ ಗೊಂಬೆಯಂತೆ ನಿಂತಿದ್ದಳು. ನನ್ನ ಕಡೆ ಅವಳ ಗಮನ ಇರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ನಾನು ಶಾಲೆ ಹುಡುಗನೆಂದೋ? ನನಗೆ ಈ ಸೌಂದರ್ಯ ಅಸಹನೀಯ ಭಾವ ಹುಟ್ಟಿಸಿತು. ಒಂದು ತರಹದ ನೋವು. ಈ ಅಂದವನ್ನು ನನ್ನ ಕಿಸೆಯಲ್ಲಿ, ಕಣ್ಣಲ್ಲಿ, ಮನಸಲ್ಲಿ ಹಿಡಿದಿಡಲಾಗದ ಅಸಾಹಯಕ ಭಾವ. ನೋವು. ಈ ಕ್ಷಣ ಕ್ಷಣಿಕವೆಂಬ ಇನ್ನೊಂದು ನೋವು. ಮಾನವನ ಮೂಲಗುಣವದ ಆಸೆ ಒಳಗೆ ಕುಳಿತು ಈ ಮಧುರ ನೋವನ್ನು ಹುಟ್ಟು ಹಾಕುತಿತ್ತು. ಅಜ್ಜನದೇನು ಹುಡುಗಿಯರನ್ನು ನೋಡುವ ವಯಸ್ಸಲ್ಲ. ಆದರಿಲ್ಲಿ ಬೇರೆ ಮಾತು. ಅಜ್ಜ ಕಮಲಿಯನ್ನು ನೋಡುತ್ತಾ 'ಈಕೆ ದ್ಯವನ ಮಗಳೇ?' ಎಂದು ಮಂಜಣ್ಣನ ಕೇಳಿದ. ನಂತರ ಚಂದದ ಸುಳಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಸಿಕ್ಕಿಕೊಂಡು ಅವರ ಮಾತುಗಳು ಹಾಗೆ ಕಡಿಮೆ ಆದವು. ಈಗಾಗಲೇ ಮಾದ ಎತ್ತುಗಳನ್ನು ಕೆರೆಗೆ ಒಯ್ದು ನೀರು ಕುಡಿಸಿಕೊಂಡು ಬಂದಿದ್ದ. ಎತ್ತುಗಳು ಮೈ ಜುಮ್ಗುಡಿಸಿ ನೀರನ್ನು ಆಚೀಚೆ ಸಿಡಿಸುತ್ತಿದ್ದವು. ಅಜ್ಜ ಹಾಗೆ ಗೋಡೆಗೆ ಒರಗಿ ನಿದ್ದೆ ಮಾಡಿದ. ನಾನು ಹೊರಗೆ ಬಂದು ಕಲ್ಲು ಕಟ್ಟಣೆ ಮೇಲೆ ಕುಳಿತೆ. ಮೆಟ್ಟಿಲಿಳಿದು ಹುಡುಗಿ ಮತ್ತೆ ತೇಲಿ ಬಂದಳು. ಮತ್ತೇನೋ ತೆಗೆದುಕೊಂಡು ಹೋದಳು. ಓ ನನ್ನ ಮುಂದೆ ಸುಳಿಯುತ್ತಿದ್ದಾಳೆ ನಾನು ಅವಳ ಕಡೆ ನೋದಬೇಕೆನ್ದೇನೋ, ನನಗನಿಸಿದ್ದು! ಮಾದನಿಗೆ ಬೆಲ್ಲ ನೀರು ಕೊಟ್ಟಳು. ಎತ್ತಿಗೆ ಬಿಳಿಹುಲ್ಲು ಹಾಕಿದಳು.ಈಗ ಮಾದನ ಮನಸ್ಥಿತಿ ನನಗಿಂತ ಭಿನ್ನವಾಗಿರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಎತ್ತುಗಳ ಮೇಲಿನ ಅವನ ಅಸಹನೆ ಮಾಯವಾಗಿತ್ತು. ತಿಳಿಯದ ಕಿರುನಗೆಯೊಂದು ಅವನ ಕರಿ ಮುಖದಲ್ಲಿ ಮಿಂಚಿತ್ತು. ನನಗೀಗ ನಿಶ್ಚಯವಾಗಿತ್ತು, ಅವನೂ ಸಹ ನನ್ನಂತೆ ಈ ಸೌಂದರ್ಯ ತರುವ ಸುಖ ಸಂಕಟದಿಂದ ನರಳುತ್ತಿದ್ದ. ನನ್ನನು ಕಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದ ಅ ನೋವು ಅವನನ್ನ್ನು ಕಾಡತೊಡಗಿತು. ಅನಂತ ಸೌಂದರ್ಯವನ್ನು ಹಿಡಿದಿಡಲಾಗದ ನೋವು. ಅಥವಾ ತನಗೆ ಸಿಗದಲ್ಲ ಎಂಬ ನೋವು. ಮಾದ ಮತ್ತು ನಾನು ಹೊರಗೆ ಕುಳಿತು ಕಾದೆವು, ಅಲ್ಲಿ ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಹಾರುತ್ತಿದ್ದ ಮಿಂಚನ್ನು ನೋಡಲು. ಮಾದನಿಗೆ ಬೆಲ್ಲ ನೀರು ತಂದಳು. ಎತ್ತಿಗೆ ಬಿಳಿ ಹುಲ್ಲು ಹಾಕ್ತಿದಳು. ಅಜ್ಜ ಎದ್ದು ಬಂದ. ಮದ ಗಡಿ ಕಟ್ಟಿದ. ಕಮಲಿ ಬಂದು ದಣಪೆ ತೆಗೆದಳು. ಮನಸಿಲ್ಲದ ಮನಸಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಮೂವರು ಗಾಡಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಮೌನವಾಗಿ ಕುಳಿತೆವು. ಮೂವರ ಮನಸಿನಲ್ಲೂ ಏನೂ ಸಿಡುಕು, ಹಾಗಾಗಿ ಮಾತಿರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಗಡಿಗೇನು ನಮ್ಮ ಸಂಕಟ ತಿಳಿದೀತು! ಈಗ , ಒಂದು ಮಾತಾಡದ ಮಾದ, ಕಾನೂರು ಸೀಮೆರು ಚೆಂದ್ ಇರ್ತಾರ .... ಹೇಳುತ್ತಾ, ಬರಿಕೊಲನ್ನು ಎತ್ತುಗಳ ಬೆನ್ನ ಮೇಲೆ ಆಡಿಸಿದ.
ಭಾಗ ೨
ರೈಲು ಯಾವುದೊ ನಿಲ್ದಾಣದಲ್ಲಿ ನಿಂತಿತ್ತು. ಪ್ರತಿ ನಿಲ್ದಾಣದಲ್ಲೂ ಇಳಿಯುವ ಚಟ ನನಗೆ. ಇಳಿದು ಅಲ್ಲ್ಲಿಂದ ಇಲ್ಲಿಗೆ ಓಡಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದೆ. ಇಲ್ಲಿಯೂ ವಡೆ ಮಾರುವರು, ಇಡ್ಲಿ ಮಾರುವರು, ಪೇಪರಿನವರು, ಪ್ರಯಾಣಿಕರು, ಅವರನ್ನು ಕಳಿಸಲು ಬಂದವರು ಹೀಗೆ ಆ ಸಂಜೆ ಆ ನಿಲ್ದಾಣದ ಮತ್ತೊಂದು ಸಂಜೆ ಆಗುವುದರಲ್ಲಿತ್ತು, ಆ ಹುಡುಗಿ ಅಲ್ಲಿರದಿದ್ದರೆ .......... ಒಂದು ಕುಟುಂಬ ಎಲ್ಲಿಗೋ ಹೊರಟಿದೆ, ಈ ಹುಡುಗಿ ಮತ್ತು ಅವಳ ಬಳಗದವರು ಕಳಿಸಲು ಬಂದಿದ್ದಾರೆ. ರೈಲಿಗೆ ಹೋಗುವವರು ರೈಲು ಹತ್ತಿ ಚೀಲ ಪೆಟ್ಟಿಗೆ ಎಲ್ಲ ಹೊಂದಿಸಿಕೊಂಡು ಕಿಟಕಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಕುಳಿತು ಕಳಿಸಲು ಬಂದವರ ಜೊತೆ ಮಾತಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದಾರೆ. ನಾನು ಮೊದಲೇ ಹೇಳಿದಂತೆ ಆಗ ಸಂಜೆ ಆಗಿತ್ತು; ಸೂರ್ಯನ ಸಂಜೆಯ ಹೊಂಗಿರಣ ಅವಳ ಮುಖದ ಮೇಲೆ ಬಿದ್ದಿತ್ತು, ಅವಳ ತಲೆಯ ಗುಂಗುರು ಬೆಳಕಲ್ಲಿ ಹೊಳೆಯುತ್ತಿತ್ತು. ಮುಖದಲ್ಲಿ ಅದೇನೋ ಕಳೆ, ಮುಂಡು ಮುಗು, ತಿದ್ದು ತೀಡಿದ ಹುಬ್ಬೆನಲ್ಲ, ದೇಹ ಸೌಂದರ್ಯವೇನು ಹೇಳುವಅಂತದ್ದಲ್ಲ, ಆದರು ಅಲ್ಲೊಂದು ಅಪೂರ್ವ ಸೌಂದರ್ಯ ಮೂಡಿತ್ತು. ಅದು ಅವಳ ದೇಹದ್ದಲ್ಲ ಆದರೆ ಅವಳ ವ್ಯಕ್ತಿದ್ವದ್ದು, ಅದೇನು ಮಾತು ಅದೇನು ನಗು ಕೈಲ್ಲೇನು ಹವಾ ಬಾವ ಮುಗುವಿನೊಡನೆ ಏನು ಆತ ದೊಡ್ಡವರಲ್ಲಿ ಅದೇನು ಹಾಸ್ಯ ಮಿಶ್ರಿತ ಗಮೀರ್ಯ ತಲೆ ತಿರುಗಿಸುವ ರೀತಿ, ಆಶ್ಚರ್ಯ ಪ್ರಕಟಿಸುವ ರೀತಿ ನಾನು ಮೂಖನಾಗಿ ನಿಂತಿದ್ದೆ ನನ್ನ ಹಗೆ ನನ್ನ ಸ್ನೇಹಿತ ಕೃಷ್ಣ ಕೂಡ......... ಇಲ್ಲಿಯೂ ಅದೇ ಮದುರವಾದ ನೋವು, ಅತ್ಯಂತ ಅಮೂಲ್ಯವಾದದ್ದನ್ನು ಹಿಡಿದಿಡಲಾಗದ ನೋವು ....... ಹೀಗೆ ಈ ಸೌಂದರ್ಯದ ಎರಡು ಮುಖಗಳು ಇವತ್ತಿನವರೆಗೂ ಹಲವು ಸರಿ ಕಂಡಿವೆ, ವಿಭಿನ್ನವಾದರೂ ಒಂದೇ ಪ್ರತಿಕ್ರಿಯೆ ಹುಟ್ಟಿಸುವ ಈ ವಿಸ್ಮಯ ಪ್ರಕ್ರಿಯೆ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಆಶ್ಚರ್ಯದಿಂದ ನೋಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದೇನೆ...... - ಪ್ರೇರಣೆ ಅಂಟೆನ್ ಚೆಕಾವ್

Nausea after Mumbai terror attacks.

I live in Mumbai. Mumbai is not a boring place. Good, bad and ugly things keep happening here.
Somehow natural calamities, tourists and also politicians have great affection to this city. All journalists say, it is great Mumbai spirit etc, nothing like that. It is sheer pressure on Mumbai people to live day today life; they want to eat and sleep. If they sit and worry, they have no food that forces them to go to work in spite of no security what so ever. Terrorists struck today, TV channels scored over rest of the channels (Let me write some other day how some of the reputed English news channels were in the verge of yellow journalism or they were in and out of yellow journalism ). One journalist covering CST on the next day was telling, "CST has deserted look" and as his camera men focused on the platforms it was crowded not as usual but definitely not deserted!!!!!!!!!!!!. Journalists did a great job. That was of some comfort for the families struck inside the buildings, but surely they were giving live position of the commandos. Whenever they interviewed people on the street they expected all of them to show anger or frustration, if someone did not show, these journalists poked them, they just re-framed the sentence and said that person is very angry; but in reality he was not, or they focused on person who is crying, these journalists reduced their voice addressed him and said I understand your tragedy we are with you, let me ask one last question - but person across you can’t even speak. One famous journalist is asking a CEO of a company, how you felt when you saw your children at home after the ordeal, he said it can’t be described in words, only parenthood understands it; but it was in very blunt tone. Even when we go out for few hours to market and when you come back and see children it is a happy occasion,,,,,,,,, journalist must have expected on these lines “I felt like I back from hell, my son face was radiant, I cried like child, I held him close to my heart” all these answers were expected. Even some of the websites were giving hourly updates. The terrorists having a Blackberry easily could assess the commando strength and strategy. They should have shown much more maturity and national responsibility when they broadcasted the news. When NSG chief briefed about attack, there was a cat and dog fight among journalists to get audio and video inputs. They were brave to cover the news but this may be to ensure an assured future in journalism (except few). I wish if they could do some investigative journalism so that help police to nab these outsiders. However, these news channels were much more sensitive than politicians.
Much more fearful thing is that, how many people are still at large. By the number of places attacked and amount of ammunition they carried defiantly point out many more people and local logistics. If someone wants to attack a place in neighboring city they need some support there, I just can’t walk into anyplace and shoot. What essentially means that in India we have enough people who can sell their country. As we just witnessed the series of arrests of the previous bomb attacks all were Indians. Some people don’t have gratitude that you are staying in a place, you are eating the food produced from the same place, and still you support someone else from outside. It is just like one of the panchatantra kata where one frog king did not like some of its people so it brought a snake from outside to eat them, but once those were eaten snake ate even the frog king. If some people feel marginalized they are at receiving end, it is not the way to solve that problem, that is bringing snake from outside- what it led to profiling of the people not on their caliber but on their religion. Two of them do 100 will suffer. I did not find a single MLA or MP in Mumbai who was setting up an email facility for foreign nationals, or food facilitates, or vehicles for relatives to move from hospital to hospital, or a photo footage of all dead bodies and made it available at one center where relatives could identify so that they can reduce trauma of walking to morgue……….

Instead of buying so expensive cars for these ministers, we should provide decent accommodation to the police, 40% of Mumbai police stay in slum. If their salary is 5 to 8 thousand rupees in Mumbai definitely they can’t afford a house to rent. The traffic police don’t have shades to stand. They are corrupt but for a reason.
This time more rich and less poor people died. But people died and both will cry. All have emotional turmoil. But poor can’t sit and cry long because for the next day food he has to worry, rich at least I hope they have money so they can rise their voice in a systematic and strong way against apathy. They can fund rallies and public discussions they can fund for RTI, and PILs to fight dirty politics. This they can fund anonymously because the same politicians are required for their business to run. These leaders (?) elected by the people ( but not for the people) are the one who issue permission to business, so they hold these rich at ransom in their own way. In some way these politicians are unimaginably great. They can resign with anger because his colleague in Mumbai is hitting his state people but did nothing to his own state. We also have some politicians who resign to save a foreign terrorist organization which has been labeled as terrorists by 30 countries and responsible for the assassination of an Indian prime minister!!. Chameleons
Forget the rest. What I can do about this. I need to get a voter ID here and vote. I am and I will be vigilant about my surroundings, I will be completely cooperating with all security checks without showing any annoyance, these are the few things I could do. I should be contributing to Indian defense fund, but I am afraid it won’t reach the target. At last I pray for those who are killed innocently in attack and also those who got killed resisting the attack.

Still I want to live in Mumbai!!!!!!!!! these petty terrorists can't make me run away from this city!!!!!

Mother

ಅಜ್ಜ ಮತ್ತು ಅವಳು

ಅಲೆಗಳು

ಅಲೆಗಳು ನಿರಂತರ
ಒಂದರ ಹಿಂದೆ ಇನ್ನೊಂದು.
ಕಟ್ಟಿದೆ ಗೋಡೆಗಳ
ನೋವಿನಲೆಗಳು ಮನ ಮುಟ್ಟದಿರಲೆನ್ದು.
ಅದ ಮೀರಿ ಬಂದವಲೆಗಳು,
ಅಲೆಯ ಹನಿಗಳು ಚದುರಿತು ಮನದ ತುಂಬಾ
ಒದ್ದೊದ್ದೆ.
ಮೂಕ ಭಾವ.
ಮುರಿದು ಬಿದ್ದ ಅಸಹಾಯಕ ಗೋಡೆ.
ಕತ್ತಲೆಯ ಮೂಲೆ ಹಿತವಾಗಿದೆ.......

ಗೊತ್ತಾಯಿತೀಗ ಮೂಲೆಯಲಿ ಕುಳಿತು,
ಅಲೆಗೆ ತಡೆ ಹಾಕುವುದು ಸಲ್ಲ.
ಮನದ ಅಲೆಯ ನೋಡುತ ಬದುಕು ಧ್ಯಾನಸ್ಥನಗಿ.
ಸಾಧ್ಯವಾದರೆ ಅಲೆಯ ಮೇಲೆ
ತೇಲುತ್ತಾ, ಅದರ ಏರಿಳಿತದೊಡನೆ
ಬದುಕು.
ನೋವಿನಲೆಗಳಿಗೆ ಕಾಲವೇ ಮುಲಾಮು.

"Kere kodi bittu" "ಕೆರೆ ಕೋಡಿ ಬಿತ್ತು"

Last week when I called my native village, my mother told me “Kere kodi bittu”. What is so significant about it? This has many meaning. Kere = pond, kodi = gate, bituu = overflow. This is what my mother told me last week. Our village pond was full. This is a happy news. In my village, rain is always unpredictable. We measure the rain, by assessing how much our pond and well are filled? However, global warming has all to do with “Kere kodi bittu”. Global warming has changed the precipitation (rain) pattern. Heavy rain in dry region, no rain in regions where lot of rain and rain dependent crops are grown. So global warming has touched until my village. They are not aware of a bit. They know fuel price has increased and it is difficult to live. Their children don’t stay in village to do agriculture (one is me!!!!!!!!). Self-sufficient village economy exists no more. People who have never heard of America, Iraq, global warming and globalization are affected without their knowledge. They are least aware of WTO agreement, and by that, their homegrown rice will be sold at Rs 2/- kg. All is “MAYA” ha ha ha. There was a time, a 20 days power cut or 5 days of bus/ lorry strike would not have affected our village people. Now even mobile line congestion bothers village people!!!!. Each strike affects them, forget that, even Hurricane Katrina ( a manifestation of global warming) in distant America affected these innocent people because of fuel rise!!!!!!!!!!.Nor we neither our villagers are isolated any more, even 2 km bike ride, a over night use of AC has Global effect!!!!!!!!!!!



“Things fall apart; the center cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity”

William Butler Yeats, January 1919

ಪುಟ್ಟಿ ಕರ

Read this blog

I was browsing through internet and ended up in reading this blog, I wish few more people would read it.

http://www.helpothers.org/story.php?sid=9190

Mansoon

Monsoon started here in Mumbai.
Every monsoon, brings back so many memories................ some are heart warming some are depressing ............... mixed feeling
ಅನುಭವವು ಸವಿಯಲ್ಲ ಅದರ ನೆನಪೇ ಸವಿಯು
ಅದ ಕದ್ದು ಮೇಯದೇ ಮನವು?
ಕಡ೦ಗೊಡ್ಳು ಶ೦ಕರ ಭಟ್ಟರು.

Sagara Bus-stand

Ambika hotel, anyone remember....
It was there at the heart of Sagara bus-stand when I was studying in high school. You have to enter the bus stop thorough two or four stone pillars , you go sideways inside, on left and right side you have long cement seats to sit, red oxide one and all the side was covered with iron mesh. At the center of this U, Ambika hotel was located. This bustand/hotel complex was again situated in the U of bus stop; on either side of the hotel buses were halted. Our Siddapur ST bus was parked on the left side of the bus stop. Across the road , Himalaya cool drinks Karnataka stores, Kinimamu shop, and one more shop in the corner I hardly remember name of the shop, but I do very much remember all the girls who were standing there!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Then many more memory snaps.........
Hebbar 1/2 coffee in PUC........
Evergreen heroes in kinimamu shop they were there from my high school days to college days, they watched infinite number of girls
Lot of girls on the corner shop , I mean standing and waiting for bus , especially from Hamsgar village or that side villages, they had only one bus at 1.15 pm, then you had another group from Nichodi village, so on so forth ( let me write this in detail some other day)
Then, there is a Sharada temple in Railway station road, there also few girls !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Sometime we had idli in Ram bhavan in front of police station..
Hall-ice in Himalaya cool drinks...
Just opposite to the Ambika hotel, there was ST bus office, we stood there and took our monthly pass for Rs5 I still have a copy of that pass
Then there was Priyadarshini hotel next to Jyoti petrol pump on the other side of police station.
There were pan shops , which were favorites with many.......... I never had...
In high school days it was all about LB college and many more gossip from the seniors.......
Our ST bus would go for Varadalli a short trip and will go to Siddapur at 5.30pm, there was a Harishi ST bus too. there was always competition between the two, students after Ulavi /Nisarani always travelled in Siddapur ST and Ulavi/Sorab students in Harishi ST, but students in between ( Lingadalli and Padagodu) they were never loyal to any bus,,,
Apart from that Limbu peppermint, was regularly sold.. and given as nutritious and cry stopping diet by all village mothers, babies crying, their sticky nose mouth and hands...........a common seen in bus stand.
Let me stop here........ and let me tell many small stories revolved around this bus stand.......

ಬಾಗಿಲೊಳು ಕೈ ಮುಗಿದು............

ನಿಜವನ್ನು ಹುಡುಕುವುದು - ಸುಳ್ಳೇ ?

ಇದ್ದಿರಬಹುದು... ಆದರೆ ಈ ನಿಜ ಹುಡುಕುವರಿ೦ದ ನಮಗೆ ನಿಜ ಸಿಕ್ಕಿದೆಯೋ ಇಲ್ಲವೋ ಗೊತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ.... ಆದ್ರೆ, ಇವರುಗಳು ಪ್ರಪ೦ಚದ ವೈಚಾರಿಕ ಸ್೦ಪತ್ತಿಗೆ ಕೊಟ್ಟಿದ್ದು ಅಗಾಧ. ನಿಜ ಹುಡುಕುತ್ತಲೇ ಗ್ರೀಕನ ಮಹಾನ್ ಫಿಲಾಸಫರ್ ಗಳು ನಮಗೆ ಕೊಟ್ಟ ಜ್ಞಾನ ಅಪಾರ. ನಮ್ಮ ವೇದ, ಉಪನಿಶತ್ತುಗಳು ನಿಜವನ್ನೆ ಹುಡುಕುಲು ಹೊರಟಿದ್ದು. ಗೌತಮನು ಹುಡುಕಿದ್ದು ಇದೇ............. ಇವರಿಗೆಲ್ಲಾ ಅವರವರ ಮಟ್ಟಿಗೆ ನಿಜ ಸಿಕ್ಕಿದೆ............. ಅದರೆ ಅದೇ ಸರ್ವಕಾಲಿಕ ಸತ್ಯವೇ?,,, ಹಾಗೆ೦ದು ಸತ್ಯ ಹುಡುಕುವರು ಇಗಿಲ್ಲವೇ... ಕವಿಗಳು, ನಮ್ಮ ಕಾದ೦ಬರಿಕಾರರು, ಈ ನಿಜದ ಹುಡುಕಟದಲ್ಲೆ ಇದ್ದಾರೆ. ನಾನು ಇದರ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನದಲ್ಲೇ ಇದ್ದೆನೆ , ಇವತ್ತಿನವರೆಗೆ ಉತ್ತರ ಸಿಗದೆ ಅ೦ತರ್ಪಿಶಾಚಿಯಾಗಿ........ ಉಳಿದಿದ್ದೇನೆ................. ಉತ್ತರ ಸಿಗಬಹುದು ಎ೦ಬ ಆಶಾಬಾವ!!!!!!!!!!

ನಿಜ - ಸುಳ್ಳು

ನಿಜ

ಸುಳ್ಳು

ಯಾವುದು ನಿಜ?

ಸುಳ್ಳು ನಿಜವೋ..

ನಿಜವು ಸುಳ್ಳೋ..

ಕಳೆದು ಹೋದವು ದಿನಗಳು

ಉತ್ತರ ಹುದುಕುವಲ್ಲಿ.

ಸುಳ್ಳು ನಿಜಗಳ ಉಯ್ಯಾಲೆಯಲಿ,

ಉತ್ತರ ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆಗಳು ತಿರುಗುಮುರುಗದವು.

ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆಗೆ ಉತ್ತರ

ಉತ್ತರಕ್ಕೆ ಪ್ರಶ್ನೆ

ಹುಟ್ಟುತ್ತಾ ಹೋಯಿತು.

ನನ್ನ ಆತ್ಮಸಾಕ್ಷಿ

ಯಾವುದನು ಹಿಡಿಯುವುದು ಎ೦ದು ತಿಳಿಯದೆ

ಅ೦ತರಪಿಶಾಚಿಯಗಿ ಉಳಿಯಿತು.

ಹುಡುಕಾಟ

ಕಳೆದು ಹೋದದ್ದ ಹುಡುಕುತ್ತಾ...

ಹುಡುಕಿದ್ದು ಸಿಕ್ಕಿದಾಗ

ಮತ್ತೊ೦ದನ್ನು ಹುಡುಕುತ್ತಾ

ಹುಡುಕುವಾಗಲೇ

ಸಿಕ್ಕಿದ್ದನ್ನು ಕಳೆದುಕೊಳ್ಳೂತ್ತಾ

ಬದುಕಿನ ಗಾಲಿ ಉರುಳಿದೆ

ಹಿ೦ದೆ ಬದುಕಲೋ

ಮು೦ದೆ ಬದುಕಲೋ

ಇ೦ದು ಬದುಕಲೋ

ತಿಳಿಯದೆ

ಈ ಮೂರರ ಕಲಸುಮೆಲೋಗರದಲ್ಲಿ

ನಾನಿದ್ದೆ!!!!!!!

ಹಿ೦ದೆ ಕಳೆದದ್ದನ್ನು

ನಾಳೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಹುಡುಕುತ್ತಾ

ಇ೦ದು ಖಾಲಿ ಆಗಿದೆ...

ಹಿ೦ದಿನ ಜ್ಞಾನ

ಇ೦ದನ್ನು ಮು೦ದನ್ನು

ಅಳೆಯುವ ಸೇರಗಿದೆ..

ಹಿ೦ದಿನ ನಾನು ಎ೦ಬ ಜ್ಞಾನ

ಇ೦ದಿನ ನಾನಾರು ಎ೦ದು ಕೇಳದೇ ಹೋಗಿದೆ!

DVG

My life would have been something else without these three letters. I wonder, how this person can be so simple? I was introduced to him in my 5th standard by Vasuda teacher, long back, I still remember the story she told about Kagga, and why and how it was written. After that I tried to read Mankutimmana Kagga, it was bit difficult for me... After that, Kagga and me didnot meet for long time, till my graduation. There I met him again, after that till today he is a great companion to me. Day in day out he is with me, in my most difficult situation he pulled me out. All great literatures are produced in poems, because it can be remembered and songs can be sung... this was true with Kagga, I wrote these poems on first page of my notebooks. Daily read them and try to put them in practice or for inspiration...
When I felt lonely
When I lost hope
When I struggled to find purpose in life
When I try to understand God
When I lost hope in humanity
When I felt down
many more 'when', but always DVG was around..... guiding me, taking care with all love and assurance. I learnt to look at life in a funny way, or keep asking questions, I also learnt like DVG not to answer all questions of life, leave some of them as it is. Ask and leave it.......... And also learnt to look around the beauties of life and have a 'wow' feeling about it. I also learnt who is poor.. ಬಡ ಮನಸ್ಸೆ ಬಡತನವು.... learnt to live in family, learnt to balance the life.
.... hunger and desire........ ಗುಟ್ಟು ಕೀಲುಗಳು ಸ್ರುಷ್ಥಿಯ೦ತ್ರದೊಳು................. isn’t it true? I read many self-help books management books, nothing was Mankuthimmana Kagga, it was always one step ahead.

DVG- too many things can be written about him..... but he never liked lime light. He gave us most wonderful things. He changed many lives (including mine) but never spoke about. What he advised, he lived that, very rare thing ... Even the most honest writers I have seen and heard, found it difficult to do it; from somewhere hypocrisy peeps in. Even in his 4th edition of Kagga (1964!!!!) , he was so humble, acknowledging readers for the sucess of Kagga!!!!!!!( look at me, even one comment for my blog will change my walking style!!!!!!!!!!!!). and then he writes ..ಬಹು ಸಾಮಾನ್ಯರಾದವರ ಮನೆಗೆ ಇದು ಒ೦ದು ತೊಟ್ಟಿನಸ್ಟು ಎಣ್ಣೆಯ೦ತದರೆ ನನಗೆ ತ್ರುಪ್ತಿ.... but it has become guiding light for life to many people
DVG fragrance is around, but flower is not to be seen, .....ಕಾನನದ ಮಲ್ಲಿಗೆಯು ನಿಜಸೌರಭವ ಸೂಸಿ, ತಾನೆಲೆಯ ಪಿ೦ತಿರ್ದು....... ವನಸುಮ...... I have tried to be like this, failed utterly.
Instead of complicated mantras I adapted this poem as prayer, not to pray anyone but to remind me, how to live........... it is difficult.. but as he said... keep trying.. Some day I may achieve.........
Finally, I couldn’t meet him, here is all gratitude and thanks to him; I know only way to thank him is to live like him...............

ಪ್ರಯಾಣ

ಹಳೆದು ಕಳೆದ೦ತೆ
ಹೊಸದೊ೦ದು
ನೋವು (ಸುಖ!!!)
ಮುಗಿಯದು ಈ
ರೈಲು

ಮದ್ಯ ಹಾದು ಹೋಯಿತು
ಗುಡ್ಡ ಬಯಲು
ಏರು ಹತ್ತುತ್ತಾ
ಇಳುಕಲು......,
ಇಳುಕಲಲಿ ಮರೆತೆವು
ಮತ್ತೊ೦ದು ಏರು.

ಎಲ್ಲದರ ಮಧ್ಯ
ಕೆಲವೊಮ್ಮೆ ಸ೦ತಸದ ಪದ್ಯ
ಆಗ ನೋವು ತೆರೆ ಮರೆ ಸದ್ಯ!!!

ಬಿದುಗಡೆಯ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನ,
ಗೊತ್ತಿದ್ದು ಆಗದೆ೦ದು;
ಮರಳಿ
ರೈಲಿನಲಿ..............
ಪಯಣ

ಬ೦ದು ಹೋಯಿತು
ದೊಡ್ಡ ಸಣ್ಣ ನಿಲ್ದಾಣ
ಕೆಲವು ಚ೦ದ,
ಕೆಲವು ಹೊಲಸು
ಒಮ್ಮೊಮ್ಮೆ ಅನಿಸೀತು
ಚ೦ದದ ಊರಲ್ಲಿ
ನಿಲ್ಲಬಾರದೇಕೆ?

ನಿ೦ತೀತಾ.......?
ಹ.... ಹ... ಹಾ............


ಕೊನೆಯ ನಿಲ್ದಾಣ
ಬರುವರೆಗೆ....
ಬಿಡುಗಡೆ ಕನಸು

ಬಿಡು..............

ಓ ಇವರೆ,
ನಿಲುಗಡೆಯಲ್ಲ ಗುರಿ,
ಮತ್ತೆ............
ಪ್ರಯಾಣ ಸ್ವಾಮಿ....
ಪ್ರಯಾಣ.....

ಇವಳು

I wrote this for few people who were close to her. It was read out for them, they appreciated and also suggested many more things to add, but I couldn't do much on that. And I am too lazy to write whole thing in Kannada on web , since I am not used it ( learning...........). Therefore, I am giving this link to a PDF file, If any one wants to read it they can go to this link and read it. Please excuse me for bad handwriting and poor spelling. I have tried my level best not to mention any name and place to keep the anonymity, if anyone feel so please let me know, I will remove this blog. Few people can easily make out who is this and I am not worried about them!!!!!!!!!!!!!! here it is
http://nishachara101.googlepages.com/blog.PDF

My friend in a marathon…

Sun is setting. It was a long run. Suffocating, exhausting and lactic acid had built up to maximum. Whole body is aching. Now there is a distinct feeling of “mind is out of body” and legs are running as if they belong to some one else. Mind has stopped responding to the pain. What lays inside which is making him to run and reach the goal. Long back his fellow marathon runners have reached the stadium and even they may be taking rest in Olympics village. He is more than 6 hours behind the leaders. Only difference is he is running with a broken leg. He is running with a physical disadvantage but not the mental one. Now he is near the stadium. It is almost dark. Except his team and his girl friend none are left on roads. Lonely figure enters the stadium. His long evening shadow reflects his limping movement. Huge stadium. As he expected, none were there in stadium; but not empty. There were few waiting for him. Claps followed him as he finished each lap in the stadium, as he collapsed near the finishing line, there was a standing ovation with claps echoing the giant stadium reflecting the will to win over adversity. This is a story or a similar one I had read long back in some magazine (may be Readers’ Digest) .
Recently my friend finished her PhD. When she finished her viva and called us I remembered the above story. That was a long run for her. “Six and half years” is a long run. She collapsed many a times. She got up and ran again. She reached at last. But what she gained? Similarly, that marathon runner what he gained, there was neither gold medal waiting for him nor any newsagents. Then, why they have to finish? They would have left it somewhere in between?………This quality sets them apart from ordinary crowd.
She took a problem, which was very difficult to solve in her lab conditions and setup. There were many more troubles. She has to find out protocols, she has to look into results, which were of worth or not. One experiment led to another with some exciting results but ended up in several dead ends. Again she has to find her way out of maze with new set of experiments. The problem she had chosen involved laborious and toxic procedures. She had to handle lot of solvents, which were allergic to her. Now this allergy made her research (running) much more difficult. Often she wore a mask; and a lab coat. Lab coat had many holes because of acid spillage; she washed and kept even that coat as bright as possible. She worked in cold room, lot of moisture deposited on her spectacles, she cleaned it in-between and continued working. At the end of the day many times we had lot of discussions on her work. Each one of us suggested one or other methods. Poor girl, which method will she do? For us, it was easy to suggest but she has to do it! At the end of the day she has to travel back home more than an hour in Mumbai traffic, she always took last bus available (8.30pm) and she took earliest bus available from home (7.15am) to come back to lab, even in weekends!!!!. I remember the day of Great Mumbai flood. The water was entering into the lab. All of us are running here and there. She was busy in protecting her lab books. When we were back in home she was worried that, if water level increases, she may loose all the data of five years. She was anxious; called the security people to make sure that water level has not increased. They were safe. She fiercely guarded her chemicals and instrument, not because she is selfish, but because some one may misuse it, and her work will be delayed further. (These are only glimpse of her hard work and dedication.). Her delayed work and frustrating times easily would have led her to manipulation data but she never compromised with scientific integrity.
There were so many moments, just like last lap of marathon, compiling the data and writing the thesis. She had to bother about writing, printer, paper and binder. All of us made her more anxious by asking her, how many chapters got corrected. She answered us patiently, but she was restless. Many sleepless nights were put into thesis writing. Finally it was over. But referees took long time to give their opinion. One day her viva was over and was awarded PhD
That was the day we waited for her, it was very late. In our stadium, her PhD batch mates, her class mates were not there they were gone long back She is the lone runner, but we were there to congratulate. It was more than an hour we waited, after that she turned up, but none of us showed any irritation instead all of us were congratulating as she crossed the winning rope.

I shall be telling this with a sigh

Somewhere ages and ages hence:

Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--

I took the one less traveled by,

And that has made all the difference.
( Robert Frost: The Road Not Taken (1915))

An appeal to my friend - read Kannada……..

An appeal to my friend - read Kannada……..

I was born and brought up in a small village of Karnataka. Kannada is the vernacular language, and I studied the same. That is my mother tongue too. There was no TV for entertainment. Only some village play, cricket and yakshagana ( a type of classical dance form). My grandfather had a small library in-house, called Sadhana Pustaka Bandara. Many books were there to read. I started reading with Dabu, a cartoon strip published in Kannada weekly Sudha. Later I read Kiriayara kana in the same magazine. By the third standard, I upgraded myself to read Chandamama it had great series like Moovaru manthrikaru, Rakksakolla, Papanna, many more stories. In between, my aunt left a trunk full of Amarachitrakata before they left for Algeria. It was great to fun to read from that, however many of them were in English, which I couldn’t read but I glanced through pictures. By the fifth standard, I was reading novels. I remember my first novel. It was entu koleya bhanta, by Narasihmayya. I recall that day, it was in May end, a day with heavy pre-monsoon rain with lightning and thunder. It was a great thrill to read that book. Later, I read many books by this author. Soon after, I shifted to thriller authors, some secret agent Mahesh; he had a knife Raja and a pistol Rani, so on so forth. By the time I reached the eighth standard, series Kannada translations of Telugu novels were available. They were very famous, especially of Yandamurivirendranath, Malldi. I could recollect few of them, duddu, duddu, beladingala bale, kappaanchu biliseragu much more. They thrilled me, and they are like Sidney Sheldon novels. But most of the time these stocks would be over, nothing to read, so I stared reading books from my grandfather's library. He had a great collection of Shivaram Karanth and many Bengali novels in Kannada. I read all of them. I liked Gora ( Tagore), marli mange, kanndiyalli kandata. One of the most excellent books ever read is Krishnavatara by Munshi, translated by Siddvanalli Krishna Sharma. Great book. I don’t know about original, but in Kannada, it is most wonderfully written. Many of the above books I may not be able to read now especially thriller fiction. But Krishnavatara is an all-time great book. Must be read in Kannada to enjoy the language.
I have a friend who is a voracious reader. He devours books whole. His reading range is vast, thriller to philosophy geography, freedom fighting, partition, filmmaking, economics and much more. Like me, his mother tongue is also Kannada. All these days he read only in English. English has vast literature; he must have never felt the shortage of literature. Maybe there was no need to read Kannada books. English books satisfied all his intellectual thrust. English is a great language, ever growing language and all language books are available in English. So why to read Kannada? Well, I am not a Kannada movement activist to tell around you should read and write only in Kannada. In fact, here in Mumbai, I am the most random member of Kannada organisation. Moreover, I  do not believe in this kind of enforcing a language or bias towards one language. What is the logic behind reading Kannada book? Each language is a representative of a culture and suitable for that culture and can be best expressed in that language. There are different words for certain things, which are endemic to that region. There is no translation for these words.
Well, forget about all these things. Tell me is it possible to translate D.R Bendre poems to English?, how we can impart Daravad kannad into it. How I can translate words like
“Antina nantu” it would be “sticky relationship” ha ha . How can I translate Dibbana . It is next to impossible. G.P.Rajratnam’s Rarnana padagalu, with a great flavour of Bangalore village language. The beauty lies in the voice of locality.
So friend, why don’t you read Kannada? Let us give a try. Start with simple language book like Krishnavathara . Read few pages per day. Carry this book everywhere so you may tend to read one or two pages while drinking coffee in some Dharshini. Maybe Krishna or Bhima take you away to Dwaparayuga . Just like, it happened to me when I started reading English in Readers Digest. Sometimes just I got carried away and for a moment and just forgot which language I was reading in. Let us take a fascinating novel like Hamsaraga or Thirugubana by Ta Ra Su. and travel around Chithradhurga. Maybe sometime you should know Masti. He achieved a significant level of simplicity in writing. But sometime back, you had told me you don’t like something put simplistically. But here is a simple, straightforward narration except for the complex relationships they handle.
I am here, expecting your call, someday you may call and tell “Batta, I finished with this Kannada book and it was a great experience to read”.