Poetry Club

Poetry Club

KS, a friend from my High school days ( 1958 onwards), is a man of learning. He reads a lot and particularly in this context he is well read in English and Kannada Poetry.

Before I write about the Poetry club I should talk about my association with KS. He was my class mate in High school. He was the best educated in our class – particularly in languages, literary things. His father being a teacher would have helped. He came  from a lower middle class  and his father had many sisters ( spread over many years ) whose weddings  were  expensive and a great financial burden. They ( father,mother,sister,brother and KS ) lived in one room / hall house and electricity – on and off – was controlled by the owner ! His ( and his brother’s etc ) clothes would hang from a rope stretched across the room. As he said once – one set of dress would suffice from Monday through Friday.  In the class KS would write short articles, poems etc for ‘ private’ circulation. Paper that was required was supplied in a ingenious way by Kuppanna, one of our friends. He would borrow notebooks ( ‘ notes ‘ ) from many and carefully remove blank sheets ( just enough to evade detection ) to form the journal. We were enthusiastic readers even if we did not understand much of what was written. We felt  special in some  way. KS would whole heartedly help any one with grammar, last minute answers, brief summary for the exams etc

We – Sujatha and Subhash, Usha  and I – would meet generally at Subhash’s place every Sunday morning and wait for KS. This was in 1970’s. Though we called ourselves Poetry Club it was essentially KS reading and interpreting Poems. Over time the club had many more  visitors – I recall two  school teachers, a scientist  from IISc and one or two more. Hamlet, Eliot, Pound, Yeats, Hopkins, Auden, Shakespeare, Adiga, Bendre, KSNarasimha Swamy,  Kumaravyasa all visited us.  KS would actually study the whole week, collect relevant articles, sometimes criticisms from published books, make notes and bring them to  us on Sunday (sometimes even Xerox copies of poems too). For this he would visit Libraries, speak to people and collect articles. It went on for two or three years but collapsed after KS married and his wife had no interest in this. ‘ Poetry Club ‘  invited Adiga and Gokak ( on two different occasions ) and they came and talked to us. Looking back it is really amazing how such eminent men came to us ( self styled Poetry club ) and discussed literature with us. Hats off to them. It was essentially due to KS - because his learning and depth of understanding must have impressed them.

Personally I learnt a great deal. The Sunday morning meeting was an  important event for me. Eliot, Auden, Hopkins or Pound I would not have read at all but for KS. I still have notes of those days. It brings back very pleasant memories. Looking back I recall many fond memories  Usha and I had over the years.  The beauty and sensitivity in Poems and plays of great authors simply overwhelmed me. I believe that it introduced new ideas, broadened my out look, improved my sensitivity and most importantly brought immense joy.

For example, we studied  for several weeks Kumaravyasa’s Bharata. It instilled a great admiration for Kumaravyasa and so many episodes of Mahabharata came alive. Later I heard the entire epic recited by Keshava Murthy and have  been thrilled.  It was cassette days and it would be side A for onward  trip to Infosys and on return it would be side B  . I must have done it for about 7 – 8 months  . God help the driver !   I  heard it again and again- sometimes reading from a copy of Bharata my grand father possessed ( paid Rs 2 / in 1958  ). I have also wondered what my grand father liked in it. I have heard him read it aloud sitting on his bed in a loud and clear voice. I was too young at that time and in any case had never had any exposure to Kumaravyasa at that time. I wish I had talked to him on that.

The human response, although mouthed by heroes, Gods and others was particularly touching.

Poetry opened new perceptions for me. Its ability to evoke complex feelings, to evoke association of ideas across a spectrum and sheer magic of language spell binds me.  The flavor, touch, feel, breadth, intensity and depth of a person’s experience rooted in its nativity, characterized by its uniqueness-   when touched by creativity - transcends time and space. You feel the sadness of a young woman waiting for husband ( Pound ), anguish and anger of a woman wronged ( Draupadi ) , intense feeling of empathy of an evolved soul for the injustice meted out to her ( Krishna ), share anxiety and uncertainty and hope for a new born (Yeats ), rich and complex experience ( Shakespeare ), so many descriptions and characters  ( Dickens – even if not poetry ) --- all become ours. They speak to us across continents and across centuries. Truly, personal becomes universal.

Bheeshma taking a vow not to marry or become the king

ಆದರಿಲ್ಲಿಂ ಮೇಲೆ ನಾರಿಯರಾದರು ಭಾಗೀರಥಿಗೆ ಸರಿ

ಮೇದಿನಿಯ ಸಲಿಸುವೆನು ನಿನ್ನಯ ಮಗಳ ಮಕ್ಕಳಿಗೆ

ಈ ದಿವಿಜರೀ ಹರಿಹರ ಬ್ರಹ್ಮಾದಿ ದೇವರು ಸಾಕ್ಷಿ  ಹೋಗೆಂದ

Vidura cautioning Duryodhana not to insult Draupadi

ಸಿಡಿಲ ಪೊಟ್ಟಣಗಟ್ಟಿ ಸೇಕವ ಕೊಡುವರೇ

Draupadi in anguish

ಪತಿಗಳೆನ್ನನು ಮಾರಿ ಧರ್ಮಸ್ಥಿತಿಯ ಕೊಂಡರು

Bheema deciding to kill Keechaka – consequences be damned

ನಾವೀ ಭಂಡತನದಲಿ ಬದುಕಲರಿಯೆವು  ಧರ್ಮಗಿರ್ಮವನು ಕೊಂಡು ಕೊನರುವರಲ್ಲ

Krishna’s Tongue in cheek remark

ದೇವನೆಂದೇ ನೀವು ಬಗೆದಿರಿ, ದೇವತನ ನಮ್ಮಲ್ಲಿ ಲವವಿಲ್ಲ , ಆವು ಬಲ್ಲೆವು

Krishna’s recollection of Draupadi’s cry for help

ಕಮಲಮುಖಿ ಸುಲಿವಡೆದು ಲಕ್ಷೀರಮಣ,  ಲಕ್ಷೀರಮಣ,  ಲಕ್ಷೀರಮಣಯೆಂದೊರಲಿದೊಡೆ ಸಂಜಯ ನೊಂದೆ ನಾನೆಂದ

Draupadi taunting her husbands

ಗಂಡರೋ ನೀವ್ ಷಂಡರೋ ಹೇಳೆಂದಳಿಂದುಮುಖಿ

Somewhere else

ಸತ್ಯದ ನುಡಿಗೆ ಹಾದರವಿಲ್ಲ

  

These have held personal meanings to me. I recalled them when watching Pandavani by Tejan Bai  or a dance drama or reading Iravati Karve’s book. There is a universality – going beyond time and space of original story - that appeals to me enormously.

Or on an entirely different note, 

 Eliot :

April is the cruellest month, breeding

Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing

Memory and desire, stirring

Dull roots with spring rain.

….

  Unreal City,

Under the brown fog of a winter dawn,

A crowd flowed over London Bridge, so many,

I had not thought death had undone so many.

‘’’’

Then spoke the thunder

DA

Datta: what have we given?

…

DA

Dayadhvam: I have heard the key

…

DA

Damyata: The boat responded

Gaily, to the hand expert with sail and oar

The sea was calm, your heart would have responded

Gaily, when invited, beating obedient

To controlling hands

Pound :

…

At fourteen I married My Lord you.

I never laughed, being bashful.

Lowering my head, I looked at the wall.

Called to, a thousand times, I never looked back.

….

And you have been gone five months.

The monkeys make sorrowful noise overhead.

Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rage at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

…

Another poem of his :

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower

Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees

Is my destroyer.

And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose

My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

…

The force that drives the water through the rocks

Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams

Turns mine to wax.

…

Hamlet

The lady doth protest too much, methinks.” 

One may smile, and smile, and be a villain. ” 

“Conscience doth make cowards of us all.”

“To be, or not to be: that is the question:

Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them?

Yeats

Once more the storm is howling, and half hid

Under this cradle-hood and coverlid

My child sleeps on.

…

May she become a flourishing hidden tree

That all her thoughts may like the linnet be,

…

ಕೂಪಮಂಡೂಕ

ನೀನೆಲ್ಲಿ ಈಗ : ಹೆಗಲಿಗೆ ಹೆಗಲ ಕೊಟ್ಟವನು,

ಹಾಯಿಯನ್ನುರುಟುರು

ಟು ಊದಿದವನು,

ದಾರಿಯುದ್ದಕ್ಕು ರಹದಾರಿ  ಗಿಟ್ಟಿಸಿ ದಿಳ್ಳಿ,

ದ್ವೀಪಾಂತರಕ್ಕೆ ಕೈ ಕೊಟ್ಟ ಸಖನು ?

ಪ್ರತಿ ನಿಮಿಷವೂ ಮಹಾಯಾತ್ರೆ : ತೇರಿನ ಮಿಣಿಗೆ

ನನ್ನದೇ ತೋಳು, ನಿನ್ನದೆ ಘೋಷಣೆ

ರಾಮನವಮಿಯ ದಿವಸ

ಶ್ರೀ ರಾಮನವಮಿಯ ದಿವಸ ರಾಮನಾಮಾಮೃತವೆ

ಪಾನಕ,ಪನಿವರ,ಕೋಸಂಬರಿ;

……..

ಹುತ್ತುಗಟ್ಟದೆ ಚಿತ್ತ ಮತ್ತೆ ಕೆತ್ತೀತೇನು

ಪುರುಷೋತ್ತಮನ ಆ ಅಂಥ ರೂಪ-ರೇಖೆ ?

ಮೋಹನ ಮುರಳಿ

ಯಾವ ಮೋಹನ ಮುರಳಿ ಕರೆಯಿತು ದೂರ ತೀರಕೆ ನಿನ್ನನು

ಯಾವ ಬೃಂದಾವನ ಸೆಲೆಯಿತು ನಿನ್ನ ಮಣ್ಣಿನ ಕಣ್ಣನು 

My life was enriched.

As I write this I have a very strong desire to read many of the poems again.

 ( Strangely I found KS not so sensitive to movies or plays. I have a vague theory that involving space, movement, background etc he was not so receptive. Words moved him more. That is why I have not heard him exclaiming with delight after watching  Pather Panchali or Jal sagar or Becket or Gopi Gaye.. , or Mandi or Hamsa Geethe or My Fair Lady etc . I am sure he liked many of them but the sparkle in his eyes while reciting a poem was not there. But music he is fond of and knowledgeable in it  too. )

K Srinivas – KS - :  Sri Gurubho Namah