Tup tup tup

Tup tup tup

When the sweat drops

Fell in rhythm

The melted muscle nerves

Tuned the song

Song was born along with the work

And the work became a pal of song

In ancient times on the shores of rivers

Creating the dwellings when people lived together

In the path of hunger flames and

In the chase of fulfilling the hunger

The breath that struggled

And the exhaustion is the first song

In those troubling forts

In that ever niggling ruling

Bending the neck, when carrying

The palanquin of the boss

Go on go on and go on –saying

Striving from head to toe

Oho ohm, the breath  

Became the folklore

Wedding work in the house of

Village head

Sharing among them

The women of the village

 Started pounding the grains

The pressure on lungs –

 Sound of hus hus

Turned into suvvi a song

And it raised’ high up

With in the oceans tummy

Like balloons that end up

In the hug of death

Everyday of Lives

 In the spill of rain and breeze

Swooping and swaying

Swelled up the fisherman song ‘haileso’

From the voice of a fisherman

 Beautiful life of hard work

Within it elegant trail of tone

Enraptured in course of work

When nature turns into a tune

Enchants the body

 When the wind turns into a flute

From the hearts of villagers

The palankini chorus moved on

The tools in their hands

When the ringing of them becomes a lute

Weight of the faltering steps

As drums thud

Entire earth is a stage of work forfeit

Working brothers are the base of this build

Tools

Tools Creation

Was the intellect of hard-worker

Turning work into culture

Was the greatness of hard-worker

Hard workers handed over us the culture of Work

To kill a tiger from afar surely

Son of the hills churned mother’s heart

Bent a raw stick tethered a string, made a bow

Made the first machine

The great genius is a tribal

With a roar

And sounded the bow

The one who hold the bow

Stood as Arjuna

When  cherara chearara cher

Thundering it rained

With sweeping noise the cold breeze

Gnawed the bones ‘

From the friction of trees

 when the spread fire was seen

Holding a ball of cotton

Using the striking of stones

The nomads discovered the fire bag

That intelligence is the matchbox

That became a principle

Neither slashes like leaves or stiff as skin

Wanted to gift a delicate cloth to his nation

Spinning and spinning his brain

Turning his mind wheel

Handed over a machine – the loom

That never demands any fuel

That never spills smoke

That is the appreciation of a genius

He who attaches an engine to the looms

Will be a millionaire

With corns and black marks, the hands,

That created a volley of tools

From the furnace one by one

The axe, the plough, crow bar

A sickle a plough share and a chisel

The chisel was born for the art

And the crags had the grace

The hard worker is the creator of the tool

That makes the stones speak

The owner of the factory, the businessman

Loots the tools

The experience of

Rolling animals on the sticks

Turned into a wheel

 Made a vehicle move

To bring out a wheel that outshines

The wheel of the cart

Mixing hair in the mud

Prepared a potters wheel

That potter’s wheel is the basis of all machinery wheels

Where is the patent right to the potter now on machines?

O My childhood friend

O My childhood friend

O My childhood friend
Where you might be now
Always in my mind I recall
The sweet moments we spent together

In the fields, in a temple
In the school of our village
Have you remembered?
The naughty play the hide and seek?

In rains and in floods with soiled shirts
We moved the paper boats
Keeping ants in moving ships we laughed a lot
Have you remembered?

With joy cries and making it a false bite
We shared a guava
In the swimming well we left the shame and swam
Have you remembered?

In a delirium and in the struggle of fever
Once I was restless ‘
Till a friend of mine once again ‘
Have you remembered you left the food?

To the stories of kings told by grand ma
We used to die isn’t it?
We cuddled without any responsibility
In mother’s heart have you remembered?

Why do we get this vile youth
We do we have this family
Where are the laughs and where are the comforts
This is a fact, we are machines

My dear sisters

My dear sisters

My dear sisters of this street and village
I received a letter
My son is arriving, the news has come
Leaving the mother and leaving the village
He might be worried
So much be the trouble
Day and night buried in studies
How he might be and what he would have had
I have to cook sweet rice bringing new jaggery
Have to cook a sweet of rice
The most beautiful the most beautiful
His manner is beautiful but his heart is more
He never ever harms either an ant or a snake
He is too good the calf runs for him leaving the mother
Pausing the run even the stream too twists around
The wind has come the wind has come
Cool wind has come like a mother the wind has come
Trees and bridges burrows and the hills
Carried and hugged me
The cool mother and beautiful mother
Mother godavari
Because of you the flora fauna crops and the village grow

See the walk see the walk
In the walk of my son can’t you see the young lions?
See the smile see the smile in the smile of my son
It’s the rain of hill flowers
If he says once AMMA with a pamper
The breast milk will flood at once

. Yesterday you swayed

. Yesterday you swayed

Yesterday you swayed the swing
Today you forgot even mother’s milk
Work not so soon, no jail for the childhood
Let me tie anklets with my kisses
Let me write tomorrows songs with your eyes.

Hands are the newborn leaves the new flourished petals
You are the lines on the forehead of the nation – the leaves of banana
You are the infants
The growing fruits of mother tree

Why do you the flower behind a leaf
Have the battle of life
Don’t clean the slippers
Don’t wash the cups
Whether you know or not
It turns black if you touch coal
Whether you know or not
It burns if you touch the fire

Though promised on the fire the elders never pay heed
You are the oxygen in the factories of matchboxes
See that Savakasi the demon of the children

They never let you play hide and seek
They never let you go to schools wit a slate and pencil
They never allow you to play happily as parrots
They made a guillotine to the childhood with the work of slates
The jail it’s a factory of dreams

Mother made a palace of air with bangles of her wedding
She made you the kings in that palace
In the glass industry where the fire furnaces blaze
A mother‘s illusions could be seen
The fingers worn out and a century with in six years
Fixing the petite hands as queries
Ask the elders with low brain
If they hinder
The right to sing play and study
The downfall alone will be there for the country
This is not dissent
This is the curse of the young children

I am a tree

I am a tree

I am a plant– I am a friend
I am a tree- I am a mother
Never hack me down
Never ask for a famine
I am your mother don’t ever sell me
You are my son never slash me down

In the heart of mother soil in the throat of seeds
My song with the lips of an infant a welcome note to the nature
Have you not liked this song of green leaves?

When a child kicks on the heart with its legs
A mother as a blessing sheds the tears of happiness
Though you throw the stones I gift you the fruits

Turning the useless air into life saving oxygen
I have to save you from the effluence
Even from the birth we pity you all

Sunlight as food and salts as milk
Mixing them together I made the first food
Don’t ever cut the mother who fills your stomach

Your culture is to cut us the living
For the dead humans, to pile a pyre
Ours is the responsibility that Life is a sacrifice

Though you slash our bodies leave the roots in the earth
Keep a way to come up again for you
If you want an extraction first plant ten trees

The stars of the land (nelataralara)

The stars of the land (nelataralara)

Have you gone up to the sky- The stars of the land?
Becoming the stars of dawn would you show the path?

Whose kids are you? On the forehead of motherland
With your heart’s blood marked a dot and left
The ripe crop too lashes about a lot
Reaching mothers udders a lamb too denies milk
The streams you crossed rolled over and cried
Let the killers be dead how can they do this?

When was it you all had the food from your mother’s hands
When was it you all heard your father’s words?
Brothers my brothers
Have you forgotten your siblings?
Where might be your Younger and elder sisters now?
A stir would have moved in your mother’s belly
She might be upset in sleep
What omen your father would have faced
As a fall of lightening in his heart

Where have you had your birth, growth and where did you die now?
The motherland as a real mother had taken you in her lap
Can’t you open your eyes and call at once mom
Writing a fate of lighting the pyre of sons have you gone?

Would you be the jasmines of my backyard?
Or be the white pigeons coming to us
Brothers my brothers
Would you be the plants in the line of plough?
Or the grains of rice in the plate to eat
We will name our babies on you
To call them with love

on Sankranti festival In the rangoli of the premises
We will see your laugh
a cold breeze in the morning
when creeps on to the cheeks
, my brothers, we feel you wiped the tears
When the sunsets in the hills and valleys.
With a hoisted flag, it looks as if you come in front of us