Kaivalya

I was just reading through the Chapter 7 of Bhagavad Gita , on Gyana Vigyana Yoga (published by Gita Press, Gorakhpur in Telugu). These are a few notes and observations I made based on my attempts to understand it. In slokas 4 and 5, Lord Krishna describes Arjuna about various natures and attributes of Himself. "My nature is of the eight forms: Earth, Water, Fire, Air, Sky, Mind (manas), Intellect (buddhi), Ego (ahankAra). This eight-formed nature of Mine is called "aparA" or "jadA". Besides this, I have another nature, encompassing and pervading the entire Universe, called "parA" or "chethanA", which is My personification in living form. " Continuing in sloka 6: "O Arjuna! All living beings of the this world, are evolved from these natures of Mine. I am the cause for the birth of this Universe and its annihilation. That is to say, I am the origin and primary cause of the existence of the entire Universe." I found it very inte

it's a shame i didn't know you earlier it's your name that my heart beats for, can't you hear? i sing to myself, i tell to myself as it were, lost in your thoughts.....lost in your thoughts...... now i see, how it was meant to be now i feel, it's better gotta be real this time goes on like the wily wind carries me into that eternity-- where the stars still shine in the day, where the nights are sure bright by the bay; and i stay alone to myself talking of love to myself, as it were, lost in your thoughts.....lost in your thoughts...... glad that it went so easily there was no room for being sorry; thankfulness, for this kind bliss parting ways without a gentle kiss: it could have been even more worse words would have sounded like a curse. a dream within myself, filled with a memory of myself... as it were, lost in your thoughts.........lost in your thoughts....... lost in your thoughts, i am still alive lost in your thoughts, i have survived lost in your thoughts, i

Some day the clouds will condense Some day it will definitely rain Some day your heart will surrender Some day you’ll know my pain -Siddartha Pamulaparty (2002)

-Siddartha Pamulaparty Nov 13 2007.

Context: The medieval Telugu poets had this tradition of starting their poetic works with an “indicator poem” in which the author prays to his favorite God and also try to indicate the subject of the book, an ancient kind of “Preface”. They considered having this poem in the beginning is auspicious and the completion of the book will not have any interruptions. So, Pothana in continuation of the tradition, wrote this as the preface for the epic Bhagavatam. He prays to the beloved deity Krishna in this poem. Meaning: “I shall contemplate on attaining the Kaivalya Pada, the ultimate abode free from bondage (Vaikunta). I offer my prayers to the Protector and Harnesser of the World, the Enthusiast of the art of Devotion, the One who controls and mitigates the anger garnered by the evil, the One who with whose playful pastime had caused the creation of many Universes, which He holds in His abdomen and protects like a clay pot that holds the water and keeps it pure, the sweet blessed child

This is another poem from the epic of “Gajendramoksham”. When I was a kid, I couldn’t get the emotions behind this poem, but later on when I started thinking on my own, my eyes filled with tears whenever I read or heard this padyam. Of course I admit I am very emotional but I believe this poem will cause everyone a tinge of sorrow in their hearts at the plight of the elephant king and at the same filled with utmost devotion to the Ultimate Liberator, Sri Maha Vishnu. Context: The whole story of Gajendra Moksham is how the Elephant King gets “ moksham ”, the Telugu/Sanskrit word, the closest equivalent in English I can think of is absolute Liberation . The scene starts with the Elephant King leading his herd and moving across the thick forest towards the river for quenching their thirst. It is described very graciously that, as the herd moved, the Elephant King glowed with pride, and all the animals in the jungle get scared, as if the Earth shook during Pralaya, destruction of Universe

Encouraged by my pal Pradeep's comment, here I go attempting a couple of more translations of Pothana's poems. These poems were being sung to us at our home, my father especially I remember taught us to recite these padyams. Very fortunate of being born in my family, I am, in deed!! From the story of Prahlada in the Bhagavatam, this is yet another beautiful piece of work from Pothana. Context: Hiranyakashipa is a powerful Demon King who is a staunch enemy of Vishnu. His son Prahlada is the quite opposite of him and since his childhood is a great devotee of Vishnu. In this scene, Hiranyakashipa overcome with rage asks Prahlada “Where can I find Hari (Vishnu)?”. This poem is the answer of Prahlada to his father’s inquiry. My Translation: He (Vishnu) is inside the deep abyss, He is in the omnipresent atmosphere, over the sky, in the core of the Earth. He is also present in the fire, He is in days and nights. He is in the embodiments of the life-giving Sun, the pleasing Moon. He i

I bought a couple of books before I started my journey to US. One of them is Mediocre But Arrogant by Abhijit Bhaduri. I read it completely in a couple of days. The book is about a guy Abbey who joins a B-school and the way his life transforms in the years he spends in the school is the essense of the book. The best thing I liked about it is the style of narration. Everytime I read a work of fiction, I tend to imagine myself in the shoes of one of the central characters. And more so if it is a first person narration. Earlier books like "And now Miguel" by Krumgold, which I read when I was very young cast a deep impression on me and somehow I love the first person narration. Very few books give me a feeling that the author is narrating "my imaginary story" with "me" narrating the story. MBA is one such book and I would have lost count of the number of instances in the story when I actually felt it is me narrating it in the form of Abbey. What all I am sayin

This is a humble attempt to transliterate an excerpt from the Gyana Siddhantam, a treatise on The Theory of Knowledge, my grandfather Sri Pamulaparthi Sadasiva Rao had written (published by Visalandhra Publications). The Gyana Siddhantam was in turn a translation of Francis M. Cornford's "Plato's Theory of Knowledge: The Theaetetus and The Sophist". I must admit that the following translation is not to compare the literary and philosophical scholarship of either Mr. Cornford or my grandfather but a devout dedication to my beloved grandfather. The principle (theory) of knowledge (Epistemology) should describe the transformation of human thought (intellect). It becomes obvious to scrutinize the human thought process through ages, the fundamental basis of these thoughts and the process of relating (reflecting) these thoughts onto the actual facts. Tatva Philosophy is the specialized branch of epistemology that deals with the thoughts, contemplations and the definition o

Today, I went to the Hindu Temple of Lake County Illinois, for a little peace of mind. The statue of Rama had attracted me a lot. The smile on His face was amazing. Anyways, I am a great admirer of Pothana of Bammera, who translated the Veda Vyasa's Srimadh Bhagavatam into Telugu. His poetry is endowed with great gift of using the metaphors (alankaras). I do not think any of the Adi Kavi's of Telugu can match the poetic exuberance of Pothana. Here is an interesting note from Pothana's life I heard so many times from various sources. He wrote the whole Bhagavatam with a great devotion. While writing the famous "Gajendramoksham" portion of the God's Story, there was a scene in which the author, Pothana had to describe the interior of Vaikunta, the paradise of Vishnu. Pothana suffered an immense pain, as he could not find the right words to describe the abode of the great Vishnu. In modern times, you could say he faced a writer's block. He could not visualize

"Walden" was first published in 1854, a 2000 copies print by Ticknor and Fields. It mostly comprises of Thoreau's life in the woods between July 4, 1845 to September 6, 1857. It is considered by some wise men as one of the most influential works in American literature. To me, "Walden" is a paradise of wisdom, an epitome of Truth in the simplest verses. Well, then let us sojourn again into the wilderness. ECONOMY In most books, the I, or first person is omitted; in this it will be retained; that, in respect to egotism, is the main difference. (This shows his characteristic of the importance of self, and the individualistic spirit of being). In the rest of the chapter Thoreau details out the financial account details of all the experiments that failed and that finally succeeded, and of course the wonderful philosophy about life. In front of the Thoreau's cabin replica at the Walden Pond Conservative in concord is an excerpt from this chapter. The below is a p

It could perhaps fit for this account to be called "On Walden" too, however, since I want to emphasize the joy I derived, when my dream came true, when I visited Walden in the New England spring this year (2007), which had prompted me to call it "At Walden". As people who know me, hopefully do agree that I am usually a modest person, I do admit here that this essay of mine, is not to exercise efforts to evaluate the genius of Thoreau, nor to defend against many accomplished gentlemen and women of great minds who did not accept Thoreau in the first place. It is my humble attempt to offer to my readers, the influence and inspiration of Thoreau in my life, which is of late been of the sorts of "quite desperation", while I struggle to learn what it has to offer. Ever since I first read the account of Henry David Thoreau's life in my High School English Course, I felt fascinated about the Walden Pond and the 19th Century New England. What attracted most is

I have always shared a warm and loving relationship with my grandmother. In fact, I think she had made me feel special and liked me more than her other grandchildren.Perhaps, this is because I am the only boy among all her grandchildren, in her proximity. She used to stay very often with us in Hyderabad earlier and also in Warangal after we moved there. Although I have many experiences with her during my childhood I would like to put some things I am really fond of. During my 2nd grade and 3rd grades in school, I used to make excuses like stomach-ache or head-ache in order to avoid going to school. And when I succeeded in convincing my mom, I used to stay home along with my granny. After an hour after lunch each day, I used to adjust the clock's pointers so that the time showed 3.00pm which was our tea-time. I used to wake her up and ask her to make tea as it was our tea time. She used to get up and make the tea and later on when she came to know that I was playing with the clock,

If she's alone, let her know I am waiting For, ever since we had parted, I never slept As I was afraid that I will forget The sweet dreams I saw of her for the last time. My eyes have swelled into oceans of tears The pieces of my broken heart are still beating And every sound made by the blowing wind Reminds me of melodies of her unheard songs. The smile that she had, perhaps was the culprit That transformed myself into a lover I remember still those first words that I wrote And kept writing the same forever and ever. If she's alone and there is no other To shower her with the flowers of love To hold her warmly and shield her from cold To weep and wash the dust from her feet- Let me be the one, first to know Since she shall no more deny the Truth That my admiration is acknowledged That my feelings have a nobler meaning. Not all memories are just as sweet Not all journies with their destinies meet She knows as well as I understand That things too precious can never be held Nor c

That evening was no ordinary For you were sitting by my side Close to each other, were you and me Yet I was still trying to hide The hunger of a burning fire To open secrets of my little heart At your feet and then with heed start To let it out: this strong desire In the form of words I often spoke; You heard those before in the past You knew that memories wouldn't last If this silence was never broke With a whisper or better a gesture Like exchanging notes with our eyes And understand, what's true, what's lies; "Could we have, of us, taken a picture?" It was you, who asked to my surprise Interrupting my struggle all this while To ask you the same, and then smile For I was sure that I will win my prize. Friends and cameras did their work And trapped us for eternity Or so I thought,I could not see That somethings die just in the dark. The photograph was lost in space There was no chance since we parted ways But I swear, that best were those days When I used to see

Not always does my pen go on Not everyday I write But at times, when I'm alone And with myself begin to fight I stray into the oblivion And see an unseen light. I hear strange voices Spoken in unknown tongues I feel the world around me Has transformed overnight. Every object I then sense Inspires me with great delight And thoughts start pouring Deep from within my mind. I then struggle day and night To scribble those ideas bright. (That is pretty much how Some of my poems have born.) -Siddartha Pamulaparty April, 2007.

ignore the roses, for their fate is to wilt how long will the bloom and the fragrance endure? born amidst cruel thorns full of sorrow and guilt grown into cruel petals and profoundly impure; with all false pride and in the mirthless joy they swell in the bounty of their bloody hue and smirk at the gentle lotuses that buoy over the noble ponds of holy waters blue. ignore the roses, for they're no immortal souls losing virginity while climbing up the bowers vain attempt to reach the heavens, what unreal goals !ever so inappropriate, these damned poor flowers! Siddartha Pamulaparty June 20.2007

somebody said she was a schoolboy's dream someone confessed, hell, she's hot like steam some people fought to just stand by her side the idiots they were, could never really hide the passion that this girl had started in their hearts this looks of her were shooting love-stained darts....... she was just a girl and i was her guy untill i kissed her and said goodbye well, if it wasn't for that goddamn night my arms would still be hugging her tight it wasn't me, it was all her fault she should've known it right from the start i loved her deeply from the bottom of my heart she played fun with it, and tore it apart she hid her mind, I thought she's afraid "I love you, lady", it was true what I said she was so gentle and polite alright but hell what she did in the last was not right! o baby! i am so very sorry for your plight there's still time, it's not yet end of the night.

The following is a prose-style poetry I attempted inspired by the style of Rabindranath Tagore. I was not as mature as I am today when I wrote it about 5 years back. The southern winds while on their pilgrimage to the North, touch me delicately, when I am deep in my thoughts. They prompt me to stay awake- lest I miss the event that I eagerly await: the moment of glory, when you- with your gentle stride, cross through the path of my dreams……. Ever since the sun broke into the azure sky early in the day, I have been suffering from the animosities of folks, whom I thought were my kith and kin. The very thought of being with them is now crippling my heart- leaving no ground for me to stand upon. After a day-long struggle to still be alive, here I am, at your feet dieing to live, like an unfortunate sailor full of thirst, who survived a miserable wreckage. I lost all my consciousness and fainted out of distress, with failing efforts to regain my strength. I know not what happened between th

From Deep Within My Heart, Another Song For You! Though 'tis late, and time's gone, the memories will never die. Days seemed lost in the year gone by Yet I still remember that blissful day When my love was born, the sun was up in the sky And never since went down into the wanting bay; The tender buds transformed into eternal blossoms And by the name of roses forever did stay; When shone upon my basking soul On this morn, yet another bright new ray I woke up in the woods of thoughts To wish my Dream a beautiful birthday! Siddartha Pamulaparty May 26 2007

An experiment with Microsoft Excel and Microsoft Word I was lost in my old sweet days Though still in truth I held my ways To make love to the one I saw In dreams that you did start to draw In my plain mind with your white hands With bright new hues of all great lands Yet like the great bard of my art Am filled with awe for my lone heart Siddartha Pamulaparty April 23, 2007.

జాజిమల్లివై కల్పవల్లివై నా తల్లివై నీతో తీసుకుపోవా? అనురక్తివై శ్రీహరిభక్తివై జీవనముక్తివై నీలో ఏకం చేసుకోవా? సిద్ధార్థా పాములపర్తి 22 Feb 2007

ఏ దిశలో చుచిన నాకాశలు అగుపించక ప్రతి నిశమున నేనే ఋషినై సత్యాన్వేషణలో..... నా ఎదలో ఏదో రాగం వినిపిన్చిన ప్రతిస్పన్దనలో నా అదరములు పలికిన పదముల ప్రతిద్వనిలో.... ఏ మార్గము ఎచ్చటికో అని ఆలొచించిన అదె నిముశములో నాకై నేనే ఈ పాటను ఆలపిన్చికుంటునాను! Siddartha Pamulaparty Feb 20, 2007.

You are too old now, you know? And have been dead since long ago! Guess everyone in times does grow Become senile or diseased or go Into the graves and sleep low. You are not one of them, oh no! Like me there are many who owe Our souls of art to your grove Planted with seeds, you did sow!! On this day and many times after now Let me admit in front of your Divine glow Often you cause a deep frown on my brow Shoot me with arrows off your witty bow. Happy Birthday, my dear Poe, The great bard Edgar Allan Poe. Siddartha Pamulaparty Poe's Bday (Jan 19), 2007.

If life is not as simple as The morning skies or the evening rains! If living was not as easy as Walking in the graceful woods! If death was not just a temporary stop Like the halting at a railroad crossing! Then all my thoughts are a wasteful lot! And all my works a futile effort! Siddartha Pamulaparty Feb 17 2007.

That burning of the red hot fire Could it ever equal that of my desire? Those innumerous waves at the ocean front Are they more endless than my trains of thought? The nocturnal noises of the beasts in dark wilderness Are they more defeaning than my silence? The sweetest melodies of the singing larks Are they any match to my bitter inner voice? The perennial streams of the mighty rivers What would they be compared to my tears? I laugh to myself, at my own stand The foolishness I could not understand! Who cares to listen to these futile words? Who has time to console my feelings? Ha Ha Ha Ha, I laugh aloud again Who can stop me from enjoying my great pains? (I know not one would sing my songs As they are as insignificant as myself.) -Siddartha Pamulaparty Dt: Feb 17, 2007.

Hello. I just wanted to write down what's running through my mind presently. I have been living life, always trying to figure out some kind of puzzle: the meaning of my life and the reason for my existence. I had believed and still believe that the one single cause, purpose and reason of my life is my mother. Without her, I wouldn't have been born, wouldn't have done any good thing, in essence, I wouldn't have a life without her. I do respect my father and love him with all my heart. I think I grew wise enough to understand my relationships. To me, the one person I would be prepared to die, even if you ask me at the next minute after you read my essay, it would be my mother. She is the single most important person in my life. But then, beyond the emotional and sentimental values, there must be something reasonable for other parts of my life. I have depended, shamelessly like a parasite on my friendships to live away, especially the past few years. If I had no friends in

The evening roses have blossomed again Cool sea breezes remind me of the rain Fluttering their wings, the flamingoes fly high The sun has set letting the stars shine in the sky. The love songs played from the radio station Fill my heart with the same old sensation How I used to believe my love was so true!! I won't mind telling I'm still enamored with you. What happened to us that we stopped so suddenly? Was it some conspiracy of the jealous heavenly? Set against the time and this world is our story- I wait for our Dreamland to regain its glory. The dreams that we shared and the love that we won: I was being blamed for what I have not done! But the triumphing truth will never die, Searching you everywhere my eyes now cry! Please forget what happened- wrong or right, I want you to be my Valentine tonight. Siddartha Pamulaparty (??/??/????)

old abe, here i sing thee a song for it has been really so long that someone had spoken words strong and distinguished right from the wrong old abe, i dedicate thee one day of my wasteful life- filled with dismay, by thinking high, and for a while stay in the divine silence of my solitude and pray old abe, i plead thee to throw light into my world and benignly show the path of truth which men should know to walk and find their bright destinies glow. Siddartha Pamulaparty Dt: Lincoln's birthday, 2007.

Alas, I'm lost again in my own verse: "Nihilistic world I live in my days And in my nights my eyes see blinding rays" Over me perhaps was this long spelt curse. But, yet since I discovered the Tenth Muse, Read her broken lines of tenderly love: In winds of poesy she flew like a dove For Fires of passion her art was the fuse: I sang an elegy to my own past And learnt new techniques of a new device; Sappho, the one who has gracefully cast Entwining with her li'l fingers this dice Called "lyrical poesy" that grew up to last And has on this Earth no equal in price. Siddartha Pamulaparty Jan 21 2007.

I have no shame in confessing to the world of a certain love of mine, which failed through conscious effort of my mind. This love started way back in the summer of last year. Although I met her a couple of times before and came close to converse, it was not until the day I knew it was my last week in London that I really got close to her. She gave me a warm welcome and I courted well with her. In fact, better than anyone close to me would have expected me to fair in these kinds of affairs. All my friends came to know of this new phase in my life slowly and some friends far off are still oblivious of this. I made no attempts to conceal the fact, but neither did I boast of the novel pleasures I found each day and each night. It might sound funny, but each time we met, I took her into me. I used to wet her with my saliva sometimes, as I voraciously enjoyed every moment of our union. She was hot like a fire...a fire that burnt her. I tend to exagerrate, but I could see fumes coming out of

my love, what can I speak about while in your arms on the bed last night i felt i like i found my angel beside you i found my heaven..... remember the time we first met my eyes were on yours for a long time while my heart beats sang you a song girl, i wish if it was that way forever...... together each minute we spent could i ever forget, through all that we went? sometimes being happy and gay and in joy sometimes a little angry and little sad, oh boy!! no matter what i loved you before you and you left me before i even realized what happened in the year that had past memories of which will with me forever last. -Siddartha Pamulaparty December, 2006-January , 2007.

My mind is as sinuous as a python coiled on a tree I did forsake my virtues and set my evil ego free My heart is full of wickedness and infinite desires Seeking which I insulted the holy sacrificial fires My trembling body is smeared with poison all over it I lost all my bearings,and am enslaved by my cruel wit My scorching eyes are devoid of moisture and mirth I malignated and perverted my decent noble birth My burning belly is ever hungry for more lustful crimes I think I have over-lived my mortal age by many times And even when the obedient angels of death have come To take me with them to the Hell, maybe my true home In all of my selfishness I called on my son's name Which by a sheer chance or some kind of Divine Game Happened to be same as one of the thousand names of Him The slayer of my dirty sin and destroyer of my whim In the event of my present mortal moment, dear my Lord Just bespeaking the most significant and august word I have been forgiven of my most crooked deeds of

in the holy nakedness of my body i plunder through the woods of terror running in the fields, blazing with a fire i take with me the storms and thunder spreading panic on each face i gaze at with my fearsome eyes glowing with splendor. in the wily cunningness of my mind i slaughter the heads of the intelligent creating havoc across the continents i stir the ocean waters like a coiled serpent hissing poison into the omnipresent winds with my cancered lungs- tumored and vent. in the crazy cruelness of my soul i torture the beasts that can speak hollowing them of their inhibitions i tonsure their heads and pluck out their beaks burning with rage and screaming like hell with my strained tongue, far from being meek. Siddartha Pamulaparty January 15, 2007.

I was reading Rabindranath Tagore's novel "The Home and The World", in which I read a line that captured my thoughts for quite sometime: " Perfect gain is the best of all; but if it is impossible to achieve, then perfect loss is the next best thing. " I have seen life in the brightest lights I have been through many wakeful nights I have traveled across here and there Like the aimless wind that blows everywhere I have known what one's feeling is To discover the world of Atlantis And just when I was about to call My friends I lost, I began to fall To steepest valleys, darkest woods Into the arms of the devil that broods About love and lust and lovely death And how it feels when one stops to breath. I have known as many before me did That perfect gain always is splendid But when things go wrong and vile and gross I seek, the next which is best, the perfect loss. -Siddartha Pamulaparty January 11, 2007

sea is just a destiny that stays outside our land but the body of water that flows from its heart and fills all the homes with treasures of food grains and with it takes every shard, every broken part of the profane, pitiless and pervert human brains! that again which floods the dirtiest streets and cleans up every dark corner covered with cob-webs bringing life to every object that it meets culminating its crests and troughs into decent ebbs: i speak of the river that seeps through the sand. not because of its vigour nor for its glory not at all because it has a name so pure (Aghanashini, it is that seems to have a story whatever it may be, i am not too sure) not because near Sirsi it has two origins not for its name meaning "destroyer of sins" no, not for any other reason that i sing of it but because i have a history that seems fit to sing for Aghanashini, and its majestic falls: for while its journey this river makes calls on to a hamlet, up there at the north of the stat

When the summers come When the winters go And the world is home Of sunshine and glow When a cool breeze sweeps The fallen leaves on the roads away When a crazy cloud weeps Drops of rain all day When you hear a thunder And begin to wonder If a hero in the battle field Is roaring with his sword and shield! And again when you begin to feel Nature is not as gentle as it seems That something appears to be real Believing what you see in your dreams When there is a sudden earthquake Producing a quiver and a massive shake Causing a tremble and shudder to the beasts And afear alike the warriors and the priests Or when there's a deafening silence The sky is lit with blinding Twilight, When the cattle graze on the mountain's fence Oblivious to the coming darkness of the night When the Gods in the heavens above Shower the blessings as they fly When the entire Universe is brimmed with Love Know that it is then that: a poet's passing by. Siddartha Pamulaparty Jan 10 2007.

Some fairy had trodden into my lawn Methought when saw I a grey-eyed damsel Who seemed to cast on me a powerful spell That kept me awake untill it was dawn. She wore a helmet and held in her hand Firmly, but gently her weapon-a spear Which had a sharp edge as if meant to tear Dark clouds of ignorance spread on my land. I ran in vain toward her like a child In haste I bent down and kissed her white feet My heart then wreath'd with this desire so wild To wet with my mouth her lips honey sweet And when blow the cool breezes fresh and mild By body, mind and soul, she and I meet. Siddartha Pamulaparty Dt: January 5, 2007.