Saturday, December 15, 2007

Notes from Bhagavad Gita Chapter 7

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 interesting in sloka 8 and have added something to what I understood from the sloka:
Lord Vishnu continues:
"Arjuna! I am the fluidity in water, I am the light in the Sun and Moon. I am the primitive syllable "Aum" in all of the Vedas, I am the sound in the space, and I am the Pourusha (Power or Strength) in the man."
My interpretation of this sloka is two-fold:
1) Krishna is trying to explain that He is the essence of every object, living or non-living. The basic nature of water is that it flows, and hence fluidity is one of its primary attributes, we see the Sun and Moon attribute them as the source of light in the days and nights respectively. Aum is the basic and most commonly used syllable in the Vedas, most often employed as the first syllable before the mantras or slokas. Pourusha is a characteristic of a masculine nature.
2) Krishna is the Energy inside/of everything. Water has this internal energy and the surface tension and the capillary properties, this energy is Krishna. Light is a form of energy. Aum is considered to have a very powerful affect when chanted, increasing one's energy levels and open the mind to receive cosmic waves. Sound, the vibration, which as they say will never die in the space, is a form of energy. And the Pourusha could mean the strength or power (in a man) which is a form of energy. So, Krishna is the ever-existing energy, which can neither be created nor be destroyed!!! Or should we say, the one who does not have a birth or death!!

In sloka 10, Krishna says to Arjuna "Know me to be the eternal and primeval seed of the all the elements in the world. I am the "intelligence" of the intelligent and I am the "lustre" of the brilliant."

In sloka 16, the Bhagavan describes the four kinds of people who are attracted to Him, in other words, the four kinds of His devotees:
"(a) those who perform their duties and work for fruitful results and prosperity and wealth, with good deeds (arthArtho)
(b) those who are physically or mentally depressed and are in agony (ArtHaha)
(c) those who are disinterested in worldy objects and desire to inquire into the nature and seek the knowledge of the paramAtma, the God (jigyAsuhu) and
(d) those who are blessed with divine knowledge and enlightened (gyAni)".

He goes onto say in the next sloka that, "of the above 4 devotees, the gyAni is the best. The gyAni likes me the best, as He seeks to know (or knows about) My Being. Even I like him the best over the other three."

The rest of the chapter also explains how one can attain the Lord Himself with examples of worshipping multiple dieities (polytheism), the duality of happiness and sorrow due to likes and dislikes of human beings, and the ultimate freedom from the cycle of births and deaths.

In the slokas 29-30, the God assures Arjuna that: "those who are seeking a liberation from the endless cycle of births and deaths, will attain the ultimate knowledge of the parabrahma (God), entire dynamics of the relation between the Supreme Spirit and the individual soul (spiritual knowledge) and everything about the Karma. Those who, with their diligent efforts and determined mind, know Me, the one who is the prime among all the elements, deities and sacred rituals, will eventually reach Me."

-Siddartha Pamulaparty
Dec 15, 2007.

Tuesday, December 04, 2007

Lost in your thoughts---Lyrics

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 am breathing
lost in your thoughts, i am still alive

lost in your thoughts, i am dying
lost in your thoughts, i'm defeated
lost in your thoughts, i am losing
lost in your thoughts, i am dying

as it were...
lost in your thoughts........lost in your thoughts!!

siddartha pamulaparty
04 Dec, 2007

Some Day

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

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

Sarvam Vishnoham

-Siddartha Pamulaparty

Nov 13 2007.

Saturday, November 10, 2007

The theme behind my blog name: Pothana's Prayer

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.

“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 of Yashoda Devi and Nanda Deva, the beloved Sri Krishna. "
-Siddartha Pamulaparty
Nov 10, 2007.

Sunday, November 04, 2007

Gajendra Moksham - Part-2

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.

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. This is to show that the Elephant King was no mean guy, very strong, majestic, in his prime and proud too. When they start having water from the river, a crocodile gets a hold of the leg of the Gajendra. Even after a rough battle with it, Gajendra starts succumbing to the strong crocodile. Then he prays to Vishnu who saves him ultimately.
What Pothana (and Veda Vyasa) have depicted in this allegory, as far as my little mind could think of, is even such an individual, who lived with pride and did not care anyone, in times of distress, if prays to the God Vishnu, just by taking any of His thousand names, He will come to the rescue without a second thought. It is very well known according to many accounts, that Vishnu is a devotee lover. Only thing that can “affect” Vishnu who is generally calm and unperturbed is the pure devotion. As they say, surrender to Vishnu and He will surrender to you.

My Translation:
“There is not an ounce of strength remaining in my muscles. All the courage I vested has drained off. Living tissues across my limbs, arms, are all dying. I am about to faint. My body is tired. It is demanding me to put excessive efforts to sustain further. There is no one for me; You are the only One I have! I surrender totally unto You! Please have mercy on this weakling of me! O Vishnu, the Savior of distressed! Is it not time yet for You to come? Will not You save me, my Lord? O Protector of all beings, kindly come and rescue me with Your Divine grace!! ”

-Siddartha Pamulaparty
Nov 4, 2007

Prahlada's beautiful answer to his father

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 is in the sacred word AUM (the origin of sound), in the Trinity of Brahma, Vishnu and Maheshwara. He is in women, men, eunuchs and in every person. He is everywhere, dear father! You do not need to put your efforts in determining whether He is here or there!! "

Further to this:

“Listen O the prime among the Demons (Rakshasas/Danavas)!! Do not doubt whether The One who has the Sudharshana Chakra as his weapon, Sree Hari (Vishnu) is here and not there and so on. He is present in every place. He is the One whose grace all can seek. It is the inability of those who do not search for Him, that He is not found. Wherever you search Him, He will be there!”

I referred to the E-Book "Potana Kavita Sudha: Commentary by Dr. P. Yashodha Reddy " the first paperback copy of which was printed by Andhra Pradesh Sahitya Academy in 1983 for the grammatical correctness of the padyams.

Click on the title of the post to watch a video from Bhaktha Prahlada with Sri S.V.Ranga Rao as the Hiranyakasapa. I believe Smt. P. Susheela has rendered the padyams for young Prahalada, played by Rojaramani.

-Siddartha Pamulaparty

Nov 4, 2007.

Mediocre But Arrogant--- A review

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 saying is that I could readily identify with the character in the book, with absolute ease and no heavy imagination required.

The friends of Abbey, his lovers and the characters of Prof.'s like Hathi (Hathaway) were all very familiar. Anyone who went to a professional college not necessarily a B-school could easily identify the typical characters around. But let me warn you, this doesn't make the characters stereotyped. In fact, there is some kind of freshness in the entire plot.

It is very important to mention the character of Abbey's friend Rascal Rusty. This character provides a unique yet curiously nostalgic flavour of someone who you look up to. The mystery and riddles associated with Rusty was very well presented. Adding another feather to the crown to Abbey's story.

On the whole, it is a book you must read,
(1) if you had enjoyed the college days spending more time with friends than books and assignments, hanging out, getting caught etc.
(2) if you were too busy with acads and often wonder what you missed in college, and if given a chance to live it through again, what would you do?

Well, now you know, which category I belong to (with my emphasis on the point (2) above).

All in all a great entertainer, full of fun, vivid incidents and a decent story telling.

Now, there's a sequel due from Abhijit, which he calls "Married But Available". I am just too curious when the book will hit the shelf!!

I recommended this MBA to all my friends who are into books and hopefully one day, as the talk is if a movie is made out of it, I shall recommend all my friends to see it!!!
So, if you get a chance grab it, relax on an afternoon in the weekend and dream away to a life full of dreams and miseries (depending on which character you suit!!) , and get a good laugh!!!

-Siddartha Pamulaparty
Nov 4, 2007.

An excerpt from Sri Pamulaparthi Sadasiva Rao's Gyana Siddhantham

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 or determination of these phenomenon. However, often it is observed in philosophic discussions a question "Whether this thought (theory) is greater than the other thought (theory)?" and the subsequent arguments. This is inevitable, because the individuals (who author the certain thoughts/theories) are almost always associated as "thinking-machines" (think-tanks) similar to the context of defining the objects in the physical world. Evidently, merely considering "thoughts" as objects and the above mentioned point of view does not solve the problem of discerning the evolution of thought process.

Moreover, for the same reason, artificial and baseless inquiries like "Is the pen mightier or the sword?" or "Does the seed come first or the tree?" have come into existence. The practical use or applicability of these kind of inquiries is an absolute nought. Despite this fact, innocent inquiries like these fill up most of the papers and publications today. With no involvement of the actual material objects like the pen or the sword, to compare them whimsically or without any implication of the materially existing seeds and trees, to investigate which came first, is not the way to approach the problems. On the contrary it is nothing different from "day-dreaming."

In the similar fashion, in philosophy, several doctrines and arguments revolve around the God and the Soul. Owing to this nature of discussions in wide circulation, the common class of people have formed an opinion that philosophy is for those who have nothing better to do, and hence do not heed to this branch of science.

(A) To avoid the above mentioned confusion, it is extremely important to be cautious and employ tools like "materialism". The materialistic principles define a systematic examination of factual nature of thoughts and the subsequent actions associated with these thoughts.

(B) However, the materialistic approach alone cannot determine the evolution of thought process. To determine it, instead of just the peripheral material nature of the thought, a wholistic approach, examining the roots of the thought, various stages and directions it had traversed through, in a factual manner is needed. To do so, a "historical perspective" is required.

(C) A historical perspective encompasses the study of the evolution of the socio-economic establishments and the level of sophistication of knowledge in these establishments associated with the thought.

The "theory of knowledge" combines these two approaches (namely "materialism" and "historical perspective") in determination of the evolution of thought. Following these approaches, this science has detailed out the evolution of the state of mind/existence (the thought), beginning from the "reflex actions" (of instinct) to a totally liberated, conscious collective thought of the entire human race.

Note: There could be mistakes due to my limited knowledge in understanding the actual Telugu version. Kindly bear with them. Also, this is not a doctrine and the readers are not tempted to hold this to conviction.

- Siddartha Pamulaparty
Nov 4, 2007/

Saturday, November 03, 2007

Translation of Lord Vishnu's own words

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 something people only dream of seeing, the ultimate destiny for liberation, the Vaikunta. He left the book there and he went for a stroll to attend to his agricultural duties, as farming was his livelihood. When he returned, he saw that the poem that describes the interior of Vaikunta to his bewilderment!! When he enquired his daughter on who wrote that in his absence, she mentioned that he (Pothana) himself came and finished those lines and went back. Pothana then realized that the great Vishnu Bhagavan, Himself came to his rescue and completed the poem. That is probably the reason, Pothana says: palikinchedi vadu Ramabhadrudata (i.e. the one who is speaking on my behalf of this Bhagavatha is Rama Himself!!) and dedicated the epic to Bhagavan Rama.

Here is the original poem in Telugu. I had dared to attempt to translate it to English, after trying to identify the most appropriate words in English for the beautiful verse in Telugu, which like Pothana, I believe the God wrote Himself:

అల వైకుంఠపురంబులో నగరిలో నామూలసౌధంబు దా
పల మందారవనాంతరామృత సరః ప్రాంతేందుకాంతోప లో

త్పలపర్యంక రమావినోది యగునాపన్నప్రసన్నుండు వి
హ్వలనా గేంద్రము పాహి పాహి యనఁగుయ్యాలించి సంరంభియై.

Yonder in the great city of Vaikunta, further within the interior of chief quarters of the august palace, to the left side, inside the dense woods of the fragrant Crown flower trees, on the shores of the ambrosial (lactescent) lake called the Amrutha Sarovaram, reclined over the couch adorned by the consorts of the Moon- the blue lotuses, the unperturbed, the pleased and the gracious Vishnu, rejoicing with Lakshmi, swung to His feet in haste, when He heard the cry, “Save! O Save”, of the distressed and shaken Elephant King !!

Siddartha Pamulaparty
Nov 04, 2007.

Monday, August 06, 2007

At Walden- Part 2

"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.


  • 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 photograph of the same.


This perhaps is the zenith of the masterpiece. All the underlined philosophy of Thoreau's experiments and the wise learnings must have been put under this chapter alone. Excerpts follow.

The chapter begins with a basic fact, which I myself have personally experienced during my travels through my own country as well as in the far-off soils.
  • At a certain season of our life we are accustomed to consider every spot as the possible site of a house.

Then it reminds of Robert Frost's "Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening" when Thoreau states:

  • I have frequently seen a poet withdraw, having enjoyed the most valuable part of a farm, while the crusty farmer supposed that he had got a few wild apples only. Why, the owner does not know it for many years when a poet has put his farm in rhyme, the most admirable kind of invisible fence, has fairly impounded it, milked it, skimmed it, and got all the cream, and left the farmer only the skimmed milk.

More aphorisms follow:

  • I have no doubt that time discriminates between the good and the bad; and when at last I shall plant, I shall be less likely to be disappointed.
  • As long as possible live free and uncommitted. (Again, the foremost of the three principles of my own life, derived from Thoreau).
  • The morning wind forever blows, the poem of creation is uninterrupted; but few are the ears that hear it. Olympus is but the outside of the earth every where.

And then there are references to the Hindu texts (Hindoo as Thoreau would spell it), which being a born Hindu, I have had to shamelessly learn from Thoreau, who lived about 8000 miles from my land.

  • The Harivansa says, " An abode without birds is like a meat without seasoning".

  • "There are none happy in the world but beings who enjoy freely a vast horizon" - said Damodara, when his herds required new and larger pastures.

  • The Vedas say, "All intelligences awake with the morining."

  • I have read in a Hindoo book, that "There was a king's son, who, being expelled in infancy from his native city, was brought up by a forester, and growing up to the maturity in that state, imagined himself to belong to the barbarous race with which he lived. One of his father's ministers having discovered him, revealed to him what he was, and the misconception of his character was removed, and he knew himself to be a prince. So soul", continues the Hindoo philosopher, "from the circumstances in which it is placed, mistakes its own character, until the truth is revealed to it by some holy teacher, and then it knows itself to be Brahme".

There are several such references to Hindoo texts, the Vedas and other scriptures from the breadth of the book.

I, myself, am not a morning person, yet in some occasions, when I have the glimpse of the morning sky even before the sun begins to rise, the following lines do truly explain the exhilerating feeling I get:

  • The morning, which is the most memorable season of the day, is the awakening hour.

To sum up, his basic point of living at Walden:

  • I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.

One more personal favorite and every time I see that fad on T-Shirts that says "I was born intelligent. Education ruined me", I am tempted to quote to the person wearing that, Thoreau said:

  • I have always been regretting that I was not as wise as the day I was born. The intellect is a cleaver; it discerns and rifts its way into the secret of things.
  • A written word is the choicest of relics.

  • The symbol of an ancient man's thought becomes a modern man's speech.

  • It is not all books that are as dull as their readers.

  • It is time that villages were universities, and their elder inhabitants the fellows of universities, with leisure- if they are indeed so well off- to pursue liberal studies the rest of their lives.

  • If it is necessary, omit one bridge over the river, go round a little there, and throw one arch at least over the darker gulf of ignorance which surrounds us.
Well here again, I believe there is so much of thought involved and like me, I believe the readers would really appreciate, what I offer to them now and in the next part of this series... SOLITUDE.

-Siddartha Pamulaparty.
August 06, 2007.

Sunday, August 05, 2007

At Walden Part-1

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 the idea of living independently in woods, in a cabin built by your own hands!! It is more like an adventure, like the Swiss Family Robinson by Johann Wyss or the classic Treasure Island by Stevenson or more recently like Tom Hanks' motion picture (based on a true story, I heard) 'Castaway'. And I always had this dream of living in solitude with lots of books in my wooden cabin.

After a long time, I bought the "Walden and Other Writings by Henry David Thoreau" published by the Bantam Classics series (March 1981 edition, Edited by Joseph Wood Krutch) on the 27th day of September, 2003 in a bookstore in Spencer's Plaza, Chennai. I started reading the random chapters Walden and the other essays.

The essay on "Life Without Principle", was one of the first I completed from the book. I am quoting some of the beautiful lines from this essay that I had underlined in my copy of the book for readers of my blog might enjoy them the same way I did and have been since these four odd years. Where I could, I will try and put my thoughts and feelings relevant to these influential words of Thoreau.


I think that there is nothing, not even crime, more opposed to poetry, to philosophy, ay, to life itself, than this incessant business.

My interpretation of this lines may differ from those who might be surprised at the statement and find it too hard to accept, that the importance of the businesses of people which ought to have the involvement of the art, wisdom and compassion that the poetry, phiolosophy and life offer to us in that order, are being neglected. And moreover the next statement explains that things such as business, politics and the daily routine will never be of higher significance, if not equal to the finer aspects of life.

Those things which now most engage the attention of men, as politics and the daily routine, are, it is true, vital functions of human society, but should be unconsciously performed, like the corresponding functions of the physical body.

Perhaps, the transcendatalistic nature of Thoreau is quite evident with the statement above, that he separates the mind, may be more appropriately the soul, from the physical body.

I would like to quickly go on to that part of the book, where Mr. Krutch and his team had compiled excerpts from Thoreau's Journal which was originally published in Emerson's The Dial.

That aim in the life is highest which requires the highest and finest discipline. How much, what infinite leisure it requires, as of a life-time, to appreciate a single phenomenon!

The profoundness of this one is obvious. It is not that Thoreau did not give us the humour side of him. For instance:

There are some things which God may afford to smile at; man cannot.

Indeed, it is equally profound as the earlier, but I like this better, because it brings a smile onto your lips, at least for the instance, no matter what kind of situation you are in.

Then there comes may be the world's most influential literature of the times that followed Thoreau, the CIVIL DISOBEDIENCE. The great Mahatma Gandhi and Martin Luther King Jr, leaders who have led millions of people, have been deeply influenced by this single essay from the wisdom of Thoreau. Here go a few underlined phrases from this essay, which I do not think I have enough courage or wisdom to provide my own comments. This is not a dogma, that my faith in Thoreau's words are like that of a religion, but it is easy to comprehend that the simplicity of these words shout the most shrilling echo of Truth in my ears.

That government is best which governs least; That governement is best which governs not at all.

The only oblligation which I have a right to assume is to do at any time what I think right. (This infact is one of the principles of my life I embraced from Thoreau)

There are numerous such moments when I journeyed through these pages of the book, where filled with deep contemplation I have sensed inside myself, something beyond which was otherwise the obvious.

I have completed reading the following chapters of Walden:

'Complimental Verses', 'Where I lived, and what I lived for', 'Reading', 'Solitude', 'Higher Laws'.

Most of the time I keep re-reading the same chapters and the condition of my book, wear-and-tear shows how much I used it.

Before I get into the details of my actual trip to the Walden at Concord, MA, I would like to pause here, like what I usually do during when I read books, to ensure my thoughts consume the depth of what I gained so far. In the next part, I will try and explain more of my experience of being at Walden, the Pond and at the same time like today, quote the wonderful phrases from Walden the book.

-Siddartha Pamulaparty

August, 6 2007.

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Ammamma--my granny

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, she used to laugh away. She was so patient and was never angry with me.I love to eat when she cooks food. In fact, my most favorite dish of all time is the "Shanigapindi Billala Kura and Billala Antupulusu" that she cooks so well. My mom and aunts also cook it, but they don't match the standards that she has set. I had and still have a really great relationship with her. Only now that I don't get enough time to spend with her.I love her folk songs, her anecdotes, her own childhood stories of encountering ghosts in Bollikunta. Everything that she used to narrate was really fascinating. I had never been to a village all my life but, when I recollect her experiences that she shared with me, I feel a part of me grew up in the country-side too. My personal experiences and observations with my grandmother say that, she is a caring, loving granny to me and a shrewd, strong, venerable and dignified woman to the world she lived in.I will always cherish the moments I had spent with her during my childhood even as I continue to see and listen more of her now.

-Siddartha Pamulaparty


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Monday, July 16, 2007

[i] pourquoi amour maux [/i]

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 can they be let go and lost.

If she's alone, pray, sing to her
Those words I kept humming to myself
Like the shy devotee, standing at the altar
Of the temple of love, praising the Goddess.
Times have never been the same always
Nor seasons, nature nor nights nor days
But there are things that never change:
As the Sun rises always on the east
As the thunder- clouds will cause the rains
So also my sufferings of the pains
Shall endure all the false pleasures.
My love for her shall never cease to be
Since she is still the most beautiful to me.

-Siddartha Pamulaparty
July 14-16, 2007

Saturday, July 07, 2007

The Lost Photograph

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 your lovely face
Now I brood in my loneliness
For there is not a single day
That your image was erased away
From my thoughts that swell in grace.
I regret that I could not hold
I could not forgive my weak strength
In that whole time of four months length
To kiss your lips, I was never bold.

-Siddartha Pamulaparty
Dt: 07 July 2007

The Birth

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.

Wednesday, June 20, 2007

Ignore the Roses

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

Wednesday, June 13, 2007

another song

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.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Destination Heaven

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 the time that I fainted and that when I opened my eyes to see your cherubic face, iridescent with colors of hope, love, surprise, truth, affection, care and support……

And before I could utter the first word of praise, you stroked my hair with elixir-pouring fingers of yours that rejuvenated and invigorated my pain-struck anatomy. With your smooth palm resting on my forehead, I felt like I am in a safe haven, free from the dirt of the world I belonged to……

The hot sun, which hurt me since the early day, has now no more boldness to stay in the sky. With you near me, the hard day has now transformed into an Elysian eve. The melodious songs of the little love-birds in the woods have suddenly come to a halt, when you spoke the sweetest tongue that I have ever heard:

“Be laid O sailor! Don’t try to rise; the harsh winds are over and now the gentle breezes are in. You will be safe in my arms and I shall protect you from the pain…

“Tell me O sailor! Slowly, while you still rest in my hands, of what storms and rains have you been through the day? What sins have you done to be punished in this way?”

The words that you said were let straight into my heart through my ears, and a strange fluid began to run, which finally deluged from my eyes in the form of tears.

And as you were about to wet your warm hands by touching my tears, I held them away fearing that they get hurt.

“O my lady! To you, I shall say, all the words of love I know. This world of hatred and bawdiness has made me lonely and aloof.

“O my lady! The day that I went through was as horrible as my death would be. Venomous snakes all around me were hissing the sounds that have shaken me.

“O my lady! I felt as though my life has come towards its end. I knew not what I was waiting for, until I came into you.

“I had no friends to help me to live. I thought I must die before it was dawn. But now, I feel I am in the Paradise.”

Saying these words I glanced into your eyes-full of dreams. Those innocent eyes with an unknown truth in them were eagerly speaking out to mine. Our eyes then communed in the languages- not yet deciphered by the great human civilization.

Even before it thundered up there in the Heavens, you helped me to stand on my own. And as we gradually began walking amidst the effulgent flower-bearing vegetation of the woods, the clouds touched each other as if a passionate kiss and caused the rain to pour.

“This way, my sailor! Let me take you to the place, where you will forget all your grief and find solace. To you, I promise, you will live again.”

You held my arm with yours and led me diligently into the deeper woods. I felt that I won the battle of my life when, together, we crossed the graceful bridge which ran over the aggressive wild-waters. The care that you had for me was acting like an anodyne for my ever-aching heart.

Just as it grew darker, we were at last at the door of your beautiful shelter: a spiritual cottage, which must have been woven with love and truth. We went inside it and the night was darker than ever. You left me on a couch that was so comfortable and then lit a candle that gloomed like the Divine light. In that bright luminosity, your face, as I saw, looked like the full-moon, only without those dark spots.

“Tell me O sailor! How do you feel now? What shall I do for you to make you forget your hunger?”

“O my lady! What feelings are you talking about? Where is the hunger? I have no hunger since I have seen you… My life has now changed with your advent into it. The rain has never been so pleasant. The night has never been so silent……

“O my love! I have forgotten the miserable screams of the suffered and the hissings of the lethal reptiles. I am free from the cruel intentions of the tyrannical world……

“O my Angel! The monsters have broken my heart and you saved my life. Your love is what I have always been craving for. For you, I survived the fatal war between me and the world.”

“O my sailor! O my lover! Do not say a single word more than that… I know what you have been through all the day; I too, was waiting for you all through the way. Let me give you Love that will soothe your pains. Let me shade your wretched body from the heavy rains.”… The words of love never seemed to cease gushing out of your lips……

And when the time came for me to leave to the Divine Abode, you kissed on my dreary and dead eyes. “Finally”, I thought, “Salvation has separated me from you.

“O what pity! The moments of glory are always ephemeral. The gracious evening was so evanescent while the suffering day was much infinite.”

My soul, for the last time, allowed my heart to love your white body, which was trembling due to the cold of the night. “Let our souls be joined together on the way to reach the All-Pervading. Come out, leave that trembling body and be my soul-mate on my upward journey.”

That was the call of my soul to yours and the last words of love that were ever spoken on this planet.

Far away, a couple of birds started to fly mysteriously to nowhere in the enormous sky.

-Siddartha Pamulaparty

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Another Birthday Song

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

Monday, April 23, 2007

Dear _____ ______

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.

Wednesday, February 21, 2007

మృత్యువు- ఒక ప్రార్ధన

నా తల్లివై
నీతో తీసుకుపోవా?

నీలో ఏకం చేసుకోవా?

సిద్ధార్థా పాములపర్తి
22 Feb 2007

నా మోదటి తెలుగు కవిత

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

Siddartha Pamulaparty
Feb 20, 2007.

Happy Birthday Poe

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.

Saturday, February 17, 2007

A Fool I am

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.

Laugh, laugh and laugh

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.

Friday, February 16, 2007

Random Thoughts

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 these times, I do not know what would I have done to myself, given the pessimistic approach I have of the world and life.

Now, before finally getting back to what exactly is happening in my head, I have a few more words to share. I want to define a couple of words that might have same sense when looked at superficially, but have tremendous difference when you look in detail. The words are: "loneliness" and "solitude".

Solitude is something I adore and have always wanted in my life. I always fantacised of getting wrecked on a ship I was sailing and marooned on an island. The only things left to me being a huge set of books. I love solitude, being all alone for myself, contemplating on my real being. It doesn't mean I cannot be in solitude when I am living amongst people, I don't need to be isolated per se. All I need is to be myself and be with myself for some time.

On the other hand: loneliness. This is a feeling when you start missing something in life. You may be amidst with many people, living with them, spending most of the time with them. But when you try and get some sleep at the night and ask yourself, what's missing, you have an answer: "everything that has meaning to me".

So I am currently in a state somewhere between being solitary and lonely.

I am a spiritual person and I believe in god. I have my love for philosophy and the finer things in life like poetry and music. But there is something I am missing. Some feeling deep inside me, screams and shouts aloud, defeaning my ears that this is not what I wanted or dreamed of.

May be I should quit my job and go back to my home and then possibly I will know the meaning of life. I could probably sense at every minute the need of my existence, the importance of my being, the reason of my passing time each minute.

As I read in a cartoon book today: "Every now and then I feel justified for the reason of my existence." And when the frequency of this feeling is too often then I can sense my true worth and value myself, by body, mind and soul.

-Siddartha Pamulaparty
Feb 16, 2007.

Wednesday, February 14, 2007

Valentine---Blast from the Past

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

Monday, February 12, 2007

Birthday Song to Abraham Lincoln

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.

Saturday, January 20, 2007

To the Lesbian

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
"lyrical poesy" that grew up to last
And has on this Earth no equal in price.

Siddartha Pamulaparty
Jan 21 2007.

Thursday, January 18, 2007

My Past Lover

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 her and vanishing into the atmosphere.

I think I must have had her ranging from 4 to 10 times a day!!! Hell, I am a Man!!!

She helped me, understood my needs and provided me what I need, whenever I sought her.
She came to me in different varieties too...but deep inside, she's always made of the same substance.

And after about six months of courtship, flirting, romance and what not, I gave her up, one fine day.

Almost everybody warned me not to have her in the first place. I could see what they meant. But as was the case with everyone in this affairs, so was mine. I could not resist the temptation.

My fingers, her butt and my usual greed in sucking her every bit into my lungs....may sound gross, but that's the way it is....and it is called magic.

I knew I was not the only one who had her. Yet we had a very good relationship. Never did I had felt of her as a nagging pain and never did she show jealousy when I looked at beautiful girls passing us by.

Many of my friends had fact many in my family had her......
She had possibly the most longest lasting affair with my grandfather who spent almost 80% of his life on bed with her.....

Alright I know its becoming more disgusting...but I am talking about her, who people call as "cigarette". ;-)

Well here goes the timeline of my affair with the cigarette:

May 23: First Kiss
May 26: Completed one full box of Marlboro Lites 20 Pack in London in a period of 12 hrs.
June-July: Used up all of the Bensons and Hedges I brought from UK,
July-October: Started with the Goldflake Kings and remained loyal to it
September: Thought of leaving it first time, but failed. Remained staunch for 3 days and then came back.
November-December: Smoked Marlboro Lites, Mediums and the No.27.
December 26, 2006: Quit smoking.

I wish I will never again touch her, and hope not to be weakened by her temptations and seductions.

-Siddartha Pamulaparty
January 18, 2007.

Girl Next Door

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.

Tuesday, January 16, 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 lust
I have been chosen by the One to whom offer my life I must.

Siddartha Pamulaparty
January 16, 2007.

Monday, January 15, 2007


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.

Thursday, January 11, 2007

Perfect Loss

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

Wednesday, January 10, 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 state
where there must be a home i have never seen
which belonged to some one who grew to hate
me and my fantasies, and that a fool i have been.

if only this river could ablute myself
and make me pure and restore me back
my own dignity and by virtue of itself
transform my woes into a bountiful stack.

-Siddartha Pamulaparty
January 10-11, 2007.

A Poet's Passing By

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.

Friday, January 05, 2007

To Pallas Athena

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.