Dec 31, 2009

శుభాకాంక్షలు



కొత్త సంవత్సరం మరింత సృజనభరితం కావాలని...
మీరు మొదలు పెట్టిన ప్రయాణాలకు గమ్యం చేరువ కావాలని..
మీరు తలపెట్టిన పనులు ఫలప్రదం కావాలనీ ...
కోరుకొంటూ..శుభాకాంక్షలు.




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Dec 27, 2009

అదుగో వారు...!

ష్ !
అదుగో వారు...! 
నిమగ్నమై ఉన్నారు...!! 
నిశ్శబ్దంగా ..నిగూఢంగా ..ఒక సాంకేతిక చమత్కారాన్ని ఆవిష్కరిస్తున్నారు...!!!
ఇదుగోండి.
మనం అప్పుడప్పుడూ ఆడిపోసుకోనే...సాఫ్ట్ వేర్ అబ్బాయిలూ! అమ్మాయిలూ! 
నిలబడి ..నిలదొక్కుకొని ..నిలబెట్టాలని ..ఒక చోట చేరి ..
కలివిడి గా విడివిడిగా... హడావుడిగా బుడిబుడిగా...చేస్తోన్న గట్టి ప్రయత్నాలు!
కళ్ళెదురుగా స్క్రీను ...క్యూబికల్ లో కుంచించుకు పోయిన చిన్న లోకం..ఆంగ్లదాస్యమూ తెలుగు మృగ్యమూ..మంట కలుస్తున్న మానవసంబంధాలు..విపరీత పాశ్చాత్య ధోరణులు...గట్రా గట్రా.
ఇక , ఆఫీసు,ఇల్లు ,వీకెండు..బ్యాంకు బ్యాలన్సు....నిజమే ..ఆర్ధిక మాంద్యం వచ్చాక మన అక్కసు కాస్త మెత్తబడింది కానీ..
నిన్న మొన్నటి దాకా మనం అందరం అటు ఇటుగా వెలిబుచ్చిన అమూల్య అభిప్రాయాలు ఇంచు మించు ఇలాంటివే.కదండీ?
నిజమే., వారి బోధన, జీవనశైలి ,మాట మన్ననల తీరు.. మనకు అలాగే అనిపించేది.అనిపిస్తుంది కూడాను.
లోగడ ,రామారావు కన్నెగంటి గారు, సురేష్ కొలిచాల గారు, తెవికీ రవి గారు విపులంగా విశదీకరించినప్పుడు కాని ..ఈ సాంకేతిక మాయాజాలం మూలాలు అర్ధం కాలేదు!
అటు కంప్యూటర్ క్రేజూ ఇంగ్లీషు మోజూ...! ఆ రెండీంటి ప్రభావంలో పడి నానాటికీ మరుగై పోతుందని దిగులు పడుతోన్న.. మన మాతృభాషను పదికాలాల పాటూ పదిలం చేసుకోవడానికి.. ఆ ఆంగ్ల భాషనే సాధనం గా చేసుకొని.. ఆ సాంకేతిక నైపుణ్యాన్నే నేపధ్యంగా మలుచుకొని.. ఒక కొత్త మార్గాన్ని నిర్మించుకోవాలని..వారన్నప్పుడు.. ఎంత ఉత్తేజం కలిగిందో. 
ఆ ఉత్తేజం మరింత కాంతివంతంగా ..e-తెలుగు లోగిలిలో కూడలిలో ముంగిలిలో ..వెల్లివిరిసింది.
అందుకే కాబోలు వజ్రాన్ని వజ్రం తోనే కోయాలి అంటారు! 
నిజమే, నిన్నా మొన్నటి వరకు.. ఒక చిన్న గుంపు నడుమ ప్రయాణించిన కొన్ని టపాలే.. కొన్ని అసహనాలే..ఆలోచనలే..ఆవేదనలే..అనుభూతులే. ఇప్పుడు నలుగురిలోకి రావనుకోవడమే అసలు సంగతి. ఇ-తెలుగు కోశాధికారి గారు తెలియజేసినట్లుగా... ఇది వారి తొలి అడుగే కావచ్చు గాక.. చేయ వలసిన సుధీర్ఘప్రయాణం ...ప్రారంభమైనట్లే! వారికి అనేక శుభాకాంక్షలు! మీరూ వారికి చేదోదు వాదోడు కావచ్చు నండోయ్!ఇంకెందుకు ఆలస్యం..ఈ కింది టపాలూ చూడండి.ఆదివారమే కనుక..అలా హుస్సేన్ సాగరతీరానికి వ్యాహ్యాళికి బయలు దేరండి!
*
చక్రవర్తి,వీవెన్,సతీష్ కుమార్,రవిచంద్ర,కశ్యప్, చదువరి,సి.బిరావు ,వరూధిని,పూర్ణిమ తమ్మిరెడ్డి,అరుణపప్పు గార్లకు ధన్యవాదాలతో.

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Dec 24, 2009

From Drushyaadrushyam : An extract

 Drushyaadrushyam  An extract From Telugu novel,  Writer:    Chandra Latha,  Translator:   Dr.Ari Sita Ramayya      
New Voices   Golden Jubilee Conference,  Sahitya Akademy ,10 –13 September,2004,Trivandrum , 
Andariki namaskaram.
I would like to give a brief introduction of my novel before reading  an extract from it.

Drushyaadrushyam is a novel about riverscape, water management, environment.. above all a theme that brings out power conflict between nature and man.

I tried to express the relation between man and river and how it changed with times over a period of time in general … over past four decades in particular. How these changes threw new challenges before man and how man became a victim of his own ambitions and sometimes, how he become unscientific in transcending science to technology.

All our science is a natural phenomenon. Our science is developed in the course of understanding nature, admiring nature, imitating nature and also conflicting with nature. But, in this modern world we began to move away from nature. So far so that we forgot the fact that we are just a tiny part of the nature.

 My novel, Drushyadrushyam, is an attempt to bring forward  age-old ambition of controlling nature by controlling rivers.

This novel is set in a rehabilitated village submerged by a big dam . Story unfolds, as a research student Akshatha from Canada comes to study about the “River flow & Waterscape”. Akshatha is a Canadian Telugu whose roots are in the same displaced village.

As Akshatha comes across with oustees, cut-off people, riverbed farmers, marginal farmers, farm labour, feudal lords, fishermen, village officers, water workers, engineers, contractors, dam labour, politicians, journalists, officers, beurocrats, activists, artists, artisans, women in different status and also bullocks and other livestock, fish…the novel unfurls in many folds.

The theme  spreads over Big Dam Engineering to Privatisation of rivers. Economics to ecology, Technical to politics, personal to social, local to  global.

 Some of the above mentioned are visible and some are invisible.
Protagonist, Kesava, is an invisible character but is visible throughout the novel.
Eventually the novel is drushyaadrushyam.

The technical part of the theme is presented by protagonist Kesava’s dairies .These reflect  engineer point of view on various issues raised in the novel.
Kesava thoroughly studies the water management strategies of past, present and plans for the future. Kesava is  an artist and is very sensitive to everything in and around him. He notes and draws every detail in his dairies .
Akshatha finds Kesava’s Dairies after two and half decades of  Kesava’s premature demise  affected by project malaria, an outbreak around  the new reservoir  of the big dam.
Now, I am going to present you the last pages of Kesava’s diary from the tenth chapter
of the novel., ”Drushyaadrushyam
                                                                             ***
November 29: The fever comes and goes. Raagavva, the old servant maid, watches over me diligently. My freind Dasaratha, village accounts officer,  has been here several times to enquire after me.
        As soon as I could muster enough strength, I picked up my drawing sheets and began drafting plans for natural resource development in this area, along with all the necessary engineering.
        I went to the river in the evening to get some fresh air.
       The fishermen were hurrying home. There were busy boats, fishing nets and waves of conversation. The river at twilight was a blushing bride.
       Whoever it was that compared a river to a woman – how right he was! After all, neither is free to do as she pleases.
Tirelessly gushing forward with no end in sight, ignoring the whirlpools within herself.
Feeding us like a mother, even as she dries up quenching our thirst.
       Is the river meant just to satisfy our needs? To be under our control? Doesn’t she have an independent life of her own? Can’t she make her own choices?
If one person controls this bank, someone else reigns over the other. One rules over her upstream, while another ravages her downstream. She stops where asked to, flows where permitted, and stands still where ordered to…as if the reins to her life are in someone else’s hands.
     We worship her, hold feasts in her honor every twelve years, build temples on her banks and then, we control her with dams.
   “Ayyo! What have we done to you, mother?”

    “Saamy...” Someone grabbed my shoulder and shook me out of my thoughts. It was Saayanna., the fisherman.
   “Nothing Saayanna. I was just looking at the river. How she has changed!”
   “Well, you’re the educated one. You tell me. What do I know?” Saayanna shrugged his shoulders. “They brought us unprecedented hardships. The river is destroyed now. People who knew nothing about fish came here with fishing nets. Did we ever take spawning fish from the river? These greedy ones took them because they weigh more. If we don’t let the fish live long enough to lay eggs, where will young fish come from? What will we catch tomorrow? I have never seen these things before. We have certain norms, Saamy.... when a certain fish should be caught...when it spawns...when it lays eggs... we have to pay attention to these things when we live off the river… I heard that you gave them some papers?”
  “Yes. Licenses.”
“Whatever. These lying creeps came out with your papers and their fishing nets and caught everything...didn’t leave even the spawning fish or fry. They even had the gall to preach us which type of net to use and when!”
They brought with them motor boats and nylon nets...and introduced us to debts.

Lured by their money, our youth crossed over to their side, danced to their tunes, got drunk on their liquor, and fell asleep in their huts. Damn it, they mortgaged our lives, Saamy. Our lives are poisoned. This huge dam here, Saamy, it is a curse for the fish. During this season we used to see so many types of fish come here to spawn. They used to lay their eggs and return to the down stream or ocean .These days you just don’t see any of those stocks.”
“What do you mean?”
“How will they come upstream, Saamy? Can they jump over the dam?”
For a second I didn’t understand what he was saying. When I realized what had happened, I could only look at him in shock!
True. The river is not ours. It belongs to all creatures that depend upon it. Man is just one of them, but how arrogant he has become! Arrogant enough to wreak havoc on all other forms of life.
Every disappearing creature mocks man. “You too are just like us. This extinction you brought upon us, you won’t escape it. Your turn will come too.”
What a colossal disaster! We control water. So also the fish that lives in the water and the fisherman who lives off it. Where will this human authority over nature lead to?
Why, Timmanna, the poor farmer, was saying just the other day, “Saamy... you said water will be released. We ploughed the soil and planted the seedlings. Water was not released for the planting. You said you would release water in two weeks. I’m not hopeful. The same thing happened for the first crop too! What shall we do with what we planted? Let it dry up like last time? Sometimes you promise to release water enough for wet crop, but it is barely enough for dry crops. Other times you ask us to plant in only dry crop ,but release enough water to wet crop. This dam has damned our lives! What troubles you brought upon us, dora !”
Yes, The crop is under our control. The farmer who raises the crop is under our control too.
The dam attracted industrial development here.  The dam facilitated raising crops necessary for the industries. Crops...industries...big dams...they have become inseparable.
That means... the few that control nature inevitably also control many nature as instrument.
This is neither democratic nor human. How will this situation evolve? Who will eventually pay the price for our misdeeds?
This dam has spawned too many thieves and bosses. The freedom of many others hangs in the balance. Too many have come to live insecure, uncertain lives. How sad!
The times of feudal lords have changed, but feudalism continues. True, they look different; their color has changed, but their behavior has not! How very sad!
I set out to live a simple life, distancing myself being a dora, feudal lord, but here I am, a front for those very feudal lords , standing as the accused before Saayanna and Timmanna.
Water – that is what Saayanna wants, Timmanna, everybody, including me...we all want water.
Saayanna is demanding an answer right now. Timmanna is accusing me. They are questioning my very existence as an expert. They are challenging my identity; they are reminding me of my responsibilities.
Everybody thinks the resolution to all their problems lies in water. But does Saayanna know that sewage from towns, industrial wastes, pesticides from farm lands ... they all pollute this water?
What does Timmanna know? Political strategies, alliances, gimmicks! Iron-triangles, financial institutions, industrial corporations, water logging, air pollution, hidden agendas behind each and every one! Poor Timmanna has no clue.
But how could he know? Even I, supposedly an expert, didn’t know enough; I do not even know as much as the fish in these waters!
Even so, this dam has become the life blood for everybody around here. Sadly, nobody feels the need, nor has the opportunity to understand its limitations. There is no rationality; every situation, every decision is dictated by politics.
Cultivable land has far exceeded the initial estimates. The demand for electricity increased dramatically. Population increase and water usage have no restraints. Industrial needs have multiplied. Can the river keep up with such increase in demand?
The prescription for every disease is the same..... the big dam!
But what happens then? It raises hopes and dishes out disappointment. Needs become traps, and we become helpless.
Dams on rivers .... even on rivulets feeding them! How many dams! If a dam upstream doesn’t release water... if they impound more water... if they decide to raise water level behind the dam..... if a new dam is built upstream.... if dams are built on every rivulet and stream.... will there be any living, flowing river left? If it doesn’t flow, is it still a river?
Even a dam has a life span. It will grow old, become ill, and eventually die. What then? What will happen to our existence centered around the dam?
Isn’t there a limit to how much pressure the dam can take? If we don’t recognize that limit and continue demanding more and more from the dam, what will be the consequences?
What will happen if we ignore alternative ground and surface water resources?
We need to protect the dam. We have to protect the river. We must protect all water resources. Yes, protecting the entire waterscape is essential.
We need a plan to protect our water resources for generations to come. That alone will ensure our water security. If we don’t recognize that...famine and death will dance a terrible dance of destruction. We will end up clamoring for a single drink of water. Hills and valleys will become scorched. Entire green fields will wilt to a dry yellow. Those famines my great grandfathers experienced will become a reality once again. The entire region irrigated by this river will be completely deserted. It is inevitable!
I slumped down on my knees in the sand. Weary and sad, I picked up fistfuls of sand.
Sand – probably as old as the river, produced by the waves dashing against the rocks for ages. The rushing water grinds stones and pebbles to sand. In turn, the sand allows flood water to percolate and helps preserve it as ground water.
Sand - a million years old – What a gift!
The contractor who bid crores for this sand in the auction...will he let the reservoir fill up? Or will he dry it up?
The sand is slipping through my fingers, slowly and softly.
“Saamy,”  Saayanna shook me by my shoulder. I thought I was in deep thought; hadn’t realized that I had faded out and that my head was drooping.
Saayanna, who was barely visible before, has disappeared. The river behind him shimmered into nothingness.

November 30:
   “Is it fever?”
I opened my eyes, hearing a familiar voice.  It was Dasaratha’s. He was bent over me, wiping sweat off my face.

“Malaria probably,” I said, imitating the tone of the malaria prevention folks.

Dasaratha laughed.

“Project malaria ,that’s what the social prevention medicine describes and medicos by heart “

“Let’s consult a doctor in town. You can at least get the right medicines.”
“Look around, Dasaa. There is a sudden outbreak of malaria in the villages all around the reservoir. See how many people are getting malaria! Are they all going to town?”

“Kesu, stop this illogical argument. You brought this upon yourself wandering around the countryside.”

“I’m not kidding, Dasaa. I am taking the same medicines that they prescribe for malaria.”

“But malaria doesn’t cause headaches like yours. People don’t faint like you. Stop this stubborn counter-argument. Can you use the same medicines for everything? Stop being illogical!”

“That’s true. I am thinking the same thing. The same medicine cannot cure every disease.

Dasaratha, we’re at the brink of an immense tragedy. Our indiscriminate behavior is about to destroy the river. By river, I mean .... from the waters flowing down these hills and valleys to the waves of the ocean, from underground springs to mighty rivers .... they will all dry up in the not-too-distant future.

This abuse of water will turn nature completely topsy-turvy. And this is entirely our doing. It’s time to wake up to this reality.”

Dasaratha looked at me, astonished.

“Tremors that began under the pressure of vast reservoirs spread deep into the silent valleys. Entire ecosystem is shaken down to roots.
We lost the consciousness to think…
how the stones of the hills turn to pebbles in the river and sand on the ocean beach…
how  the richness of the soil becomes the silt of the river and the loam in the farm…!”

“But these big dams stand as obstructions. The silt and the stones accumulate in the impounded waters. The denuded rivers gush and swell and flood. The reservoirs change the density, temperature and the properties of the waters and create hazards that threaten the very existence of the creatures inhabiting the waters, and become breeding grounds of disease.

What fantastic things we wanted to do with this impounded water! And today I stand here helpless, unable to save this water.

Thanks to our short-sighted, selfish actions, I see the river reduced to a shadow of its former glory. The hills are being auctioned off for stone, the river bed is being sold for sand to build roads and houses...If we continue on this path, I know the price we will end up paying for this behavior.”

Should water be stored only in huge reservoirs, Dasaratha? Why not also in the soil? In the clouds?  In rivers? In the sand and the trees? “

Dasaratha kept looking at me dumbfounded.

“Dasaratha, have you carefully observed the people who live along the river? There are people living in the hills; there are folks in the valleys; meadows, deltas, deserts, islands.... there are folks in different environments – some drown in floods and others never see rain.
But they all need water.
Water is a necessity – and water is a problem. What is the solution then? The same solution for everybody? It can’t be. The solution should depend upon the situation, the particular need and the problems faced.
But whose problems are the most urgent? Everybody’s !
 Sometimes the solution to one’s problems threatens the interests of another. What then?

Imagine how much tolerance we need! How much understanding! How much moral integrity and co-operation!

Three-fourths of the globe is water. But is water equally available to everybody? No. If we don’t understand this simple fact, and on top of that, discriminate, divide and incite people one against the other, how can we solve problems? How can we achieve results? We know how to solve the problems, but we stand watching helplessly. What good is our education? Good just to chop off our own legs?”

“Kesava, calm down. Let people reap the fruits of their karma. These things you are worrying about cannot be resolved easily. That too, your health is...”

“Dasaratha,,  it has been quite a while since we passed over this karma theory.  If we don’t analyze the cause and effect of what we observe, future generations will not forgive us for our negligence and carelessness.
If we don’t strive for human values based on coexistence between men and between men and nature, we are doomed. We can’t avoid famines.
You know something, Dasaratha, this destruction, ruination, this famine and poverty – they are all our doing. Entirely my creation! mayaa srishtam! Why do you look shocked?  I mean the result of human selfishness, the after-effects of the egotist, arrogant – I am the center of everything, everything is meant to serve me – attitude.”

“Kesu,” Dasaratha looked into my face, amazed.

“Dasaratha, there has to be a balance...A delicate balance between the use and protection of water resources should become the cornerstone of our lives.”
“So, what should we do Kesu?”
“We should pay off our debts.”

“You mean to the World Bank? We can’t do that even if we mortgage our future generations.”

“No, I am talking about what we borrowed from nature’s bank. I am talking about our environmental debt.”

“But how should we pay it off?”

“Dasaratha, there is a lot that we have to learn. And we need a lot more changes. We need to learn how our forefathers utilized water resources. We have to modify our farming techniques to our food habits. We have to rethink several things from technical knowledge to how we go about our daily lives. Saving every drop of water has to become a natural part of our lives. Let my fever subside.... we will all work together. ...we will save our river. Otherwise, what will we say to our children? What can we leave for them? A valley turned into a desert? No..no. The inheritance we bequeath them has to be a living river – beautiful nature.....”

“Sure, but you rest for now.” Dasaratha left in a hurry. I am feeling feverish and sleepy.

I should keep my sketched plans and books safe. Looks like Dasaratha will drag me to town. I should start working on my plans when I return. I, my family, my village should become examples for enlightened use and preservation of water resources.
Why do I feel so optimistic? I have nothing, I am an ordinary person, a tiny part of this nature.
So what! Don’t I have boundless energy within?

Dear friends,
We have seen all shades and colors of  petro-politics.
My novel, ”Drushyaadrushayam” is an attempt to focus the shades and colors of hydro politics…both global and local.
Whether it is petrol or water, it is evident that few dominate to control many with nature as instrument. All my effort is to alert about the foreign intrusion on our natural resources.

My sincere thanks to Prof. K.Sachidanandan garu  for giving me opportunity to read-out from my novel.
My hearty thanks to Dr. Ari SitaRamayya garu  for his translation with true spirit of   the original text.
I would like to thank Sahithya Akademy for giving me these wonderful moments to share my views with you all.
As my protagonist, Kesava, drew his inspiration from Silent Valley Movement , today ,
I draw inspiration  from  all of you ,here in ,Trivandrum..

Thank you very much.
Namaskaram.
Chandra Latha
11-9-2004
Trivandrum                                         

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Dec 20, 2009

మంచి పిల్లల పుస్తకం


మనం ఎక్కడ పోగొట్టుకున్నామో అక్కడే వెతుక్కోవాలని ..ఒక ఉవాచ!
మనం పోగొట్టుకొంటున్న బాల్యాన్ని.. ఆగండి ఆగండి.
మీకు ఎలాంటి భారీ ఉపన్యాసం ఇవ్వాలన్నది నా ఉద్దేశం కానే కాదు.
కానీ..,








మనం ఎక్కడ పోగొట్టుకున్నామో అక్కడే వెతుక్కోవాలని ..ఒక ఉవాచ! మనం పోగొట్టుకొంటున్న బాల్యాన్ని.. ఆగండి ఆగండి. మీకు ఎలాంటి భారీ ఉపన్యాసం ఇవ్వాలన్నది నా ఉద్దేశం కానే కాదు.నిజం.

మరేనండీ, ఆ నిజం ఏమంటే మన బాల్యం మనం అంటే నా తరం అంతకు అటూ ఇటూ ..హాయిగానే గడిపాం.
నాకు బాల్యం అంటే గుర్తొచ్చేది.. బోలెడన్ని కథలే .
ఆ కథలన్నీ ..చెప్పుకొన్నవి.చదివినవీ. విన్నవీ. చదివి చెప్పుకొన్నవి.చదివి వినిపించినవీ.
ఇదేదో ..కాలం నాటి కథ కాదు కానీ,
అప్పుడు.. ముఖ్యంగా కాస్త పుస్తకానికి చోటిచ్చే ఇంటిలో తప్పక కనిపించే విశేషం ఇదే.
పిల్లల పుస్తకాలు... విశాలాంధ్ర వారు రోడ్డు పక్కనే కొయ్య బెంచీల మీద అమ్మిన రంగురంగుల "రాదుగా" పుస్తకాలు.
క్రమం తప్పకుండా ఇంటికి వచ్చే , చందమామ, బుజ్జాయి,బొమ్మరిల్లు,బాల..ఎన్నెన్ని పిల్లలపుస్తకాలో.

మరి, ఇవ్వాళ పిల్లల పుస్తకాలు లేవా ?అంటే,
"ఇదుగోండి ..ఇలా రండి.. పిల్లలకోసం ఎన్నెన్ని మంచి పుస్తకాలున్నాయో ..." అంటూ ఆత్మీయం గా పలకరిస్తున్నారు..సురేష్ గారు, భాగ్యలక్ష్మిగారు, CAప్రసాద్ గారు.
అనకూడదు కానీ,
పిల్లలకు పుస్తకాలు కొనాలంటే ,ఎన్ని సందేహాలో.
ఎలాంటి పుస్తకం కొనాలి?
ఏ వయసుకు ఏ పుస్తకం?
కథలదా? పాటలదా?
కథలంటే ఏ కథలు?
ఎవరు రాసినవి? ఏ పుస్తకంతో మొదలు పెట్టాలి?
బొమ్మలదా? రంగులు నింపేదా?
తెలుగా? ఇంగ్లీషా ?
ఇలా , ఒక దాని మీద ఒకటి. సందేహాల వెల్లువెత్తుంది.
ముఖ్యంగా, తెలుగు మాట మరుగున పడి పొతున్న ఈ తరుణం లో.. పిల్లలలకు పుస్తకాలా? అందులోనూ తెలుగులో..!
ఇక, స్వయానా , ఈ శుభ కార్యానికి నడుం బిగించి, అటు ఉపాధ్యాయులకు ఇటు తల్లిదండ్రులకూ ..మరీ ముఖ్యంగా పిల్లలకు ..వివరించి చెపుతూ విడమరిచి చూపిస్తూ,సరిగ్గా అదే చేస్తున్నారు.. .
పిల్లలతో కలిసి మెలిసి.. పిల్లల కోసం...చాల కాలంగా పని చేస్తున్న , సురేష్, CA ప్రసాద్ భాగ్యలక్ష్మి గార్లు.

వారు స్వయాన అచ్చు వేసినవి, పై నుంచి, CBT,NBT, జనవిజ్ఞాన వేదిక ,పాలపిట్ట,Peacock, తదితర పిల్లల పుస్తకాలను శ్రద్ధగా సేకరించి అందిస్తున్నారు, హైదరాబాద్ బుక్ ఎగ్జిబిషన్ లో,
"మంచి పుస్తకం" లో.

ఇవన్నీ,
అచ్చైన తెలుగు పిల్లల పుస్తకాలు మాత్రమే..!వీరి పక్కనే NBT వారి నెలవు.వీరి చుట్టూ, లెక్కకు మిక్కిలి పుస్తకాల కొలువు.
అంతకు మించి ఏం కావాలి ?
*
అన్నట్టు, అక్కడ అచ్చు తెలుగే కాదండోయ్..
ఆ పక్కనే , ఇ-తెలుగు కూడా పలకరిస్తుంది. మనసారా! మరి ,ఆలస్యం దేనికి ..అటో అడుగేయండి.

మంచి పుస్తకం ప్రాప్తిరస్తు ! తథాస్తు !!!
*
ఏ మాటకా మాట. మంచిపుస్తకం లో గడిపిన కాసేపూ ..చిన్నతనంలోకి వెళ్ళి పోయానండీ.
తప్పు నాది కాదని మీరు ఒప్పుకుంటారుగా?

*
Related posts:
http://chandralata.blogspot.com/2009/11/3.html

సిరి సిరి మువ్వ గారికి ధన్యవాదాలతో

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Dec 15, 2009

కొంగలలో కెల్ల






"కొంగలలో కెల్ల ఏ కొంగ మేలు ?"

అంటే మీరెవరూ చెప్పలేరేమో ..కానీ...

మా కొంగే మేలని మేము ఈ బొమ్మ సాక్షిగా చెప్పేయగలం!

నిజమండీ.. మా కొలనుకు ఎక్కడెక్కడి నుంచో వచ్చి..
వెచ్చదనంలో సేదదీరి..సంతానం పెంపొందించుకొనే ..
అనేకానేక కొంగజాతులపక్షులతో
కొలను మడవనం కడలీతీరం నీలాకాశం
కళకళాడే రోజులివి.
ఆ కొంగల సొగసు సొబగు చూడ తరమా!

*
కొంగల్లారా కొంగల్లారా..
మీకు కావలిసినన్ని చేపలు దొరికాయా?కడుపు నిండిందా?
అసలు,మడచెట్ల మాటు దొరికింది కదా? మీ సరాగాలకు..!
మీ పిల్లలకు గూడు ..మీకు నిలకడైన నీడా ...అన్నీ సౌఖ్యమే ..కదా?
అరరే..! అదేమిటీ..అక్కడ ఎవరో ..నలుగురట... మిమ్మల్ని మట్టుపెట్టారట!
హాయిగా గాలిలో రెక్కలల్లార్చుతున్న మిమ్మల్ని ...పిల్లలకు ఒక చెపను ముక్కున బట్టి గక్కున పైకెగిరిన మిమ్మల్ని..ఆకాశవీధిలో విహరించి కొమ్మపై కులాసాగా వాలిన మిమ్మల్ని..ఎక్కుపెట్టారట !

ఇంతకన్నా ఘోరం ఉంటుందా?
మీరు ఒదిలిన ఊపిరి మమ్మల్ని ఉక్కిరిబిక్కిరి చేస్తోంది. మమ్మల్ని మన్నించండమ్మా..!
మళ్ళీ ఏడాది రావడం మానుకునేరు..! మరో చోటు వెతక కండమ్మా! మీరు రాలేని మా వూరు..అది వూరేనా? *
ఎప్పుడయ్యా మారతారు మీరు? మన అతిథులు వారు! శ్రీ శ్రీ శ్రీమాన్ కొంగ గారు! సకుటుంబ సపరివార సమేతంగా, సైబేరియా నుంచి విచ్చేసినారు!! * ఆ నలుగురిని నాలుగునాళ్ళు ఎక్కడో ఒక చోట బంధించి ..నాలుగు మాటలు అంటించి ..
తిప్పి పంపుతారేమో ! అయినా,మన కన్నా ముందే ,
మన అతిథులను ఆ కొలను ఆహ్వానించినదన్న మాట !
ఆ నలుగురి తలలలోకి ఆమాట ఎలాగ ఎక్కించడం?
అదుగో ఎవరో అంటున్నారు..వాళ్ళు మన వాళ్ళు కారు.పొరుగు వారు. అలాగా? మన పొరుగువారు మన అతిథులను గాయపరిచే ముందుగా ,
వారు మన గూటిలో మన కొలను నీటిలో ..మన కడలి తీరంలో...
మన చెట్ల కొమ్మల గుబుర్లలో... అన్నెందుకు..
మన పరిరక్షణలోఉన్నారన్న భావన
ఎందుకు కలిగించలేక పోయాం? వాటి రెక్కను తాకితే, మన గుండె విలవిలలాడి పోతుందని
వారెందుకు గ్రహించలేదంటారు? ఒక బిష్నోయి కృష్ణజింక ను కళ్ళల్లో పెట్టుకున్నట్లు,
మనం మన అతిథులను కనుపాపలలో దాచుకొన్నామా?దాచుకోగలిగామా? అదే , మనం వేసుకోవాల్సిన ప్రశ్న.

*
వీలుచేసుని మా వూరికి రండి.
మా అతిథులను ..వారి ముద్దుముచ్చట్లను .. విన్యాసాలనూ విలాసాలను
కనులారా చూసి వెళ్ళండి.మనసారా మధురమైన జ్ఞాపకాలు దాచుకెళ్ళండి. మా అతిథుల అలకను తీర్చి వెళ్ళండి. * ఫోటో లో ఉన్నది. పులికాట్ సరస్సులో అతిథి పక్షులతో పాటూ ..
ఆడుతూ పాడుతూ తిరిగె మా కొలను కొంగ. *
చిన్నప్పుడు నెహ్రూ గారి మాటగా విన్నానొక మాట. Shoot with the camera not with the gun అని.
మీ కెమేరా తదితర సామాగ్రి తెచ్చుకోవడం మరిచిపోయేరు సుమా!

Dec 10, 2009

A lone Voice

Dear all,
Hi
You can a hear a lone voice among these heated up political Telugu days...on 11-12-2009 ie, tomorrow morning , at 7:15 AM @ All India Radio ,Hyderabad.
 Kindly Bear with my soar throat and cold..:-)
Have a good day.

PS: No guesses.This is purely NON-POLITICAL :-)


Dec 8, 2009

Once Upon a time * అనగా అనగా *

చాన్నాళ్ళ క్రితం రాసిన ఈ కథను ఇప్పుడు ఇంగ్లీషులోనూ చదవవచ్చును.

Once Upon a time * anagaa anagaa *

***

Once upon a time, there was a small town.

In that town, a spacious building.

In front of that building, a beautiful flowering garden.

To go through that high compound wall, a strong gate

And if one went through that strong huge gate and entered that spacious building, one could see a young loving couple dwelling there.

To that charming young man, that beautiful young woman was the wife. A symbol of their warm domestic life was the cute bonny child.

Besides these three, there lived a docile servant and an obedient cook.

And also visited that house often the in-laws who looked after that young woman tenderly and the in-laws who treated that charming young man affectionately. Sometimes they returned to their places immediately. At others they spent a day or two before going back.

But after the birth of the little one, their habit changed. As if to fulfill the dreams of three generations on the side of the young man was born the first girl child in the family. That’s the reason the young man’s mother and father were unable to part with the child for even an instant.

The young woman’s parents were unable to leave the beautiful child who, after twenty-five years, looked like an embodiment of the young woman’s childhood again.

Noting their love for the child, the charming young man had asked his in-laws to stay back forever. And then that beautiful young woman made a request to her mother-in-law and father-in-law to live there and help her.

Once arrangements were made to suit everybody’s wishes, in that ideal family happiness had overblown. Affection overwhelmed everyone.

However, they had to get another docile servant.

In the same way, they also had to get another obedient cook to assist the obedient cook. Everything worked out smoothly.

In that spacious building, the loving couple, that cute little baby, the parents of the young man who showered affection, the mother and the father of the young woman, who take loving care of them, the obedient cooks-all of them had been living happily.

As the time moved on in that manner, the little one crossed the doorsill for the first time.

Those who have noticed that event were the grandmothers who were always by the side of the child. Forgetting even their age they ran happily and fetched grandfathers. Stirred by the commotion, the young couple also reached there.

For the great deed done by the little one, they all begun leaping in joy.

To celebrate the crossing of the doorsill by the baby, the obedient cook has prepared Garelu. Both grandfathers fetched a basket of causeau nut and have used to remove the evil eye from the child by circling it around the baby’s head.

The docile servants joyously distributed all these to the people. And also the big Aresalu cooked by the paternal grandmother.

Now the child was walking actively from the inside of the house to the beautiful garden in the front.

Charmed by the toddler’s wobbling the grandfathers were also walking behind her in short steps.

The child began running on the lawn, playing hide and seek with them among the flowering bowers

The young couple had been watching the mischief of the child with secret pride.

The docile servants had been cracking fingers once every five minutes to protect the child from the bad eyes. The obedient cook, to ward of the evil eye of the neighbours, was circling raw salt around the child to throw it on live coals.

They had all been living happily amidst the little one’s frolicking

Meanwhile the child learnt to babble.

Thinking, “Who has taught the little doll to utter each word so sweetly…” the young couple was overwhelmed by surprise. Once the child had called them “mamma” and “papa” their joy turned into an ocean.

Happiness of the grandfathers was also boundless.

The paternal grandma and the maternal grandma made the child call them out repeatedly, feeling proud.

The obedient cook had prepared candy parrots for each of the words she lisped. The docile servants distributed the news and candy parrots to all the neighbours.

The maternal grandpa and the paternal grandpa had opened out and sang the songs they sung in their childhood. They also opened the book of remembered short stories. And the little one liked the grandpas’ “Twinkle stars,” “Jingle bells” as well as the grandmas’ “Chitti chitti miriyalu,” “Chitti chilakamma,” and “Cheti venna mudda.”

Swimming in the ocean of the little one’s songs, everyone in the house was spending time happily.

Meanwhile the time had come for the baby already to recite what others taught her and exactly imitate their other activities.

The grandpas had decided that now the child ought to learn fine arts.

However much she had tried since her daughter failed to learn classical music, the maternal grandma had secretly nursed the wish that her granddaughter should learn music for a long time and at last expressed her desire.

She immediately got her sun-in-law’s support,

”Let us get someone to teach the child classical music.”

Wouldn’t it be beautiful if the child like the sandalwood statue dances the Kuchipudi,” said the child’s mother.

“It is true,” the paternal grandma readily agreed.

That day at the dining table they all discussed elaborately what to teach the child.

As the maternal grandma wished the music, as the mother wanted the dance had to be taught. But what do the grandfathers’ wish!

“I always wanted to make you a tennis star. You could never learn it. So we must teach the child tennis,” announced the father of the young man looking at his son.

“Isn’t it the age to teach her swimming?” the young woman’s father courteously expressed his wish.

The loving young couple did not wish to hurt anyone.

And so from the next day, they asked the music teacher and the dance teacher to come.

The beautiful garden in front of the house got converted into the tennis court and the swimming pool.

One coach to teach tennis and another to teach swimming have been arranged.

So far the little child was toddling only in the spacious building. So far the grandpas’ revelry was also taking place inside the four walls.

And the child’s time had slipped from her hands, her mother and father’s hands, the grandpas’ hands, the maternal grandma’s and the paternal grandma’s hands and shifted to the hands of the master, the teacher and the coach.

One day, low spirits overwhelmed the child’s mother. She felt the whole business of learning might be a big burden at her age for the child, and broke into tears, leaning her head against the young man’s shoulder.

The young man easily set aside all his wife’s misgivings.

“Why should you get anxious like this? Do you know at what age the present world tennis queen started playing? When she was not even as high as the tennis racket. And our own cricket star? When he stood less than the height of the cricket bat. Now one can have a record in swimming at two years, and at three and half, a record in driving a car, at four and half a record in water surfing, at six a record in blindfold car driving, at seven a record in driving an airplane – in every thing a record at the youngest age, a record, record, record. In what way our little one is inferior? Our dear daughter ought to get some record. That’s what we should wish.

“Whatever it was … the child away from me … all day … without any play, isolated from other children,” the mother grumbled.

“Aren’t these the games and songs? Why play again? We have to prove that our child is unique in not one thing but in every field,” saying the young man reeled out lists of those who made great records at a very young age and earned fame and fortune. He got posters of all those and pasted them on the walls.

The young woman at once realized her own ignorance.

It is true! How else would one achieve great things in life if one doesn’t put in effort?

The cook, obedient to all of them, had been cooking excellent cooking. The docile servants had been looking after all the needs of the family.

The young couple, the grandpas, both the maternal and paternal grandmas, the obedient cook, the docile servants had all been anxiously and happily waiting for the auspicious moment when the young child would acquire international fame. They were living happily. And then the young woman’s younger brother who had been living far away came down to spend the vacation in that spacious building. He brought several toys, books and games and a little angel dress as gifts for the child. He at once came to know that the little one could not read and was surprised.

He was amazed to know that a three-year-old had not been sent to school. When children were being sent to school at two, he wondered how they delayed sending the child to school. “If my sister doesn’t know, how did you neglect, Bava Garu?” he expressed regret.

Every one had fallen into a sorrowful mood.

Since schools were opened for the year, it was only possible to get the admission for the child next year. Serious considerations were made.

Both the grandpas had made a whirlwind tour of all schools in town.

At last in one school, against the backdrop of an entrance test and interview, they promised to try to admit her. Everyone at home felt assured.

A teacher had been arranged at once and she began to coach the child for the entrance test.

The little child started sweetly chattering all that had been taught.

Whatever time was left by the music teacher, dance master, swimming coach and the tennis coach was allotted to the teacher.

And then they all left a sigh of relief.

And in that manner, in that spacious building all had begun spending their time at the swimming pool, at the tennis court, at the study room, at the dancing room and the music room.

Meanwhile the coaches got into a dilemma regarding the nutritious food the child should be given.

Immediately the young man arranged a nutrition expert for the child.

And now, the obedient cook had to take instructions from the dietician and cook accordingly.

To maintain a disciplined routine for the child from waking up to bedtime, the young man appointed an experienced secretary for the child.

She would make the child ready, according to time, either for tennis, or for music or something else.

She also saw that a particular teacher came to the child at that time.

And then, the supervision of the grandpas on her.

And also that of the paternal and the maternal grandmas.

Whether the child lifted its foot or put it down, it was a great feat for them to watch. They proudly watched when the child could drag the tennis racket or dipped her feet in the pool.

When the child jumped or leaped madly they took it for dance and when she cried shrilly they considered it music. In front of their eyes moved the scenes of the records the child was going to break, the international renown she was going to claim and honours they would receive as the relatives of the child.

With renewed energy, they all began to spend all their time and the child’s time according to the fixed schedule without wasting a minute.

Sometimes the pranks of the child, however, caused trouble. She liked very much to play with Mother, play hide and seek with Father, to run with the grandpas or revel in the love the grandmas. Since it was very important to maintain her schedule, these things proved to be impossible.

But some of these little problems were solved by the child’s secretary tactfully.

When being fed salads the child would insist on being told a story.

But the grandpas had told the secretary in unmistakable terms not to waste time on stories.

Even then, the experienced secretary would sometimes fulfil her wish without angering the grandpas and without disappointing the child.

The child loved the story of little angel, told by her secretary.

Opening the wings that shine, wandering in the realms of stars, amidst the noise of crickets, showering of flowers, the little angel would perform miracles, which the little one loved dearly.

Whenever her mother put on her the little angel dress brought by her brother, the child would beg the secretary repeatedly to tell the story of the little angel. She had begun imagining herself as a little angel flying into stars, shooting towards the moon, playing trapeze in the high skies, running on the pillowy clouds, and sliding over rainbows.

And then the child’s imagination ran contrary to the dreams and ideals of all others.

One day…

The young couple had gone out.

The grandpas had gone marketing.

The maternal grandma and the paternal grandma were seriously discussing what sort of mangoes to pick up for making pickle.

The obedient cook was also reciting his own experiences.

The docile servants were attentively listening to them.

It was time for the child to practice dancing.

That day she was in her favourite little angel dress.

The secretary had to get the child ready for the dance.

While playing the hide and seek with her, the child had climbed the stairs and was on the terrace of the spacious building.

The secretary and behind her, the dance teacher had started searching for the child.

After reaching the terrace the child slowly approached the parapet wall. The wide beautiful world made its appearance suddenly in front of her eyes.

The child’s eyes moved across the spacious building, over the swimming pool, over the tennis court, leaped over the boundary wall and focussed on the playground. In the ground, some children were playing. Their running and leaping, joyous laughter and carefree shouting had attracted the child. The multi-coloured kites they were flying moved in the blue sky like boats.

The child had stood there in open-eyed wonder.

She wanted to somersault with the children in the grass, to build sand castles, to heap pebbles, and to play hide and seek.

And then the cool evening while parting sent up the full moon.

The studded sky-bright moonlight- the child had forgotten herself and could not shut her eyes.

Some wonderful experience flooded her being.

In the little angel dress, looking like a jasmine just blossomed, the child breathed and filled her lungs with air.

The shining sleeves of the dress stitched like wings, she stretched like the little angel, like a legendary bird and flew straight across the ground towards stars with abandon.

And just then the young couple had returned and was about to step into the house.

The child fell right in front of their feet like a string of crossandra flowers.

The young woman screamed.

The young man had bundled into his hands the red heap, which until then shone like a little angel and ran out.

Following him, the terrified young woman.

Behind her the agitated grandpas.

The shaking grandmas.

The writhing secretary, the startled teacher, master, coaches, servants and everyone else.

All began running…

The child to hospital. The story to Kanchi.

But we…?

***

Telugu Story : Chandra Latha Translated by Dr. C.L.L.Jaya Prada

Published in: Sarasa ,A literary Acedemic magazine.

***

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