Feminist Poems - 3 ( Olgaa)
Veluri, Rao (rveluri@SMTPGATE.ANL.GOV)
Fri, 12 Apr 96 17:21:29 CST
Olgaa (pOpoori lalita kumaari) hails from guntooru. For some time
she worked as a lecturer in telugu in tenaali college. Without a
doubt, she is one of the pioneers of the streevaada politics. She was
drawn to revolutionary politics when she was in college.
Olgaa is more renowned as a novelist, shortstory writer and essayist,
than as a poet. She has to her credit several novels, 'sahaja,'
'swEcca,' 'aakaaSaM lO sagaM' to name a few. 'raajakeeya kathalu' is a
more recent collection of Olgaa.
For 'neeli mEghaalu,' a collection of feminist poetry, Olgaa wrote a
powerful introduction entitled,' saMkeLLu tegutunna saMgeetaM,' in
which she ably responded to arm chair critics who have the temerity to
brush aside feminist poetry as 'blue poetry.'
Below, I post a poem by Olgaa along with a 'version' of the same
poem in English.
gruha lakshmi
rubbuDu potraM laa
tala tirugutoonE vunnaa
aalOcanala pappu medagadu
iMguva vaasanalO munigi tElE mukku
oopiri peelcukOvaDaM marci pOtuMdi
cetula ceepurukaTTalu eDateripi lEkaMDaa
soonyaMlO dEvutoonE uMTaai
kalala alala tuMparalu
hrudayapu penaMpai
cuyyimaMtoonE uMtaai
rOkaTi baMDa kiMda
paccaDi, paccaDavutoonE uMtuMdi
naDuM baMDakEsi baadinaa
kaaTuka kaMTineeTa jaDiMcinaa
manasula muriki vadalanE vadaladu
aasulO kaMDeM laa nityaM kadultoonE
calanaM erugani kaaLLu
pillarslaa unnacOTanE paatukopOtaai
alugguDDala peetibattala parimaLaMlO
puneeta-mavutunnaa
jeevitaM endukO eppudoo
kaaTu vaasanE vEstuMtuMdi
-aaMdhra patrika daily, Oct. 9, 1989
The Lady of the house
Even though the head
revolves
like the pestle,
the pulses of thought
aren't pulverised.
The nose full
with the smell of asfoetida
passes up
the act of breathing.
The broomsticks of hands
seek out ceaselessly
the expanses of vacant space.
The droplets of waves
nof dreams fall upon
the frying pan of the heart
and burn out noisily.
Under the ruthless rod
the chutney
is crushed relentlessly;
the waist is dashed
against the stone continually
and the tears trickle
from the dark eye;
and yet the dirt of the mind
isn't washed out.
Like the spindle
in the spinning wheel
the legs are ever
on the move
and yet somehow static
and will stay put
where the pillars stand.
Although getting sanctified
by the stench of soiled clothes
-full of shit all over-
life somehow emits
the smell of
an overburnt dish.
'Transcreated' by S. S. Prabhakara Rao who has, selected and
edited "Post Independence Telugu Poetry,"(1993) a collection of
over 100 poems spanning a period of 50+ years. Prabhakara Rao is a
Professor of English at the Jawaharlal Nehru Technological University,
Hyderabad. He obtained his Ph.D in American Studies from Andhra
University.
This collection is published by Writers Workshop Books, Calcutta,
under the general editorship of P. Lal.
Prabhakara Rao calls it 'transcreation,' not translation. Criticism
on the original poem is left as weekend exercise, and criticism on
the english version is for bonus points only.
-- Hint for the benefit of the weekend 'critics'of the original--
Two taxidermists stopped before a window in which an owl was on
display. They immediatelty began to criticize the way it was mounted.
'Its eyes were not natural; its wings were not in proportion with its
head; its feathers were not neatly arranged; and its feet could
certainly be improved.'
When they finished with their criticism, the old owl turned its
head .... and winked at them.
Regards.
-- Venkateswara Rao Veluri