Image credit – Dr. Reshma Ramesh

TWO POEMS
Kannada poems trans. by Reshma Ramesh
 
NEAR AND DEAR
 
Long ago in town,
Often I came face to face
With those two perpetual rivals
Saabjaan and Babjaan.
Snakes and Mongooses could learn hate from them,
Every word each uttered was to abuse the other’s sisters and mothers.
 
Though neighbours, they were poles apart
As far from the near as you could part
Their lives a prison
For gentlefolk they were a din
Daily bickering foes
 
If his pussycat crossed the other’s fence
Or the other’s doggy loitered near this one’s gate,
They would not rest until one of them was dead.
They would coax their kids to play cricket
Just to break his rival’s glass, photo frame or flower vase
Or this one for the other’s dining, TV or showcase
After the rampage, even the cops did not daunt them.
 
I had been there recently for a friend’s funeral
To that town’s death’s orchard
The graveyard
As I grieved for the departed
An acquaintance came to me and pointed
To two heaps,
Next to each other, two mounds of earth,
And amused said
“There lie Saabjaan and Babjaan”
 
AGAIN IT IS THE SAME SADNESS
 
It is the same sadness again and the same evening and same loneliness
Without your company, without conversations my mind is forlorn
These colors of the evening skies are making my eyes so tired’
The sunrays are turning the sand into gold
The bird’s song is inviting the fresh greenery
Darling without you the beautiful garden is dreary
This body is a field trampled by the heard of your desires
Wondering whether you will arrive or not
Come and drive away this fatigue and silence
Come and again straighten this huge fence of solace
Soon the colors disappear and the sunset fades
Behold! The fishermen of the night are casting gloomy nets
A wealth of sweet memories wasted
In the pursuit of love, let them all be invested

Translator’s Note:
REMEMBERING NISSAR AHMED
 
When I was 12 years old in school every November 1st celebrating Kannada Rajyotsava; a few benches would be put together with a jamkana covering it, creating a makeshift stage. Me and my friends with 2 braids in white ribbons in a group would sing ''Nityotsava''  feeling proud to belong to Karnataka  that my heart would burst. Even now I feel the same listening Nityotsava.
 
The day I met Nisar Ahmed I felt it didn't matter whether I write any more or not, somehow the sole purpose of my poetry seems to converge to this moment. A little girl with ribbons in her braid meets her Hero, the person who wrote the best poem in her text book.
 
I met Nissar Ahmed 3 years back in his house. While I waited for him I glanced around the living room which was covered from roof to floor with plaques, awards, photographs and certificates from all over India. The only place they were not placed was the sofa where we were sitting on. When he arrived, I stood up and my heart stopped because I had grown up seeing him on TV and singing Nityotsava in school, hearing praises, reading his poems and now he was in front of me. It was such a fan moment. He immediately made me feel at home, he asked so many questions about me and we spoke about many things like his connection to Anekal (where my father is from) and him being a post graduate In Geology (which I was not aware of), his trip to the United states where my aunt had hosted him.
 
He was immensely fond of his pet Persian cat and the cat would play with the edge of my dupatta and he told me how the cat had gone missing a couple of days back and he had almost broken down. He was such a gentleman, he always let me out himself and walked me till the door. He introduced me to his wife who was ill then and I think that was such a beautiful moment for me because of the way he looked at her and how he told me about her ill health, how his face changed and his voice shook.
 
When he invited me to his readings, I always received a snail mail with the address handwritten by him and somehow looking at my name written by Nissar Ahmed himself made me feel special. His invitations were the only snail mails I have received in 3 years. During the translation project I visited him several times where he patiently sat and explained the meaning of some words and we spoke at length about how he came to write certain poems, the story behind it and I learnt so much about his life and nuances of poetry. On a lighter vein he told me that he was indeed tired of listening to his song Nityotsava sung in every event where he was invited and he would be happy if it was any other song.
 
The day I heard about his death my heart broke, I have been feeling guilty that I did not check on him recently though I thought about him a lot. Though I knew him just for a couple of years my heart will always be heavy as I couldn’t even say goodbye, his poetry will always be celebrated and no one will fill that void for the whole of Karnataka.