Tungabhadra Poem by Ravikumar C.P.

Kannada Poem by K.S. Narasimha Swamy
Translated by C.P. Ravikumar

Tungabhadra - no, not the river - my one-year old daughter,
My little goddess! Somewhere in Madras if a cyclone
Were to rise and a few drops were to fall in Mysore,
She is sure to catch a cold; if the summer sun
So much as shone on our street
She is bound to suffer from prickly heat;
At home she is everywhere, playing and cackling away!
She is too clever, this girl! We cajole her every day,
Give her a hot bath, put her in a cradle,
Cover her up fully, light incense,
Swing the cradle until our hands go numb,
Sing lullabies in a low voice;
But you think she would sleep, this cherub-faced devil?
She will peep through the covers, raise her hood,
Laugh and make us laugh as well!

This one-year old
Guards me like a serpent; if I cross the threshold
She will come running to the door.
She rules her mother's world until I return.
At midnight, she adorns my chest like a necklace.
When she opens her mouth, two grains of rice
Giggle at you; a round face, eyes that extend to the ears,
Practically bald except for a dozen strands of hair,
Which her mother somehow combs into a braid!

I admire the courage of this one-year old;
Once in a blue moon when father raises his voice
She will go to mother. Were mother to scold her too
She will crawl on her fours to father, tears rolling down her cheek,
And seek a place on his lap; the family
Is a sea - I and Meenakshi are its two shores;
Between us the ship of Tungabhadra floats
To and fro carrying the moon.
I lack this courage; and so do many souls -
The faith that if one shore sent you away with a scolding,
Another shore would offer safe haven -
A faith that even this unknowing child displays -
Is lacking in many of us! We fear
That the shore we left behind is too far to return,
And whimper, doubting if another shore exists yonder,
And lose our way in the wilderness of suspicion,
Talking in our troubled sleep,
O what lies ahead, O what indeed!
We lie awake, tired and worried.