I am, the forest, speaking.
The emerald body of earth is speaking.
The ocean of leaves and herbs,
The chest with sacs of breath
the reek of green sap is speaking.
The furnace bearing the conflagrations,
The blue companion of valleys
unreachable to the sight
I am speaking.
The summer heat scorches,
and Fall drizzles the leaves,
protruding green crop sprouts
constantly,
The string of forest angel singers
melted the mountain to a stream of tears
I am speaking
I am the nature, the dark green
equally decked beauty and generosity,
the epic penned universal supreme soul,
prolonged virtue of the universal human race,
I am speaking
I am a treasure, A great fortune of minerals,
A story of bitter facts,
A special representative of the environment
I am speaking.
I am publishing
The green language, unknown to
the honorable and the common
and the eminent rulers.
The green grass raw agony of forests
I am expressing.
On behalf of the forest,
experienced insults a lot,
subjugated severe mock
associating me to useless moonlight
being weak and delicate, hiding in the heart
as useless moonlight , shed tears of the forest
I am speaking.
I am Nirbhaya assaulted by
hoods spread, sickles of selfishness
I am speaking.
The scarlet blushed moonlight
Smeared blood-red sandalwood tears
As ruse on cheeks
I am Draupadi, the forest of Kali Yuga,
Unwrapped from my green foliage
By the city Kaurava, Dussasana
I am a skeleton of bones
with dry grass and grassy forests,
old rag sprouts
the nest of wild birds in the forest
scattered and crumbled
I am speaking.
The elated sky
The elated sky
Tilted a bit towards the earth
So graceful, the curves of the youth,
Love the fragrance
Mud hugs the heights of curves
Delighted and brightened
Enraptured, grumbled sweetly
Scattered volley of rains.
By the bless of rains
Brave, adventurous aura seeds
The generous fertilized
womb of the globe
Born, germinated, lifted the head,
As the forest
On the sacred surface of the land.
From the soil particles
In hills and mountains
Cracking the stone layers,
Sprouted, blossomed, and grown
Overcoming the zeniths of hills
High, so high -though grown to heights
The age added on and had the grandeur
The mother roots
Weaves inside the mother soil itself
And remains glued to it.
Such a grateful race.
Never cutting the umbilical cord
Mother soil’s link
Never breaking the link with the homeland
On entire land of earth
Only one is the race of trees.
Unlike your progeny
Never migrate to other countries-
Never leave the parents and the homeland
Never had the love for
the treasure available on foreign lands.
As an inherited daughter
of the culture of trees and forest
Never leave the mother’s lap.
Seven colors mingle to a white ray
I am green – five primordial elements union .
No boorishness but for the manner of the forest
No rawness- but for the enrapture of woods
I have the nature of a jungle but not the wild beast cruelty
To violate the young kids.
I have the nature of a wild forest and woodland
But without male beasts to quench
The physical desire cruelly, without permission.
Amid the forest- in the midnight,
Without kindling the sense of desire
Without urging a female animal
No male beast mates it.
I have that culture.
This forest nature, How many times
It can fold compared to your humanity
And to your modernity
No , never reach the approximation of neurons
in your minds.
That my forestry and woodland nature.
The field of Adi Kavi (the first poet)
I am the field of first poet (Adi Kavi)
The duty of the saviors of the forest.
The umbrella of leafy layer and
The ink portrait of the sky
The formula of delight and the voice of music
Fruits, flowers, and leaves disbursing fragrances.
From scorching summer days to snow falls
From spring warmth to the winter cold
In every season I have a fruit diet
Serving in the plates of leaves
In the season of love god, I provide the mango
Earlier to the tender mango I give you the tamarind
Then the black cherries, custard apples,
And in the next season manilla tamarind
Followed by wild date fruits
Without losing the path I provide the figs
Before the flavor of them leaves sour cherries
I serve you in line other berries of the season.
With all my love for the living creatures as mother
I am the motherhood of the forest
The nature of forest life
A rare truth and
I am the inn of food.
Begging human beings …
I know the Gods
Begging human beings
The boons they want
I know Indra, the God
Asked Karna his ear studs,
The protective shields
Received them taken out from his body.
I know the Wind and Fire gods
Asking Shibi, the emperor,
flesh and blood
had them from his sliced body.
I know the God Vishnu
In the form of Vamana
requested Bali three feet land
Stretching his hand.
I know, the God Shiva, his better half in his body
Demanding Chiru Thonda Raju
to cut and cook and serve his son’s head,
many more stories
To flay the skin of his wife
And to make footwear for him.
I give my bark, my skin, flaying it,
The blood in the form of gum
Giving away the roots, the intestines,
and the leaf flesh.
Demolishing my existence
Breaking my life
For your dams, the paths in forests,
To thousands of tanks and water canals
For sez parks and for machine lands
not three feet to count but
Thousands of acers-
I, the Goddess of land,
know only giving but not taking.
I am the angelic forest
From the roots inside the land
To the tip of the branch head
Giving in charity and living as my duty.
I am the responsibility
I am the forest of responsibility.
In Fall
In Fall,
My streams, canals, and pits of water appear
as if mixing powder of cardamom, as sugar crystals,
sugar crystals as pearls in pure milk, as moonlight
heating, melting, and boiling.
Eyes always rove as
Delicious, sweet rivers in the unseen mind
Within me, I have so many secret canals
Never tasted by the Sunrays
But for me not even the stars, moon, and the Sun
and never an evil eye landed on them,
what a wonder what a magic!
Expressing the surprise in gesture
Looking at the stunning beauty of Niagara waterfall
But I created a great river
Dividing it into thousands of branches
And from the rows of mountains touching the sky
Made it jump as a magnificent waterfall.
Even if you have countless eyes
Not adequate to watch the universal grace .
Mine is the great creation
With endless and massive delightful
sounds of drums, competing with Bhagirath
who brought Ganga from heaven
onto the head of Shiva and
from his twisted hair descended it down to the earth.
I am a penchant writer
With the feats of water, impossible to others,
Turned a river live with thousands of waterfalls
Overpowering Veda Vyasa who gave life
To the broken fetus of Gandhari
saved them in hundred and one pots.
See, look this side.
Every water branch is a Niagara fall.
And every waterfall is an ocean.
Imagine my dear child, the beauty of
Form, sound, and speed
At the premises of blue-sky empire
Stars, the young women
As if winnow dust of rice bags and bags
In winnowing baskets
Siva in countless forms as if slithering down Ganga from heaven
Into number of waterfalls, the voices of waterfalls
mine is the forest land.
Do you know
The crescent moon of fall inaugurated
On a full moon day
When the aura of moon reflects
In moonlight.
You know a rainbow,
But I know not just a rainbow
But the moonbow too.
My dear child
This forest land is my native home.
Dwelling at ease ….
A secret living needs some angelic beauties,
Dwelling at ease.
This cool lake
Who the lord constructed this ?
This boundary of mountains around this lake
in purple,
Added to this boundary
Who planted the strongest
fencing of Morinda, cotton and Shorea trees.
Who the God of rain amassed
this pure dust of diamonds water, soundless and waveless.
For whom, the angels bathing is
this lake of water.
Who builders of Taj or Eiffel tower
are capable
of this flashing, surprise of talent.
This lake hitherto
Never washed the feet of any human
Not fouled by any tongues of beasts.
How do you know
the value of this lake,
this amiable pool
You, the civilized, living in cities
Blazing in homes.
How can your blockheads know
the coolness of this lake
The refresh
living in frozen smoke palaces of kindled fire.
Left behind the nutritious food of
Village mothers, the curd rice,
Consuming poisonous edibles
And drinking disasters
What do the city veterans know
The purity of this lake.
What do the people of stricken feel
living as frogs in a well
Breathing the pollution of cooling machines
Know the well flourished lotus in the pools
The mirror of the mind of this forest
This is the heart of a girl child
The first born of this forest.
Inside the seed
A sprout in the womb of a seed
sounds while opening the eyelids,
the din of the cracking body of seeds
While delivering the plants,
The moment the earth attends
The delivery of trees within
the sound of the dilation
in the labor pain
every minute I hear a rhythmic tune of
Mercy and essence of life,
like a melancholy Sloka
A rare music: the forest is nothing but music.
Prior to the flowers bloom,
Earlier the fruits come up
Blooming and appearance of tender fruits
Prior to ripe floating in dreams
When branches and leaves move together
Hitherto new sprouts appear
Just before a ripened leaf falls,
The sprout and ripened leaf in the middle
the branches and leaves with matured experience
nodding their heads
in a rhythmic tune of duties and values of life
I hear every minute.
Like the Sloka, ‘Karmanye Vyadhikarasye’
A unique music: the forest is music.
While plucking the leaves
And branches, slashing them
While uprootin
