Come To Sādhanakēri (ಬಾರೊ ಸಾಧನಕೇರಿಗೆ)

One of Da Ra Bendre’s most popular song-poems (ಹಾಡುಗಬ್ಬ), he wrote it as a ಸ್ವಗತ (swagata: ~soliloquy) when the unexpected loss of his job forced him to return to his house “ಶ್ರೀಮಾತಾ” in Sādhanakēri, Dharwad.

Here is a recording of my reciting (singing) the original Kannada poem. The tune, if one is discernible, is Praveen Godkhindi’s; and was originally recorded by Pallavi Arun. Unfortunately, that recording is missing the third stanza of the poem.

Come To Sādhanakēri (ಬಾರೊ ಸಾಧನಕೇರಿಗೆ)

Come to Sādhanakēri,
Back to your town where you were merry.

To the wagon pulled by the rains;
The green has risen up the plains;
The green into the town has grown;
The green along the paths has shown.
A very piece of heaven’s fallen here;
Is there anyone who is not cheered?
Come to Sādhanakēri,
Back to your town where you were merry.

The mountain’s face itself has turned;
The singing koel is sweet-throatèd;
The fences too are flower-fingered;
The land’s youth has returnèd.
And mother-earth has stretched and risen;
For Shrāvana’s beauty it is the season.
Come to Sādhanakēri,
Back to your town where you were merry.

Look on the shadow-play of the clouds above;
The multitude of flowered groves;
The countless honey-bees that hover;
The spell within the yakshi’s bower.
Come watch the butterflies that play
In groups above the meadows gay.
Come to Sādhanakēri,
Back to your town where you were merry.

The trees have stretched toward the sky;
Within the shrubs are songs of play;
The wind itself wings all around;
All anxiousness has fled this ground.
Tell me, friend, where else is there
A sight like this, a sight so fair?
Come to Sādhanakēri,
Back to your town where you were merry.

(Translated by Madhav K. Ajjampur)

Poem Details: From the collection “ಗಂಗಾವತರಣ,” first published in 1951.

Afterword:

For a change, I’ve sung the translation.

The Descent of the Ganga (ಗಂಗಾವತರಣ)

One of Da Ra Bendre’s most famous poems, revealed to the world when he recited it at the close of his President’s Speech at the Kannada Sahitya Sammelana in 1943. Per his own admission, the rapturous reception it received left him reeling.

Here is a recording of my reciting the original Kannada poem.

The Descent of the Ganga (ಗಂಗಾವತರಣ)

Come down, mother,
Come down;
From Hara’s locks,
From Hari’s feet,
From the rishi’s thighs,
                     Slide forth.
Quench the devās as you come,
Wet the regions as you come,
Feed every being as you come,
                      Come down, mother,
                                 Come down.

My salutations I offer you,
I shall wear and wrap you,
So do not hesitate, you,
                      Spill forth.
Leave the heavens behind and come,
Plummet through the skies and come,
Stream along the land and come,
Come down, O mother, come,
                      Come down, mother,
                                 Come down.

Within the regions of my head,
In front of and behind my back,
Up and down inside my blood,
                      Surge forth.
Washing each atom of the eye,
Tuning every fibre of each sigh,
Sprouting words inside the mouth that’s dry,
                      Swell forth.
Come, take your place within my breast,
Come, roll through the waters of my chest
Come, in my very quick do take your rest,
                      Come down, mother,
                                 Come down.

Come as the lightning flashed,
Come as the rolling waters splashed,
Come as the thunder smashed,
Come back.
Come calling on
           The abandoned wretched,
           The devitalised agèd,
           The waterless parchèd,
Come down, mother,
Come down.

O cow’s compassion for its calf,
O mother’s love on its child’s behalf
O grand benediction from high above,
                      Enfold us in your clasp.
Shiva’s compassion unblemishèd,
Tinged only by Shakti’s slightest red,
Incarnate maternal-love full-blooded,
                      Come, come down,
                      Come down, mother,
                                 Come down.

Come, none but you can wash us clean,
Come, every other power is mean,
Come, or we shall remain unclean;
Come, feed us in our very marrow,
Come, circle our land that’s lying fallow,
Come, breathe life into these deadened hollows.

O, beloved, into whose waters fell
Reflections from the gods’s dream-well,
That made your pool of consciousness swell.
O Gangē, with new-opened eyes;
O Gangē, who now do span the skies
Ready to descend upon Bhārati’s thighs
From the starry-flowers
Of the holy Pārijāta’s bowers
That fed upon your showers.
Worshipped by the tulsi garland,
Perfumèd by mandāra’s scent,
You alone are both parents.
Born of an ecstatic rasa flood,
You are none but the fluid
Fruit of SacchidānandaBrahma’s blood.
Come on down, mother, come to play;
Come júst this once, I pray:
For my tears of joy I cannot stay.
           Yes, mother, such a fall is what they meant
           When they talked of the avatāra, the descent.

Like a boon to one who’s prayed,
Like one in compassion bathed,
Like river full-filled and flooded,
Bouncing and uninhibited,
                      Rush forth.
For your darling come a-searching,
Yes, come a-searching, mother,
                      Come a-rushing.

Come, renew the breath of life,
Come, swell; and illuminate this life,
Come, show yourself as flesh and blood,
Come, wash your hands of all the mud,
Come, alight upon this earth for good,
                      Come down, mother,
                                 Come down.

Come, O Shambu-Shiva-Hara’s thought-consummate
Come, O Datta-Narahari’s grandmother-great
Come, O come, to Datta, son of Ambikā late,
                      Come down, mother,
                                 Come down.

(Translated by Madhav K. Ajjampur)

Poem Details: From the collection “ಗಂಗಾವತರಣ,” first published in 1951.

Note: I was only able to approach this translation thanks to the wonderfully thorough and fascinating Kannada explication provided by Sunaath Kaka on his blog. To receive his praise for this translation (when I shared it with him two years later) was particularly gratifying. My thanks to him.

Afterword:

Here is my recitation of the translation.

I (ನಾನು)

It seems fitting to start this blog with Bendre’s own estimation of himself as the poetic-power Ambikātanayadatta – the son of five mothers (ಐದು ಐದೆಯರು).

Here is a video of Bendre reciting this poem. Incidentally, this is perhaps the only video recording available of Bendre reading out his poetry.

(ನಾನು)

I am the indivisible pollinic-glory born of the cosmic-mother’s lotus-womb;
I am the upright idol fashioned from a fistful of the earth-mother’s clay;
I am the scintillating light found within the million deepāwaḷis of mother-Bhārati;
I am the outspreading wind fed on the fragrance of Kannada’s mother-lotus;
I am the animate compassion drunk on the milk and blood of mine own mother;
These mothers five make up the vital airs of this breathing frame;
The Nārayaṇa of the lotus-heart has turned into the mortal Datta;
As Ambikātanaya he mirrors now in Kannada the universe’s inner voice.

(Translated by Madhav K. Ajjampur)

Poem Details: From the collection “ಗಂಗಾವತರಣ,” first published in 1951.

Afterword:

Here is my recitation of the translation.