Ramblings of Jamshedpur

I wonder why I am calling it so but these pages are dedicated to my uncle N.V. Ramayya and his family. I don't really know much of them excepting for my sister the famous Nagampalli Krishna Kiran whom I lovingly knew as NKK. Yes after a long wait when I was in 9th or 11th Kiran came home. I still remember how many secrets we shared. But I remember she like all other girls do not keep secrets in her belly but spilled the beans to her mother, later the same came up as a ghory monster with claws all over which left scars on me.

Well even then she was yet "THE NKK". Well bonds grew we wrote to each other. She went on joined ICS in Delhi. I was in college and still studying, we saw Delhi Appu Ghar took a couple of pics there and moved on with life - both moved on in life, lost touch until recently Nagesh Annayya gave me Kiran's Radhika's and Tunni's ID and I added all of them in the vain hope that yes some day they will surely get in touch.

And yes after all these years Vyoma my niece did it. She got in touch with me this evening when I called it quits for the day. I was just about to pack up and GO - I received these lines which stuck on - "Hello, I am Kiran's daughter Vyoma" yes that did the trick. Thanks Vyoma for reaching out.

It was a pleasent chat and guess what you are a true replica of NKK. I never saw you till now but the way you have gone about reminds me of "THE NKK" I once knew.

I remember how lovingly we used to call Grandpa as Hitler but yet he is a darling.

Kiran - Hitler was feared once but later loved by all.

I got a nice warm picture of your family from Vyoma today I don't know how to thank her for it. The conversation was warm and nice. I hope we break the ice and speak to each other Kiran. You must be knowing Damodar Baliga - he also speaks about you and ness. Damodar was my Batchmate.

Guptaji you must have heard from Kiran about me. But I guess we too need to meet. I don't really know how or when but I feel it's going to be soon.

Any way be in touch - Vyoma has got all the contact numbers of mine. My email ID is umasankar.vkn@gmail.com

Miss you all

Umesh

Vyoma - This was Sunabeda where I was Born

SUNABEDA

Silver oaks,
In the avenue silent,
Wind blows
Leaves rustle,
Looking skywards,
A silvery layer,
In the day time,
Against the blue sky,
Elation,
Of the human mind.

September Thirteenth, 1989
On remembering Sunabeda, Sweet Sunabeda


This was on a friend at KREC Surathkal

PORTRAIT

Soft touches of the brush,
Swift smooth strokes,
(On the canvas fresh)
Sketches of a sweet face,
Bright and glowing,
Tresses flowing,
Black as the darkest night,
As time passes on,
The figure, the style,
Erased slowly from his head,
And from within,
A new girl is born,
Innocent and sweet,
Maturity traces
Appearing ……………………..
At a fast pace,
Thoughtful and worried,
Fashion conscious,
With time,
The artist ponders,
He begins to wonder,
As he grooms his maid,
In all splendour,
She slowly comes,
Of an age marriageable,
Wedding bells ………………
Her name like music sweet,
Linguistically ………………Ah!
Satisfaction,
Pleasure utmost
As the artist gives,
The last few touches,
The canvas dry,
Is all ready,
A true to life “portrait”,
Of the girl,
The dream
Of another artist young

February 7th 1990


This was on JOG FALLS
JOG

Climbing down
In quick rhythmic steps,
All converging,
To the one place
Eye catching,
Beautiful
The falls
Coming down in a fast trot,
That’s why it’s called,
The JOG falls.

September Tenth, 1989


IN SOLITUDE

Summer, winter, spring and fall,
I’ve watched the flowers bloom and drop.
Happiness every where, then filled with hope,
But now in the darkness alone I grope.
Desire nor hope and nothing like grief.
I now wish life was brief.
And once flung my soul, yes, I did,
Around which no fences blocked.
Or seasons of wishes like a slot,
To put its foot on my path
Or fling its vicious poisonous teeth,
As in this journey of mine I seek,
The only thing without which life is bleak
And gain access into that fortress large.
Shaped as a valentine on my path does shine,
And as each day of my life I pine,
Thinking if days of sweet roses and wine,
Will ever come to be mine

December Third, 1989