The Poetry of Patriotism in Telugu

BY K. LAKSHMIRANJANAM, M.A.

[Lecturer, The Osmania University, Hyderabad (Dn.)]

One of the most noteworthy features of modern Telugu Poetry is the sentiment of patriotism which inspires some of the noblest of our poets. Descriptions of the glory of our land account for some of the best poems in modern literature. More often than not, the fallen state of the country, the poverty and ignorance of the masses, the uneventful life of the present times make the poet sigh for the greatness of the historical ages, and call for a melancholy tune from his lyre. Classical and medieval poetry is not vocal in patriotism. Nannaya paid a conscious tribute to the land of his birth, the Vegidesa, sacred with sacrificial altars and holy fires. In medieval poetry it is the sword of the king or of the chieftain that comes in for patriotic euology. The sentiment is not expressed in terms of the country or the people in general. The Andhras of the historical ages were masters in their home and something more. Their love of country was their second nature, and did not call for emphasis. To use the simile of the Bhagavadgita, ‘when man is surrounded by water on all sides, little need has he for drinking water.’ Similarly, when every act was inspired by a sense of duty to one’s country, patriotism was inarticulate. It was deeds, not words. Today the Andhras are not what their historical forebears were, and hence the necessity for keeping the flame of patriotism burning bright. The intense feeling for reviving the glory of the motherland is not inspired by any hatred of others, for what begins in hate ends in hate. It is a sort of spiritual yearning to restore glory once again and lift her from the dust. It has a deep aesthetic and religious ground. The modern poet looks upon Mother Earth as a visible manifestation of primeval energy, the great Maya of God at whose altar the poets burn incense. The poet, Abburi Ramakrishna Rao, sings the glory of Mother Earth thus:

O boundless earth,
with pure and unsullied glory

What was thy beauty like in those primeval moments when the almighty cast your shape, in thy sari of green leaves, in thy bright petals of light. The song of thy beauty flows deep in the happy hours of this morning.

Mighty flood of radiance,
Glorious mother.

Like the flower in the dark hair of Sita, which knows no fading, thy morning play is unending in its charm and ever-new. Thy song of the morn or of the lengthening shadows of the evening is the centre of beauty. What sweet music makes thy heart leap up with joy?

Oh thou with charm that is ever fresh,
Ocean of tenderness.

I shall cast off my chains that look handsome to the eyes; I shall leave behind my wealthy parlour, and run in the direction, where the notes of your lyre flood the ether with music. I will give my gold and my necklaces of precious stones for one atom of your fragrant dust or the joy of thy green grassy meadow.

One is reminded of the Vedic Hymn in praise of Mother Earth which every Hindu knows:

"Praise to Mother Earth, the origin of wealth, the queen of Indra, she who is the ear, the eye, the mind of our great fathers who were sacred Rishis, she in whose entrails gold is embedded,–let the mother, the seat of truth, grace my house."

So much is said to show that modern poetry is rich with the legacy of the timeless culture of India. It is not alien wine poured into native bottles. It aims at bringing to the door of the ordinary man the best concepts of our great sages.

The poet, Gurazada Appa Row, is a practical patriot. He is not carried off his feet by the emotional surge of past glory. He gives us great home-truths, and fastens attention on the present, here and now. In his poem, ‘Love of Country,’ he says:

"Love your mother country,
Try to increase the well-being of the people,
Put an end to words without deeds,
Do some solid good to the country.
Forego a little of your self-interest,
Try to help your neighbour,
The country means not clods of earth;
The country only means the people.
What if religions differ, if men are one at heart?"

"The poet, Rayaprolu Subba Rao, who competes with Gurazada Appa Row as the pioneer of modern Telugu Poetry, struck a more prophetic note, and left many a track to be followed, in the poetry of patriotism. With a deep insight into the ancient glory of the land and its present ills, Rayaprolu Subba Rao laid out two distinct avenues for patriotic poetry. His vision penetrated the thick veil of oblivion, and vividly saw the glory of the past which cried out piteously for a voice, like the wounds of great Caesar, ‘poor little dumb mouths.’ His lyre struck out the following melancholy tune:

"The Chalukyan civilisation of which the deep waters of the Godavary are, the only story-tellers;

The glory of the princes of Warangal, which was laid in deep slumber on the immense dilapidated walls of the fort;

The invincible valour of the heroes of Palnadu

That takes life in the lays of the villager;

The tragic fate of the Vizianagar Empire which is bemoaned by the angry waves of Tungabhadra."

He calls up a living image of the constructive genius of the past which should serve as an example for the present.

"The genius that inspired the Buddhists to build the great Universities of Amaravati, near the ancient capital of Andhra Emperors;

The valour that inspired the Kakatiyas to establish numerous Military Colleges as training grounds befitting the warrior class;

The aesthetic yearning that erected wedding-bowers for the bride of poetry in the wide streets of Vizianagar, the city of learning and the muses;

The triumphant arms which raised the Pillar of Victory of Emperor Krishnadeva Raya near Potnur as a standing monument of the Andhra Empire;

The sacred sense of duty which inspired these and other events must fire the imagination of the Andhras of the day, and urge them on the path of their great past."

Noble sentiments like the above may be multiplied, but these should be enough as illustrations. His songs, ‘Tammuda’ (Dear Young Brother) conjuring up the vision of the noble achievements of Greater India, and ‘Janmabhumi’ (Motherland) in which the poet proclaims his great delight at being born on the sacred soil of India, are among the classics in the poetry of patriotism in Telugu. If poetry is the criticism of life, the same is contained in another poem of Rayaraprolu Subba Rao–‘Tenugu Tota’ (the Garden of Telugu). With the aid of an artistic and elegant allegory, he unbares the evils of contemporary society, social, religious and otherwise, and urges the Telugu people to bestir themselves on the onward path of progress. The sister sub-nationalities and languages are getting ahead briskly, and it would not do to lose time in subline inactivity.

If Rayaprolu Subba Rao drew the outlines of the great historical legacy of the Telugu people, the poet, Viswanatha Satyanarayana, supplied the picture with flesh and blood, and left an indelible impression on the susceptible mind of the Andhras. Viswanatha Satyanarayana is a many-sided genius and a most fertile and prolific writer. The great fame he enjoys in the field of poetry he carried into the field of Drama and Short Story also. The style of Rayaprolu Subba Rao is rich in suggestion; that of Viswanatha Satyanarayana has superior vigour and strength. It sets the imagination on fire, and makes the reader feel like a pigmy before a giant. Rayaprolu Subba Rao’s voice is of the whispering angel that hovers about you, but still leaves you to feel your way for yourself. With Viswanatha Satyanarayana history has become poetry. Mallampalli Somasekhara Sarma amongst historians and Viswanatha Satyanarayana among poets have fought against history being dry as dust. The incidents of history are treated as living expressions of the age rather than as isolated and motiveless happenings. Thus what was vague so far in Andhra history or what was the zealous and exclusive possession of the historian has been brought to the door of the lay man, and he sings of the great deeds of his heroes without knowing anything of history. In this respect the poems of Viswanatha Satyanarayana may be compared to the patriotic poems of Sir Walter Scott, the ‘Battle of Bannockburn,’ and the ‘Battle of Flodden field,’ etc.

His book of poems ‘Andhra Prasasti’ (the glory of the Andhras) is a mine of great poetry which stirs the soul to its depths. Starting from the days of the first Andhra Empire in the pre-Christian era, the poet chose great historical incidents and infused the dry bones of history with throbbing life. The poem on Gowtamiputra Satakarni, describing the historical march of the Emperor to subjugate the hostile Sakas, and the poem ‘Vegikshetra,’ a masterpiece which has no parallel for soaring into imaginative heights anti vigour of expression, deserve special mention. A noble vista of great events rushes to the fancy of the poet and makes him feel that there is volume of history in every inch of this land. He sings in ‘Vegikshetra’:

"Here where I tread the soil with my feet, what great king must have dispensed justice from the Seat of Judgment!

Here in these fields which my eyes scan, what heroes must have been trained!

This very wind that blows on my limbs, what hoary fragrance it must have inherited!

In this void that encircles me, what echoes of great sacrifices must have rung!

Here in this sacred land which is all a voice in praise of our unknown past, I stand with chains on my hands. The Andhra in me makes me tremble at the colossal change."

How history is transformed into poetry by Viswanatha Satyanarayana may be illustrated from two poems in ‘Andhra Prasasti.’ King Madhava Varma about 350 A.D. was the ruler of Bezwada. History has no place for him, for he neither waged wars nor revelled in aggrandisement. He was justice incarnate. One day the King’s son drove rashly in the streets in a new chariot to which were harnessed fiery steeds. The son of a poor old woman was run over by the chariot of the Prince, and died on the spot. The old woman entered the audience hall of the King and sobbed out her sad story. The King commanded his ministers and legal advisers to go into the case and pronounce judgment. They declared the highest penalty of law. The great King ordered the death of the Prince, which order was executed. Justice is merciless, but the heart of the great King broke at the loss of the only son. That day the gods sent a shower of gold, in the land of the King, for his love of justice. The poem ‘Yama Damstrika’ (the cruel tusk of Yama) describes in a picturesque manner the great qualities of generalship of Ramaraya, the hero of Vizianagar. Once Ramaraya laid siege to the fort of Kalyan. The siege was long and terrible. Victory receded into the ground and the soldiers of Vizianagar were losing heart. Then the great hero dramatically turned the scales. He threw his sword, the ‘Yama Damstrika,’ over the walls into the fort, and asked his soldiers whether they could recover it. There was a great bustle and stir in the camp of Vizianagar. They made a desperate sally, and captured the fort!

The poem ‘Kanksha’ of Vedula Satyanarayana has a refreshing can dour and honied cadence about it, and ranks amongst the masterpieces of its kind. Vedula Satyanarayana is a consummate master of diction, and the compound is as flexible a material with him as the earth with the potter. The ‘Kanksha’ touches caressingly the heart, like the rhythmic waves of the ocean on the shore. It is the trumpet call against slavery and bondage in every form. He proclaims:

"I cannot live for a moment the thrice-miserable life which can acquiesce in the bolstered up superiority of the rich on earth, who, growing fat on the flesh and blood of the poor, are yet miserably poor in the quality of mercy; a life which can tolerate the tyranny of stone images which, in the name of God, foster religious fanaticism.

"I would rather be a flower, blossoming on the sacred soil of the grave of the immortal souls who sacrificed their precious lives in the cause of their country, who preferred noble death to the miserable life of slavery. I would live and die that flower, filling the air with fragrance."

The poet has an utter abhorrence of the chains of slavery that bind man down in present society. The pleasures of art and the dreams of love he would spurn equally, when these are associated with social and political thraldom.