S.K. Chettur (1905--1972) is the younger brother of G.K. Chettur who received his education from Christian and Presidency Colleges, Madras and the University of Oxford before clearing forth the I.C.S. He was a civil servant who worked as Collector and District Magistrate of Cuddapah and was Chief Secretary of Madras from 1960 to 64 besides his other assignments.  Known as a short story writer, he has penned down a few poems. The Golden Stair & Other Poems is his work which was brought out in 1967.

The red lotus: how lovely it is to see the flower blooming, spread over the watery surface! How does it stand alone in the water arising from muck and silt! From the mud it arises and stands up. The petals seem to be charming and magical indeed. Dew drops roll down, keep it sprinkled with pearly drops of water. But when they get furled, the time for deflowering comes up, bringing it to a close up. At that time, it is quite disheartening to view it.

In the pool the red lotus stands immaculate, sedate and beautiful. How the fate which gave birth to the red lotus? How does it thrive in mud? It is in reality transcendent bliss to feel about the flower.  O beauty, how is it your sweet kiss of the petals upon the world? It is pure joy when we see the red lotus in bloom. None knows when they bloom and when they fade away from the world. Who can but talk about the mystery of Nature? The flowering of the lotus touches the soul and the spirit. We feel inwardly happy on seeing it. The mere sight of it teaches a lesson to remain calm and cool in life. If this be the Nature’s plan, why to shed blood? Why indulge in bloodletting?

Red Lotus is indeed a beautiful poem from the poetic pen of S.K. Chettur and we are lucky enough to find it so richly added to the treasury of Indo-Anglian poetry.

Red Lotus in the pool,
Standing immaculate,
Sedate and beautiful,
Out of what starry fate
Did mud and weeds and slush like this
Give rise to thy transcendent bliss ?
 
O beauty in the slush,
O hidden loveliness
Uprising with a rush
To hurl thy crimson kiss
Of petals sweet upon the world, —
What loss is ours when they are furl’d !
 
Beauty ephemeral,
Touching the spirit’s wing,
Is but a tale to tell,
Is but a song to sing,
And lotuses shall flare and fade
And none will know when born, when dead.
 
Red Lotus in the pool,
Standing inviolate,
O lay thy petals cool
Upon the spears of hate,
And let thy travail from the mud
Repeal the lust of men for blood . . .
 

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