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No one asks, “How did it happen?”
It’s all the same
The news of death
fails to reach many kith and kin
The body will never be brought home
no word sent even to close relatives
no dry grass spread in the house
not even a tear is shed
No korrayi (funeral torch) before the threshold
no visit of the neighbours
no laying down of the departed
no tributes from the people around
No lamp aglow at the head of the departed
no collection of memories
no falling upon the lifeless form
no final touch held warm and tight
No garlands laid in love and grief
no words that gently console the living souls
no voices saying, “He was a noble man
he lived like a king and left us whole”
No arms embracing the deprived
no weary heads upon a grieving breast
no tears allowed to freely flow
no heart unburdened into rest
No anxious eyes upon the road
wondering if the son will come
to light the pyre with trembling hands
before life's final rites are done
No crowds in the front yard
no whispering memories
no silent presence of familiar faces
showing that they truly cared
No tying of the funeral bier
no coin placed in the mouth of the departed
no ritual bath for the weary body
no new garments adorn the departed
No clay pot held in trembling hands
no mourners walk before the bier
no shoulders ready to carry the weight
no one calls upon the departed to return to life
No pausing in the middle
no calling of the cherished name
no funeral drums in mournful cadence
no halting where life's pathways came
No chanting of God’s holy name
no cries of anguish rise above
no flames consuming earthly bonds
no final offering of human love
No waiting till the embers fade
and all returns to ash and sky
no sisters rushing home in sorrow
no daughters of the house to cry
No food offered to the sacred crow
no obsequies feast touched in silent prayer
no comforting hands upon the grieving
no patient hearts remaining there
Only an unseen smouldering within
a grief denied its voice and tears
a sorrow that must learn to suffer
in the loneliness of passing years
Blessed indeed is the soul
that receives a death with dignity
even death must earn its grace
its final rite, its sanctity
And now, in these unfeeling times
the cruellest truth of all, it seems
not only life, but even death
has become a distant dream
There should be some
dignity in death!
Translated from Original Telugu Poem Saavu Kala of Smt. Nellutla Ramadevi
About the Poet:
Smt. Nellutla Ramadevi is a poet, fiction writer, literary critic, cartoonist, and social activist from Warangal, Telangana. Her literary pursuits span poetry, short stories, essays, literary criticism, and cartooning. Her published works include Manasu Bhasha (Poetry, 2011), Ramaneeyam (Cartoons, 2011), Manasu Manasuku Madhya (Short Stories, 2011), Chinukulu (Nanees, 2021), Talli Veru (Short Stories, 2021), a monograph on D. Kameswari's stories (2023), Ashruvarnam (Poetry, 2024), and Ramayanam–1 (Columns, 2024). Among her notable honours are the Sushila Narayana Reddy Award for her debut poetry collection (2004), the Amruthalatha–Apuroopa Award for Cartoons (2014), the Keerthi Puraskaram (2015) and Pratibha Puraskaram (2017) from Potti Sreeramulu Telugu University, the Ragati Pandari Memorial Award from the Bapu-Ramana Academy for Cartooning (2021), and the prestigious Kaloji Award conferred by the Government of Telangana in 2025. |
