A poetic homage to the Messiah of sweet songs

A   poetic  homage   to the Messiah  of sweet songs

                 On   her birth centaury

 

By

P.R.Ramachander

Oh Mistress   of  Singing ,

Oh Miraculous    Singer,

Millions  are  your Slaves,

Mind   and Soul   alike 

One  hundred  years back  you were born,

Like a lotus    flowering  in the lake  of songs ,

In Madurai   which boasts   of  the  golden lotus pond,

And possibly  conquered  the world  , by your  sweet wail.

Your mother   a virtuoso  Veena player ,

Decided    to call    you the   “young mother”,

Possibly knowing   that   you are  going to nurture like a mother,

The sweetest  music that no one  has  ever heard,

Great Gurus   who  tried    to coach  you,

Were surprised  to see  that your voice was   pure nectar,

And   when that  nectar   got mixed with  honey of music,

Not a  single soul  who listened   to you did not  become ecstatic.

It is but natural   that   you chose  music   to worship  your God,

And made  us   your slaves  who wanted  to hear  you again  and again,

So that   with  tears  in  our voice   and choke  in  our  throat,

WE approached our goddess  of music , for  fulfilling our wants.

You were  to us   the Meera   who  was drowned in devotion to Krishna ,

You  were to us   the girl who fought   against ills  of world in “Home of service(Seva Sadan) ”,

You were  to us   the Savithri who   conquered   death  of her husband ,

You were to us  the Shakunthala    who pined   for her Dushyantha

You were   the one   who exhorted to us     to love  our motherland,

You were  the one who  taught   us how to   chant Sahasranamam,

You were  the one   whose  song   would  wake up the  lord of  the Seven hills,

You were   the  one whose lullabies  in several languages  made  Indian babies sleep.

You were  the one    who addressed  the world  and told them to  worship friendship,

You were  the one    who told    your Govinda  that  you do not have any problems,

You were   the one who called  Lord of Sri Ranga   and told him he was Rama  too,

You were the one  who   sang the   story of Rama , meditating  on him with humility.

Awards , titles  , approbations  and applauds  were  heaped  on you ,

Though you   were   already   the goddess  of  music in our  hearts,

You accepted them all   with  great  humility  and a  pretty smile,

And in your heart  decided  that  these  were orders of God  to sing  more.

Oh Queen , Oh Nightingale   oh Gem of   our  Motherland  ,

Why this  hurry to leave  us all with so much haste,

Leaving us all  orphans   unable   to hear  your voice ,

But we all   want to wish  our  uncrowned   queen of music  ,

“A happy hundredth   birthday”.