Odisha Review October - 2012 Songs of Dawn and Dusk of “Bhakta Kabi” Madhusudan Rao Indrajeet Mohanty Madhusudan Rao was one of the most prolific “……….. distressed Odia Language will for ever and elegant writers, of Odia poetry of the Late be indebted to Madhusudan”. th th 19 and Early 20 Centuries. His writings are The poet was born in 1853 on January adorned with purity, beauty and have an 19th (Shree Panchami) at Puri. His Grand-father undercurrent of devotion to the Almighty. One was Marhathi Offices, before the British cannot forget his magnificent poem “Padma” occupation, and his father, (Lotus) which is so chaste and Bhagiratha Rao brought him up natural that one feels the Lotus as he lost his mother, Ambika swaying in the breeze, in the Devi, at the tender age of five. Lake, right in front of us. In He was a brilliant student, who fact one almost gets the fragrance of the Lotus and feel made Puri Zilla School proud. of the tepid morning Sun. If he During his career as a student has been compared with in Cuttack, he be-friended Tennyson and Wordsworth for Pyarimohan Pradhan and his allegories of nature, he is became a devout Brahmo also a painter like Thomas Samajist. As a school teacher Gray, who uses a pen as a brush at Balasore he encountered the to paint pictures. Madhusudan great Fakir Mohan Senapati Rao’s poems are, finally a gift and in Cuttack was a student to the Creator, the Divine of Radhanath Ray. All there Master, Who controls the interactions created in his, Universe. This is a reflection already illuminated, mind more of his Brahmo Samajist resplendence. This brilliance outlook. His poems, like that effused out in monthlies like of his compatriot, Kabibara “Utkaladarpan” from Balasore, Radhanath Ray, are framed in pure, modest, “Sikshabandhu” from Cuttack etc. His simple and decent Odia. Fakir Mohan Senapati, ‘Chandamala’ became popular in every home in the first real Odia novelist, says of Madhusudan Odisha, whilst many of his works were greatly 40 October - 2012 Odisha Review appreciated in Calcutta. His poems on the various 1. Prabhat (Dawn) seasons was often compared with Rabindra Nath The darkness of the Night ends, Children awake, Tagore’s seasonal songs. Madhusudan Rao died It’s the time of a new morn, in a delightful song, partake. th in 1921 on December 18 . Look ! the ten quarters, with the Sun’s ray, are glowing, Madhusudan Rao has penned two sets Flowers are blooming, a gentle breeze is blowing. of poems, on the Dawn (Prabhat) and Dusk The earthlings were rapped in unconscious slumber, (Sandhya). One set is for children written in his Coming from where ? The Dawn brought what magic wonder ? ‘Sisugita’ (Songs for Children) while the other is a component of his “Chandamala” (the garland Infusing new life, in a moment, it awoke the Earth, Sky and Earth fills with sounds of great mirth. of Rhymes). Both are beautifully written, evocative of nature’s pageant at Sunrise and Birds are singing, songs so charming, My heart begins to dance, with the songs, on hearing. Sunset. Treatment of movement, colour and sound perception is simple and modest. The With the birds, Children sing in happy chorus, In your hearts remember the Creator, Father of the language restricted and pure. Here is Madhusudan Universe”. at his best, using the pen as a brush, words as colour and paints a picture before us, with the 2. Ó¤ÿ¿æ divine power as the director. ¨Êÿçþ ’ÿçS{Àÿ ¯ëÿÝB Àÿ¯ÿç, Below are the translations of the four AæÜÿæ Lÿç Óë¢ÿÀÿ {àÿæÜÿç†ÿ d¯ÿç æ poems, from original Odia. (A) From Sisugita (Songs for Children) ¨Êÿçþ AæLÿæÉ Óç¢íÿÀÿþß, {’ÿQç{àÿ ¨÷üëÿàÿâ ÜëÿF Üõÿ’ÿß æ 1. ÉçÉë Sê†ÿ Lÿ÷{þ A¤ÿLÿæÀÿ AæÓB {Wæsç, ¨÷µÿæ†ÿ DBô{àÿ~ç †ÿæÀÿæ {SæsçLÿç {Sæsç æ ¨æÜÿçàÿæ A¤ÿæÀÿ Àÿfœÿê, Dvÿ Dvÿ ¯ÿæÁÿ{Lÿ, `ÿÀÿæ ÓæÀÿç ¨äê AæLÿæ{É DÝç, œÿ¯ÿêœÿ ¨÷µÿæ†ÿ Óþß, F{¯ÿ SæA ¨ëàÿ{Lÿ æ ¯ÿÓæLëÿ Aæœÿ{¢ÿ S{àÿ ¯ÿæÜëÿÝç æ ’ÿÉ ’ÿçS {’ÿQ Dg´Áÿ ¨æB Àÿ¯ÿç LÿçÀÿ~, ÜÿÁÿLÿæþ ÓæÀÿç LõÿÌLÿþæ{œÿ, üëÿàÿ üëÿsçAdç Lÿæœÿ{œÿ, ™ê{Àÿ ¯ÿ{Üÿ ¨¯ÿœÿ æ {ü Àÿç¾æDd;ÿç ’ÿç¯ÿæ¯ÿÓæ{œÿ æ $#{àÿ A{`ÿ†ÿœÿ œÿç’ÿ÷æ{Àÿ Ó{¯ÿö ™Àÿ~ê¯ÿæÓê, ¯ÿæÁÿ{Lÿ AæÓç{àÿ ¨ævÿÉæÁÿæÀëÿ, Lÿç þ¦ ¨Þçàÿæ ¨÷µÿæ†ÿ {LÿDô {’ÿÉÀëÿ AæÓç æ ÜÿÓÜÿÓ þëQ ’ÿç{É Óë`ÿæÀëÿ æ œÿ¯ÿ¨÷æ~ àÿµÿç ä~{Lÿ fæSç Dvÿç{àÿ Ó{¯ÿö, àÿSæB{àÿ Óq’ÿê¨ WÀÿ~ê, AæLÿæÉ ¨õ$#¯ÿê ¨íÀÿçàÿæ þÜÿæ-Aæœÿ¢ÿ Àÿ{¯ÿ æ A¤ÿLÿæ{Àÿ ¯ëÿÝçSàÿæ ™Àÿ~ê æ ¯ÿçÜÿ{èÿ SæB{àÿ Óèÿê†ÿ, AæÜÿæ Lÿç þ{œÿæÜÿÀÿ, 2. Sandhya (Dusk) {Ó Sê†ÿ É÷¯ÿ{~ Üõÿ’ÿß œÿæ`ÿçD{vÿ {þæÜÿÀÿ æ The Sun sets in the western direction, Oh ! what a beautiful picturesque Crimson. ¯ÿçÜÿèÿ Óèÿ{†ÿ ¯ÿæÁÿ{Lÿ, SæA Aæœÿ¢ÿ þ{œÿ, The western sky is of Vermilion hue, Üõÿ’ÿ{ß ÓëþÀÿç fS†ÿ-¨ç†ÿæ ÓõÎç-LÿæÀÿ{~ æ My heart fills with joy, when I this do view. 41 Odisha Review October - 2012 Gradually darkness makes its descent, The stars, one by one, make their advent. Óë¢ÿÀÿ LÿþÁÿ üëÿsç Ó{Àÿæ¯ÿ{Àÿ, ™ê{Àÿ {’ÿæÜÿàÿB ¯ÿæßë ¨ÀÿÉ{Àÿ æ Birds flying in the sky, finishing their grazing, With mirth retreat to their nestling. œÿæœÿæ fæ†ÿç üëÿàÿ üëÿsçdç Lÿæœÿ{œÿ, The farmers, after finishing their ploughing, µÿ÷þB µÿ÷þÀÿ Aæœÿ¢ÿç†ÿ þ{œÿ æ Are returning in the evening. The children return from school, ÉçÉçÀÿÀÿ ¯ÿç¢ëÿ þëLëÿ†ÿæ ¨ÀÿæF, Their smiling faces looking beautiful. ¨ë{Ñ ¨{†ÿ÷ AæÜÿæ {Lÿ{Ý {Éæµÿæ¨æF æ The housewives, the evening lamps light, ¯ÿæÁÿLÿ ¯ÿæÁÿçLÿæ ™Àÿç~ `ÿæèëÿÝç, The world drenches in the darkness of the night. üëÿàÿ {†ÿæÁëÿd;ÿç ’ÿDÝç ’ÿDÝç æ (B) From Chandamala (The Garland of Rhymes) FLÿæ{Áÿ ¯ÿæÁÿ{Lÿ fæSç Aæœÿ¢ÿ{Àÿ, ¨÷µÿæ†ÿ : ÓëþÀÿ Üõÿ’ÿ{ß fS†ÿ-CÉ´{Àÿ æ (œÿs¯ÿæ~ê ¯õÿˆÿ) †ÿæZÿÀÿç Lõÿ¨æÀëÿ ¨æBàÿ ¨÷µÿæ†ÿ, `ÿD’ÿçS {Wæsç$#àÿæ A¤ÿLÿæÀÿ, µÿNÿçµÿ{Àÿ †ÿæZëÿ LÿÀÿ ¨÷~ç¨æ†ÿ æ œÿêÀÿ¯ÿ œÿçÊÿÁÿ $#àÿæ F ÓóÓæÀÿ æ 1. Prabhat (Dawn) ™Àÿ~ê{LÿæÁÿ{Àÿ fê¯ÿf;ëÿS~, There was darkness all around, With silent stillness the Earth did abound. œÿç’ÿ÷æþæßæ¯ÿ{Áÿ $#{àÿ A{`ÿ†ÿœÿ æ On Earth’s lap, all its inhabitant, ¨í¯ÿö AæLÿæÉ{Àÿ ¯ÿçÀÿæfçàÿæ {f¿æ†ÿç, Were under sleep’s illusion, quiescent. ä~{Lÿ fæSçàÿæ Ó¯ÿö ¯ÿÓëþ†ÿê æ In the Eastern Sky, the glow advents ¯ÿçÜÿèÿœÿæ’ÿ{Àÿ ¨íÀÿçàÿæ fS†ÿ, Awakening the universe, in moments. AæLÿæÉ ÓæSÀÿ Lÿæœÿœÿ ¨¯ÿö†ÿ æ With the twittering of birds, the world does fill, Pervading sky, ocean, garden and hill. {LÿæBàÿç ’ÿßæÁëÿ LÿfÁÿ¨æ†ÿçÀÿ The notes of the merciful, wagtail to the nightangle, LÿæLÿÁÿçLëÿ ¯ÿÜÿçAæ~B ÓþêÀÿ æ Are being dispersed by a breeze, so gentle. LÿæAæ LÿæAæ Àÿæ{¯ÿ W{Àÿ W{Àÿ ÀÿæB, The crowing of the raven is heard from every home, LëÿAæF ¯ëÿàÿ;ÿç fS†ÿ fSæB æ Who, to arouse the world, do everywhere roam. In a twinkle of an eye, the Sun rises in heaven, `ÿæÜëÿô `ÿæÜëÿô Àÿ¯ÿç DBôàÿæ SS{œÿ, There is the stirring of life on Earth, all over again. fê¯ÿÀÿ `ÿÜÿÁÿ ¨Ýçàÿæ µëÿ¯ÿ{œÿ æ Everybody hastens, rejuvenated with new life, œÿ¯ÿ¨÷æ~ àÿµÿç ™æBô{àÿ ÓÀÿ{¯ÿ, To go to each one’s daily strife. {¾ ¾æÜÿæ Lÿæ¾ö¿{Àÿ Sþç{àÿ þæœÿ{¯ÿ æ Carrying his plough, to the field, goes the farmer, The cowherd is guiding the cattle to the pasture. LõÿÌLÿ ¯ÿçàÿLëÿ ¾æDdç ¯ÿÜÿœÿ, Children holding books in their hands, happily, {SævÿLëÿ SDÝ {œÿDdç {S晜ÿ æ Are going to school, in the morn, joyfully. Üÿ{Ìö ÉçÉëS~ {¨æ$# ™Àÿç Üÿæ{†ÿ, The delightful lotus blooms in the lake, `ÿæsÉæÁÿê ¾æ;ÿç Aæœÿ{¢ÿ ¨÷µÿæ{†ÿ æ Slowly rocking in the mild wind’s wake. 42 October - 2012 Odisha Review In the garden, flowers bloom, in various hues, The bumble bee drones with an euphoric muse. ’ÿçœÿ A{;ÿ Àÿæ†ÿç Aæ{Ó ¾æÜÿæZÿ ¯ÿç™æ{œÿ, ÓëþÀÿ {Ó ¯ÿç™æ†ÿæZëÿ Aæ{Üÿ ÉçÉëþæ{œÿ æ Dew glisten like pearls, beautifully set, On the leaves of the many floret. LÿÀÿ{¾æÝç LÿÀÿ F{¯ÿ Ó¤ÿ¿æÀÿ ¯ÿ¢ÿœÿ, Boys and girls holding flower baskets, {¯ÿæàÿ, ™œÿ¿ ™œÿ¿ ¨÷µëÿ µëÿ¯ÿœÿLÿæÀÿ~ æ Are plucking flowers running to the thickets. 2. Sandhya (Dusk) At this time children, with, joy, arise, The ‘Lord of the Universe’, in your minds, memorize. The day has come to an end, the Sun has retired, The nocturnal queen has come, in black, attired. Due to His mercy, you have got this dawn, Prostrate before Him, with all devotion. Evening has come ! it has come ! is the avians’ clarion, As they fly back to their nests, each alone. 2. Ó¤ÿ¿æ Raising the dust on the road and mooing, (ÀÿæS-¯ÿÓ;ÿ) The cattle, to their sheds, are returning. The farmer, all happy, after a days ploughing, AÖ {Üÿ{àÿ ’ÿçœÿþ~ç {Üÿàÿæ ’ÿçœÿ {ÉÌ, Is returning home joyfully singing. AæÓB ÀÿfœÿêÀÿæ~ê ™Àÿç LÿÁÿæ {¯ÿÉ æ In a twinkle of an eye, the sky darkens, Ó¤ÿ¿æ {Üÿàÿæ Ó¤ÿ¿æ {Üÿàÿæ {¯ÿæàÿç ¨äêS~ Enveloping, water, land, hills and gardens. Stars, like crores of golden lamps, burning, Àÿæ¯ÿ {’ÿB {¾læ ¯ÿæ{Ó LÿÀÿ;ÿç Sþœÿ æ One by one, in the sky are twinkling. ™íÁÿç DÝæB~ ’ÿæ{ƒ LÿÀÿç Üÿºæ ÀÿÝç, Gatherings and crowds of the day have now broken, ¾æDd;ÿç {SæÀëÿ¨àÿ {SævÿÀëÿ ¯ÿæÜëÿÝç æ In this world there is no living sound to harken.