The shields of the

bombs and shells

that America dropped

on Laos

have become homes

for many people

today.

A majority of the poems included in this anthology are of a personal nature in the same sense that the focal point in most of the poems is his mother, who in the process becomes the mother, thanks to the archetypal images associated with her. It was during the 18th century that William Cowper wrote his memorable sentimental poem about his mother and the chair she sat on. Nothing in that poem affects the reader more than the intimacy, comfort and honour in the context of the mother. It is that same warmth and comfort that characterize Ramesh’s poems centred round his mother, father, grandmother and so on. It is an ever present mother that has etched herself permanently on the sensitive mind of Ramesh who basks in the sunshine of his native milieu. It is only occasionally that emptiness haunts him and always the distress is followed by cosy thoughts about the mother.

Another noteworthy string of thought that runs through his poems is the edifying nature of labour. This is a classical sentiment enshrined in folklore. It is also central to every community for whom agriculture is mainstay. Coming from this background Ramesh can jolly well declare that

he who has ploughed the earth

is a billionaire

in the poetry of love

but at the same time he deplores exhibitionism as unwholesome

Status, looks, wealth

should be like the work of an earthworm

underneath the ground.

As the earthworm climbs up

closer comes death.

Paradoxically enough, what is deplored is creativity, too, for the “earthworm underneath the ground” is creative, which status cannot be. The simile seems to be inapt, but the purport of the poet is quite unambiguous.

There are pantheistic outbursts like in

The forest springs forth

many tunes and melodies

that is the spoken word

of our little child.

Hope in the midst of agony, a longing for a better and brighter future, are in the ultimate analysis what the poet projects. He hopes to “make tomorrows our pillows.” But the pillows might be elusive, considering that the predatory nature of man might become manifest anytime. That is why the “underwater creatures” have a precarious existence:

Who has seen

the tears

of underwater creatures?

The tears are there nevertheless.

Having witnessed the horrors perpetrated by inhuman criminals in Cambodia, the poet is justly indignant about the rapacious malignant monster who plunders innocent poor people with no feelings. This plunderer – the United States, for example – is like the mythical Cain given to motiveless murder. However painful the ravages of war, one has to put up with it during and after the deadly event. The brutal marauder unleashing terror on innocent unarmed people walks away with his trophy leaving the victims to their fate. That has been the long story of a whole century of dastardly crimes by a mighty power which has regard neither for culture nor for life.

The shields of the

bombs and shells

that America dropped

on Laos

have become homes

for many people

today.

One only hopes that there shall be no more such homes either in Laos or elsewhere. That is the humanistic feeling that thematically pervades the poems of Ramesh. Equally vehement is the poet in Ramesh to chastise those whose indiscriminate destruction of civilization in the name of a higher civilization. (See “Like Blood Splashed” for instance). The net impact is that

the birds are learning

to fly even before hatching from eggs

It is not the tending of life but tormenting it. And that is what disturbs Ramesh. Surely a healthy disturbance when one realizes that

the spark of light

is being doused

as easily as pinching the wick

of a candle

Ramesh deserves our congratulations on exploring the conscience of man today and the translator deserves it too for his creative endeavour.

G Ramakrishna

22nd October 2007