ನೋಡೆ ಸಖಿ ನಿನ್ನವ್ವ / Look dear, your mother

ನೋಡೆ ಸಖಿ ನಿನ್ನವ್ವ

 

ನೋಡೆ ಸಖಿ ನಿನ್ನವ್ವ

ಮೊಗ್ಗಿನ ಜಡೆ ಹಾಕುತಾಳಂತೆ

 

ಕೈಯಾರ ಹೂಗಳನಾರಿಸಿ

ಮೊಗ್ಗಿಗೆ ಮೊಗ್ಗ ಹಣೆದು

ರಂಗಿನ ಹೂಗಳ ಹೊಲೆದು

ಹೂದುಂಡನು ಕಟ್ಟುವಳಂತೆ

ನೋಡೆ ಸಖಿ ನಿನ್ನವ್ವ

ಮೊಗ್ಗಿನ ಜಡೆ ಹಾಕುತಾಳಂತೆ

 

ನಿನ್ನವ್ವನ ರಂಪವ ಕೇಳೆ

ನಿನಗೋಸುಗ ಹಟವ ನೋಡೆ

ಅರಮನೆಯ ಬನದ ಹೂಗಳಾಗದಂತೆ

ಮೊಗ್ಗುಗಳ ಪರಿಮಳ ಸಾಲದಂತೆ

ಮಿಥಿಲೆಯ ಪುಷ್ಪಗಳು ಬೇಡವಂತೆ

ಅವುಗಳ ಚೆಲುವು ನಿನ್ನ ಮೀರದಂತೆ

ನಂದನವನದ ಪಾರಿಜಾತವೂ ಸಾಲದು

ಬ್ರಹ್ಮನೇ ಹೊಸದೊಂದ ಸೃಷ್ಟಿಸಬೇಕೆ

ನೋಡೆ ಸಖಿ ನಿನ್ನವ್ವ

ಮೊಗ್ಗಿನ ಜಡೆ ಹಾಕುತಾಳಂತೆ

 

ಮಲ್ಲಿಗೆ ಮೊಗ್ಗುಗಳನಾರಿಸ ಹೋಗಿ

ಮಿಥಿಲೆಯ ಹೂಬನಗಳು ಬರಡಾದವು

ದುಂಬಿಗಳು ಮಧುವಿಲ್ಲದೆ ಬಡವಾದವು

ಬಡವಾಗಿ ಕಾಲ್ಕಿತ್ತು ಮರೆಯಾದವು

ನೋಡೆ ಸಖಿ ನಿನ್ನವ್ವ

ಮೊಗ್ಗಿನ ಜಡೆ ಹಾಕುತಾಳಂತೆ

 

ಮೊಗ್ಗಿಗೆ ಮೊಗ್ಗ ಹೊಲೆದು

ಕನಕಾಂಬರಕೆ ಮಲ್ಲಿಗೆ ಹಣೆದು

ನಡುವಲಿ ಸೇವಂತಿಗೆಯಿಟ್ಟು

ಸುತ್ತಲೂ ಸಂಪಿಗೆಯ ಕಟ್ಟಿರುವಳು

ನಿನ್ನೀ ಮೊಗ್ಗಿನ ಜಡೆಯಂದವ ನೋಡಿ

ನವಿಲೂ ನಾಚಿ ಗರಿಮುದುರಿತು

ಆಡುವ ನವಿಲ ಗರಿಕಾಣದೆ

ಮೇಘರಾಜ ಧರೆಗಿಳಿವನೆ?

ಹೀಗಾದರೇನೆ ಗತಿ?

ಮೋಹಕ ವೇಣಿವಿನ್ಯಾಸದ ಚಿತ್ತಾರವ

ಗಗನಕೆ ತೋರುವುದೊಂದೇ ಪರಿ

ಮೇಘವಿರಲಿ ಮೇಘಸದೃಶನೂ ಬಂದಾನು

ನೋಡೆ ಸಖಿ ನಿನ್ನವ್ವ

ಮೊಗ್ಗಿನ ಜಡೆ ಹಾಕುತಾಳಂತೆ

 

--------ರಾಮಾಂಜನೇಯ

 

This poem has two elements at its core: one, the mutual rapport between Seetamma and her “sakhi”, and the second, the insistence of her mother to weave her a “moggina jade”, literally, a plait of flower buds.  Sakhi is more easily understood, though an english equivalent is difficult to find.  A very strict translation would be “companion”, but sakhi connotes a certain familiarity, a respectful but affection filled friendship that is also quite intimate.  Friend simply doesn’t cut it.  Therefore, have retained “sakhi” in english as well.  “Moggina jade” is far more difficult to translate, since it is heavy with cultural context familiar to those from Karnataka and parts of Andhra and Tamil Nadu.  A moggina jade is basically decorating the plaits, from the beginning of the hairline to the tip of the plait, thick with jasmine buds (buds, not blossoms), interspersed with other flowers.  The buds are woven so densely that not a strand of hair is visible.  This is typically done on special occasions, but often, when a mother (or an elder sister) feels overly affectionate towards the younger girl, they decorate her hair with moggina jade.  For a young girl, a moggina jade is (used to be in my growing up years) a rare event, one to be savoured.  She would declare to her friends in advance, that the next day she will come with a moggina jade.  On the special day, she would get special treatment from friends and the pranksters would keep their distance.  Teachers would admire the moggina jade and enquire if it was the handiwork of the girl’s mother or a particularly skilled neighbour.  For anyone from the southern parts of the country, a moggina jade evokes particular memories, more so if you have had one in your childhood.  I digress.  How does one translate such a phrase?  After toying with several phrases, “weaving flowers in your hair” is one that seems simple enough though nowhere near the meaning of moggina jade.

 

Look dear, your mother

 

Look dear, your mother

Insists on weaving flowers in your hair

 

Choosing flowers with her own hands,

Binding blossom to blossom,

Knotting flowers multi-hued,

To plait them in your hair

Look dear, your mother

Insists on weaving flowers in your hair

 

Look at the scene she is creating

And the tantrums for your sake

Flowers of the palace garden are unsatisfactory

Fragrance of the jasmine buds not enough

Flowers of Mithila, she has rejected them all

Their prettiness not comparable to yours!

Why, even the Parijata from Indra’s garden is not enough for her!

Will Brahma have to conjure an inexistent flower?

Look dear, your mother

Insists on weaving flowers in your hair

 

In the effort to choose jasmine buds

The gardens of Mithila have become flowerless

The bees are shrivelled without sweet nectar

And have thus migrated away from the land

Look dear, your mother

Insists on weaving flowers in your hair

 

Stitching bud to bud

Weaving kanakambara with jasmine

With crysanthemums in the middle

She has put champaka all around

Seeing the beauty of the flowers in your hair

Peacocks have folded their train in shame

But without the brilliant fan of the dancing peacocks

Will the thick dark clouds descend on earth?

What shall we do now?

To show your captivating heavenly patterned plaits

To the sky is the only way for us

What to say of the clouds,

when the cloud-hued one will Himself descend,

drawn by these your plaits

 

Look dear, your mother

Insists on weaving flowers in your hair

 

--------Ram Sharaph