Saturday, July 22, 2006

The lost poems

Unable to assimilate the growing hatred in the name of religion, I prefer to remain in my own understanding of religiousness and spirituality appreciating the beatitude of life, with open eyes without any prejudices hidden behind the eyes and looking with clarity at a small flower or grass or butterfly or a sunset or watching a moving cloud that gives more blissfulness than any other religion would have offered. The pre-requisite to be initiated into this religion is childlikeness, innocence and ignorance. Let innocenceness be the only religiousness and all it requires is the readiness to be a clean mirror that reflects nothing, utter silence and purity. The whole existence will be transformed for you; each moment becomes ecstatic and even sipping a cup of tea becomes more prayerful as any other prayer prescribed by any religion.

Apprehensive of the world to which I have brought my son Pranav, I wish he would remain in this childlikeness, innocence and the ignorance as long as he could. The moment he starts knowing things, he will no longer be a child. He will become a part of the adult world and will be initiated to the civilization loosing his essential nature. The old say, it is not easy to be a son; I say that it is more difficult to be a parent in this world and Sujathaa would agree with me too. In an effort to be a good father, I am getting transformed into the childlikeness. I have started recollecting all that were beautiful in my life and one such thing of beauty are the poems I had cherished during my childhood.

Pranav not only gets excited, but also attempts to imitate, when I rhyme the poems that I have treasured from my school days. The first time when I tried it, he stopped his cry and hence, it has become a habit of mine to rhyme these beautiful verses whenever he cries. I could recollect with ease, the bits and pieces of the lines as they were learnt with the child-like innocence. Though, I was unable to appreciate the grandeur of innocence at that point of time because of the ignorance, the remnants of my childhood has endured to this day and have started flowering through Pranav. I am sure this is case with most of the parents.

Here are the two beautiful poems that were taught by Mr.George Joseph (GJ), one of the English Teachers, when I was in my sixth class. Though, I am able to remember a couple of stanzas, my memory fails every time I try to complete these poems. I would greatly appreciate if any one could complete the missing stanzas, so that I need not repeat the bits and pieces of these poems.

FYI – The name of the poems are – “My House is red” and “Trot Trot the baby goes”. I couldn’t find then in the web. The poems were present in the sixth class English book in CBSE syllabus in 1987 and were later lifted owing to their childlikeness, when the syllabus was changed in 1990. The NCERT has failed to realize that the most extraordinary things in life are the most ordinary ones. Any Amaravian? JP, JK, Batcha, KNR, Murghki?

My House is red

My house is red,
A little house,
A happy child am I.

I laugh and play,
I live long day,
I hardly ever cry.

I have a tree,
A green green tree,
To shade me from the sun.

And under it,
I often sit,
When all my works are done.

My little basket,
I will take,
To trip into the town.

4 stanzas missing...........

Trot Trot the baby goes

Trot Trot the baby goes,
Trot trot to town,
Across the river,
Through the hills,
Up hill and down.

Trot Trot the baby goes,
Trot trot to town,
3 stanzas missing


Kavi said...

Your post brings back old memories! Wish i could live life backwards in time, taking to care not to lose the child like innocence ever at all. Pranav looks very cute.

Some day he will lose his innocence. And some day he will return to it. Hope he takes the longest periods of time for both !

Anonymous said...

Hey Shiva,

Nice blog entry, I too remember the Trot Trot poem...though not fully!!
It starts like "Every evening baby goes...." and I could find the remaining on the net:


Every evening Baby goes
Trot, trot, to town,
Across the river, through the fields,
Up hill and down.

Trot, trot, the Baby goes,
Up hill and down,
To buy a feather for her hat,
To buy a woolen gown.

Trot, trot, the Baby goes;
The birds fly down, alack!
"You cannot have our feathers, dear,"
They say, "so please trot back."

Trot, trot, the Baby goes;
The lambs come bleating near.
"You cannot have our wool," they say,
"But we are sorry, dear."

Trot, trot, the Baby goes,
Trot, trot, to town;
She buys a red rose for her hat,
She buys a cotton gown.

Mary F. Butts [1836-1902]

Courtesy: [page 113]


Anonymous said...

Hi Siva,

I still remember SWARAM of this poem. If someone shouts, I can do
namaga, namaga. Because, I was doing the same.

But I remember this poem which GJ was teaching in Bharathi House when
seniors went to trecking.

Jack and Jill;
went up the hill, to fetch a pail of water,
Jack fell down and broke his crown
and tt.... often.

Ofcourse, I remember below rhymes ....

1. Remama remama ... remamama re ... Hamthago
2. I am an aunty, antimonica ... when s.. was shopping ... Ala ooola
le .
3. Jula Julu Julu rahe hai ...

I think, Subban is good in these rhymes... or May be 6th failure can
help us ...

- Haroon

Anonymous said...

Hike ponapoo...we also had this

10 green bottles standing on the wall...
one green bottle accidently fall...

GJ started it from 25 or so and slept off...we had to do the count down


Anonymous said...

Some missed out poems are...
1.Sands of Dee By Charles Kingsley-Taught by Shiela Cherian
2.In the morning, in the morning by the sea...( master piece of RN Vengatraman-2486)
3. Aunty monica-Made famous by Vijay mithra-2503 by taking an umbrella and dancing in the lawn of Boys' mess in 1987
when there was a get together for Valluvar & Bharthi house.