KAHIHI

Narayan Surve, a fascinating Marathi poet died recently. His works, though mostly unrecognised, are a literary honour.

Narayan Surve, abondoned at birth was picked up by Gangaram Surve, who was a meagre mill worker. Had it not been the greatness of that mill man, we may have remained deprived of such a great poet. It was indeed like a great man picking up a great child prodigy.

His works, namely, "Majhe Vidyapeeth" and "Jahirnama" are profound enough to define what poetry should be. His poetry was a perfect of emotional turmoil, philosopical thought, and social angst.

Narayan Surve was self educated man, he taught himself to read & write, and he excelled so much that his writings today are a subject of study for many aspirants of literature.

The early morning mill siren,
And my sleep used to go kaput.
A dulcet ebullient baby,
I woke up in cries, and tears.
That made my mother too,
Retire from her slumber.
Light stokes on my back,
With mellifluous bustle,
Taking me back, into silent dream,
Even so, I never slept.
In a dim faded light,
I saw my begetter, coiffure his hair,
Costumed in his uniform.
A peck telling me,
I’m off to the mill.
Yarns he spun, of infinite length,
Gossamer like,
Then woven into cloth,
That rich adorned in.
I remember though,
He never had a share,
Of that fabric,
Same shirt, each single day,
Washed every Wednesday,
With patches stitched,
To hide the rend beneath.
Nonetheless, content he was,
Smiling, absolved of all pain.
An inspiration I admired,
Lying there naked,
Covered in a piece of cloth,
My sire wove in his mill.


No words of praise would be enough for a man of such a high literary stature. However, I make this humble attempt to write few lines of dedication to him.