Badaga Poems

Badaga/Badagu is a rich and sweet language spoken by the Badagas of the Blue Mountains!

Many BALLADS rendered by a singer in any Badaga gathering had added richness to this unique language apart from bringing out many traditions that were passed down many generations.

Though, not having a script of its own is a handicap, many Badaga poets have kept the great art of blending beautifully the Badaga words, by composing many poems where the play of words rhyme so well and sounds musical.

One such poem is ENNA AVVAY – MY MOTHER by Kunna Bikkatti B.MOHAN (published in 1993) that brings out the true and pure love of a mother for her son.

Enna Awai
by B.Mohan [of Kunna Bikkatti]

(From ‘Mandhadha Maathu’ – Published by Badaga Welfare Association, Madras, issue dated 1-4-93 (Hannu 3,- Hoo 10)

Kettu Muridhu Naa Kerio Kulibaneyu,
Huttu Nattu Enna Hollandhu Hegoneyu,
Hethu Thathi Saakidha Awai Enna,
Hollandhu Hegule Maathi Allandhu thallule.

Goonu bhuddu Naa Cooli Geevaneyu,
Huttu Kettu Naa Maasi Kulibaneyu,
Pattu Beetha Batte Ekkoneyu,
Kettandhu Hegule Awai Enna Mattandhu Thallule.

Kottage Huggi Naa Geria Baakoneyu,
Araya Kulidu Naa Danava Mesoneyu,
Horia Thookki Naa Hotte Kaibeneyu,
Gorey Endhu Hegule Awai Ondhu Ariandhu Nudivile.

என்ன அவ்வை

[ பி .மொஹன் – குன்ன பிக்கட்டி]

 (மந்தத மாத்து, படக வெல்ஃபெர் அசொசியெஷன், மெட்ராஸ்,1-4-93 ,(ஹண்ணு 3, ஹூ 10)

கெட்டு முரிது நா கேரியோ குளிபனெயு,
ஹுட்டு நட்டு என்ன ஹொல்லந்து ஹெகொனெயு,
ஹெத்து தத்தி சாக்கித அவ்வை என்ன,
ஹொல்லாந்து ஹெகுலே, மாத்தி அல்லாந்து தள்ளுலெ.

கூனு புத்து நா கூலி கீவனேயு,
ஹுட்டு கெட்டு நா மாசி குளிபனெயு,
பட்டு பீத்த பட்டே இக்கொனேயு,
கெட்டுண்டு ஹொகலி எந்து அவ்வை
என்ன மட்டாந்து தள்ளுலெ.

கொட்டகே ஹுக்கி நா கோரய பாக்கோனெயு,
அரய குளிது நா தனவ மெசுவொனெயு,
ஹோரிய தூக்கி நா ஹொட்டே கைபெனெயு,
கொரெ எந்து ஹேகுலெ அவ்வை
ஒந்து அரியாந்து நுடிவிலெ

English Translation of the above poem by Bellie Jayaprakash

My Mother

Even when I was down with poverty and sat at the front court yard,
Even when the near and dear ones despised and deserted,
My mother who gave birth, cared for and brought me up,
Did not blame me and did not reject me – her son, as bad

Even when I toiled as a Cooli with a bent back,
Even when I sat down with my looks dulled and dirty,
Even when I wore patched up old clothes,
My mother never said that I was down ; never rejected me as poor!

Even when I entered the stables and cleaned the dung,
Even when I sat on the rock and tendered the cows,
Even when I lifted loads to earn so as to suppress the hunger,
My mother never found any fault ; never scolded me as ignorant.

I have great pleasure in ‘putting’ that poem in the following audio/video



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