Govinda Krishna Chettur Poems

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Govinda Krishna Chettur
Recollections by V. M. Padmini Chettur (October 2006) G. K. Chettur, my father, was the oldest of the four sons of Mr. and Mrs. P. K. Krishna Menon. His brothers were K. K. Chettur, I. F. S., Ambassador of India to Japan and Belgium, Col. R. K. Chettur, an Army doctor and surgeon, and S. K. Chettur, I. C. S., Indiaís representative to Malaysia in 1945 who retired as chief secretary of Tamil Nadu (Madras). Govinda Krishna Chettur did his M.A. from Oxford University in 1918-21, during which time he was the president of the Oxford Majlis. After his Oxford years, he wrote, "Is it not possible for Universities in India to exercise a similar ennobling influence on students? Is it not possible to alter the conditions under which they exist, to render them as Indian in character, as Oxford is distinctively English? One wonders whether our Universities have always been the dry uninspiring official institutions that confront one today in India." Accordingly, he took up his assignment as Principal, Govt. College, Mangalore, in 1922 at only 24 years of age, the youngest Principal of a Govt. College. He first met his wife Subhadra at Queen Maryís College, Madras, from which she graduated in 1924. They were married in 1925 and had one daughter, Padmini. Among Chettur's poems, Sounds and Images is a double sonnet sequence written in 1921 during his last yearís stay at Oxford. "The Last Enchantment" was dedicated to Sir Chettur Sankaran Nair, his uncle, and consists of Govinda Krishna's first impressions of Oxford, war days, and meetings with famous poets such as W. B. Yeats, Arther Symons, John Masefield, Rabindranath Tagore, and Mrs. Sarojini Naidu, the nightingale of India, his personal friend and mentor. His other works include The Temple Tank (1932) and The Shadow of God (1935), which was dedicated to the memory of his mother whom he loved dearly. She was well versed in both English and Sanskrit. The Ghost City (1932), a work of fiction, was dedicated to "Chocha," his pet name for his wife Subhadra, and also to his parents. His College Composition (1933), a wonderful book on grammar and structural English for college-age students, contains a wealth of information regarding the usage of the English language, correct use of words, sentence structure, and aids to essay-writing styles (graphic, elevated, humorous, etc.). Last, he edited Altars of Silence (1935), a collection of short articles on Shakespeare, Thomas Kempis, J. H. Newman, Seneca, and others that dealt with themes of meditation and prayer. I was a tiny tot when cruel fate snatched away my father. Memories of him are hazy but one picture surfaces from the recesses of my mind, which remains clear even up to this day. I remember my father lying in bed and my mother sitting silently by his side, shedding silent tears. I even remember asking her why she was crying, but she remained silent with tears flowing unabated. Being a toddler, I did not understand the gravity of the situation at that time. Then one day I was told that my father had gone on a long journey. Little did I realize that it was his final journey and that I would never see him again. But he continued to live in my memories ever since. As I grew older I came to understand him through his writings and my motherís recollections of him. The more I came to know about him my admiration and love for him grew and along with it a desire to write something about him. I did not have a clue as to how I could about doing it and so it remained un-attempted. Recently I was told that there was a website dedicated to my father, the late G. K. Chettur, and that it had samples of his works but did not furnish any information regarding the life and times of G. K. Chettur. I felt that God had given me an opportunity to fulfill my long cherished wish of writing something about my father--a daughterís humble dedication. Browsing through his works after a long gap provided an exciting and nostalgic journey down memory lane and this time I did not attempt to fight back the tears that flowed unabated, strengthening the bond of love and affection for my dear father all over again. I would like to take this opportunity to thank my cousin, Ms. Sreelatha Puthiyaveettil, without whose encouragement and support I would not have undertaken this venture. She is a post-graduate in English language and literature, an avid reader of fiction and poetry, specially romantic poetry, and the author of a critical appreciation of my fatherís sonnets, with special emphasis on The Triumph of Love and a few sonnets from The Temple Tank. She is at present busy with the translation of regional works of fiction into English. Chettur, Govinda Krishna. Sounds and Images. London: Erskine Macdonald, 1921. --. Gumataraya. Mangalore: Basel Mission Bookshop, 1932. --. The Temple Tank and Other Poems. Mangalore: Basel Mission Bookshop, 1932. --. The Triumph of Love. Mangalore: Basel Mission Bookshop, 1932. --. The Shadow of God. London: Longmans, 1934. The photograph is of Padmini, Subhadra, and Govinda Kristna Chettur, courtesy of Sreelatha Puthiyaveettil. Biographical information Given name: Govinda Krishna Family name: Chettur Birth date: 24 April 1898 Death date: 3 March 1936 Education: Oxford University (M.A.): 1918 to 1921 Occupation: Principal: 1922 Cause of death: Cancer

You are the Rose of me,
In you have I lost myself utterly,
Your fragrance, as a breath fro... [read poem]
god's grandeur
The world is charged with the grandeur of God.
It will flame out, like shining from shook foil;... [read poem]
the windhover
I caught this morning morning's minion, king-
dom of daylight's dauphin, dapple-dawn-drawn ... [read poem]
spring and fall, to a young child
Margaret, are you grieving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?
Leaves, like the things of man, you... [read poem]
as kingfishers catch fire
As kingfishers catch fire, dragonflies draw flame;
As tumbled over rim in roundy wells
Sto... [read poem]
the river of pearls at fez: translation
One evening we sat together
By the river of Pearls at Fez,
Stringing verses and sometimes ... [read poem]
the net of memory
I cast the Net of Memory,
Man's torment and delight,
Over the level Sands of Youth
Th... [read poem]
to the hills!
'Tis eight miles out, and eight miles in,
Just at the break of morn.
'Tis ice without and ... [read poem]
I awoke in the Midsummer not to call night, in the white and the walk of the
The ... [read poem]
no worst, there is none
"No worst, there is none. Pitched past pitch of grief,
More pangs will, schooled at forepangs, ... [read poem]
This darksome burn, horseback brown,
His rollrock highroad roaring down,
In coop and in co... [read poem]
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