Say... to the book fair!
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The winter that suffocates the northern regions and leaves no way, but every year brings two good festivals to the Telugu states - snow palanquins. These are the Parvas mentioned in the Almanacs. These are book fairs where literature lovers thrive. Feasts for the Mastakas. First, the scents of new books that bloom in Bhagyanagara - the man of time will be worshiped and bid adieu. As soon as the new year dawns, Vijayawada is greeted with good morning fragrances. Like the multi-colored jewels in the Janajatars- in the book fairs, the stalls are lined up like train boxes. Shamiana nests are often nesting nests. Otherwise - the carousels turn themselves - they turn the crowd around. Both excitement and fun are equal! Carousel- Turns back the wheel of time and takes us back to childhood. Poems in Pottapugudi- illuminate time with the help of poets' dreams and take us into the world of dreams. Excavates the mounds of memories.
The temple of God- for soul illumination, the temple of soul- for mental development! As soon as you enter the temples, you will be met with sweet mangalvadyas and camphor aartis. In Pottapu Gudi, they meet all the poets from Nannaya to Navaya Tenugu and are touched spiritually. Jugalbandis are performed by Prabandhakas and Western writers. The great poet's words 'slip the chains of caste bonds and gain wealth' come true. The borders of nations will be erased. Distinctions of caste and religion will be abolished. They draw our attention to themselves from the palm of the hand. Nourishes the brain. Brightens the eyes. Enter Mantranagari. There, the bridegrooms teased, saying, 'Why are you looking for something?' Navapallavakomala kavyakanyas wink. Lajvaras are carved and carved. On the other hand, from the looms of the weavers, from the plows of the farmers, from the sharp sickles of the workers, from the oppressions, from the roots - the moans fall on the ear. If Kavyas appeal to the mind - tears touch the heart. Both join and move man. They shake.
'You have a brain like that. Give it some fodder,' says Chalam. Pablo Neruda warns, 'The day you stop reading, you start dying'. A wet and dry mother tongue that is spiritually overflowing with Aarti beats the heart. From Shakespeare of yesteryear to Gugi wa Thiango, who passed away recently, the English language has given taste to many westerners. The insatiable thirst of a connoisseur who knows both- will be quenched by wrapping silk sarees to that western music. Those poets can fulfill the long-standing wishes of poets who say, 'If someone comes and says that my book has influenced them - the happiness and satisfaction I feel - Nobel will not take anything away'. By the time we finish Mantranagari Mahayatra, as Arudra said, the mind is feverish. Bubbles are born. A desire arises to touch those books. It seems that if you turn a room of your house into a temple and worship Anunityam with them, then the bushes will not end. What the picture is - it is a recurring fever, a longing gloom. Padandi- because the mind has always listened to us!
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