Eruka.

The Song — “ఎరుక” (Eruka)

1. The Learned and the Glutton

అండ పిండ బ్రహ్మాండ విచారణ పండితులకు ఎరుక

తిండిపోతులై తిరిగేది శుద్ధ బండలకేం ఎరుక?

Anda–piṇḍa–brahmāṇḍa vicāraṇa

paṇḍitulaku eruka;

tiṇḍipōtulai tirigēdi

śuddha baṇḍalakēṁ eruka?

Meaning:

The learned understand the great inquiry into the individual and the vast universe.

But what can those who simply wander about eating and indulging themselves—dull as stones—possibly know?

The contrast is wonderfully playful:

Paṇḍitulu → inquiry, thought and understanding

Tiṇḍipōtulu → merely eating and indulging

The poet is saying that a human life is meant for inquiry, not merely consumption.

2. What Is in Another Person's Mind?

ఎవరి తలంపు ఎలాగున ఉన్నాడో

ఈశ్వరునకు ఎరుక.

గౌరవం ఎరుగని గర్దభంబులకు

గణ్యత లేమి ఎరుక?

Evari talampu elāguna unnādō

Īśvarunaku eruka.

Gauravam erugani gardhabambulaku

gaṇyata lēmi eruka?

Meaning:

Only Īśvara knows what lies in each person's mind.

What can donkeys, who know nothing of dignity or honour, know of greatness or worth?

This is particularly clever Telugu wordplay:

Gauravam — honour, dignity, respect

Gaṇyata — distinction, importance, greatness

Gardhabam — donkey

The underlying wisdom is deeper than the joke:

Do not expect everyone to recognise greatness.

Recognition itself requires understanding.

And ultimately, only Īśvara knows the true contents of another person's heart.

3. The Footprints of the Bhāgavatas

భాగవత్తుల జాడలు ఈ జగతిని

యోగ్యులకే ఎరుక;

రాగద్వేషముల నణచక తిరుగు

అయోగ్యులకేం ఎరుక?

Bhāgavattula jāḍalu ī jagatini

yōgyulakē eruka;

rāga-dvēṣamula naṇachaka tirugu

ayōgyulakēṁ eruka?

Meaning:

The footprints and ways of the devotees of Bhagavān in this world are understood only by the worthy.

What can those who wander about without subduing attachment and aversion possibly understand?

This is a beautiful thought.

A Bhāgavata may appear to be an ordinary person. The depth of his or her conduct may not be visible to everybody.

Only someone with a prepared mind can recognise it.

And the obstacle is rāga-dveṣa — attachment and aversion, likes and dislikes.

When the mind is constantly pulled by:

“I like this.”

“I dislike that.”

“I want this.”

“I cannot tolerate that.”

it has little space left to perceive something deeper.

4. The Footprints of the Bhagavad Gītā

భగవద్గీతల జాడలు ఈ జగతిని

యోగ్యులకే ఎరుకా?

రాగద్వేషముల నణచక తిరుగు

అయోగ్యులకేమి ఎరుకా?

Bhagavad-gītala jāḍalu ī jagatini

yōgyulakē erukā?

rāga-dvēṣamula naṇachaka tirugu

ayōgyulakēmi erukā?

Meaning:

Are the traces of the Bhagavad Gītā in this world understood only by the worthy?

What can those who wander about without conquering attachment and aversion possibly understand?

This is perhaps the most beautiful stanza for me.

The poet is suggesting that the Gītā is not confined to a book.

Its teachings leave their footprints everywhere:

in how we face difficulty,

in how we control anger,

in how we perform our duty,

in how we accept success and failure,

in how we treat others,

and in how we remain steady amid life's changes.

And yet, simply reading the Gītā does not necessarily mean seeing the Gītā.

That requires inner preparation.

It beautifully recalls Bhagavad Gītā 2.64:

rāga-dveṣa-viyuktais tu

viṣayān indriyaiś caran...

—one who moves through the world free from attachment and aversion attains inner clarity.

5. The Bee and the Mosquito 

సుందర రస మాధురి క్రమముగా గొల్లుట

భ్రమరములకు ఎరుక;

పామరములుగా రక్తపానము చేసేది

దోమలకేం ఎరుక?

Sundara-rasa mādhuri kramamugā golluṭa

bhramaramulaku eruka;

pāmaramulugā raktapānamu chēsēdi

dhōmalakēṁ eruka?

Meaning:

The bees know how to gradually savour beautiful sweetness.

But what do mosquitoes know? They merely drink blood!

And this is where the poet's humour really comes alive. 

The bee seeks nectar.

The mosquito seeks blood.

Both are insects. Both feed. But what they seek reveals what they are capable of appreciating.

So the poet is again asking:

What can one who knows only crude enjoyment understand of sweetness?

What holds the whole song together?

There is one word running through almost every stanza:

ఎరుక — Eruka

Knowing. Understanding. Awareness. Recognition.

And the song keeps asking:

Who can know?

Who can recognise?

Who has the capacity to understand?

The learned understand the universe.

The wise understand the mind.

The worthy recognise the Bhāgavata.

The spiritually prepared recognise the Gītā in life.

And the bee recognises nectar.

The person lost in mere indulgence sees only food.

The donkey cannot recognise greatness.

The person ruled by rāga-dveṣa cannot recognise the path of devotion.

The mosquito knows only blood.

And that is why the song is so delightful.

It is philosophy disguised as teasing folk wisdom.

Instead of giving us a heavy sermon, the poet says, in effect:

“What would they know?” —

“కేం ఎరుక?”

And that repeated phrase gives the whole song its wonderful rhythm, wit and bite. 

I particularly like the movement from Brahmāṇḍa → Īśvara → Bhāgavata → Bhagavad Gītā → bee and mosquito. It moves from the highest philosophical inquiry to an everyday humorous image, while keeping the same central question: Do we merely live—or do we understand?