Was I so far gone that I did not realize that the f was getting coded as r?
Well, I am sorry: it is to be read "safar-ed" and not sarar-ed.
What do I talk of tonite, U499?
About the girl who walked by wearing a shirt with U on it? What does that mean?
Do we talk of safdar hashmi and farida zalaal and aamir khan:
I wonder why the venerable asad/owaisi does not call him a non-muslim
No, let us not digress from edward who said:
fuck imperial america. orientalist europe. I say: Once More.
++
Share my dream share my coca cola
Always the real thing!
What dream and what is the real thing?
Which is coke and which is cock, damn it?
++
babe, you gimme a tour plan when you come a-visiting
and I will try and arrange for some excitement
if that is what you want: for my small tummy,
I want the protection of Lord Rama. Oh Srividya, shut up!
==
oh it was nigel not joseph? [the other brother]
Indeed: not gerian but the bolder one??
==
nor onions no garlic; no chicken nor fish [eat well, sleep well]
learn to be a tambrahm: which you should have, could have - easily
whose fault is it that you fell for mallu teachers
and angloindian bastards? "I fathom it would be a long way, dear!"
===
not too late. do you want me to bash the dali[ght]s out of you?
I could do that; but there is time for a hundred revisions, no?
- come back and be good. send the pants to the pantry
- come back and behave, if you can. else, stay put [in canada or boondocks]
You got a 'warm' welcome awaiting you in Hyderabad
Game for it? write to sankarar@gmail.com
==
Monday, July 18, 2011
Sunday, July 17, 2011
for all those who sarar-ed with me, thus far
You heard about my mom, in these blogs. You read about Sankara Sastry Rjanala Sr, my grandfather, whom I detest. You know a good deal of what I have been through and have been at. Now that you suffered me, sarar-ed with me thus long, thus far - here is one straight from the heart. man to man. father to son. what? son to father.
Actually, it is father to son, as my father gave it to me.
We go on a two-day trip from delhi to hardar and rishikesh. I told him, after we had a dip in the ganges in Hardwar - thought it was safe now - that one has to take (according to the custom in delhi then) as many dips as there are family members. My father already took the usual three dips and we were vending our way home. We stay overnight. The next day, the plan was to go to rishikesh, have a dip and return to delhi by evening. My father had other plans.
He said: Sankara, yesterday I did not get the satisfaction of dipping in the Ganga. I knew what was coming; he wanted to do 30 dips for the united hindu fambly, of which he was god. I said let us go to rishikesh, it is less crowded; we can dip as much as you like. He said, No. Hardwar is a holy place and rishikesh is a sporting hub. Here is where I want another holy dip. He told me I could go back and wait at the ashram for them. I was hot: No thanks, I said. Take your 30 dips, old man! And I counted all thirty.
He was back ashore from the crowd and the muddy ganges, all smiling. He was a wicked old man. Onward we went to risikesh: and right in he went into the waters. I said this is just the beginning. Next year, we will go into char dham.
He said: kid, this is the end, for me.
That was it...
Actually, it is father to son, as my father gave it to me.
We go on a two-day trip from delhi to hardar and rishikesh. I told him, after we had a dip in the ganges in Hardwar - thought it was safe now - that one has to take (according to the custom in delhi then) as many dips as there are family members. My father already took the usual three dips and we were vending our way home. We stay overnight. The next day, the plan was to go to rishikesh, have a dip and return to delhi by evening. My father had other plans.
He said: Sankara, yesterday I did not get the satisfaction of dipping in the Ganga. I knew what was coming; he wanted to do 30 dips for the united hindu fambly, of which he was god. I said let us go to rishikesh, it is less crowded; we can dip as much as you like. He said, No. Hardwar is a holy place and rishikesh is a sporting hub. Here is where I want another holy dip. He told me I could go back and wait at the ashram for them. I was hot: No thanks, I said. Take your 30 dips, old man! And I counted all thirty.
He was back ashore from the crowd and the muddy ganges, all smiling. He was a wicked old man. Onward we went to risikesh: and right in he went into the waters. I said this is just the beginning. Next year, we will go into char dham.
He said: kid, this is the end, for me.
That was it...
Just a few lines of ol' Patrick's today....
Oh, she walked unaware of her own increasing beauty
That was holding men's thoughts from market or plough,
As she passed by intent on her womanly duties
And she passed without leisure to be wayward or proud;
Or if she had pride then it was not in her thinking
But thoughtless in her body like a flower of good breeding.
The first time I saw her spreading coloured linen
Beyond the green willow she gave me gentle greeting
With no more intention than the leaning willow tree.
Though she smiled without intention yet from that day forward
Her beauty filled like water the four corners of my being,
And she rested in my heart like a hare in the form
That is shaped to herself. And I that would be singing
Or whistling at all times went silently then,
Till I drew her aside among straight stems of beeches
When the blackbird was sleeping and she promised that never
The fields would be ripe but I'd gather all sweetness,
A red moon of August would rise on our wedding.
October is spreading bright flame along stripped willows,
Low fires of the dogwood burn down to grey water,--
God pity me now and all desolate sinners
Demented with beauty! I have blackened my thought
In drouthts of bad longing, and all brightness goes shrouded
Since he came with his rapture of wild words that mirrored
Her beauty and made her ungentle and proud.
Tonight she will spread her brown hair on his pillow,
But I shall be hearing the harsh cries of wild fowl.
That was holding men's thoughts from market or plough,
As she passed by intent on her womanly duties
And she passed without leisure to be wayward or proud;
Or if she had pride then it was not in her thinking
But thoughtless in her body like a flower of good breeding.
The first time I saw her spreading coloured linen
Beyond the green willow she gave me gentle greeting
With no more intention than the leaning willow tree.
Though she smiled without intention yet from that day forward
Her beauty filled like water the four corners of my being,
And she rested in my heart like a hare in the form
That is shaped to herself. And I that would be singing
Or whistling at all times went silently then,
Till I drew her aside among straight stems of beeches
When the blackbird was sleeping and she promised that never
The fields would be ripe but I'd gather all sweetness,
A red moon of August would rise on our wedding.
October is spreading bright flame along stripped willows,
Low fires of the dogwood burn down to grey water,--
God pity me now and all desolate sinners
Demented with beauty! I have blackened my thought
In drouthts of bad longing, and all brightness goes shrouded
Since he came with his rapture of wild words that mirrored
Her beauty and made her ungentle and proud.
Tonight she will spread her brown hair on his pillow,
But I shall be hearing the harsh cries of wild fowl.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Saluting Salah... Revisiting Pragati Nagar
In the year 2011, during Ganesh festival, there will be more clay Ganeshas in the city of Hyderabad - than there were last year. Last year itself, because the comrades in Pragati Nagar arranged for the delivery of clay Ganeshas in the entire village, at least those many toxic Ganeshas did not get made; the brothers convinced people, with a convenience to boot, to use clay Ganeshas. May their tribe grow (Let us have more clay Ganeshas and more sociable subalterns.
In fact I never visited Pragati Nagar. But I said revisiting in the sense of going back to what one has written earlier. At that time, I mentioned the ban on plastic ordained by the communist regime in Pragati Nagar; I did not know then that what Pragati Nagar does today, the rest of Hyderabad does tomorrow. We already know that plastic is banned in Hyderabad. The good work of the comrades running the gram panchayat deserves to be commended. And bottomline never begrudges the devil its due. In the previous blog on Pragati Nagar, I did not say Lal Salaam, though I do remember saying the brothers are doing good work. But I meant to; well, now, I say it: Salud, komarads!
Salahuddin (henceforth, Dr Tak) was a jolly soul from the valley of Kashmir. He was at once childish (almost riotous on occasion) and imperious. Witness this: on a certain Holi morning, he was playing with colors at CIEFL. He throws a good measure of color at a bloke (a student of Arabic and Muslim in appearance) and the young fellow says: Bhai saab. Stop it. I am a muslim. Dr Tak (at that time pursuing his doctoral degree) says: Main kaun hoon? [Whoami?]. The boy says I don’t know.
This is where Dr Tak’s aristocratic background comes to play: “Have you heard of Salahuddin?” The boy definitely heard the name, though he never met the most dashing foreign-languages scholar of the CIEFL campus of that timeframe. So he says Yes, I heard the name. Dr Tak, in a most urbane tone says: I am he.
Salute, Salah! Give me ten Dr Tak’s and I will show you harmony in the face of fury in the valley.
==
Everybody started living hand to mouth [and so on and so forth....]
She believed in the Gods of America; she believed in the land of the free
Someone told me [and so on...] that the gods believe in nothing
And the Gods believe in nothing
==
Does Shiv-ji live on mount kailash
The answer to that question is two-fold:
- Wherever Shiv-ji lives, is Mount Kailash
- Whoever lives on Mt Kailash is Shiv-ji
So there, I got you into a catch 22 situation: Shiv-ji is the Yeti we read about; the snowman. Very few people have seen him. But we have geographical evidence in the form of Parvati river. The moon shining over the valley through which Parvati flows is real. As real as the hot springs in which people cook rice bundled in rumaals.
As real as the myth of Parvati, enamoured of Shiv-ji, going into deep meditation. And as real as the heat that engulfed the three worlds because of the intensity of her desire for Shiv-ji. For months and years she did not eat even a leaf: a-parna (no-leaf; she did not even eat a leaf).
Parting shot
In Hindu texts, there is a mention of the ‘ideal wife’, who has six qualities:
- A slave, in daily action (karyeshu daasi)
- A counsellor, when consulting (Karaneshu mantri [mandarin])
- A mother when serving food; and an Houri in bed
- Lakshmi to look at and patient as mother earth
The last two (roopecha lakshmi, kshamaya dharitri) are not very popular: and the poem closes with – Shatkarma yukta kula dharma patni. “The one with these six qualities be thine common-law wife!”
My sister chimed in: What are the qualities in a man, then? Indeed there are no lines that specify what qualities make a man an able “man”. I threw a random guess: Someone, a girl with these qualities, let us say, is choosing a man for herself. What can we say what all she looks for: dress sense, cash in bank, vintage of car, whatever it takes. Some girls I believe look for a sense of humor
I don’t know what good that does. As Yeats said, we would never know why beautiful women choose crazy salad.
In fact I never visited Pragati Nagar. But I said revisiting in the sense of going back to what one has written earlier. At that time, I mentioned the ban on plastic ordained by the communist regime in Pragati Nagar; I did not know then that what Pragati Nagar does today, the rest of Hyderabad does tomorrow. We already know that plastic is banned in Hyderabad. The good work of the comrades running the gram panchayat deserves to be commended. And bottomline never begrudges the devil its due. In the previous blog on Pragati Nagar, I did not say Lal Salaam, though I do remember saying the brothers are doing good work. But I meant to; well, now, I say it: Salud, komarads!
Salahuddin (henceforth, Dr Tak) was a jolly soul from the valley of Kashmir. He was at once childish (almost riotous on occasion) and imperious. Witness this: on a certain Holi morning, he was playing with colors at CIEFL. He throws a good measure of color at a bloke (a student of Arabic and Muslim in appearance) and the young fellow says: Bhai saab. Stop it. I am a muslim. Dr Tak (at that time pursuing his doctoral degree) says: Main kaun hoon? [Whoami?]. The boy says I don’t know.
This is where Dr Tak’s aristocratic background comes to play: “Have you heard of Salahuddin?” The boy definitely heard the name, though he never met the most dashing foreign-languages scholar of the CIEFL campus of that timeframe. So he says Yes, I heard the name. Dr Tak, in a most urbane tone says: I am he.
Salute, Salah! Give me ten Dr Tak’s and I will show you harmony in the face of fury in the valley.
==
Everybody started living hand to mouth [and so on and so forth....]
She believed in the Gods of America; she believed in the land of the free
Someone told me [and so on...] that the gods believe in nothing
And the Gods believe in nothing
==
Does Shiv-ji live on mount kailash
The answer to that question is two-fold:
- Wherever Shiv-ji lives, is Mount Kailash
- Whoever lives on Mt Kailash is Shiv-ji
So there, I got you into a catch 22 situation: Shiv-ji is the Yeti we read about; the snowman. Very few people have seen him. But we have geographical evidence in the form of Parvati river. The moon shining over the valley through which Parvati flows is real. As real as the hot springs in which people cook rice bundled in rumaals.
As real as the myth of Parvati, enamoured of Shiv-ji, going into deep meditation. And as real as the heat that engulfed the three worlds because of the intensity of her desire for Shiv-ji. For months and years she did not eat even a leaf: a-parna (no-leaf; she did not even eat a leaf).
Parting shot
In Hindu texts, there is a mention of the ‘ideal wife’, who has six qualities:
- A slave, in daily action (karyeshu daasi)
- A counsellor, when consulting (Karaneshu mantri [mandarin])
- A mother when serving food; and an Houri in bed
- Lakshmi to look at and patient as mother earth
The last two (roopecha lakshmi, kshamaya dharitri) are not very popular: and the poem closes with – Shatkarma yukta kula dharma patni. “The one with these six qualities be thine common-law wife!”
My sister chimed in: What are the qualities in a man, then? Indeed there are no lines that specify what qualities make a man an able “man”. I threw a random guess: Someone, a girl with these qualities, let us say, is choosing a man for herself. What can we say what all she looks for: dress sense, cash in bank, vintage of car, whatever it takes. Some girls I believe look for a sense of humor
I don’t know what good that does. As Yeats said, we would never know why beautiful women choose crazy salad.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
yesterday or tomorrow is the day before full moon
qal chaudvi ki raat thi [will be?]
All night long there were altercations
some said it was the moon before midnight
some yelled it was your face behind clouds
Loud and clear arguments poured forth from breezy brethren
i was there too and the jokers asked
[me too] [who] kept queit, and smiled
I did too: Wonder but not aloud. Thought
better you remain under cloud cover...
who do we meet in this town? I mean, I
we [I] gave up mehfils and meetings
every brother talks of you and is crazy about you
and i cannot argue with blokes with an aesthetic eye
specially when I am and you
are both high...
you up in the sky
and me with an uproarious eye
the whole crowd is talking of you
[yeah, you are the talk of the town]
we are faqirs of the high road; oh well, I am
stopped your way once or two and held your hand
in my dreams [yeah babe, those were the nightmares
you had; blame it on the guy who never made it home]
oh painless-one, wanna listen to a good line or two:
now listen up
your admirer, your disgrace, your own poet
and your wish [am I]
Let us say I leave your frontyard and become a yogi
so what; the jungle is yours, lord
and the mount is yours; the downtown is all yours
so is the hinterland: call it the boondocks?
All night long there were altercations
some said it was the moon before midnight
some yelled it was your face behind clouds
Loud and clear arguments poured forth from breezy brethren
i was there too and the jokers asked
[me too] [who] kept queit, and smiled
I did too: Wonder but not aloud. Thought
better you remain under cloud cover...
who do we meet in this town? I mean, I
we [I] gave up mehfils and meetings
every brother talks of you and is crazy about you
and i cannot argue with blokes with an aesthetic eye
specially when I am and you
are both high...
you up in the sky
and me with an uproarious eye
the whole crowd is talking of you
[yeah, you are the talk of the town]
we are faqirs of the high road; oh well, I am
stopped your way once or two and held your hand
in my dreams [yeah babe, those were the nightmares
you had; blame it on the guy who never made it home]
oh painless-one, wanna listen to a good line or two:
now listen up
your admirer, your disgrace, your own poet
and your wish [am I]
Let us say I leave your frontyard and become a yogi
so what; the jungle is yours, lord
and the mount is yours; the downtown is all yours
so is the hinterland: call it the boondocks?
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
my sweatheart is perhaps a little angry this morning...
mere mehboob shaayad aaj kuch
My darling is angry at this early hour
Perhaps? With me: perhaps...
however intimate I try to get, it [God?] moves off
Is my God angry with me: doesn't want me back?
at all? never again: isn't that nirvana
or what judie felix calls cuba or havana?
ok, back to work: got lost in transliteration
and yet s/he (it/God) moves away from me - in disgust
or in disguise; calling pro, promo, mom, and the presidunk of the newly
united states of India: the real federation. Real friendship and freedom
back to work again: there is so much to listen to...
==
my darling is perhaps - today - a little angry
with me; as much as I talk, God no reply. Y
==
he or she came into the conference and kept silent
the whole time; who was my darling until yesterday
does not talk - to me or anyone at all...
==
i am afraid this coldshouldering will take my life off
what to do with this burden of unseeing the brightest bulb in the harbor?
==
perhaps today a little
angry?
==
looks like good times will come none too soon
the haveli will brigthen up on seeing my heartthrob's oncoming
==
and yet s/he remains so aloof: is that fair, I ask
perhaps; God is today angry or on vacation...
--
I said to Akbaruddin (or will tell when time comes)
That there are two gods: one God and One Goddess.
==
There is goddest but that has to wait until another blog
My applepie is waiting, to be tested...
My darling is angry at this early hour
Perhaps? With me: perhaps...
however intimate I try to get, it [God?] moves off
Is my God angry with me: doesn't want me back?
at all? never again: isn't that nirvana
or what judie felix calls cuba or havana?
ok, back to work: got lost in transliteration
and yet s/he (it/God) moves away from me - in disgust
or in disguise; calling pro, promo, mom, and the presidunk of the newly
united states of India: the real federation. Real friendship and freedom
back to work again: there is so much to listen to...
==
my darling is perhaps - today - a little angry
with me; as much as I talk, God no reply. Y
==
he or she came into the conference and kept silent
the whole time; who was my darling until yesterday
does not talk - to me or anyone at all...
==
i am afraid this coldshouldering will take my life off
what to do with this burden of unseeing the brightest bulb in the harbor?
==
perhaps today a little
angry?
==
looks like good times will come none too soon
the haveli will brigthen up on seeing my heartthrob's oncoming
==
and yet s/he remains so aloof: is that fair, I ask
perhaps; God is today angry or on vacation...
--
I said to Akbaruddin (or will tell when time comes)
That there are two gods: one God and One Goddess.
==
There is goddest but that has to wait until another blog
My applepie is waiting, to be tested...
Thursday, July 7, 2011
wasteland revisited
come under the shadow of this rock
and I will roll you into a question mark
For the uninitiated: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ocyeWt_shCI
That is ecstacy, and I don't mean the drug. It is sublime
And the opening lines mean:
You, after meeting {you}, we somewhat transformed {we are}
Started reading and humming [tunes of solitude and bliss]
The tranliterated text is:
aap se [you-object] milke [met {after}] hum [we] kuch [somewhat] badalse [transformed] hue [we are]
sher padhne lage, gun gunaane lage
poems reading {we} started; hum-humming {we} started
==
The following lines are freely translated:
once upon a time was famous our gravity
and now I keep smiling all the way
wherever you see me; whenever.
--
And this is mine own line:
coz i see U in every being, critter, and rock
==
Heavy? Ask someone who is carting it up the hill
what fun it is: to be; to be in love; to being love...
--
Not getting the drift?
You are not misunderstanding me well enough
and I will roll you into a question mark
For the uninitiated: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ocyeWt_shCI
That is ecstacy, and I don't mean the drug. It is sublime
And the opening lines mean:
You, after meeting {you}, we somewhat transformed {we are}
Started reading and humming [tunes of solitude and bliss]
The tranliterated text is:
aap se [you-object] milke [met {after}] hum [we] kuch [somewhat] badalse [transformed] hue [we are]
sher padhne lage, gun gunaane lage
poems reading {we} started; hum-humming {we} started
==
The following lines are freely translated:
once upon a time was famous our gravity
and now I keep smiling all the way
wherever you see me; whenever.
--
And this is mine own line:
coz i see U in every being, critter, and rock
==
Heavy? Ask someone who is carting it up the hill
what fun it is: to be; to be in love; to being love...
--
Not getting the drift?
You are not misunderstanding me well enough
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