Desicritics Category: Culture: Language

Poessay: Rosary 23: Musings

temporal — Mon, 5 Jan 2009 06:48:44 EST

Edge of precipice. Cliff?
Diving board. Looking down into water.
Water?

Of hope.
What hope? Mirage. Shimmer. Illusion. Belief in the unseen. Acceptance.
Acceptance? With conviction.
Conviction of what? Faith or reasoning?

Of reason.
Rationality. Two plus...Cause and...Things not...
Self-existential illusions. Illusions or hoaxes? Certifiable?

Of faith.
Belief of unfathomed power. Recognizant of the unrecognised.
Unresolved nothingness. Ensconced nothingness. Transference.

Back to hope, reason, faith. Nothing.
What if nothing is the vacuum cementing life to death.

Oh death? The final dot. -30- Kaput. Kapitsh. End.

End, another beginning. Movement towards another dot. To other
unresolved queries. To other needs and desires. To know or to give
in.

Again.
Earlier:
Poessay: Rosary 1 - Pink Sand Beach
Poessay: Rosary 2 - Fishing
Poessay: Rosary 3 - Adam and Eve Limited - I
Poessay: Rosary 4 - Adam and Eve Limited - II
Poessay: Rosary 5 - Descending
Poessay: Rosary 6 - Dinner In The Park
Poessay: Rosary 7 - Under the Jamun Tree
Poessay: Rosary 8 - Voices In The Air
Poessay: Rosary 9 - Life Rosary I
Poessay: Rosary 10 - Life Rosary II
Poessay: Rosary 11 - Creating In Isolation
Poessay: Rosary 12 - Kohled Eyes
Poessay: Rosary 13 - By the Lake
Poessay: Rosary 14 - Snow Flakes
Poessay: Rosary 15 - The Drop
Poessay: Rosary 16 - Ageless Quest - tishnagi
Poessay: Rosary 17 - Hemashree
Poessay: Rosary 18 - burning blazing fire rages
Poessay: Rosary 19 - Word Whirlpool - BhaNwur LafzouN Ka
Poessay: Rosary 20 - Thanksgiving I Poessay:
Rosary 21: KhamOshi - Wordless Poessay:
Rosary 22 - A Simple Poem

poetry: january 1, 2009

temporal — Thu, 1 Jan 2009 15:39:29 EST

georgiou emptied the bins - coffee cups,
crushed cans, mickeys, wrappers, paper tissues
and sweeeping the Nathan Phillips Square
gathered frozen kisses, melting sighs,
discarded resolutions and shouted greetings
that had ushered in the first day of an uncertain year
as he went about methodically he knew he'd survive
- as would most in the west, relatively unscathed

the future is full of long shadows
for those in occupied Gaza, Somalia,
Darfur, FATA, Afghanistan, Iraq...
the world has shuttered the window
blinds drawn

wish you and those around you
health and peace for the coming months

having put in his hours in the chill
georgiou smiled pensively, took off work gloves
changed and went home

Poessay: I'm Not Dev Das and You're Not Anarkali

temporal — Wed, 31 Dec 2008 12:20:07 EST

painting - Gulgee

Permanence is a Utopian illusion. It is nurtured by groups that ferment a vested interest - popes, padres, rabbis, maulvis, pundits, financiers - purveyors of permanence.

Insomniac Dream Sellers of
Truth, Beauty, Wisdom, Courage, Love, Anger, Hatred

Sea
and Mountain
Enslaved and encircled with smile.

Then the smile melted
His?
Her's?
His smile melted her? Her smile melted him?
0r like the shivering polar ice
Melting under the rape of environment
Euphemism for global warming

Sea - the mother of transmogrification
-clouds, snow, rain, lakes, rivers
And completing the circle - sea

The circular reverberation
Womb - grave - womb
Is the tale of drops
spermatozoa
"Read, read in the names of thy Lord..."

***

for believers it is Him
for others some grand design
that would finally still
                           the drop
the last meltdown
when neither love
                           nor hate
will deter, defer, persuade or play
                         when the smile
will last for ever sans flesh

we, who indulge in super hate
we, who miss not an opportunity
to throw barbs, grenades
and uranium tipped mines and bombs
we, who excel at malevolence
- when will love conquer us?

yaadOn ka guldasta thamay*
sar-saratay sukoon maiN ghar'q
jub saa'yay hum aa ghosh hotay haiN
tou mudhoshi ki devi bhee
khud hee muskurati hogi
hosh apnay kho bethti hogi

ab tou yaad ki baiRiyouN maiN qaid
dabay qadmON t'ra tasawwur
youN chala aata hay kay
khood faraibi ka shaiba
bhee choo ker nahiN guzarta
choti ki is joostujoo maiN
khaai maiN girnay ka ehsaas kisay

said the bluebird to the bulbul
the simpleton is unaware
and the curmudgeon unconcerned
love has been cremated
in hiroshima

Man shorn of humanity is hurting and hurtling down the precipice, brakes worn, singling gaily, oblivious of the rushing winds of time, aware but not cognizant of the abyss.

_________________________________________________
* translation:

clutching the bouquet of memories
and drowned in the whispering quiet
as the shadows embrace
the goddess of intoxication
would smile at herself
while letting go of sobriety

bounded in memory-chains
your thoughts tiptoe
swirling and cascading
around whims and doubts

in the strive to conquer the peak
who thinks of a fall into the abyss

A Different World Part II: Zina ul Haq's Debauchery

temporal — Tue, 30 Dec 2008 03:27:51 EST

(Continued from A Different World Part I : A Travelogue of Sorts)

The irony is this: people on both side of the frontiers were predominantly Punjabis. Only fifty plus years back they spoke the same language, looked the same, shared similar culture and passions, but today they are different...not physically different...but in their mindset and attitude.

Zina-ul-Haq (Zina means rape: Haq is Truth – my coinage for the erstwhile dictator) induced religious stupor had flamed the latent fundamentalism and created such a wide gulf of intolerance and divide that most Pakistanis today accept segregation as the norm. Some even elevate it with piety. He unleashed his version of Islam that has polarized Pakistanis, increased the chasm not only between Sunnis and Shias but also between Sunnis themselves as well as fanning parochial differences between residents of all provinces.

The denial of one's roots and ersatz emphasis on a culture that was and is almost alien led to an influx of mental and sexual depravity. The orthodox misinterpreters of religion (read Islam) twist and bend the religious injunctions to satisfy their limited understanding and fetishes. This increase in provincialism, parochialism and ethnic diversity played well in the hands of manipulative politicians and the occupying army. Divide and Rule!

And it has also led to the killing of Pakistanis by other Pakistanis in the name of the same Allah.

Today's West Punjab and indeed Pakistan is set on a different course. Not the one envisioned by any of her founders or detractors in their wildest hallucination.

Off the intersection of Aram Bagh Road and Bunder Road, now M. A Jinnah Road, the Pakistani equivalent of Indian cities' Gandhi Margs, there is a side street. To the south is Dow Medical College and to the north is Pakistan Chowk. At the end of this side street there is a gurdwara, I was told. I had dragged M through the traffic, dirt and pollution but all we could see was the walls. The side street was a furniture market and unless you knew there was a gurdwara once there you would miss it.

In Mata: Meem, Alif, Tay, Alif I had written about visiting some of the mandirs in Karachi:

Karachi has lots of mandirs. And there are a few functioning ones too that I visited. There is one in Clifton, one across from the KMC building on M A Jinnah Road, one near the old Native Jetty Bridge, two in Soldier Bazaar and one in Amil Colony # 2 near the Islamia College. And there is a crumbling one on the beach in Manora that ravages of time has turned into a crumbling structure.

The Lakshmi Narayan Mandir across from KMC building on M. A. Jinnah road is in a compound. When we visited it one afternoon, the mandir was closed and some boys were playing cricket nearby. One twelve year old asked us if we were Hindus. M smiled and said she is an insaan. The kid nodded wisely.
Tu Hindu banayga na Musalmaan banayga
Insaan ki aulad hay insaan banayga

Neither a Hindu nor Muslim will you be
A human you are, a human you shall be
Another day we visited one in Soldier Bazaar. One thing is imprinted on my mind from that visit. Inside the sanctum sanctorium on the far wall Mata was spelled in glittering Urdu lettering, about two feet high - meem-alif-tay-alif. Mata was written in multicolored glitter ribbons, the kind used in garlands and for decorating the bridal car. Mata: Meem, Alif, Tay, Alif

Karachi is perhaps in the top twenty cities of the world by population. It citizens are always on the go and unaware of its history and heritage. Less than one in twenty Karachite is aware of a fort in Karachi. It is a city of affluence and poverty - of palaces and mansions with high walls, private zoos, monitoring cameras and Kalshnikov carrying guards and jhuggis and huts. In a nation where prohibition is the law, more alcohol is consumed than can ever be imagined to the loss of the exchequer. The private bars of individuals would shame the sommelier of a seven star establishment.

In one evening friends spend more at the BarBQ Hut or Coppper Kettle than the average monthly salaries of their drivers and servants. The poor can be seen lining outside modest hotels in the evening, where the affluent drive by and pay up for the meals for 20 or 30 people.

The middle class wants to shrivel and disappear. It is despondent and despairing.

Lawlessness is rampant and its acceptance is annoying for the casual visitor. Almost everyone you meet has had their cellphones snatched or robbed at gun point at least once. Every acquaintance you meet has a home robbery tale for you.

My notes for the trip - names, places, times and photos stored on the Palm Treo were lost to a gun totting polite robber. "Uncle, please give me your cell phone." With the gun inches away from the stomach, there were few options available. The phone was replaced the next day but it took me a long time to get over the loss of those notes.

Poessay: Rosary 22 - A Simple Poem

temporal — Wed, 24 Dec 2008 13:28:01 EST

painting -nahid raza

love me or let me go
the crooner sang
as i channel surfed,
ate, walked, read,
intermittently gazed
at this ball point
wrote, paused and
pondered over the feel
of all the pens have possessed
ball points with fine points
blue, black, red, even green
old fashioned ink filled pens
ah the old parker
the zee nibs, the ink pots
stained hands and clothes
the set of unused calligraphy pens
pens with cushy holders
handcrafted tops
folding pens for travel
thin pens, modulated pens
and reminisced
the feel of my favourite pen
a pen warm and flowing
comfortably imprisoning wayward words

laikin kalam qal`m ka marhoon e minnat kahaaN?
aamud hoti hay kalam ki
phir woh sadiON seena ba seena
musafat tay karta hu`aye
safha e zaati say safha e qartaas per
kabhi youN muntakil hota hay
kay paRhnay wala baisakhta bOl oothay
`wallah! kya baat paida ki hay dost
yehi baat tO m`ray dil maiN thee
yehi baat tO maiN kehna chahta thaa...`

words
ensconced in dictionaries
listless and trembling
only a writer's pen
can furnish them a soul

through the centuries, bosom to bosom
brain to brain, to impulses, to fingers
to pen, to ink, to paper
the journey enigmatic, intricate and involved

flawlessly the moving finger infuses
words - simple, loaded
burnished in the heart
and when reader reads
s/he simply nods in agreement
at the palpitations shared

i get up
fetch some water
return, read, surf
write and rewrite
as the crooner sings
…or love me forever…

Earlier:
Poessay: Rosary 1 - Pink Sand Beach
Poessay: Rosary 2 - Fishing
Poessay: Rosary 3 - Adam and Eve Limited - I
Poessay: Rosary 4 - Adam and Eve Limited - II
Poessay: Rosary 5 - Descending
Poessay: Rosary 6 - Dinner In The Park
Poessay: Rosary 7 - Under the Jamun Tree
Poessay: Rosary 8 - Voices In The Air
Poessay: Rosary 9 - Life Rosary I
Poessay: Rosary 10 - Life Rosary II
Poessay: Rosary 11 - Creating In Isolation
Poessay: Rosary 12 - Kohled Eyes
Poessay: Rosary 13 - By the Lake
Poessay: Rosary 14 - Snow Flakes
Poessay: Rosary 15 - The Drop
Poessay: Rosary 16 - Ageless Quest - tishnagi
Poessay: Rosary 17 - Hemashree
Poessay: Rosary 18 - burning blazing fire rages
Poessay: Rosary 19 - Word Whirlpool - BhaNwur LafzouN Ka
Poessay: Rosary 20 - Thanksgiving I

Poessay: Rosary 21: KhamOshi - Wordless

temporal — Fri, 19 Dec 2008 11:01:14 EST

(photo by Brian Mayeux)

khamOshi
sukoot
qayam rakhtay hu`aye
oos nay raaz e dil a`yaaN kya
jaanay kis haal maiN hoga woh aaj
lafzON ka yeh ehtraam
jo oos nay sikhaya
qaim hay

wordlessly
inaudibly
she conveyed her
dreams, doubts, aches
don't know where she is now
this respect for speech
she inculcated
lingers
Earlier:
Poessay: Rosary 1 - Pink Sand Beach
Poessay: Rosary 2 - Fishing
Poessay: Rosary 3 - Adam and Eve Limited - I
Poessay: Rosary 4 - Adam and Eve Limited - II
Poessay: Rosary 5 - Descending
Poessay: Rosary 6 - Dinner In The Park
Poessay: Rosary 7 - Under the Jamun Tree
Poessay: Rosary 8 - Voices In The Air
Poessay: Rosary 9 - Life Rosary I
Poessay: Rosary 10 - Life Rosary II
Poessay: Rosary 11 - Creating In Isolation
Poessay: Rosary 12 - Kohled Eyes
Poessay: Rosary 13 - By the Lake
Poessay: Rosary 14 - Snow Flakes
Poessay: Rosary 15 - The Drop
Poessay: Rosary 16 - Ageless Quest - tishnagi
Poessay: Rosary 17 - Hemashree
Poessay: Rosary 18 - burning blazing fire rages
Poessay: Rosary 19 - Word Whirlpool - BhaNwur LafzouN Ka
Poessay: Rosary 20 - Thanksgiving I

A Love For Shoes: This Has Nothing to Do With Iraq and Yet...

temporal — Mon, 15 Dec 2008 14:32:20 EST

mera joota hay japani
yeh patloon inglistani
sir pay laal topi roosi
phir bhee dil hay hindustani
shailendra - shri 420

tr:

my shoes are Japanese
this trouser is English
the red cap 'ver my head is Russian
but my heart is all Indian

Shoes had a fascination for me. (Notice the tense?)

The diabolical reason for that fascination was champagne. I had seen some actor drink champagne from his companion's red high heels. I was enamored with the companion too, but geography won over anatomical inquisitiveness by a few thousand miles - more in kilometers.

Backgrounder: Prince Henry of Prussia visited the Everleigh Club of Chicago in 1902. A dancer's shoes flew off, hit a wine bottle, spilling some champagne into the shoe. A guest at the table picked up the shoe and imbibed the wine. As if on a cue, everyone there borrowed a shoe from their companion and drank wine from it. In case the reader is fascinated with this more here.

In the mall, or on the street, passing by a shoe store, eyes inadvertently look for red high heeled shoes - whirling sleek stilettos.

And if encountered on a hourglass bombshell - double the envy. More on Kelly shortly.

***

Leather can be tough. It protects the animal through ravages of heat and cold and when turned into footwear it can withstand the wear and tear of trudging miles upon miles.

Memory is fickle - high school or college it was - when I heard a sweet one warn a friend "jooti khao gay." Gold Rush and Charlie Chaplin aside, there was something in her tone that sent a chill up my spine even though the young lady was so diminutive.

A movie still shows Charlie Chaplin in the

classic shoe-eating scene from The Gold

Rush (1925). (Bettmann/Corbis)

The scar above my left eyebrow, comes in handy when government directives blatantly ask one to mention scars or body marks on official applications. In the pre-scan passport days they even used calligraphy to highlight this minor blemish for foreign officials.

Yes, a leather chappal caused it. She hurled it at my friend J. He ducked. Passports can reveal unusual stories sometimes. [Reading a draft of this M says, 'hmmmmmm.' - translation - so you did not fall on your face?]

Wonder what George W's passport says. He ducked today. Luckily no one was standing behind him. The shoe hurler also called him man's best friend.

I wonder if in Arab culture what is worse, calling one a dog or a pig? Yasmin can you help?

I also wonder where is Kelly LeBrock? Am not sure if it is the shoes or...

poem: hatred and love

temporal — Wed, 10 Dec 2008 03:18:42 EST

Reuters – A clock is seen in front of the
logo of Swiss bank Credit Suisse at
the Paradeplatz square in Zurich …

we have to wait a second longer
for 2008 to end
those who exude hatred
would have more
time
                           to maim
                                 to hate
                                 to kill

i hate hatred
                                 but understand the necessity
without                       hatred
love would have no place to flourish

if hatred was a sacrificial goat
it should be rescued and protected

despite the century of holocausts
armenians, gypsies, jews, hindus, muslims,
cambodians, rwandans, bosnians, chechenians...
despite the murders and mayhems
hate should be protected and mirrored

sorry t.s.e. april is not the cruelest month
                                 november is...

each hateful act, each act of violence
enhances the resolve
                                 to hate hatred
                             to love love
even if it be with moistened eyes

Kumbakonam, Cheats, Pariahs, and Conversion

Suresh Naig — Sun, 23 Nov 2008 09:40:50 EST

Can anyone be implicated in India for using an English word? This question might appear strange for many readers in this forum. The answer is yes. Once the maverick politician Dr.Subramaniam Swamy was issued a non bailable warrant, for using a well known word in a well known context.

He was referring to LTTE, the dreaded terrorist organisation as an international pariah, after it was proscribed by many countries. When he rubbed the then chief minister Jayalalithaa on the wrong side, his above statement on LTTE was used against him. He was sued for having used the word "pariah" denoting a scheduled caste of Tamil Nadu and a warrant was issued. Dr.Subramaniam Swamy had to run for cover till he got the warrant cancelled by a higher court. Subsequently in a press conference he vowed to strive to eliminate the word 'Pariah" connoting untouchable, exile, recluse etc from the English dictionary

There are many words of foreign origin adopted by English, perhaps which makes the language very versatile. Recently few words of "Inglish" were included in the Oxford dictionary, such as "prepone" and "airdash", very liberally used by all Indian-English newspapers and until they were included in the dictionary, I never knew they were not proper English.

I do not know whether the word "Pariah" has been removed from English usage, but certainly another word, which was used liberally by the earlier generation of white settlers in India, has become extinct.

The word was "kumbakonam", which is the name of a town in Tanjavur district of Tamil Nadu, but associated in a wrong way. The word "kumbakonam" had a negative meaning conveying deceit, cheat etc and the word is used even till date in Andhra Pradesh conveying the same meaning. Some time back the word was used in All India Radio news bulletin; kicking up lot of dust, when Vijayabaskara Reddy tried to topple NTR, taking advantage of his absence to US for treatment. The news bulletin referred it as "Kumbakonam jarikindhi" - meaning a devious plan of switching the loyalty of MLAs of TDP to Congress led by Vijayabaskara Reddy.

When I enquired for answers of how Kumbakonam and deceit were associated, only one answer from an octogenarian retired from Railways was convincing. He said during British period, Railways was controlled by English officers and promotion to higher rank was denied for deserving Indians for they belonged to Hindu religion. Conversion to Christianity was a precondition laid for promotion and few persons belonging to Brahmin community got themselves converted to Christianity to claim promotion.

After enjoying all perquisites associated with Railways officers, these people one by one reconverted back to Hindu fold on retirement. Having got beaten in their own game, English have associated Kumbakonam with cheats and it stayed for long in usage, until removed.

Poessay: Rosary 18 - burning blazing fire rages

temporal — Wed, 19 Nov 2008 00:54:01 EST

credit tanay behera

burning blazing fire rages
combusting, charring fire rages
kehti hay
jalo, jalao,
jalo aur jalao

fire bowing to clay, we're told
created conflagration
that continues to blaze in clay's belly
the satans of fire twirl their moustaches
and smile diabolically at the lost ones
(can the lost and wandering be misled?)

this is not the fire of old
nor the fluid fire
that left noah dry

beware for He is father
of all fires, fury and furor
merciful, compassionate, graceful

maloom hay humaiN
yeh aag nahiN bajooz oos aag kay
jo kisi aanay walay lumhay maiN
sub aalamouN ko chupa laigi
apnay shikanja e zeest maiN
(laikin maiN yeh bhee souchta hooN
kay ger tu paida kernay wala hay
tou hum tabah kernay walay kum nahiN
yeh da'wa nahiN khudai ka
taqaza hay t'ray ak's ka)
tum jalatay raho, thako mut
hum jaltay rahaiNgay bila thakawat

a glimpse of the promised inferno
an ending, another big bang
and yet another beginning
your rage is creative, consuming
and enraged we can only bow down
and continue the destructive forays

burning blazing fire rages
combusting, charring fire rages
kehti hay
jalo, jalao,
jalo aur jalao

Earlier:
Poessay: Rosary 1 - Pink Sand Beach
Poessay: Rosary 2 - Fishing
Poessay: Rosary 3 - Adam and Eve Limited - I
Poessay: Rosary 4 - Adam and Eve Limited - II
Poessay: Rosary 5 - Descending
Poessay: Rosary 6 - Dinner In The Park
Poessay: Rosary 7 - Under the Jamun Tree
Poessay: Rosary 8 - Voices In The Air
Poessay: Rosary 9 - Life Rosary I
Poessay: Rosary 10 - Life Rosary II
Poessay: Rosary 11 - Creating In Isolation
Poessay: Rosary 12 - Kohled Eyes
Poessay: Rosary 13 - By the Lake
Poessay: Rosary 14 - Snow Flakes
Poessay: Rosary 15 - The Drop
Poessay: Rosary 16 - Ageless Quest - tishnagi
Poessay: Rosary 17 - Hemashree