Sunday, April 28, 2013

Petits bourgeois naïfs (or, Of callow propositions and schemata)

Sundry Sunday thought (April 28, MMXIII):
In India it is a summarily “chalta hai”** towards any concern that is raised about methodology, process; heck, quality assurance, or any process. Here, in my US ambit as also quite vast experience, it has been the summarily dismissive: whatever; I don’t care; and, the indelicate—in your face: “Is it bad to say I don’t care,” more often delivered in the most naïf manner (way)—an attitude in itself.

Anagrams for naif: fain, an if! Archaic though it may be—fain is synonymous with happily, and gladsome / ness.
**from Hindi, chalta hai: ’twill do (nothing more needs to be done / delivered), (it) will suffice,…

**whatever: a. just get it done sans concerns / precise questions. 
b. I don’t care: just deal with it. Additionally, ** and get it into your head that you are alone in this

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Stains on the wall, or who flung dung

Dancers falling, La Guardia Perf. Arts, NY
Its strange — the sense of entitlement a marriage can bring to a young persons mind; and appears too often to dovetail with a belief of being owed a career. You better contribute to that notion by making life convenient for their consuming selves or else…
+++
Fittingly? His mind sees it as a piece of cake. So, said he: still!… at it? Like: you must be dimwitted — ergo dropped the ball. And to my being, my mind delivered a message: steel yourself, yet not use the blade. Maintain the edge, dull you are not; a dullard you will never be.
+++
And what to make of those steeped in the lackadaisical? Teach them? Perhaps the shock of a slap may just revert them to the presence of the beam in their eye. One teaches those who yearn, to do things right. How does one get someone to overcome their shortcomings towards learning to help themselves — those who obfuscate meaning!

Saturday, March 2, 2013

RISK, and seeing risk head on... a DRAWING sung!


Tandav, Silverpoint on linen 5' x 3' 





For those of you who know RISK this is where it is at… Crosby Stills and Nash - Suite: Judy Blue Eyes - Live 2012 (posted by pauljaros videos).

Listening to the CSN original, one absorbs the huge risk Crosby Stills and Nash took in the 2012 recital of Jusy Blue Eyes. To my sense, the choral melds—proceeding as though its a DRAWING being sung ! What they did is so hard and it COULD HAVE FALLEN APART at any time. 

…a whole philosophy of being and consciousness here.

Sunday, January 27, 2013

Cloudbursts on the front lines



From on aloft, King David espied Bathsheba bathing in her courtyard.
He had her brought into his presence; entering… 
into her scented precincts — ensuing a pregnant tussock.
Summoned he Uriah come home, wash his feet — attend to Bathsheba.

A consideration then by the King one might think? 
An anachronism today, but then, contact between the two however brief
would surely have shrouded the nature developing in the sprouting womb.
To hide the mushrooming pregnancy… that was the brief!

Steadfastly refused Uriah, the Kings command — attend to Bathsheba.
A Hittite beholden to Deuteronomy; in essence renege your command, 
to smite "anything that breathes,” those teaching “you to follow all, 
the detestable things they do in worshiping their gods.” 
Towards this obedience; in the pains of battle all coital relations shunned. 

There would be no washing of feet, the carnal would be spurned. 
King David not immune to this understanding; dispatched he —  
into battle Uriah, ordering Joab, commander and kingmaker rolled in one: 
ensconce him at the front — have his men move away; let him perish!

Thus was killed Uriah, whose name means: 
God is my Light; one of King David’s mighty men!
And Nathan the prophet said it as it was:  An abomination — 
he decried, pointing at David leaving nothing unsaid…
Absalom insurrected.

Coming down to today, we have King Davids acolytes… morphed 
into his erstwhile enemies, the Ammonites. Even the marrow shudders!
And one has made it to the front, or was it that the front moved behind 
or is it that, the front is the pasture where the wolf seeks the lamb? 
Yet there is no barbed wire. But food must make it to the table. 

Before one knew it, one turned itinerant.
An itinerancy of a nature much like illiteracy, the denial of movement, 
tongue, be-ing, humanity: a state of being where titles mean little, 
the earnings even less. But food is now on the table. 
A repast in lieu of past deprivation? That deserves thanks and praise!? 

On the front, smitten by cloudbursts of deceits… 
a fakery of cooing, a consummate dispassion extracting labor,  
rolling eyes, soft shoe shuffling, bodies packed in two sizes too small.  
And pain is all around. We maintain politesse! 

There is no discernible ball and chain. Yet we surrender to the treachery.
Is there a Nathan now, other than that faint namesake for hamburgers! 
Who sheds light? Will things pass? Will they overrun my being?

Now pain livens up my being. How is this possible? The front is cold;
warm those ensconced in the knowledge of conceits: pain embraces.

Christ resurrected on day three. Is there hope through his becoming man?

Monday, December 24, 2012

Something does not add up!

Is it all about garnering compliments? Lets work through some of it… Buy Lucchese boots, and you get compliments. Buy Denim Demon jeans — get complimented! Wooh! Show your art to those same who happen to be in the business of “discerning,” and you do not get complimented. But rest assured, they know where you stand.

Well, something about my work snuffed the words right in their throats. A combustion, and spontaneous too?! For that matter any mention about something even a tad exotic as say horse sashimi (basashi), and eyes roll. The cool boys and girls will have none of that either. Its not cool if they have not embraced it. Its not cool if its too cool for them. When they do anoint something as IT, perhaps you are simply supposed to get in line and be happy that what you do, what you know, or even how and what you draw happens to be in the way defined as cool by these voracious cognoscenti. Yeah, the Way of Cool. Cool-dou (and vying in my head with Shodo (Way of Writing), and other peerless Japanese ways. Some happiness, hanh?!

Move on baby. Its not personal. Its simply a bit of the asinine, or in Indian terms the vulpine.

Sunday, December 23, 2012

So was gibt?: of cock horses and knaves

Unpublished pro bono piece. The title
which goes with the original text also
inadvertently fits this blog post of mine!
My life interestingly has encountered its share of prima donnas and primo uomos, neither of whom are inclined towards anything remotely operatic, but yet they deliver their diktat and knavery arias with a mien worthy of hyenas. 

They never seem to get the point, nor truly wish to, and are hardly inclined to making anything easier for those outside of themselves and their cliques. 



They charge on their cock horses, itinerant scarecrows, roosters and hens of the walk and killjoys, who even proverbially could not dance on pointe in the dank catacombs of their minds — or anything remotely close to an extrapolated analogy of the same. That much one may be sure. But your existence is fair game to these dastards (what better time to seek an English word stemming from Old Norse: dæstr). These are truly knaves (no feminine form really). 

Makes me wonder in German so was gibt? What gives? “So what else? or what's up? or even what more?” What more!?



Sunday, December 16, 2012

On the difficulties to converse in ones Mai bhas (in Konkani: mother tongue)


Aagurs (in Kashmiri: sources).  For HIMAL Southasian, Kathmandu
Nepal.Scripts depicted are Takri (top left), Sarada (bottom-horizontal),
Kashmiri (a) [no longer in use], top right, Arabic (for Urdu) and Roman. 
Language and language retention causes a lot of anguish among those who believe (rightly too, I believe) that the inability to converse in ones mother tongue alters our makeup, renders us inadequate as bearers of a given culture; and that we often tend to lose out proportional and even more to what we gain by speaking in a dominant language like English, unless of course the attempt to transition is complex and relatively complete. 

So, It could be seen as a collapse of memory. Moving on… and I must add, that these thoughts stemmed from a conversation/ discussion on the language Konkani (which is my mother tongue) taking place on Goanet .

In modernity being polite has its charms, besides its good procedural practice. Hence we often hear that such and such conducted themselves as a gentleman, although the discussion had its upheavals. Many discussions and the quality of argumentation have nothing to do with being a gentleman, or possessing gentlemanly values, unless one means it as an euphemism for “deficient” (Konkani, unno (as in less/deficiency, not undo (bread!). Forgetting Konkani should not normally bring to mind as a matter of course—those who speak English with any distinct Indian flavor, since there are also those who speak exquisite English, and write even better although they do not speak the mai bhas. And I do not have to showcase them. They are in our midst. 

The aggravation when it spills over, on account of somebodies lack of Konkani chops, says something about us. At the end of the day all families construct themselves in ways they see fit, even if that shaping may appear unfit (in/to our eyes). It is when we lash out, or are absolutely nonchalant—that we have a choice to not engage, engage less, move on, or maintain the possibility of effecting some manner of change/ engagement. 

I had one of ours tell me that he regrets not being able to converse in Konkani. That's fine, yet why so, considering that among many things obvious, this being also has the resources to set things right. But such possibilities do not gel with their modernism. Oslem unneaponn (Such lack / Such poverty [of mind, of being]). On the other hand it could be a feint, as one ramps up ones ability in Konkani. Other than a small anecdote, it matters not. It would have mattered if I said, “this ass,” but then… 

+ + 

My mother would exhort/ encourage us to speak in English, not in Hindi. She was not wrong in a way, but WRONG in that — being a part of India, and having neighbors, folks from UP, Lucknow, Allahabad, almost all rank and file as us, we had to relate to them beyond Level 101, not merely inquire, sab theek hai (from Hindi: Is all ok?). Hanh (Yes,… and a few more words). But her aspiration for us may have been what she saw "was possible" with certain tools, one of them being English. This woman as a child had been pulled out of school when my grandmother got partially paralyzed; she did not wish to get married; and when she did so it was in Bombaim (Mumbai). So, her view must have got shaped as revealed through these few significant touchstones. We encouraged her to speak to us in whatever Portuguese she knew but then, it was not to be. We had no pretensions that Mother knew a lot of Portuguese, since she had shared that she did not. But I had seen her do a lot with what her ability was in that language. For me, it will happen sooner than later sometime in the near future.

Furthermore, is it only I who wondered/ wonders whether other parents did not say something similar to my mother, to their children — considering not having encountered such sharing. On Goanet for the longest time its been something on the lines of: My mother encouraged us to speak Konkani. NEVER: I was discouraged to speak in Braj/ Magadhi, or say Konkani! (a joke of course, but better to make it obvious). Perhaps I may be presumptuous enough to say that relatively educated parents know/ knew the winds better, and made sure that in not putting out less flattering thoughts — that certain reminiscences would not show up in ones wards autobiography. But I cannot wait for better paper to be manufactured. 

Wondering what Hindu parents said to theirs, could be a worth a cup of tea. 

But besides all the Konkani, or whatever—not much seems to have helped our own, in basic terms—civility, and the like. 

The manner in which we emote, and that taken over time says/ tells a thing or too. The operative phrase here being “over time”. Now I could write the same in Konkani and prove our Resident prescriptivist (NONE of you who have contributed to this conversation/ discussion on Goanet thus far) wrong, but that would mean me having to work OT = overtime.

Um dos otros.