Shabash

Shābāsh (Hindi: शाबाश, Urdu: شاباش, Punjabi: ਸ਼ਾਬਾਸ਼, Bengali: শাবাশ, Telugu: శబాష్) is a term used in the Indian subcontinent to signal commendation for an achievement, similar in meaning to
bravo and kudos.


……………………………………………
a poem writ sometimes, oft,
snaps back,
I was surprising recipient
of a commendation in language
I knew not

the poem spoke well
of broken boundaries,
between in this instance,
Jew and Muslim,
capturing a momentary parting
of the seaways and
walls of misbelief
and mischief,
normally employed
to keep our divisions,
parted perpetually

I’ve decided to begin to
use shabash now,
my ‘go to’ word
from now on,
a small quiet way
to say
well done

it starts with one word,
a stretching hand across
the face fence,
imagining John Lennon’s
imagine-world,
who lay dying when I was
a young father of thirty,
me residing less than a
mile away from each other

little could I imagine then that
poetry would pick me at all,
especially to write of words
in dialects I don’t speak,
but imaging their pastel colorations
flying by in gentle breezes,
eager to be grabbed,
plucked from the air,
tongued and loved

so!
when I say to you,
in the softest spoke,

shabash!

to all of us,
for choosing this path,
using your words in
every dialect,
to spread the imagination
of good will

8-4-2019
10:10 am
S.I.

సెలవు కొరకు (selavu koraku)
పయనమాయే తనువు (payanamaye tanuvu)
సరిపడు సమయం కాదు (Saripadu samayam kadu)
అంటూ పలికేను మనసు (antu palikenu manasu)
It's my Mother tongue(Telugu)
It actually means
My body is ready
To take rest forever
No it's not the right time
Says my heart

To speak all these languages:
Assamese, Bengali, Bodo,
Chhattisgarhi, Dogri , Garo -

Oh, to be able to tongue, "Love"
in Gajarati, Hini, Kannada, Kashmiri,
Khasi,  Kokborok, Konkani -

Or lip, "Desire" in
Maithili,  Malayalam,  Manipuri,  Marathi,  Mizo,  Nepali -

Or whisper, "Good night, Dear"
in Oriya, Punjabi,  Sanskrit,
Santali,  Sindhi, Telugu, Tamil, or Urdu.

I always ask myself who I am
The question does not let me calm
I think I am an Indian
Some body says 'You are a great father’s son'

I am an Andhraite by birth
And happy to live on this earth
My mother tongue Telugu makes me a man
The other tongue English makes me a Universal human

I know I am a tiny drop in this vast universe
And do not have a big money purse
I have resorted to some immature verse
I know not why to some life becomes a curse

I know I am no longer young
I can’t always sing
The tiredness the old age will bring
But I feel as If I were a poetic king

One day I will leave this poetic kingdom
Some times I am enveloped with this boredom
No king Lives on this kingdom for ever
But the kingdom is a perennial river

I know nothing about this discontentment,
This irritation and friction with sanity,
Suddenly it feels like I have not known my sanity,
Ever.
I have a confession to make.
To my parents,
3 decades older than me.
To tell them that I’ve been lying to them,
Lying about my degree, education and academic wealth,
For almost two years.
The fact is,
I had no choice but to tell them all is well
When the awls were pricking into my tender innards.
The time has come now,
Because I can no longer continue telling the untruth,
I tried if I could crawl in the campus,
Under the tag of being institutionalized,
For them.
Every day that I kept a straight face to them,
I trembled and felt the roars of the rising schizophrenic worlds, bit by bit, all around me.
I felt the unknown telugu that I heard in my mother tongue,
In my dad's voice.
Him renouncing me.
Him grabbing his head,
So as not to explode from the dirge of my living dead.
I hear my parents abusing me, in the random shouts of my neighbors.


I saw it all so clear.
I screamed.
I ranted.
But, found no warmth anywhere.
The fear, anticipation and confusion have killed my sanity.

Today, I flutter like a half-winged bird,
In the darkness of yesterday,
That my parents count as lit.
But then I released,
Knowledge is free.
And, knowledge is everywhere.
And knowledge came to me,
not with the stamps and seals of degrees,
But the enlightenment
From a concoction of three snorts of ******* and a dash of a little LSD on a Hoffman blot.
I rebelled mad in my high,
That I will no longer be institutionalized.
That I’m a free soul.
I became sober,
But my interests did not change.
Its been two years,
And I’m still astray, waiting to fully feel the freedom I have opted for.
For the pain of the mismatch I pour into my parent’s ears,
It kills me each day, second and time.
I have the guts to confess to my parents,
With neither shame nor embarrassment,
That my path is true and solid.
I wish not to be trained no more, to live.
I wish to simply live on my own.
I want them to know the truth.
That I have my house.
My kitchen.
My milk pan, mixer and fridge.
Today, if that **** that happened 5 years ago to me,
had happened now,
I know how to stand.
On my feet,
and hand him, my ******,
over to the law's eagle blind beaks sharper than the awl of my gossamer mists. Rather than bend my conviction, arrogance and identity to that ******* of a coward.

I want them to know that this is the only way.
Today,
I earn myself.
I live myself.
I’m free.
I have to be free.
I write all that I will.
And do forever the same.
I just,
Have to be free.
I will be free.

When time passes am a memory
A mystery to the unknown
A lovely experience to someone
And also a nightmare to someone
Whatever I do it whenever
Sometimes I have no clue on it
As a human and a social animal
Am very curious
To place my step in an innovative way
Am that one bad critic of mine
Who always introspect mercilessly
And finally this is my understanding
Of what I actually look

Chances I may be wrong ....

In Telugu language

కాలం గడిచే కొద్ది నేనో జ్ఞాపకం
కొందరికి అంతు చిక్కని ప్రశ్న
మరికొంత మందికి ఓ చక్కని అనుభవం
ఇంకొంత మందికి మరిచిపోలేని భారం
ఏ పని ఎందుకు ఎప్పుడు ఎలా చేసానో
కొన్ని సార్లు నా దగ్గరే సమాదానం లేదు
మనిషిగా ఒక్క సామాజిక పశువుగా
ప్రతి అడుగు విభినంగా వేయాలని
తాపత్రయపడే ఓ సాదాసీదా వాడిని
నన్ను ప్రతి రోజు విశ్లేషించుకునే
ఒక్క జాలి లేని విమర్శకుడిని
చివరిగా ఇది నా మీద నేను
సాహసంతో చేసుకున్న విశ్లేషణ !!!

నమస్తే ...

I had really hoped
To forget you, once and for all
However, it seems you are always hovering around
Like an annoying little mosquito
Ready to **** the blood
Of anyone and everyone in your vicinity
And looking for that perfect window of opportunity
To mock my shortcomings
Which apparently do not exist
For your precious little "best friend"
Who has a smug smile on his face
Ready to defend you at the drop of a hat
Of course, it will only be a matter of time
Before you tire of him as well
Because, people exist merely for your needs
Which are about as realistic
As Telugu action movies are
Therefore, it is a huge irony
That you were my first female friend
Of course, I am not sure you understand
What friendship truly means
Because, you promise one thing
And then proceed to do the exact opposite
May God help that unfortunate soul
Who truly cares for you
Because s/he will be in for a rollercoaster ride
Which will never end
Until your delusional fantasies are satisfied
By the time that eventually happens
S/he would be dead
Anyway, it was you
Who wanted to be friends with me in the first place
I, being a naive idiot
Readily accepted your offer of friendship
And was with you
Through thick and thin
However, you cut me off
When you needed me no longer
I apologised to you a number of times
Not because I did anything wrong
But because your inflated ego required a massage
Alas! To you, I was nothing more than a problem child
Whom you wanted to mould
According to your whims and fancies
I was never an independent human being
Who could make his own choices
And live his life on his own terms
Your own Brahmin sensibilities matter more to you
Than a friend who genuinely cared for you
Unlike "Mr Smug Face", whom I had mentioned earlier
You destroyed my self-confidence
And turned me into an insecure wreck
God knows how many more people exist
Whom you've treated as "use and throw"
Just keep one thing in mind, though
There will surely be a time
When the tables are turned
And it is you who will become a lonely wreck
Then there will be noone
Who is ready to rush to your aid
Because, you will be forgotten; once and for all
As you deserve to be

For someone who is as busy and as big a deal as Tamannaah Bhatia, her courtesy comes as breath of fresh air. "I am in Mumbai in the middle of back-to-back shoots for endorsements," she says, apologising profusely, for a few minutes' delay in keeping her appointment with us. With films lined up in Telugu, Tamil and Hindi, Tamannaah is one busy bee, indeed. "The Bahubali shoot still on — I have some work left in it which will be completed this month," she says, as she settles down down for a chat with Hyderabad Times. Excerpts.

So, you must have become quite a pro at sword-fighting, horse-riding et al, now that you are close to wrapping up the shoot for Bahubali...

(Laughs) Playing Avantika has changed my life. Horse riding was something I had never tried before. It was a completely new space to be in and it was scary. I realised that the only way to deal with it is to first face my fears, even before I stepped into the arena to train. Because once I'm on the horse, it's either me riding the horse or the horse taking me for a ride. (laughs). So there was no room for fear. But the training really helped me become more agile and sensitive to my body. This film changed how the industry looked at me. I went from being a dainty, soft girl to this strong woman.

So, do you look at yourself differently as well?

Well, I have overcome a lot of fears — be it the fear of heights or anything that's even remotely challenging physically. I feel empowered now. I have seen myself transform. I was someone who would think twice before going out alone; now, when someone says you have to do an aerial shot, I am like, 'Bring it on!' I'm not scared of things any more. I'm not nervous; not anxious. In general, I'm a braver person.

After this, acting in entertainers might seem like a cakewalk...

Not necessarily. Even the song in Abhinetri demanded a lot from me physically. I mean, there were 15 days of hectic rehearsals alone before we got to the real shoot. The job of an actor is such that you are required to be fit all the time. This is one profession that gives you the ability, no, the right to focus on yourself — physically, mentally and emotionally. It makes you stronger. And I quite enjoy it!

You seem to be enjoying being the fashionista too, of late...

(Laughs) Believe it or not, before I went to Bollywood, I thought there was no such thing as fashion industry. I thought movies drove fashion. I had no clue how trends came about. I did not know that there were trends for every season, nor was I aware of the many fashion weeks. I was more of an actor; less of a fashionista.

When I started doing Hindi films, I realised that fashion was not some frivolous business! People might think, 'Arrey, what's the fuss about what shoe you wear?'. But, now,

I like dressing up because I realise that it is an expression, and an extension, of your personality. There was a lot of trial and error, but in the end, I found my personality through clothes. Now, when I am sitting and chilling, I find myself researching on trends. I feel responsible for the fashion choices I make, because when you set a trend, hundreds are going to follow you. You don't want to set the wrong example.

So much pressure! How do juggle it all and manage to stay sane?

Family. I have always had them around me, even if they aren't physically present. So when I am having a crazy day and need to find some sanity, I will look for solace in family. In fact, there have been times when they felt I didn't sound alright on the phone, so they took the next flight to come see me. Having a support structure like that keeps me sane.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses-canberra | www.marieaustralia.com/plus-size-formal-dresses

title: cow borrow...
body: oranges smile.

https://www.unicode.org/L2/L2018/18323-open-four.pdfv(freeze: 444444444444444444444444444444444444444444444)

weak spot: Lao Che: Powstanie Warszawskie: the Warsaw Uprising... i tend to cry... when my heart constrict into being sized akin to a pebble... then: ah... release! tears! there: stands! a mountain! a monument of me!

i couldn't possibly give either the Hindus or the Arabs
credit for our modern numbers...
given the following rubric:

ένας: 1 - one - I - iota
δύο: 2 - two - Z - zeta
τρία: 3 - three - E - eta
τέσσερα: 4 - four - μ - mu... of h
πέντε: 5 - five - S - esse
έξι: 6 - six - b - ba-toom
επτά: 7 - seven - Γ - gamma
οκτώ: 8 - eight - B - beta
εννέα: 9 - nine - P - or rho
μηδέν: 0 - zero - O - omicron

the numbers were already here...
             "hidden" or rather... the Romans knew arithmetic
in the following fashion:

XI + IX = **
                
                  so... it was nothing new...
to have ascribed something numerical to what was
otherwise a letter -
a sound...                   hmm...

what of the Japanese?
               六 - or... ロク: which is six...

there's a reason why i won't budge on this matter...
i had one Egyptian fwend "friend" once:
what a disappointment he was...
like with most Muslim acquaintances:
the feeling of conversation soon turns into
a feeling of conversion...

               such nagging *******: always looking
for proselytes: who'd they'd treat as inferiors...
not even as Janissaries or Mamluks...
just... eh... some odd convert...

              obviously i didn't, convert...
but i'm looking into a second Islamic schism...
oh no... the Persians wouldn't bow to an invading
horde of Arabs: Muhammad was not a man
of his word... that chapter has been covered...

i'm looking for a second schism toward...
the Turks... spearheading it... with Hey-Zeus...
Isa... being... well...
        Ba'al Yatoosh... lord of mosquitos...
another day another reiteration of my conviction:
since i won't be siding with the Gnostics
when the proper **** hits the fan: proper(ly)...
i'm bailing out... on this whole history...
the Pontius Pilate stance...

            it's also called the waiting game...
my neighbour's son's wife is having a baby...
the waters broke some... oh... 48 hour ago...
but the national health service didn't intervene...
C-section phobia... ****'s sake!
get that tadpole out! imagine having a child
stuck in you for almost two days...
the waters have broken...
  where's the necessary lubricant for her to push
the baby out? why can't all births be done
via a C-section? eh?! costs too much?
what's so good with a natural birth...
by comparison to other mammals...
  we're pseudo-mammals...
you watch a birth of a gazelle... it just drops out
(the mare) like a diarrhea sludge of a serpent...
plop: and it's out...
******* "dyslexic" in its ability to stand up...
but hey presto!
                      it's blinking: so it's receptive...
but my neighbour's away... i was giving the duty
of looking after Bella... this white beau of
a heterochromia: so a Dawid Bovie type...
rebel rebel... doesn't know whether she's a meow
or a woof!
           i love my neighbour to bits...
but i walk in... first things first... my library shelf
is a mess... by my standards of cleanliness...
i walk into her house: shoom! i get the whiff!
i think i just walked into: a museum dedicated
to Ed Gein...
      i'm not even joking...
  i start looking for the cat... change the water...
add some extra dry-pebbles of food to her dish...
change the stale, dried out sachet
with two options: on the menu... some parody beef
and some parody salmon in: probably not so
parody jelly... pig brain remains gelatin...
which is good... i like being reminded...
whenever i think my life's ****** up...
someone else's is... more...
                hence the topic of jealousy disappears...
thank **** for this little...
i'll take these shoes, these socks...
   and... yes, thank you: ******* into the forest
come sunset...

because why is it, in Latin... that... letters do not
have names, akin to the Greek
"fashion" of naming A: alpha... and B: beta...
hell... I is not aye: a yes, affirmative but:
iota...

i might be drinking... i might be drunk...
but i still cycle like a madman through
the traffic... next time i give a ****...
i'll give a **** when a teenage girl breaks her shins:
folds her knees and says: i love you...
blue moon... i.e. that's never going to happen...

it has happened before: Nietzsche in the zenith
of his furore pretended to be a ******...
Polacks are the Frenchmen of the Slav...
yeah: #metoo... i sometimes forget i'm a ******...
i'm more prone to suggest myself as:
HERR SWAB! ******* schwabian!...
not the tourist elder Saxon that became the islander
Englishman... something more focused...
but i get it... i too get "confused" from time...
time... time... space...

but you can't really measure language... sounds...
not really... sure...
you can... elongate an omicron into an omega:
*** via through to pool...
that's an omicron to an omega transfer:
and... no diacritical markers were or are to be used...

as a microcosm of the totality of man...
as: but one... i.e. 0.1...
this implant in me: of the retrospective of man...
history... that... however written...
just... erases itself: because... nature...
doesn't allow for a celebrity horse...
or whatever... replica after replica...
no distinction: the authority comes from:
you will not keep an Alexander the Great for...
what nature allows... scheme... little man...
nature will soon yawn and settle the matters
into creating the replica of the vast void
above it...  the game is to replicate...
      
only now i walked around a supermarket...
whiskey: check... pepsi... check...
turkey steaks for the cats: check...
wow... such... such unremarkable people...
have passed through the membrane of time...
2 children, 3 children... most of which look:
underfed...
   oh so, well... moi..
             i tried to give a ****: once upon a time...
now? well... if i'm not getting any satisfaction...
what? marry a ******* gargoyle in the making?
she drops out two plump-plum-pig-cheeks
of babies and then what?! watch television with her
till we grow old and tired?!
oh **** no!
        make me a warm bath: i'll do the vein slitting
myself... at least when i'm alone
life remains bearable... interesting:
i get to surprise myself...
      sure... sometimes i **** prostitutes...
like a good Teutonic knight might...
                   but most the time...
spare me the ******* details... there are no details...
i stroke my beard pretending to be playing
a violin... it's not going to happen:
i have a blank canvas for company...
that's my epitome... and... probably a ******* epitaph...

but i will not, give, credit... to the Arabs... or the Hindus...
for... giving European numbers...
****'s sake! XI: 11: elven eleven!
people on this continent used to substitute letters
for: abstractions akin to: the necessity of numbers
to measure... space within space...
space counter to time...
  time and... whatever...
Meister Ronaldo Retardo: no... it's not going
to happen...
             i'm not going to allow these copper-necks
to have some up-right: we evolved prior to you:
sure... now you spend a winter in ******* Finland...
******* copper-necks...
can't call them "*******"... can't call them albinos...
those supposedly tanned people of the desert...
my my... 2000 years... you ever wonder...
why the Hebrews became so... ******* pale?!
oh sure sure... we inherited numbers...
but... with the letters we wrote...
we already had the numbers!

   let's have some... pseudo... insert burp:
something akin to the Copernican revolution
implosion...
                     ౺

      μ                           h

                   4: look left...

huh? because it can't possibly be
the 5th disengaging with the existence
of Poland...
like that... ha ha... joke... from 19th century
France...
Ubo Roi... by Alfred Jarry...
  ha ha! it's really funny now...
oh, don't mind me minding the English:
they are island dwelling folk...
half fixated on being Saxons: half fixated
on being Welsh: Celtic...
           never mind them... how England stated:
war against **** Germany!
but... but... last time i heard...
Polacks waged war on these isles...
in the spitfires...
  but what Englishman ever fought their
claims on the lands of Poland?
             mind you... it took **** Germany
combined with the effort of Soviet Russia
to conquer Poland... than it took for...
**** Germany to... conquer... France...
seriously?! France? the birthplace of Napoleon...
France wasn't conquered during the second world war:
France simply spread its legs...
it: capitulated...
the Palestinians have a term for throwing
children against grenades...
the same... the French: just throw easy *****
against anything that wriggles!

because it's funny now... the joke had to ferment...
all the way back from the 19th century...
i needed to feed my neighbour's cat...
walk into a... a... a... a ******* Ed Gein museum...
seriously... i spent the rest of the afternoon
pretending to be drunk... sitting it the garden
admiring the moon...
getting drunk on: how i ordered my household...
i'm drunk... on how... erratic... guillotine... prone...
some people are... sort of like:
   vlad: land-zurückgefordert!
but the Alfred Jarry joke is joke, right: proper...
did it age? really?
oh: the Polacks are king King John of England:
lackland hipsters...
the lesser Hebrews...
        now... oh now...
   hmm... France... post-colonialism...
the "history": how's that working with you?
if it's necessary: tear Ukraine into two!
i don't care... i'll be more than welcoming this:
Russophile attititude!
       it was a good joke... in the 19th century...
but... given France... and the 21st century...
post-colonial realities...
eh... i smirk...i'm trying ol find someone
under 5ft4... who's... greedy with canons!
Elba?! nice... pretty little island...
want to repeat history?!
          Alfred Jarry: ha ha!
who runs Paris, these days?
oh, wait... ******'s dead...
              i want to live in Tel Aviv....
or... like a lot of the Beatnik poets...
in... hubris...via: Tangiers...
                         funny joke... the French, though...
huddling... into shadows...
there's nothing to laugh about at...
is, there?
            
bewildering:
we have names for numbers...
but we don't have names for letters...
undifferentiated:
nouns conrta consonants...
1 is indivisible...
2 is...
   well... 1 is divisible by 0:
ergo 0.1...
            moons and monkeys and money...

time to pretend to have hair
and comb it...
such that is history that is France:
that is post-colonialism...
and... whatever the hell is allows...
let it... 100 years later... some variation of
a Reconquista?!
             great joke... the Polacks having
no land...
           like: you have a history or just:
the ******* architecture?
    it's not nice... seeing you being *****...
Charlemagne is... twisting... turning
in his grave... shouting via death:
death to all that live!
              ROT... and by now: rot is best.

no! nein! nie! niet!
numbers didn't arrive from India... via the Arabs!
we already had the numbers!
within the confines of letters!
*******... take your pride back to the camel jockeys
you were originally bound to be:
******* sand people!
  i can't fall asleep lovely bound to the temp.
of the equator... check me... come...
hmm... the northern bound... height...
come... the darkness and the silence...
and the coldness of Siberia! *******: Baghdadi:
ummah: chasm of wants... *******...

******* luxury of temp.: ******* inbreds:
me too... i'd love to **** my cousins!
i'd love to be a cousin ******.