Salubrious Air

You have to be in a positive mood to remember the meaning of the word Salubrious; which, in India's cities you cannot; me thinks. And you will agree, the air in the cities here is not salubrious at all; contrary to the dictionary.com explanatory sentence where it uses salubrious as an adjective for air as a noun, or even verb. So, my readers, will you remember the word salubrious, from its Latin original word salus which means "health" from its usage as  'salubrious air' now?

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P.S. When writing this blog piece I deliberately typed "salubrious" every time in my text editor so as to better memorize the word salubrious and its spellings.

Leadership of the Lesser

It is healthy to write. Even when you copy and write in verbatim. An excerpt from page 35 of John's The Log from the Sea of Cortez tells:

In the early morning before daylight we came into the harbor
at San Diego, in through the narrow passage, and we followed the
lights on a changing course to the pier. All about us war bustled,
although we had no war; steel and thunder, powder and men ---the
men preparing thoughtlessly, like dead men, to destroy things. The
planes roared over in formation and the submarines were quiet and
ominous. There is no playfulness in a submarine. The military mind
must limit its thinking to be able to perform its function at all.
Thus, in talking with a naval officer who had won a target
competition  with big naval guns, we asked, "Have you thought what
happens in a little street when one of your shells explodes, of the
families town to pieces, a thousand generations influenced, when you
signalled Fire?" "Of course not," he said. "Those shells travel so
far that you couldn't possibly see where they land." And he was
quite correct. If he could really see where they land and what they
do, if he could really feel the power in his dropped hand and the
waves radiating out from his gun, he could not be able to perform
his function. He himself would be the weak point of his gun. But
by not seeing, by insisting that it be a problem of ballistics and
trajectory, he is a good gunnery officer. And he is too humble to
take the responsibility for thinking. The whole structure of his
world would be endangered if he permitted himself to think. The
pieces must stick within their pattern or the whole thing collapses
and the design is gone. We wonder whether in the present pattern
the pieces are not straining to fall out of line; whether the paradoxes
of our times are not finally mounting to a conclusion of
ridiculousness that will make the whole structure collapse. For the
paradoxes are becoming so great that leaders of people must be less
and less intelligent to stand their own leadership.

Nighty Walks

The best hours to walk leisure in Ahmedabad city is probably in the wee hours of morning when the dusk is changing into dawn. The dust in the air and the traffic on the roads is at its minimum lowest. Perfect time to walk. But, a lot of Gujaratees complained long ago that the Cantontement authorities won't let them through their gates. Is it not a free country?

No, not when you aunties put on your nighties and go for your morning walk. And, worse you guys are scattered all over. Later, the streets will have your badly shaven husbands.

Pop Art - Some thoughts

Pop Art is a well known form of art after it was noticed and accepted in British 50s and American counterpart ways as a movement. In my opinion, infusion and inclusion of popular culture expressions into a work of art is how it is manifested finally. In India, the dusty and hot East, Pop Art has been existing in abundance after the movement, mainly from the post independence (post colonial?) filmy cultures, and subsequently Mumbai's Filmistaan becoming one of the major hubs. While, Filmistaan has moved ahead with modern times and embraced modern technologies, and is now called BollyWood, the importance of Art , 'Pop Art', in this case has been left somewhere behind in the backseat. In this myriad of increased demand, consumption, pomp and money, Mr. Pop shows up infrequently now. So, the good thing is Pop still exists, and provides limitless opportunities which can be Popp'd, !

A word a day- Antediluvian

I have subscribed to a daily mail from dictionary.com which basically sends me one new word in my inbox to know of. I have made this subscription with the intent to improve my vocabulary; and, because I have very low -- I honestly mean really low -- memory retention capacity, all I do is get to know the word and soon I have forgotten the meaning of this word. I have been unable to digest this daily staple or knowledge. Maybe, what I should do is blame my current surroundings and environment where I cannot retain the word like 'Antediluvian' because it has no real use or is a redundant word here in my climate zone; but then, if the word such as Antediluvian is useful to me perhaps in future, at least for the sake of improved literary capacities I must probably resort to internet, and make use of things like emails, chats, blogs, facebook or all. Ah! another idea- I can have some quality conversation with my wife, or I can make a random phone call to people who love or like literature; at least one conversation a day with someone known, unknown or bygone. ByGoid I wouldn't have got this idea had I not started writing this- blog. Man, I love writing!!
So, today, the word I got in my inbox is antediluvian
( Audio Pronunciation )
\an-tee-di-LOO-vee-uhn\
, is an
adjective,
and means:
1. Of or relating to the period before the Biblical flood.
2. very old, old-fashioned, or out of date; antiquated; primitive: antediluvian

And, dissect the word Antediluvian,
- Ante is Latin for something before or something preceding,
- ian is like a suffix giving a time, event or a person a general larger identity,

hence, 'Ante .... ian', which isunt a complete word unless there is something between. The closest word I am getting from my plenty of education and experience, that is why some memory is there, is 'deluge' which I can put in between. So, let us go to old times and instead of calling the word 'deluge' call it 'diluv' instead.
Hence,
Ante + diluvee + ian
or,
Antediluvian

Remember, there are three words to be kept in mind and in an arranged manner now. Also remember, an additional adjective is always worth if it is handy in your ready to use vocabulary arsenal. I hope this has blog has helped the reader, and ironically I am still just too distracted. After all this dissecting and exploring, and repeated writing of the word 'antediluvian', I still wonder the word will stay in my memory for good enough long time.

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p.s. after all these edits, spell-checks and revisions, an example on how to use Antediluvian comes to my mind- It seems India's policy makers are making their decisions based on an Antediluvian mind set.

A glimpse from Colonel Gautam's notes

Generally I find quoted quotes, and even most originals, purty quoty, that is good to know, and that is it. But, I am amazed by this one original by Colonel Gautam. In verbatim:

Traditionally, in India, when a child is born, his/her birth is celebrated based on the gender, but those who are blessed with person with disability, their celebration starts with the well being (physical and mental health) of the child. They wait for the cry of the child and sucking of mother's feed or any such existing activity for the newly born baby. They never think of gender.

Is there any need for an object?

How can letters or words be made to dance and so make an interesting sentence? How can then these be danced to make a whole comprehensible piece of a paragraph or writing? What works to make all this work?

So, why are there questions when there is no need for any answer? Is it lack of structure? Or, just lack of inspiration?

Is there some static force in play leading me to a status quo or a vacuum? Or, is there some too much vague movement to handle- dance or no-dance?

Flats to the Hills- Shamless Travel broadcast- May and June 2015 - 03

The airplane it dangl'd, the passengers they tumbel'd,
I rambled, I talk'd random, I sketch'd,
I taxied, I walk'd,
soon to be with brothers and friends.
Hanging around getting my pending urban share,
soon I realize comforter can be cooler air.
They call this place Delhi,
I call it fuck-it.
The nights they flow by and turn into weeks,
the brilliant silhouettes I decide I must leave.
The heat has become overwhelming,
even the air conditioners are not helping.
People are loosing calm I can see,
the Dogs already have, see,
see their teeth.
See their eyes,
see the sign,
resign,
or run away,
take the pills,
fuck it,
say, Good Bye dear Dog, I am heading to the hills.

Flats to the Hills- Shamless Travel broadcast- May and June 2015 - 02

The wonderlusty green lawns with mounds,
I pick up somebady's guitar and pluck some sounds,
handy as the guitar is, so I sing more, Harry Mclintock's,
Big Rock Candy Mountain- you don't need any socks,
neither any money. There, a burley bum by the shady lanes,
of the sugar canes,
in this month of May...

So on this hot summer day,
A rucksack and another bag on my back,
I say good bye temporarily to Jack,
he wags his tongue along with the tail,
I kiss him a lick, and he licks me back a kiss,
I will miss you I tell him, and then I sneak out, quick.

 

Flats to the Hills- Shamless Travel broadcast- May and June 2015 - 01

It is getting hotter day by day,
day after day is passing away,
The arid desert is left behind,
and mountains are coming to mind.
The brawling air conditioner gives needy resting,
makes complacent, sleep is in,
remembering past isn't that bad,
darkness or light, I wonder what is more exciting,
tucked in a city with a whiff of intelligence,
I dream of travel North,
where it must'be cooler,
while the dog sleeps, I shall pack my bags.

Dear Farmer, You should live my way (House and Money)

A farmer's acquaintances, friends and family wanted him to live in apparently a prosperous way. The farmer's shack did not appeal much to them. In addition to the regular grains and few vegetables the farmer was growing, his acquaintances, friends and family then asked him to grow some exotic crop. And, he did so. All loved the sweet watery tomatoes he grew. Filled with lost memories while dining they all then asked the farmer, rather advised him, to build a better house; and, so he did the same with some robust material he could find around- things like wood and mud mostly. Everybody, his acquaintances, friends and family pitched in with money, materials and labour, and the house was not only beautiful, it was the handsomest of the houses they had seen before.

Then the farmer was told that the world has progressed and stronger houses can be buit from magical materials and magicians knows as experts. These modern houses have value just like exotic crops. These houses cost more. The farmer owns a plenty of land, so, he can easily loan some in exchange of money or something else. The farmer liked the idea. The next house he built was a neatly done boxed house. It looked like a gift pack tied in ribbon.

Settled in the easy chair of his new sweet box house the farmer looks outside its larger windows, and ponders at the immense land which he still owns. In the porch he can see his family, and his cattle. The cattle sleeps in the old handsome house in the night. And, in the room there is another box, it has some left over change.

Intent for curves in buildings

They ask me, why curves? When most buildings are boxes and straight lines, and it is much cheaper to build them the regular way?

Yes, admitted, but it looks different and ... ummm probably fancier

and

perhaps curves are interesting, and perhaps more importantly, liberating. Live in a cave compared to a house, you are bound to become more liberal.

It is like couches maybe, aeroplanes and large suspension bridges maybe. Straight ones may not be comfortable when compared to the modern ones which have incorporated ergonomics in designs. Or maybe, forces of nature have just forced them to become aesthetically more interesting.

Why do you need bend on a road? Simply because it makes things more interesting. It is in the air, a manifestation of the air to allow to see what great things it contains.

Usefulness of Dreams

To dream and then to experiment with the same dream in probably one activity humans can look to pursue. Although, when I notice Banjo -- note a dog not a human being -- dreaming while sleeping I wonder if he is also looking to convert them into reality? Anyways, it doesn't matter if he is or not. Probably, his life because of his dreams is already much interesting; probably more entertaining than the human observer who believes more on reality.

And, since the dog's interpretation of dreams also relates to us, the humans, should the task of dreams converted to reality matter more to us? And, so, shall we look to pursue it?

Two hours for work, two for chores, two for somebody else's errands. Rest eighteen for dreaming which includes sleep could be Life worth living probably.

Why Stop

I think I am missing on a beautiful activity on most of my days. That is, to spend time writing, and hence-on, also improving my hand on the craft; the craft of writing.

Call it critical writing, observational writing, creative writing or so on, perhaps this pause in my writing output can be called  Writer's Block, as famously put by many. And, I think it is an insulting remark. For, it shows- One, I have become lazy. Two, I probably don't enjoy writing. Or or And, three, the writer in me isn't confident that what I am doing is creative.

Then, I notice why people don't face this Writer's Block when carrying out writing activities, such as writing exams, filling out application forms or creating petitions. Why? Perhaps, simply because,  these things do not suffer from requirements of a creative force, or if I am right, a motivating creative force which will eventually create something new. And also maybe, creative writing is such a beautiful animal that though it cannot be undone it can always be redone, redone again or newly done again.

Genuine creative written matter, doesn't suffer from any block, I think; for anything written genuinely will create something new. Creativity just doesn't equates with any stoppage or a block. Writing is about flow of words, free flow or hindered flow but yet a flow. Hence, the term Writer's Block, is therefore clearly a weed in the process of creative writing; maybe an expression which is unnecessary.

Someone who likes writing should just keep writing, perhaps.

Good Cocktail

Do the two fields of Human condition , i.e. Development and Art make a good mix? Think about it, it can either be nicely cocktailed or it can go really bad. Asit is right in reminding me, that tradition is something to learn from, and what really have you done when you haven't added your art to it? Hence, where will development and empowerment come from otherwise?

These words inspire me to think about all the work we do with building houses in poor regions, rural settings and disaster situations. Shouldn't the rural artisans or regular contractors involved in daily work must be inspired to put art in their development work?

Really, how much of this cocktail can really go bad?

Good Morning Gloominess

Is it isn't because of the gloom and the feeble struggles of lights trying to seep inside this room from the few windows it has that I can see the vapour rising from my new hot cup of tea?

Imagine what would happen when suddenly you find that this next morning you have your tea cup missing from its usual place?

Nothin. You just might wanna sketch it.
 

The Time Warp of Capacity Building

The so called capacity building in development slash empowerment programmes in India appear to be in a time warp. 'Capacity building', a term which aims for human development is pretty much an intangible term made tangible through mostly grant-in-aid type of projects, and with a major chunk focussing on trainings for skill development; and in the cases of poor and vulnerable, for income generation. In addition, it is slowly becoming apparent that the likes of Aid agencies, Government and Non Government Organizations (NGO's) who design such capacity building policies and implement them have perhaps become dated entities, or own some sort of a secretly kept time-machine to travel swiftly through time to know and be enlightened about the problems a developing society faces and opportunities it might have.

So, I bendly ask the time warpers- if they factor for 'time' as a component in their so called 'capacity building' programmes, or not? If not, perhaps with changing time you can think of including it. As time becomes an important -- from an intangible to a tangible -- term in today's India, instead of more than helping anyone anymore, it can , or has, become a factor representing degeneration. One gets a little more dated as time passes. Therefore, the so called capacity building projects offering benefits without a denominator of time should be simply considered obsolete. Even the secret time-machine is not of much use here, because even a time-machine may need amends with time.

Think again. About, the so called 'Capacity Building' programmes. What progress is an individual expected to make unless he has been equipped to compete and improve over time?

Please fold your hands

The sun was high and it was pleasant and cool inside the room. I was in a new high ranked job position and my employers and colleagues looked just happy on my joining. It seemed all liked me. I also received a handsome grant amount for research I wanted to pursue; as promised. I had finally joined a democratic institution in my own culture. Nobody was happier than me.

As the job progressed, the outside sun was as bright as always. I wore blue kurta to work and seldom a few times western clothes. But I started having differences with my colleagues. Probably, because of my working style which they said is slightly different. But I was also reassured that there was nothing wrong with it. "There's nothing wrong with it you know. But just then what do we need to spend so much of energy for? But anyways, do what you like", my new and close aides would say.

Months passed by and the sun outside reduced its intensity. But is never lost its glare, so most events would happen inside. This time it was a ceremony where all including the trustees would be present. They called all seniors, including me, to the stage and receive honorary certificates of contributions. On my turn I took the three steps that lead to the stage and received my commendation. It was a weird ceremony because in the end there was a strange unknown God to be prayed to.

All on the stage except the seated trustees folded their hands and joined their palms against their chests for a typical namaskaar. I folded my hands too, but did not feel like  taking my hands up to my chests like everyone, and out of respect locked my hands in front of my crotch and bowed my head out of respect. I knew I was being noticed but not expected the trustee to sternly warn me that this is not the way. I must do namaste like everyone else.

The sun was up. It did not matter.

 

Never mind, just an aberration

Leaving the Ahmedabad Cantonment gate looking for an autorickshaw. Can't find one. So, looks to walk half a mile until Rajasthan hospital where surely there will be one. On an off road sees an exotic hand rickshaw, and the rickshaw puller, most likely a foreigner, waving excitedly, so waves back. The banyan tree in front of hospital shades a large area, is full of Indian people. The street shops and larries are selling chai, nasta, masala, cigarettes. Noisy, vapory, smoky- the smell, the sound, and the air tells. The Japanese monk has come chasing and asks for Three hundred rupees. An exotic sum ten times higher for a distance not yet travelled so is denied. He has a choice, either to argue or have tea.

Walking further sees the place has changed a lot, a lot. No more railroad intersection, an overbridge instead. No more boundary walls, wired fences instead. Where there were buildings are now roads and planned plotted lands. The erstwhile graveyard is now a party plot. Noisy, dusty, smoky- the smell, the sound, and the air tells. It's been a few miles of walking and it is time for whiskey.

Waking up in a double bed, most likely Connaught Place. Birds are chirping outside the window. The light is bright yet soft. The smell, the sound, and the air tells. Can hear utensils rumbling and bustling. Can see people wearing baniyaans and jeneyu hustling between the opposite doors, using the room as a thoroughfare. Preparations are on for a mass meal. The crown of tropical trees visible from the window sill tells there must be stairs to go down. But the design of stair room is bad. The stairs are there but the first stair drop is at least 3 feet. The missing steps are high enough to make one tumble and fall in the stair well. The stair room is not perfectly rectangular either. Faulty construction. People in baniyaans and jeneyu come for assistance bringing two step ladders, both made of beautiful latest lightweight alloy.

Walking in the street an old acquaintance is seen, so saying, "Hey, long time!"

"Hey, that was hell of a night"

Surprised, "what do you mean? What happened? Can't recall"

"The cops didn’t take it well"

Mused, "What had happened? Did I do something? Really, I cannot recall"

"Never mind, will tell you next time"

Can you Winch me up?

G / G7  Em D
Bass: GAB

I need to rise to get the guitar,
play a song,
with all notes bluesy high and afar,
Please..... can you Winch me up?

I need to sit,
I have been sleeping long,
want fresh blood to rush to head and hit,
......Can you Winch me up?

I need to crouch up,
set my back straight and strong,
so I can make my guitar pick up,
...... Can you Winch me up?

I need to write in ink on paper drained,
sing a song,
that's is what I call digitially unrestrained,
...... Can you Winch me up?
..... Can you Winch me up?
..... Can you Winch me up?

fades
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