When Li'l A was a toothless, smiling wonder, Thatha, his grandfather, used to entertain him with animal noises. These are a few that i remember, Thatha's annotations are noted parenthetically:
"Naiiiiiiah-Naiiiiiiah" (that's a horse)
"Bow! bow-bow bow" (dog)
"Wroof, wroof woof" (another dog)
"Phrrrt phrruut" (elephant)
!!!!????Uhhh????!!!!
I protested for the sake of honor and integrity in the re-production of animal noise: "That's not an elephant!"
"It is," Thatha insisted. And he enlightened me thusly, "I didn't say it was an elephant trumpeting, that's the sound of an elephant farting."
Ok. Fair enough.
____
Friday, October 06, 2006
Thursday, October 05, 2006
Putting the 'Amis' in 'Islamism' (A Followup)
I originally referred to Martin Amis's thoughts on 'Islamism' here. Though it's latish now, i’d like to point to two very articulate responses to Amis's article, which originally appeared in The Guardian.
Riposte one is by Dave Bonta who guested over at Modal Minority with the reminder that 9-11 (the 2006 version) marks one hundred years of the beginning of Satyagraha.
Riposte two is by Pankaj Mishra, whose article in The Guardian does the typical Pankaj Mishra thing where he explains every! thing! as if we’ve been away in another universe and haven’t kept in touch with earth happenings for ages. Still and all, a good article.
_____
Riposte one is by Dave Bonta who guested over at Modal Minority with the reminder that 9-11 (the 2006 version) marks one hundred years of the beginning of Satyagraha.
Riposte two is by Pankaj Mishra, whose article in The Guardian does the typical Pankaj Mishra thing where he explains every! thing! as if we’ve been away in another universe and haven’t kept in touch with earth happenings for ages. Still and all, a good article.
_____
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Monday, October 02, 2006
"You must be the change you wish to see in the world."
Be The Change needs volunteers for projects (incl. soup kitchen, food pantry, meal delivery, and school beautification) in New York on October 7th.
Li'l A and i are up for the soup kitchen.
More at Be the Change.
Happy Gandhi Jayanti, y'all!
__________
Sunday, October 01, 2006
When Life Hands you Lemons…
It's surely time to make your much-loved salad.
For the dressing: Whisk lemon juice, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, pinch of fresh pepper and crushed garlic.
Pour on: Layered baby greens, tomatoes, baby carrots, kalamata olives, red beans, and crumbled feta.
Bonus cosmic thumbs-up (wink on the side): When you find peace at the center of your tomato :).
For the dressing: Whisk lemon juice, olive oil, balsamic vinegar, pinch of fresh pepper and crushed garlic.
Pour on: Layered baby greens, tomatoes, baby carrots, kalamata olives, red beans, and crumbled feta.
Bonus cosmic thumbs-up (wink on the side): When you find peace at the center of your tomato :).
PIPE
In the darkness
She reads his mind,
Brailing the sure heft,
The extent of his body.
Considered kisses
Are soft as cotton;
She can ignite them
Like matchsticks.
Then coolly watch:
They’ll burn slo-mo
All the way down,
Kiss her fingertips.
Cocooned by breath
Shaped like a kiss,
Think--the perfect color
Should be called 'Kiss,'
Would stick irresistibly
And ever so lightly
As if reluctant
To separate.
Usually, only sleep
Casually divides them--
Wait, and they fuse again
Confused by dream-space.
________
She reads his mind,
Brailing the sure heft,
The extent of his body.
Considered kisses
Are soft as cotton;
She can ignite them
Like matchsticks.
Then coolly watch:
They’ll burn slo-mo
All the way down,
Kiss her fingertips.
Cocooned by breath
Shaped like a kiss,
Think--the perfect color
Should be called 'Kiss,'
Would stick irresistibly
And ever so lightly
As if reluctant
To separate.
Usually, only sleep
Casually divides them--
Wait, and they fuse again
Confused by dream-space.
________
Saturday, September 30, 2006
OCTOBER 9/29/06
She’s just been to see the new doctor
(the one who’s suddenly worried about her)
But you can tell that she hasn’t begun
To take it seriously, you can tell.
By the way she clutches the scripts
That dictate sequences of exams.
Those sheets haven’t even
Penetrated her satchel
The news certainly hasn’t
Sunk into her brain.
So she’s off to see her doctor
(the one whose name
She frequently couples with
non medical mentions of her heart)
half skipping and all smiling
And re-noticing with fresh surprise
That the manhole covers
Outside NYU’s med center
are stamped “Made in India.”
Impish on auto and determined
To tease him for being reminded
Of her by manhole covers everyday.
Inside the Emergency Room
Where people are getting oxygen
And shots and IVs
She’s the lucky one
Who gets a kiss on the forehead.
She tosses her head
In feigned impatience
She swears to him
That she’s alright.
She asks for and receives
Another chaste kiss;
Becomes aware
Of their audience.
Says goodbye,
Says she’ll see him at home.
She gets chocolate truffles.
Reads the rest of a Clinton story
Takes the train home.
Walks upstairs. Checks e-mail.
Starts a poem. Also a book.
Collects the mail.
Jokes with the UPS man.
Plays with the neighbor’s bull mastiff
Says he’s grown to seven times
The size he was last month
And then still standing on the sidewalk,
In that hour when no matter
What she’s been doing
She always begins
To unconsciously wait.
Waiting
For her men
(interchangeably
Child-man
and Man-child)
to return home.
Waiting,
It strikes her that thoughts of
leaving them sad and without her,
Are the same as those past fears
Of being sad and without them.
Only then, the tears come
And she couldn’t be
more surprised
By this strange phenomenon
Of raspy cries and wet eyes
If she were just newly born.
____________
(the one who’s suddenly worried about her)
But you can tell that she hasn’t begun
To take it seriously, you can tell.
By the way she clutches the scripts
That dictate sequences of exams.
Those sheets haven’t even
Penetrated her satchel
The news certainly hasn’t
Sunk into her brain.
So she’s off to see her doctor
(the one whose name
She frequently couples with
non medical mentions of her heart)
half skipping and all smiling
And re-noticing with fresh surprise
That the manhole covers
Outside NYU’s med center
are stamped “Made in India.”
Impish on auto and determined
To tease him for being reminded
Of her by manhole covers everyday.
Inside the Emergency Room
Where people are getting oxygen
And shots and IVs
She’s the lucky one
Who gets a kiss on the forehead.
She tosses her head
In feigned impatience
She swears to him
That she’s alright.
She asks for and receives
Another chaste kiss;
Becomes aware
Of their audience.
Says goodbye,
Says she’ll see him at home.
She gets chocolate truffles.
Reads the rest of a Clinton story
Takes the train home.
Walks upstairs. Checks e-mail.
Starts a poem. Also a book.
Collects the mail.
Jokes with the UPS man.
Plays with the neighbor’s bull mastiff
Says he’s grown to seven times
The size he was last month
And then still standing on the sidewalk,
In that hour when no matter
What she’s been doing
She always begins
To unconsciously wait.
Waiting
For her men
(interchangeably
Child-man
and Man-child)
to return home.
Waiting,
It strikes her that thoughts of
leaving them sad and without her,
Are the same as those past fears
Of being sad and without them.
Only then, the tears come
And she couldn’t be
more surprised
By this strange phenomenon
Of raspy cries and wet eyes
If she were just newly born.
____________
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
A Diamond Birthday in D.C.
My M.I.L. was so excited when I sent her the link to the NYT article on the Minè Okubo exhibition in the Smithsonian, I knew we had to take ...
