Saturday, October 8, 2016

Aphorisms on Language by Bhartruhari 1

नादस्य क्रमजन्मत्वान्न पूर्वो न परश्च स |
अक्रम: क्रमरूपेण भेदवानिव जायते ||


Words can be neither "previous" nor "next" i.e., they are not discrete. Instead they are continuous sequence of spoken-sounds.

आण्ड भावमिवापन्नो य क्रतु शब्दसज्ञक |
वृत्तिस्तस्य क्रियारूपा भागशो भजते क्रमम् ||

The principle of production is speech is as follows: assume speech is single cell egg-like substance that evolves into sequence of its constituents.


विषयत्वमनापन्नै शब्दैनार्थ प्रकाश्यते |
न सत्त्यैव तेअर्थाना  अगृहीता प्रकाशका ||


Words themselves do not bear meaning until they are shone (Bhartruhari uses light metaphor) upon the hearer, just like photons don't carry the objects of display unless they are perceived by the observer.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

The last mile

winding roads in the never ending woods,
saw those pods which make those woods,
some were dead to make room in the woods,
lost to my thousandth mile, before I left the woods

Friday, July 2, 2010

Why ___ ?

Please note that these results may not be true in future. Posted results are obtained from Google Search made from a US location at 4:30-5 pm EST on 2nd July, 2010.

Why Vietnamese ....
Why Russians ...
Why Pakistanis ...
Why Japanese ...
Why Indians ...
Why Germans ...

Why Egyptians ...
Why Chinese ...
Why Canadians ...
Why British ...
Why Brazilians ...
Why Australians ...
Why Arabs ...

Why Americans ...
Why Africans ...


Monday, November 16, 2009

A shell full of flesh...

A shell full of flesh, ripe and hard,
takes every day a wishful guard,
thinks of its purpose all the day,
feels like a chaff in a pile of hay.

thought so far and hit the deck,
then deep into chasm; found no clue,
quizzed by a thought all with a heck,
repents all the time, I am, who ?

Thursday, November 5, 2009

thus begun the creation, a science or art.

a pen was held firm in the hand,
wrote few lines that marked a start,
a hymn was forged deep in the sand,
thus begun the creation, a science or art.

a bird that tweets the hymns of life,
to the tune of maestro at the work,
As a creek that not stops to a whiff,
the tone of the song, floats like a cork.

a stage was set in the deep yellow sky,
played were the songs a la concerto,
on the grooves of rays stringed to the sky,
set high in the sky, by an Angelo

Saturday, October 31, 2009

live on the stone you step this time

leave your fruits in a pile
drive away the last mile
you see not the road ahead
lest you forget the goal ahead;

you ate those fruits of the past,
that left a sense in the time,
and left the space without a cast,
live on the stone you step this time...
live on the stone you step this time...

Sunday, October 11, 2009

eerie sky and fall

(on mysterious Pittsburgh weather)


eerie sky in an act of guise
that leaves the fall in color
you know not -- what it is
but thee look at it with furor