At the end of every day, as the heavinly rolling ember-glowing ball falls behind the horizon and a thick velvet cover of twilight replaces the shimmering sunset silks, my soul tears itself from the ribs of my chest and departs. I don’t know the routes where she travels, and I only feel restlessness and infinte sadness, enveloping me, coming up to my throat. It makes me shudder, glance up in anxiety at the window, where the dark is enshrouding the sky and the earth; it makes me randomly pick up and lay down books, pace the floor in some bitter-sweet, hopeful and desperate longing, always the same, and only becoming more poignant as my days on in this world slip through my hands one by one.

Rewatched ‘Proof’. Makes me cry every time. What looks like a mainstream film with Palthrow and Hopkins turns out to be an excellent piece of work with brilliant dialogues, beautiful idea, quality acting. It touches, disturbs, immerses one’s soul deeply in doubt, empowers. It has some totally transcendental appeal to my heart, I’m not sure why. It has some mathematical clarity and musical beauty, which, as the film proves, are essentially one and the same.

I’m inserting a cd, and Disorder starts, from Unknown Pleasures by Joy Division. I feel as if receive a letter from the past. I feel connected to every life, and every moment. I feel disgusted at the ugliness, cruelness and dumb, deafening stupidity of the human race. I am elevated by its virtue, beauty and infinite sadness. I feel amazed by our closeness to what we call God.

Dialogue in Tretyakovskaya Gallery, Moscow.

First woman, reading:

- Vereshchagin. The Taj Mahal Mausoleum in Agra.

Pause.

Second woman (puzzled):

- Agra? What is it?

First woman, with a shy laugh:

- Taj Mahal – where is it actually?

What to do. After all, people came to the gallery to obtain some enlightenment. All fits.

When I was 14, everything seemed so Planet Telex.

http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2003/apr/09/russia.artsandhumanities

Stiglitz critisising Eltsin, the favourite of the Western mainstream media.

Did you know that ‘calendar’, ‘cash’ and ‘candy’ came to English from Persian? As well as ‘lemon’, ‘magic’, ‘orange’ and ‘tulip’. Albeit, not directly – of course.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_English_words_of_Persian_origin

Just to sort it out. All material taken from Wikipedia, nothing fancy. Let me know if this is incorrect:  the purpose of this post is to eliminate the confusion.

(Please don’ t try to kill me in the process of reading this.)

There is a vast spectrum of dialects spoken in Northern India,  called Hindi.

One of the dialects is a Khariboli dialect, formed around 10th century. It used to be a (prestige) local dialect of the north-western part of India and of what now is Pakistan – roughly.

During the reign of Mughals, Khariboli absorbed a lot of Persian and Arabic words. Around the 12th century the word ‘Urdu’ came into use:  Zabaan-e-Urdu-e-Mu’Allah – `Exalted language of the Camp`. Khariboli was initially the language of the soldiers serving Mughal lords, and after absorbing Mughal vocabulary, it became the court language of Delhi aristocracy.

Before 1850 the words Hindi, Urdu and Hindustani were interchangeable. From 1850, two official registers develop:  Standard Hindi - a sanskritised register, and Urdu – a persianised one. This is called a diasystem: a system of two standardised forms of one language.

Differences between Hindi and Urdu:

1) script (Devanagari for Hindi, Nastaliq Arabic for Urdu),

2) source of borrowed vocabulary (Sanskrit for Hindi, Arabic/Turcic/Persian for Urdu).

Everyday (native) vocabulary, and grammar are essentially the same (Khariboli). When spoken, and without using loan words, the languages would sound almost the same, to the extent that, when spoken in Delhi, it is impossble to say which language it is unless the speaker choses to write it down ; ) (kidding)

5 definitions of Hindi:

1. Standard Hindi as taught at school          2. official heavily sanskritised Hindi used by the governemnt etc         3. local dialects of India and Pakistan, often very different from (1)      4. neutral language of film industry and          5. neutral language of broadcast and print.

India has 23 official languages. Hindi (together with English) is the official language of the Federal Government (the Union) and 9 states. Urdu is the official language of 8 states, including Delhi (National Capital Territory). Urdu is the official language of Pakistan (together with English). 

Hindu and Muslim nationalists claim that Hindi and Urdu have always been different languages. This is linguistically incorrect.

NB: the term Hindustani implies ‘a wealth of words of both Persian and Sanskrit origin… the term has a secular flavour, the speaker is rising above Hindu/Muslim visions of India’.

I went to see a documentary called ‘Joy Division’.

I think that initiation to Joy Division a year back or so was one of the most powerful spiritual experiences. I together with the author of the film maze at how can the songs written 30 years ago sound so contemporary?

And I also maze at how the Universe chooses men to be instruments and conductors of its will, its brilliant plot. It’s mighty. How invincible is a man the moment he is serving as such an instrument, and how vulnerable he is at all other times…

Mood: dreamful, calm, optimistic.

Music: Joy Division, Sigur Ros (Hjartar Damast sounding like an Icelandic saga goes well with the snowing February Peter).

I am a bit nostalgic. Remembered Glasgow, and how I wrote essays. Remembered its ascetism. Library. My hostel room. Computers, books. Simple, clear. Tea with milk to hush hunger. The smell of books in the library. The deep fog which fell when I was reading for Growth Accounting essay. I went to the library in fog, sat there and downloaded articles in fog, went back home in fog.

And best of all was sitting on the grass, on the hills, looking at the clouds, in September.

Generally, looking at the clouds. They run so fast on the Island. Just like here.