+outcomes = An Autoethnography of Savarna Lifeworlds & The portrait of a Madwoman as a Poet.

1.  In this auto-ethnographic account, revealing all of myself, leaving no crevice, corner or cemetery of the self hidden, or leaving anything to imagination, the aim is to expose the visceral, philosophical, political & poetic violence the mere presence of a savarna representative in all eternal times causes. 
2. My dear sirs. I seek an extension in the matter. A new discovery has to come to light, the matter needs to be investigated further; you see, my good lord, the blueprints of my beings have presented themselves, these are epistemological concerns, as you know, you told me so, these demand ontological deliberations. 
3. My lords, dear good sirs, I am as shocked as you are that I didn’t notice the logic earlier. I know, time is the only currency, seeking an extension for the obvious is an abomination. Please, my dear, some dead, sirs, I appeal to your lordly good hearts, it is after all an ontological crisis. I saw it all around, I did, caste in all its forms & formations in all forms & every formation, but the logic of caste is the reason why logic took so long, as you already know. 
4. A charge sheet needs to be filed, the perverted-caste-logic-savage-self (PclSs) is not merely an unattached Siamese savage self of all my futures & its present, this is my eternal destiny & thus damnation in all times, seconds stretched to all eternities in every epoch. Unlike the Savage self, but you already know that, sirs, the PclSs cannot  be tamed, it is beyond containment &/or constraint, but it only yours lordly hearts, sirs, which also didn’t leave me unarmed. I am only sharpening the tools crafted by you. Whilst it is true, we have never been modern, it is also true, as you have taught me so, even if we have to pretend, putting up a modern face is the only face (card) we have to meet all the faces we have to meet. 
5. If not, as only you have further shown, every encounter with the O(o)ther always turns into “thing-in-itself” Kantian crisis which willingly surrenders to the chaos, makes fires of the mysteriousness, dances in abandon, dizzy having abandoned its reason, it circulates in its now-where going into nothingness as if it were a joyride & from which only a pervert can emerge, who is truly NON-Q(ing) subject, who is “always the obscene other side of power structure(s)” & how “every power structures needs some kind of support in perversion”. 
6. Wasn’t it you, my dear ladies, whom I also think of lords (authority is not always bad, but it is always masculine in nature), who taught me too well? It was only following you, I acquired my faking ways, I excel at pretending to be modern, I now have another hack: become space to contain time. 
7. Allow me the impertinence, goodly sirs & lordly ladies, you are implicated in my madness too, you turned me into a hysterical fucking mad bitch who eats world for breakfast & chases history for dinner, whose bites causes insanity, much like rabies, this too is fatal. In the now, I don’t touch anything & nothing touches me. I am safe for now, I also know it too well, there is no now, it is always on the move, I know too well, at once, there is only time & none at all. 
8. You must, I insist, you have to, dear lords, allow me the time. The burdens I bear are eternal, I only have a lifetime to offer. But I do not come empty-handed, & I have a plan. 
9. A forensic autopsy of the  perverted-caste-logic-savage-self (PclSs)PclSs is underway, I have corrected my ways, sharpened the tools, employed the methodological hack to Ro (read the other); now you know, my lords, why I need the time, my burden is eternal, I only have a lifetime to offer, which as you already know, dear sirs, ain’t enough of a landscape to contain the multiplicities of multiplicities being, which is our curse & our only cure. 
10. But dear sirs, I do know, I know now that the solidity of the collective sleep of the others are the borders/boundaries which are essential for me to seek & secure the forts of my being. The presence of an-other is always an interruption. The articulation (not mute acceptance) of the presence of an-other is always a cartographic negotiation unfolding at working the hyphen which maps the landscapes of self always in a conversation with an- other. The maps of the self await, dread, delight &/or are horrified at the appearance of an-other. The arrival of an-other is always an intrusion which punctuates, punctures or paints the yet-un-realised trajectories & tributaries of the self. It is only in a listening relationship with the others of the self & others of the other, the poetic possibilities of a/the self unfold in all its theatrics laden with revolutionary potentials. Working the hyphen is merely fire drill maintenance, it is the interruption of the meeting of the others of the self & others of the other where the battles start. 
11. Allow me prophetic concessions, if my confessions aren’t enough, I foretold my futures. I am the not-so-young-woman now, it was always my shriek: The not-so-young woman, here, is the perennial, but not the static other.  She is the woman in the slums. Slum in the city. The lower-caste, lower-class man beaten up on a whim of a middle-class woman. The transgendered person. The Other’s body is always an identified feminine. The You is the City. The Violence-ordering middle-class woman. The Hegemonic discursive space and its practices. In its perverse masculinity, the You demands silence as a right, and practices silencing with its desire to contain, denying a becoming and voice to the Other. But the You, in its arrogant unhearing forgets, that on certain nights, the not-so-young woman can and does shrieks, even if you momentarily silence her. In her shrieking, the sound she finally finds, the not-so-young woman establishes she has a voice, which one fine morning, when she is not the only, will drown: The Many-of-You. 
12. I always knew, it is only now that I understand that the silencing of the self to listen to others was/is a flawed strategy. The silence of the self nurtures the others of the self to speak in tongues, a conversation from which the self is abstracted whose eventuality lies in its subtraction. The self of the other is always an enigma. It is the source code which no binary logic can crack; a music composition which no piano or fingers can imitate, a map whose tracks to its treasures are inscribed in secret inks. The navigation into the self of the other to listen to the precise balance between the zeros & the one corrupts their code. It is only the scientific impulse to read the pulse to measure the exact notation when the D minor of the self of the other morphs into its revolutionary D major potential registers the silences of their symphonies. The pedestrian attempts to listen into the terrains of the self of the other  blunts the sharp tools of cartographic imagination which demands precise measuring tools to outline & contain the self of the others to their last inches. 
13. If for nothing else, then you have to, have to extend me time tickled by my Wittgensteinian games? Often haven’t you also given into clever compulsions? I may also later apologize, but what better way to evidence that I have indeed listened to the self than by pronouncing the earlier shrieking calls of listening to others as just another hoax of the savage self, yet another hegemonic trick to in fact silence & unsee the eternal other?
14. Whilst I gather my tools to start reading the perverted caste-logic savage self’s itineraries to expose the depravity, depth & enormity of its perversions, you get the idea why I wasn’t very welcome in academia? They ousted me in the most disgusting manner, hunted is more like it. I am not complaining. They tried to destroy me, I broke, literally and in the head, I HAD TO & DID exit the world, and YET I SURVIVE, that is solely on account of my savarna caste location. And your observation is spot on, about needing someone beneath them, that is the logic of caste as they draw out in which even “freedom” as an idea is absent and abandoned. It isn’t as if these fuckers don’t know what freedom is, they do know & know it very well, and that is our real privilege. They(We) know if they(we) keep the freedoms only to themselves(ourselves), it will be limited, so they “abandon” their own freedoms in the name of nothingness as a logic to “absent” other’s freedoms. Yes, I do think of auto-ethnography as a methodological framework for life, not just an intellectual project.
15. You are right, sir, yet again, “…the system wants you, the caste system, limited to your caste & so on. But you are not even allowed to say this publicly. You must behave as if publicly everything is OK. We all are equal. You know this is nice irony, that prohibition itself is prohibited. You are not only subordinated, but you must act as if you are free. And this is our typical capitalist drama”. 
16. You really do get the trauma which is the cause of our perversions: “In our daily lives, we deal with what Julia Kristeva calls ‘abject’ in a variety of ways: ignoring it, turning away from it with disgust, fearing it, constructing rituals made to keep it at a distance or constraining it to a secluded place (toilets for defecation, etc.). Disgust, horror, phobia… but there is yet another way to deal with abjection which is to enact a split between abjectal objects or acts and the symbolic ritualisation meant to cleanse us from defilement, i.e., to keep the two apart, as if there is no shared space where they may encounter each other since the abject (filth) in its actuality is simply foreclosed from the symbolic. Kristeva evokes the case of castes in India where the strong ritualisation of defilement (numerous rituals, prescribed in painful details, that regulate how one should purify oneself) appears to be accompanied by one’s being totally blind to filth itself, even though it is the object of those rites. It is as if one had maintained, so to speak, only the sacred, prohibited facet of defilement, allowing the anal object that such a sacralisation had in view to become lost within the dazzling light of unconsciousness if not of the unconscious. V. S. Naipaul points out that Hindus defecate everywhere without anyone ever mentioning, either in speech or in books, those squatting figures, because, quite simply, no one sees them. It is not a form of censorship due to modesty that would demand the omission in discourse of a function that has, in other respects, been ritualised. It is blunt foreclosure that voids those acts and objects from conscious representation. A split seems to have set in between, on the one hand, the body’s territory where an authority without guilt prevails, a kind of fusion between mother and nature, and on the other hand, a totally different universe of socially signifying performances where embarrassment, shame, guilt, desire, etc. come into play – the order of the phallus. Such a split, which in another cultural universe would produce psychosis, thus finds in this context a perfect socialisation. That may be because setting up the rite of defilement takes on the function of the hyphen, the virgule, allowing the two universes of filth and of prohibition to brush lightly against each other without necessarily being identified as such, as object and as law. On account of the flexibility at work in rites of defilement, the subjective economy of the speaking being who is involved abuts on both edges of the unnameable (the non-object, the off-limits) and the absolute (the relentless coherence of Prohibition, sole donor of Meaning). [Žižek, Slavoj. “Abjection, disavowal and the masquerade of power.” Journal of the Centre for Freudian Analysis and Research 26 (2015): 33-43]
17. Our (Savaranas) real privilege which no wants to expose is the assuredness of being in fucking all time to come, the time that is available to us in every abstracted & recurring eternity (past +present+future) based which on these fuckers, my brethren & their crooked sisters, “bouncers of brahmanism” can make perverse claims. 
18. I am presenting my pain in abstraction & wasn’t it you let me to believe that, “the lesson of this hysterical subject is praising abstraction – true Hegelians are not thinkers of the concrete-…the first step is to always understand a situation in its brutal abstraction…privilege one feature which even if it appears pathological, marginal & then by tearing out this feature, denaturalize all of it (the context, situation), the organic whole is lost & you reestablish reality from this stand point…pathological phenomenon are the key to understand the normal phenomena of the mind”. 
19. Now you know, what burdens of PclSs I am bearing, those I have to serve penance for by committing to revealing the perversity that prevails within these circuits, disrobe these perverts, they have no shame, but there skins are none of my business, it is their innards I shall reveal, I will be insider, I will be the whistleblower, I was born to be a “bouncer of Brahmanism”, but I will not Die as One. 
20. I shall undertake the task of Ro(reading the other), who is here identified as PclSs,  in public display, I shall hide nothing, I am already disrobed, that is my commitment to the RF (revolutionary futures). 
21. In the meantime, to seek more time, I submit in evidence The Portrait of a mAdwoman as a Poet to substantiate my listen to the self(ls) claims to demand some comradery qualifications of my own(Cs): (dS ↔LpA) (Ss ↔Os). 
22. To further insist on my intentions, I also reveal geographies of me when I was only listening to the others because the self was allowed its mysterious ways without any question or consequences. 
23. I, as first mentioned, submit this report as a presentation in motion, a submission, to the academy, not the academia, to recognize poetry itself as a theoretical act = poetry as theory written in slow, dripping pain. The report is also a shrieking plea to posterity’s ethical & poetic courts of justice to let me present my pain sometimes presented as letters, but always poetry, as my only evidence to consider acquitting me of my savage pasts. 
24. The fact that I can make such obscene pleas is also my PclsSs (perverse caste-logic savage self) location’s privilege. To demolish all the eternal pasts & futures already assigned to this complete idiot of PclsSs, I have learned it well, now I know, it’s time has to be contained, calling out its perversity of privileges & permissions is not a bad start. 
25. I wonder on what ethical grounds will you deny my plea, not allow me more time, when I have been responding to the plea even before you knew that was the ask of the hour, to echo like the bora winds, “we, old people, will most likely die before catastrophe strikes. But young people know that the catastrophe will happen in their time, decades from now, therefore what can they do? I think the first step for them is to realize they can’t do anything to stop it. They can protest & so on…but the system will move on. We live in an era where the truth is not hidden, but is promulgated everywhere, whatever media you use, they are talking about ecological catastrophe, war, Palenstianians dying in Gaza…but nothing happens, which doesn’t mean we should do nothing. We can, & now this is a philosophical point, we can change the very situation within which nothing can be done, in many ways. For example, you can change the way of discussion so as to mobilize people. You can organize, boycott, strikes & so on. And this is for the young people to do. It not enough for them “to be heard”, the voice of young people must echo. Not in the respectful sense, “young people have said what they wanted to say, but now we have to be realistic”. NO! THE VOICE OF YOUNG PEOPLE MUST ECHO LIKE THE BORA WIND! A WIND THAT TOUCHES EVERYTHING THAT CHANGES THE FIELD. And here I even argue for … not against people, but in moderate form, forcible means. Sabotage & so on. DO NO LISTEN TO THE EMPTY PHRASE, “YES, BUT NON-VIOLENTLY”. THERE IS VIOLENCE & THERE IS VIOLENCE. THAT IS, THERE IS VIOLENCE OF NOT KILLING, BUT OF SABOTAGING THE SYSTEM, WHICH IS NEEDED, THIS IS WHAT IS EXPECTED OF THE YOUNG…BE THE [BORA] WINDS”. 
26. My sirs, I thus attend to your good heart, what if I am the not-so-young-woman, I still have bora winds in the hair, & what else am i seeking an extension for, only to gather the evidence already provided by you, to read the other of the self as you, yourself, have prescribed ? Do you not find me in attendance when you are attending to your good heart? I want nothing from you, I need only time, which I know is a big ask, but my burdens are eternal & I only have a lifetime on offer. 
27. Until further notice, these are my locations: political, philosophical & existential. 
28. Also, as an aside, we poets never have to eat, we need to, there are some mere mortal concerns even we cannot overcome. I am looking for work which is equally pleasurable, if also as painful, and also pays a pretty penny, this is I.