Pingala (Devanagari: पिङ्गल piṅgala) is the traditional name of the author of the Chandaḥśāstra (also Chandaḥsūtra), the earliest known Sanskrit treatise on prosody.
Little is known about Piṅgala himself. In Indian literary tradition, he is variously identified either as the younger brother of Pāṇini (4th century BCE), or as Patañjali, the author of the Mahabhashya (2nd century BCE).
The Chandaḥśāstra is a work of eight chapters in the late Sūtra style, not fully comprehensible without a commentary. It has been dated to either the final centuries BCE or the early centuries CE, at the transition between Vedic meter and the classical meter of the Sanskrit epics. This would place it close to the beginning of the Common Era, likely post-dating Mauryan times. The 10th century mathematician Halayudha wrote a commentary on the Chandaḥśāstra and expanded it.
The Chandaḥśāstra presents the first known description of a binary numeral system in connection with the systematic enumeration of meters with fixed patterns of short and long syllables. The discussion of the combinatorics of meter corresponds to the binomial theorem. Halāyudha's commentary includes a presentation of the Pascal's triangle (called meruprastāra). Pingala's work also contains the Fibonacci number, called mātrāmeru, and now known as the Gopala–Hemachandra number.
Suman Kalyanpur aka Suman Hemadey is an Indian singer. She was born on January 28, 1937 in Dhaka, Bangladesh, (which was then a part of India under British Raj), her maiden name being Hemmady. In 1943, her family moved to Mumbai (then Bombay), where she received her musical training. She married Ramanand S. Kalyanpur.
Suman Hemmadey's (later Suman Kalyanpur) first film song was a duet with Talat Mahmood in Darwaza (1954). Talat Mahmood heard Kalyanpur singing in a musical concert and was highly impressed by her singing. A rank newcomer, her career hit the big league when Talat agreed to sing the duet with her, making the film industry sit up and take notice of her.
She sang for the movie, Mangu (1954), Koi Pukare Dheere Se Tujhe. Kalyanpur provided playback singing for Miyan Bibi Razi (1960), Baat Ek Raat Ki (1962), Dil Ek Mandir (1963), Dil Hi To Hai (1963), Shagoon (1964), Jahan Ara (1964), Sanjh Aur Sawera (1964), Noor Jahan (1967), Saathi (1968) and Pakeezah (1971). She sang for composers Shankar Jaikishan, Roshan, Madan Mohan, S. D. Burman, Hemant Kumar, Chitragupta, Naushad, S. N. Tripathi, Ghulam Mohammed, Kalyanji Anandji and Laxmikant-Pyarelal singing the most songs for the first two in the list. She has sung over 740 movie and non-movie songs.
Mahendra Kapoor (January 9, 1934, Amritsar, Punjab, India - September 27, 2008, Mumbai, India) was an Indian playback singer.
In a career spanning five decades, his repertoire extended to 2500 songs in various regional languages, including memorable hits like ‘Chalo ek baar phir se Ajnabi ban jayen hum dono’ Gumrah, ‘Neele gagan ke taale’ Hamraaz, and in various language, but he became synonymous with patriotic songs, with ‘Mere Desh Ki Dharti', in Manoj Kumar’s film Upkaar In 1972, he was awarded the Padma Shri by the Government of India.
Mahendra Kapoor was born in Amritsar, but soon moved to Mumbai. At an early age he was inspired by singer Mohammed Rafi but soon he started learning classical music under many well known classical singers like Pt.Hussanlal, Pt. Jagannath Bua, Ustad Niaz Ahmed Khan, Ustad Abdul Rehman Khan, Pt.Tulsidaas Sharma. He created a style of his own and won the Metro Murphy All-India singing competition, which led to his debut as a playback singer in V. Shantaram’s Navrang in 1958, singing Aadha Hai Chandrama Raat Aadhi, under the musical direction of C. Ramchandra.
Bungalow
Bungalow
By the sea
Bungalow
In the sea air
Climbing rose
Time to spare
Luxury accommodation traps the sun
So we're working every hour that God made
So we can fly away
Saving it all up for you bungalow
Bungalow by the sea
Bungalow
Silver shoreline
In the gorse
You can be mine
Standing prime position for the town
Working for a vision through this life
So we can fly away bungalow
Bungalow
(Hofstede)
He lives in a bungalow
He lives in a bungalow
Sits on a couch and
Looks at a color show
He lives in a bungalow
He lives in a bungalow
Different cars in
A garage down below
Look at my etchings on the wall
Look at the lampshade in the hall
They told me it's hand-made from Japan
They sold me a ready-made again
We like middle of the road we're
Living in the middle of the room
She lives in a bungalow
She lives in a bungalow
Sits on a sofa
Looks at the colour show
Doing the dishies by machine
She is the wedgewood kitchen queen
Sits at the pool with
Martini cool she's
Getting too fat and
He's a fool
They like middle of the road they're
Watch me destroy you Get out of my path I fucked your wife Fucked her in
the ass She loved it She sucks me That's really funny Suck me You fucker
I hate you You're nothing Orgasmic Oh I'm coming Harder please harder
Fuck me Fuck me I called you My best friend The truth hurts The price you
VERSE 1
You know what, Some didn’t speak
Thought they be shut down
and be up in class that clown
knowledge we do seek
but got a need throw that muscle round
stand up or tumble now got drama in abundance now
when thrown in deep some will swim and sure
some will drown
Some will be sheep and thats sweet
If you got good friends
We not all born to lead so our feet just follow footprints
Pushed in a world where to conform is the norm
How quick your dreams can be torn
just getting cought in that storm
But when warned we ain’t listening
Them laws we be dissin them
On a course we’re going to court is like a christening
Not sure where your mission went
Before it was different
Distorted cause you thought you ought to live for your list of friends
CHORUS
Thats the real in you
Know thats the real in you
Break shackles of the ones that hold back and limit you
Thats what's critical
Know thats whats critical
Empowered to make moves on your own
Thats the pinnacle
VERSE 2
You know what
Time fly’s like a bird does
from shining up in first class
To finding a first love who lined up and burnt buds
From Riding church busses to a runaway train
Not coping when your folks split
Out unloading that blame
And thats the dumbest of games
But how’d you know any better
Got no focus on clever that only motives vendetta
And all that self medicating on them potions an error
Controls been taken, the rains coming
Hold that umbrella
But when warned we ain’t listening
Them laws we be dissin them
On a course we’re going to court is like a christening
Not sure where your mission went
Before it was different
Distorted cause you thought you ought to live for your list of friends
CHORUS
Thats the real in you
Know thats the real in you
Break shackles of the ones that hold back and limit you
Thats what's critical
Know thats whats critical
Empowered to make moves on your own
"Ladies and gentlemen... thank you...
we proudly present, live form the Kharzie-Au-Go-Go,
Wapping,
the incomparable Judge Dread and the incompetent Ivor
Biggun
Take it away lads..."
"Good evening Mr. Biggun"
"Good evening Mr. Dread
It's nice to see you sober"
"I thought that you were dead"
Before your eyes we'll exercise
That rumpy-pumpy beat
A brand new workout
Physical jerkout
This'll get you off your feet
Bonkola, bonkola
exercise for the knob (knob knob)
Bonkola, bonkola
Good to be on the job (knob job)
Now I'm a w*nking wonder
With a muscular right arm
Thudding on the pudding
Pumping percy in the palm
I prefer bonkola
You hardly have to budge
Just be upstanding, stuff your gland in
Hang on girls, here comes the judge
chorus
It's awfully good for the figure
It's frightfully good for the health
I do it with vim and with vigour
And i just do it myself
C'mon Judge, let's get bonking...
In - out, in - out, in - out, in - out
chorus
So if you're good at press-ups
This is really up your street
Try them on the carpet
With a lady underneath
And if you grunt and groan a lot
But still can't get it right
Don't complain, what a shame
You'll have to practice every night
chorus
"Here Ivor, you know what, you really are a w*nker"
well outside my window i see fruit that's dying on the vine
let the meat cakes, you say, well let them know the cake is mine
it ain't no good thing if you cannot see a photo op
they're living in a fancy blitz gotta spit before they reach the top
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
no no no no no no
well that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
they play an ace when they know full well that a two will do
they take the kettle when they could just take a taste or two
they pay a blind man for a chance to burn a hole in me
then they suck out the residue and piss it in the raging sea
well
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
no no no no no
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
they can't afford to feed the starving story on the street
they're running and a-gunning for a two day sale that can't be beat
don't read the paper it will only burn your holiday
with a dozen roses on the desk who needs it anyway?
the music enters in one ear and out the other one
if the first time it doesn't kill then try another one
who's to say another day won't come and leave you in the cold?
so you better get to heaven before you get too old
i said
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle
that ain't no pinnacle