No Comic Task this

Well…well. It has been a while since I picked up a comic book. The guffawing over Tintin much to the chagrin of the mother who was trying to get a quiet afternoon rattling with the noisy Singer machine, while the rain pounded at the window and the wind whooshed menacingly, is tucked away in the recesses of a past.

Tintins were great. The Thompson and Thomson, Professor Calculus and of course the Captain (“BLISTERING BARNACLES” – I’ve forgotten his name, Harold ? Haddock! Yes!). The point is, I haven’t lost myself in the comic book world for a long time. A friend of mine lent me his book “Persepolis” and I must thank him for it.

The complexity of generations of bumbling in Iranian history, so well presented through the endearing voice of Marjane Satrapi had me lost in the book.

If one is looking to get a glimpse of Iranian culture, this isn’t the book. But to get a perspective of turmoil and how human beings find a way of adapting – this is a good book. Stark contrasting images, the humour and of course the appalling mystery of what humans perpertrate on one another in the name of ruling are etched into my memory.

The book had my eyes stinging in the final page (Caution: my tear ducts are very loosely controlled. I cried for Finding Nemo and Shrek!) But I loved Persepolis and am waiting to read her remaining works.

Happy Diwali

Here’s wishing more peace and happiness to everybody on Diwali.

Most people know I have the patience of a hen sitting on a reluctant egg to hatch with creative projects. In fact, it is documented legend – I have cut off sleeves, necks and diameter from projects in my youth. Aah – youth. The enthusiasm of youth and the euphoria of new wool would cause me to make statements such as: “I am going to knit a full hand sweater for my father”

The father beamed, the mother held judgement. Once the armies saluted the effort, I would start on the ambitious sweater. I liked knitting, I just thought my father was rather large for a teenager to knit a full hand sweater for. As time went by, the sweater would grow…..quite slowly, since there were more pressing demands on my time, such as thinking about nothing. (It is surprising how many hours of youth has been spent in this fulfilling occupation!)

The sweater would slowly and steadily morph into a half sleeve sweater for then then short and lanky brother.  I am not sure about the psychological scars one gets from wearing sweaters knitted by elder sisters as a hobby, but the brother bore them well. I am not sure he would take kindly to them now, but then, he was a star. He was so intent on getting out there and playing that he wore anything.

This time, our creative pursuits were Diwali oriented. The daughter and I played with Rangoli this time around.

rangoli 

Then as though playing with the powders weren’t enough, we had to mess around with the pulses. I actually stepped out and bought Masoor Dal for the Diyas. Now, I have 2 pounds of masoor dal with no recipes to boot. But, the rangoli looked good.

dals

Happy Diwali all of you! And please point me to recipes using 2 pounds of masoor dal, while you are at it!

What’s a Bloke to do for some Peace?

I try to slumber through without a post. But the tantalizing world just wouldn’t allow me to go on about the important task of twiddling and spinning my pen on the desk. I mean the Dorothys** of the world have to call and discuss something. Forget the Dorothys, I say. I have discovered the joys of spinning a pen, and nothing is going to distract me from my noble pursuit today.

 

See how it spins?!

pen

Then, there is the important twitter about Obama winning the Nobel Peace Prize. What is that all about? Let the man breathe, let him take his dog for a spin. You can’t straddle a fellow with responsibility like this. Now, he has to go about talking to Taslama Bin Laddoo Boondi about peace, because he won the Peace Prize! I mean, when can he do his job as a President?

 

The man, for better or for worse, I can’t say which, proved to be an excellent orator. Now, grocers want him making speeches on organic produce, islands want him making a discourse on the prudent use of tidal waves. Add to that the strain of making the Peace speeches, what’s the speech writer to do?

I like to imagine that in the past, there were drawings to see the most strenuous jobs in the White House. The chef competed with the Chief Gardener, who competed with the Building Security. In this draw, I would have to vote for Speech Writer. He is already nose down into writing the finest speeches, and now, he is clobbered with peace?

Ah well…spin the pens on your desk for inspiration I say. It is a tough world with tough demands. Mental faculties have to be preserved.  I mean: What’s a Bloke to do for some Peace? Win the Nobel Peace Prize of course.

Let there be Peace!

** For you sticklers, Dorothy is a figment of my imagination, with whom I have interacted in my dreams, if ever.

Birth and Talent

Rahul Gandhi is quoted as being open minded about caste. Laudable and all that. But given the opportunities the man had, if he HAD placed importance on caste – shame on Education! (See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rahul_Gandhi)

http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/india/I-dont-believe-in-caste-Rahul/articleshow/5099167.cms

If you breeze over the comments, you will find folks asking for reservations to be removed too. The point is not that, comments such as “In the future, when you become Prime Minister” concern me. It is not “In the future, if you become Prime Minister”, it is “when you become Prime Minister” like a royal passage of right.

People have to work hard to get to their state of being, in order to be responsible to themselves and to society. This sort of entitlement in a democracy is trying; because we are still stating that birth is better than talent.

What next?

Have you heard the shocking news of the suicide bomber who marginally achieved his target? He was supposed to kill the Deputy something minister for Saudi Arabia. He became a victim to his own ass. attempt, but failed

http://www.stratfor.com/weekly/20090902_aqap_paradigm_shifts_and_lessons_learned

This man, had the “stuff” tucked neatly away in his ass – that’s right! Up his anal cavity! It managed to destroy him, but not the shocked Deputy something minister for Saudi Arabia.

The last time somebody said liquids are hazardous, airports made people regurgiate their saliva when thirsty. No liquids allowed beyond check point. Fair enough. Rather thirsty than an entry in the obituary was the general consensus. I have blogged on this particular phenomenon here:

https://nourishncherish.wordpress.com/2006/09/26/bladders-and-airlines/

Now, if people start carrying *dash* up their *dash*, what are the measures to be taken? The mind boggles. As it is, we take off jackets, shoes, purses and are allowed our personal intimates for decency during the process. But, if the most personal of spots is the culprit, what would the regulation be?

1) Show evidence of having gone Potty atleast 5 minutes prior to check-in? What do people with chronic constipation have to do? (What? We have to cover all angles, don’t we?)
2) Remove the g-lines?
3) Sit on a hot spot during the check-in process. The seat would alternate with heat and coldness alike.
4) Make you lie face down through the baggage checker scan.

Do come up with your own speculations! I am eager to see the ideas lurking out there!

I am brimming with pride. I am now a gardener par excellence. See the fruits of labour in our little patch? It could be argued (with merit of course!) that I did nothing towards the venture other than provide a square foot of land in the garden.

tomato

 

However, my links to the greatest feats of gardening are close. I had a friend in School, whose parents won the Annual Best Garden of the Year award in the Nilgiris Flower Show for many years in a row. I have walked in that garden and admired the roses. I am an authority when it comes to admiring flowers. Like art patrons are essential to Art, folks like me are essential to gardeners, what?!

If plants could move, I have no doubts that they would have happily fled my backyard in search of wetter pastures. In fact, I firmly believe that the untimely showers which wreck a day in the park for some are because my plants yearned for water.

I am not an insensitive person- far from it, just forgetful. If I heard the grumbling, I would have been on top of the case, watered them to floods and generally nursed them till they yearned to be left alone. As it turns out, these lovely trees and plants are remarkably quiet. So, I have gone for days, letting an apricot wilt away wistfully, while the pines in the backyard nearby shed their dew on this tree to keep it from shutting down. I know a phenomenal amount about insects in plants (that is to say, I can see them sometimes, but don’t know what to do beyond that)

For this tomato though, the seed was planted by the youngest, and the water fountains were turned on the by the eldest in the household. I am the proud presenter of the rich tomato – completely organic, since I know nothing of sprays or fertilizers.

Blog Action Day – Climatic Change

Good Morning to you all. *Bows*

Blog Action Day is coming soon (Blogactionday.org)

The topic for the day is Climatic Change. I am here to talk to you all about the sweeping changes the climate has caused in our ecosystem.

Pardon me, but somehow ‘Climatic change’ brings the speechmaker persona in me to the fore. I can see the army of faces looking up at me in School as I rattle in the School Assembly about climate change. That’s just the nature of it. Which brings me to a rather interesting topic. Do schools have assemblies these days?

Anyway, just thought I will reference my link on Al Gore’s documentary: An Inconvenient Truth https://nourishncherish.wordpress.com/2006/12/26/an-inconvenient-truth/

Be good and nice to Bhooma Devi and all that while I siddle off to do something. I don’t want to come here and find that an icecap fell off the shelves of Antartica before I take the little one there to show her the Penguins.

Of Shaadis & Kuthus

The partner is a force when it comes to lyrics. He can master the most complex of them in minutes. He can correct A.R.Rahman on Raakozhi when he errs. He strides onto stage, and mesmerizes judges with his dazzling power over them. (Well…he strode onto stage once, and had them reaching for their earplugs in a trance)

Yet destiny hasn’t made him a music magnate for a reason. He can’t sing Baa Baa Black Sheep with a tune to save his life. But thanks to his love for lyrics, I try every once in a while to understand the meaning of the songs.

Last week-end, fresh from a concert that he loved, he was so full of enthusiasm to expose me to the nuances of the finer music he had enjoyed, that I gave in. The daughter and I had opted for a quieter evening at the bookstore, and looked relaxed when the concert troupe came in.

After much badgering and my whining politely about preferring to sleep, he held my eyelids open, and made me listen to some of the songs. I don’t get it. I JUST CAN’T fathom WHY people put themselves through it. In 5 minutes, my brains were exerting a definite pressure to overflow from their walls. My ears were ringing with the jarring (you know, I really have to use the word music here, but I can’t bring myself to write it – all right, here goes…)

My ears were ringing with the jarring music (Gulp)

As if that weren’t enough, a bally group of musicians stood at the public transit and belted a horrendous cacophony that is stuck in my already fragile brain.

Peuan-pa-pap-puean-peuan-pa-pap-peauan-pa-pa-paeaun

I mean there are things a soul can take, and things a soul can’t take.

What the world needs is a means for peace and quiet. Yet, what it gets is gems in philosophy such as
“Boy-u-na payyan
Girl-u-na ponnu” (A quirky number that has apparently grabbed the attention of Tamil society in no small measure)

Exactly the kind of sentiment that one sees on Shaadi.com. Incidentally, an advertisement of Shaadi.com is now prominently displayed on the public transit terminals in Desiville, US. Maybe the
“Peuan-pa-pap-puean-peuan-pa-pap-peauan-pa-pa-paeaun” band can perform at the reception, while the

“Boy-u-na payyan
Girl–u-na ponnu” song plays in the background for the wedding.

That would be an interesting wedding – what?!

All for an apple

I have reached an exalted mental state. My mental maturity is shining through my every pore. Pretty soon, I might have people congratulating my way of life, and how they strive to emulate me and so on.

Allow me ….

I walked into the kitchen with a full-ish afternoon lunch stuffed into the intestines and the cuds doing their fair job. I needed a spot of liquid to soothe the upheavals of polishing a liberal lunch. In short, I had fire bells clanging and the firemen were picking up their hoses.

I walked in to the kitchen to see a fairly sad looking apple – it had a note.

free

I think the apple climbed out of the bowl it was placed in with the note “Free”, struck it out and wrote $10 on it. I mean, there are things a self respecting apple cannot stand. To be given away free at this age, and a note to go with it can’t have been a happy experience. So, I imagine, it climbed out, wrote $10 on the note and slipped back looking innocent and withered.

Now is the entry for the mature self to enter the pic. I picked up another stick-it note and wrote $10 on it, and stuck it there. Satisfied that I spared the apple the ignominy that couldn’t possibly have been shared among fellow apples, I started back.

Now, I just have to find a way to give the apple away for free.
PS: I meant to put the post up yesterday! Now, the apple looks older, and just a little bit more worried at being consumed free or not.

The President’s Address

I challenge you to find a single bloke who has visited the parents’ home, and hasn’t seen the photographs of the daughter of the house sitting with the President of India. The show runs for 2 hours and 12 minutes and is accompanied with a full theatrical demonstration of all the words spoken by the President. Usually, excellent coffee is served during the interval.

You see, the sister won 4 medals for various activities from the then President of India, R.Venkatraman. He then called for her after the ceremony, and sat her down to see what kept her ticking, and all that. The sis’ was given a new red-and-black dress for the occasion, and the photographs and medals occupy a somewhat better position than the sons and daughters of the house. It isn’t everyday that the President hobnobs with the children of teachers.

The photographs themselves can be used for toothpaste advertisements, teeth whitening etc, but the President declined from going after fame in that direction, so the opp. was dropped. I remember what a great deal it was to have the President visit our School. There were black cats streaming all over the place, and everybody was checked. I almost had my priya sweets removed from my body. Quite scary I tell you.

The father was given the unique honour of signing the cards needed to present the guards with, to allow people access to the auditorium. Never has anybody approached the man with such a compelling need to get signatures from him, and he came forward with his most gallant attempt, and signed his full name, all of 23 consonants and 15 syllables (okay…..but it’s a long name!) It wasn’t till he signed the 502nd card that he started questioning his decision to sign the full name.

The President landed on the grounds, and we dutifully sang the national anthem, the guard of honour with the right click, shoes all polished, the works. It is something of a memory. The chance to see and shake hands with the President is one so unique.

I wonder why there is a controversy about President Obama addressing the children of the nation.
http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2009/09/coming_up_president_obamas_add.html
The most common complaint seems to be that he will push forth his propoganda. I ask you – to what end? When these children are old enough to vote, he might not be in the President’s office any longer.

Turns out the President only said what parents hoot everyday, but now the country is just hoping that coming from the President’s mouth, the children would listen.http://www.whitehouse.gov/MediaResources/PreparedSchoolRemarks/

He said children should make the best of life’s opportunities and learn to live responsibly. Where’s the propoganda? All I see is many more proud families who can show pictures of their children with the President.