On The Ning Nang Nong

Hidden Cakes

I love to explore food in India. The proliferation of all-encompassing entertainment in shopping malls has ensnared public to fritter their idle time in these urban and glassy buildings, thereby, less people are enthusiastic to explore diverse locations listed in the city food guide as most prefer to stay put in these ritzy malls. I also love milk cakes made from the formative milk secreted by a birthing cow. My usual hangouts for ethnic food are food bazaars and every time I inquire, what is the best place to buy milk cakes, I am told that not many bakeries sell this item any more. Sigh!

Few years ago, a friend, who I infected with my food mania, led me to a rundown cafeteria in the hope of procuring these squishy milk cakes. The cakes were delicious. I loaded a bagful and returned home. We decided to not yelp that secret hangout to anyone lest we run out of milk cakes in my next trip. (Zip our lips.)

Since then such furtive and classified turnouts are dubbed as 'milk cakes' in my jargon. I recently discovered another milk cake, of a different kind. For months I was scouting for an informative portal with flash descriptions of nations. Wikipedia entries put me to sleep. One night, I was reading about King Leopold II of Belgium and his atrocities in Congo. I was intrigued by Congo. What is the history of Belgium and what were they doing in Congo? I didn't perk with the agility to read a lengthy wikipedia page as the night wore on me. I typed 'Short history of Congo' and scrolled the Google results. I chanced on lonely planet entry on Congo titled 'History of Democratic Republic of Congo'. Huh! Aren't the Lonely Planet folks into touristy charter and all that? I clicked on the page. I read, read some more and was thrilled. Undoubtedly , this 'milk cake' trotters of Lonely Planet have done an excellent job in narrating the checkered history of Congo from 'Congo Free State' to 'Democratic Republic of Congo' in as few as-needed words as possible.

Mind you, there are two kinds of entries: 'history of <nation>' and 'history in <nation>'.

Of entry: History of Democratic Republic of Congo
In entry: History in Democratic Republic of Congo

Regardless of the nuance, I enjoyed both the entries and made whoppee of the find. I pulled up other African nations like Burkina Faso and Swaziland and Reunion (I never heard of this strange African nation). I found slap-bang and essential facts, to the extent an overworked brain can retain in the middle of the night, about presumably every nation. There's no index. There's no History home page. The only lead is to search for the country against Lonely Planet in Google and follow the page.

This find is not merely a 'milk cake' but an extremely 'rare milk cake', or so I would like to think till someone overturns my belief with another friendly site on history of nations.

 

Reflections

Last year I posted 'Writing Woes' to outline my impediments in writing, more so writing as I think I am appreciable in speech. The rapidity of my thoughts back then didn't fluently transform into writing as I was prone to peck unsteadily and then sling my fingers my hand back and forth and grope for expressions in a state of verbal fugue. I could not flush my thoughts into successive expressions in speech. I just could not. I have always been a talker to a typer. I wasn't great with compositions and essays in schools. I would croak and belt out and exclaim anything in sound to text.

QPQ was a defining coalition that smoothed a lot of my jagged edges in writing. What does it take to convert a whim into a habit? Well, a lot of things. For starters, necessity. You should be either provoked or embarrassed to carve anew out of you. When both happen, even better.

I have noticed members here typing with admirable ease which is reflected in their timed reciprocation. Eh, you just responded that in less time than I could read my own post. I was startled and inspired. Again, when you are both, it is the best.

Today, I feel that I have plodded a laborious trail, something that had begun as a whim yet was rooted in firm commitment and resolve to fix my writing, and reform myself. I don't have a yardstick to ascertain my progress but when I catch sight of a faint reflection in the glare of my laptop of stubby flying fingers which rap away ..into into into ..uninhibited rhythm ..oh boy! I bust a sigh.

During that anguish of writing woes days, I happened to notice a trending thread which solicited views on impact of IL on our lives. IL to me is that ghar ki murki pheeki par bahar ka chawal accha. I could have scratched the same in a personal diary or set up a personal blog and roared there. But a squishy-eared befuddled avatar in IL did the trick. I didn't realise how or in what stages I have advanced to an unpainful form of writing. But as I peer into that reflection of flying fingers, I pride myself as I am someone who would flit from an activity into another. However, the will to tackle the hardened writing woes is something I have vested so much time and passion for a year. The greyed reflection of these agile fingers on my laptop and the staccato beats from these frothy taps, rather than my voice, is fulfilling, to ack the least.

 

Celebrity Novel Writing

We had seen it all, or we thought so, till Sean Penn arrived on book market with his outlandish alliteration-fest. Whilst Twitter literati are panning his work, here are few delectable excerpts from his debut novel.

“There is pride to be had where the prejudicial is practiced with precision in the trenchant triage of tactile terminations.”

“His dream’s desert daylight diffusion dictated disturbances in the void of visual detail.”

News coverage here. Edward Bulwer-Lytton has a promising contender now.

 

Ibn Khaldun

Know your man. Because, though he is a medieval scholar, his theories resonate well into modern era.

Perhaps the most frequently cited observation drawn from Ibn Khaldūn's work is the notion that when a society becomes a great civilization (and, presumably, the dominant culture in its region), its high point is followed by a period of decay. This means that the next cohesive group that conquers the diminished civilization is, by comparison, a group of barbarians. Once the barbarians solidify their control over the conquered society, however, they become attracted to its more refined aspects, such as literacy and arts, and either assimilate into or appropriate such cultural practices. Then, eventually, the former barbarians will be conquered by a new set of barbarians, who will repeat the process.

I hope we only wait and never meet the barbarians.

 

Beebs and Pips

Howla,

Everyday, I amass these maddening topics upon discovery of facts afresh and blast my friends with my arcana and curiosa but sometimes it is not a startling discovery but close attention that becomes the topic of the day. When that excitement does not wear off in real, I get online and squawk here. Yesterday the topic was BBC news tune.



Remember, I mentioned that I pledged to keep up with the current affairs. More than the content, the intro tune picked my interest. Yesterday I decided to investigate the origins of the BBC news tune right from what to call it, is it "news tune" or "news melody" or "signatory news theme" or "introductory news tune"...whatever ..I hope you caught the drift.

Here's a compilation of the news tune right from 1954.



Did you notice a shift from 1999? That was it! Since 1999, the melody picked up and the tune got catchy. But what happened in 1999. Well, for starters, David Lowe was tasked to compose the tune. In the below linked interview (when: after six minutes) he recreates the music origins in the studio. The idea borne out of GMT pips was expanded with bass drums and bass line and string instruments and 'lowe: not too sure' swirly Indian tongs.




I usually dignify such excitement as amaze-balls! But, this is amaze-beebs! I checked out PBS and CNN. They were bleh! I wondered if it's only me who is stoked by the history and crew behind the ubiquitous yet humble music that perks you up. No, there are many! David Lowe discloses in the interview that he had been bombarded with inquiries on the origin of this music piece.

The BBC news tune lends itself well to melodic variations that fans drummed up club and guitar remixes of the pulsating sound. I love the tune. It always makes me gear up and spirit about and makes me do something when I hear it ...a hip jiggle or a booty twitch.

 

Snickety Snippet


When my child-free friends inquire if they should be dating single dads and moms, I encourage them to date parents if they are open-minded in life and are not constricted by provincial upbringing and are not a schmaltzy heap. A while ago, I would have had no idea what it was to date a dad but then today I cheer friends who have trepidation to engage with single parents. One should be indifferent whether such relationships sustain or flounder in the long run as all that matters is whether the relationship has enriched you as a person from the parental leanings of your partner. Then life moves on.

That does not justify my "snickety" ramble. The lemony story unfolds as ...I know a dad from the past who was a remarkable gentleman. But more than the dashing bachelor in him, it was the harried dad in him that I was amused with. He would instruct me: Ira, this book is so your type. It is full of word play and smart puns and ghastly wit ...is your type ..what type, I have my type of books also ...Ira, the kiddo in you should read this book, put aside everything and read this book, watch this series ...I read these books with my kids ... you must read them ... such assignments. Thus, he infected me with the nefarious books of Lemony Snicket. I only heard of that snickety writer from that Jim Carrey movie but this goofy dad induced me to watch the Neil Patrick Harris version on Netflix. He would rave about quirky books and dissuade me from the corny reads. I would be struck at his unbated and bracing excitement. I would check out all his recommended books. But this Lemony Snicket was the foremost. Before long, with his wilful mediation, Jim Carrey was overturned by the wicked brilliance of Neil Patrick's acting chops. Yes, I took to this other scrawny Count Olaf.

Fast forward to this week, I am hooked to the second season of Lemony Snicket on Netflix.

I reflect, what would my life had been if I hadn't met this dad. Then I would not not have sidetracked into Mr Snicket. I would not have laughed out loud yesterday while watching the scene in which Mr Poe inquires: You mean Dennis and Iphigenia? How could people write such original and hilarious lines! I would not have downloaded the kindle boxset of "A Series of Unfortunate Events" for my personal read, and I would not have earmarked this series as a gift set from Aunt Ira to the next generation of pixies in her family.

Thereafter, I tell my friends, single parents may or may not be your ideal catch for a dovey and fawning couplet but they influence and tug you in ways that only the parent in them is capable of which makes them sensible and attractive to begin with and catapult you from a silly to a snickety thinker.

 

No, snickety picked! lifted! hauled! swept upwards!

 

Hey, thank you.