On The Ning Nang Nong

Do you have any 'real' problems?

Recently a (distant) friend called me up. After the customary ohs and vaahs and kitni chikni and kitni chubby conversations, she startled me with a brusque inquiry. Do you have any problems? I was amused. I rattled away that I have too many problems like I cannot restrain myself to eat only one bowl of ras malai and devour the whole dabba and also I love chicken biryani and that meat pulav. She interrupted and further inquired: I mean 'real' problems. What kind of real problems is she trying to wrest from me. If I say, NO, she might be offended, so I dawdled her inquiry further with all my thorny and cyrillic problems like I cannot spell Alexej von Jawlensky and if I spell him, I don't know how to pronounce and also ..., she fretted: do you have any substantial and real problems in life like bad men, foul parents, gross colleagues, and evil world. At that point, I realised that it was safe for me to admit that I have been wronged by this world and betrayed by its callousness and I seek retribution to get her off my hook.

When I put down the phone, I was bewildered. Arey, eating chicken biryani without gaining flesh and trying to not confuse Klapheck with Kaulbach with Kobell aren't real and substantial problems. How do you differentiate substantial from silly problems? Problems are problems! I have been trying to replicate block quote in some form for external citing. Nyet! Isn't that the most challenging problem that is hindering the expansion of my self-indulgent and flamboyant Ning Nong.

Next time, she calls up and inquires: do women like you have any problems? I will rant how I am so painfully confused whether I should read Sarah Bakewell or Sarah Waters and how sore I feel of not knowing that John Berger wrote a book on John Sassall which was illustrated by Jean Mohr. These are mighty soul-deflating problems.

 

How to Live

Sarah Bakewell had written a series of articles distilling the thoughts of Montaigne from his handiwork "Essays'. I was going through those articles yesterday.

One passage in particular that talks about solitary pursuits struck me:

Thus, he wondered, "if no one reads me, have I wasted my time?" No: for, just as he had formed the book, so writing the book had helped to form his own personality. Writing made him live differently. "In modeling this figure upon myself, I have had to fashion and compose myself so often to bring myself out, that the model itself has to some extent grown firm and taken shape." It made him take more care over life, and pay more attention. Others looked ahead; he looked within. "I continually observe myself, I take stock of myself, I taste myself … I roll about in myself."​

That fiery line .. 'I continually observe myself, I take stock of myself, I taste myself … I roll about in myself' is representative of all solitary bloggers who scribble not to preach or claim attention but because they enjoy observing themselves.

 

One cannot graduate in life without reading the non-fiction of David Foster Wallace. Our perspective on life is shaken-up and altered with his unforgiving and blasphemous opinions on what it is to live. I adore that man. His texts should be mandated in schools.

Another of his essays which is on language slashes the pomp and puffery of using vocabulary that is too awkwardly hairy.

 

Books on existence of god

Religion should be avoided in social debates in a heterogeneous crowd. But, if you must, then rather than fulminate in emotionally charged diatribes, better get the premise down pat with the differences between “natural theology” and “revealed theology” and “classical theism” and “neo-theism”. Start here.

 

Japanese art form and cashew nut



What is common to that painting and cashew nuts? While you are at it, that awesome and cute palm in the snap is mine!

Have you ever wondered why cashews are not sold in their shells? All the other nuts are available in market in some form of unprocessed natural form but cashews are mostly sold deshelled.

Why? Because of an oily organic compound separating the shell and the seed called 'urushiol' and that art form in the painting is called 'urushi-e'. Do you see now?

This urushi- organic compound, which lends a shiny texture, is found in the sap or the leaves or even in the natural encasing of the seeds. While it is used in lacquer and pigment to enhance the gloss of the paint, it is also an allergen. Therefore, cashews are invariably deshelled, thoroughly cleaned, and steamed, and packaged for consumption. Next time you pop a cashew, think of its oily casing sent to some art exhibition in Japan where it is prominently flashed.

My favourite nut is cashew nut. I eat loads, and loads. Have taken to it as a child. I eat a handful of it daily. When I say handful I mean a cupful of it. A while ago I was munching on them and thought of writing it up. This is one sturdy nut which probably deserves bit of roasting and frying not only for taste but also to shake off any residual urushiol.

 

Eggplant

Eggplant is mystifying! It can be classified as a vegetable and a fruit and a berry (notice those small seeds?)

Despite such broad and versatile claim on plant kingdom, it is a meaty vegetable with no redeemable strut. I never liked eggplant. I found it fascinating only because the early cultivators of this plant raised a variety which resembled the yellow and white eggs of hens, hence the name "eggplant".

In my family, we dress up a banal vegetable in coconut to give it a cheerful lift to its otherwise sad existence. However, eggplant blends with coconut so well that it is not only uplifted but transcended leaving behind even the steadfast potatoes and competitive beans.

My family is hearty and addicted to food. Most of our table discussions centre around food and how best to make food taste more than food. Eggplant never features in those talks, nevertheless, here's eggplant of the day.



While we are at apocryphal eggs, another of my drool is 'real' and golden-fried eggs.

 

Foodie Family

It is amazing to have siblings esp. when everyone is equally goofy and foodie in the family. You think siblings are compassionate and helpful. Nah! They are evil incarnate who torment and entrap you to stay longer in India. While one is droopy over stiff paratha and egg burji at the airport, siblings arouse you with their aromatic and come-hither biryanis.

Ira, kya flight pakad kar you will go abroad, return home from the airport to the dum biryani. I made your favourite!

 

... reminded me of the recent viral air india footage in the wake of the southwest passenger mishap.

I was amazed at the deftness of the air hostess propping it back in place. I didn't even know that the window port has an outer and inner pane. Still, the hostess was quick-witted to jam it back up in place whilst consoling the bewildered passenger during a violent turbulence.

 

That’s it? That’s all you noticed? What about my ‘amazing’ and ‘cute’ palm?