On The Ning Nang Nong

O-ko-no! You are enticing me to write up more luden or boring essays on at least six different topics that have sprung up from your recent post from Cabbage to 'Corrosively Confounding Conflicts' to Hindustani Hatterr to "If the kid is a girl" study of Susan Pinker (sister of Steven Pinker) and Simon Baron-Cohen. I am running out of time. Another articulated memo to depict my restive state of saw-read-itching-to-follow-up gesture.

 

I swear by kairos now. In fact chronos and kairos are brother-ish.

The imprudent swoop in through the chronos (any time) not aware of the significance of the kairos (right time).

Today, I evaluate:

What I want to say - something astonishingly and mind-blowingly incredible (byword: narcissism)
Who is the audience - nah! not worth
And the time - perilous, I might be ripped apart from hostility.

Hence, I embraced kairos to stay away from trouble that our H Hatterr unwittingly attracts. I love the Greek conceptualization of immortalized tendencies in human nature. Aporia! Ataraxia! Akrasia! .....Kairos! They have an identifiable label for every human condition and susceptibility. Yes, those bearded and toga-wrapped Greeks even probed CBT.

 

At one point in my life, I was a lumpen slob, nodding to trite appeals and arguing with careless reasoning, and utterly uncouth in my disposition. I could not be distinguished from another (self-important) lumpen slob in the crowd with my trinket voice. Nothing I reckoned was substantial or even affirming. Then I found these books that rewired me. I wish, I had acquired the reading bug earlier.

I exchanged confidences on intimate philosophy of life with a friend. He said: There are sloppy books and irresponsible authors with good intentions. You cannot read all the books. Rather than develop formidable talent to voraciously read with flash memory, cultivate the discernment to read the books that matter with enduring impact. Wow! I was ...what is that word ..psyched up...by that instant guidance. Then, I started to get fussy about my book picks. Read books that matter in life! Again, I wish I had read even that Sartre in my teens then I would not even have gone through that facile angst I had gone through in my coming of age.

The dessert rogue Desani is a delight! Cabbages like Camus and Sartre are these days launched in pickled bottles, so swill and rinse that literary cud. Broccoli like Ayn Rand is tricky. Pinch your nose and swallow it. But no one instructed me earlier on the nutrition from avocados and sweet potatoes like Luigi Pirandello and Lawrence Weschler.

In my experience, men who have read outlandish books than self-help books go through less angst and crisis in life. That, in a way, inspired me to skim through quirky books.

The luden of this entire post is to repay you for the Hatterr comms! No one told the kid while growing up, go Ira read Hindustani Hatterr. I am indebted that you did to a grown-up in me. Moons ago, I had written a two-page thank you note still languishing in my inbox with no sender location. Rather than paste that here, my fast-forwarded clickey-like: Thank you, you, and this is how even the casual interactions in grazing forums influence me.

 

Greenbay, the secret to my (alleged) super-power is that I have no troublesome interlopers in my life. When one has a hassle-free and quiet life, one can work through fulfilling milestones like fulsome miracles. I cannot imagine a life where I put up with tantrums and pique and fritter my time and resources in gratification and reconciliation and confusion and angst and all kinds of anxious disorders. The nasty encounter may last a minute but generally we tend to mull on the incident for hours. I avoid such theatricals and crowd that indulges in them. I am finicky in life, in that, I indulge and forge personal/work relationships that don't drain me into painful altercations and unproductive ruminations. I find and maintain friends who are sensitive to my needs and tuned to my leaning. Once I have freed up myself from ill-warranted noise in life ...even the 24 hours is exceedingly facilitating to discover and gallivant around ...with joy and thrill and unremitting curiosity. People matter in life! They either make your life hell or eden! With these said friends, I have fostered striking and well-disposed and meaningful commitments to explore cabbage and broccoli. And, of course, fast typing talent matters more!

 

In pursuit of pongal

There are two types of friends.
One: wow! nice picture. Second: when are we going?

If you have friends of the first category, dump them straightaway with impunity and seek the second kind of exuberant friends. If the Peep and Chirp of this thread are wondering what happened to me in 24 hours, here's the visual reportage.



Day#1: Nah! Bland and dry sweet pongal
Day#next: The pongal is dull
Day#next: Hey, foodie friend, I am going to seek the best hangout for pongal.
Day#next: I found a great pongal elsewhere
Day#next: Let's go
Day#next: Lickety pongal.

That's my ghee-dripping sweet pongal trail from this week from dry to juicy.

In the intervening period, when I was less obsessed in seeking the elusive sweet pongal, I made another of my childhood indulgence from my Saturday Recollections - beans and shredded coconut fry.

Mom is a vegetarian on Saturdays with burnt offerings and devious pact with a million gods to secure the welfare of the family. Re: diet, family is split on that day after the prayer and ritual. I, the debauched meat eater, gobbles egg and meat and everything that moves and crawls on even that earmarked day. But when mom makes beans and coconut, I feign compassion towards livestock and abstain. Because, it's not my favoritey beans but beans that is cooked in a favoritey style (coconut dash).




Will catch up with the posts later in the day.

 

While you were waiting to sip grapefruit juice and dip into miso-soup with your no-Murakami friend, I had a different ephiphanous delight singing ....remember that old Garfield tune ..

Friends are there...
To help you get started,
to give you a push on your way!
Friends are there.....
To turn you around,
get your feet on the ground for a brand new day!

...the brand new day of Sunday, that is today, is when a friend gives a pull rather than a push to the finicky me.

Last week I confided in a friend that I wanted to replicate that Temple Pulihora which is very different from Home Pulihora. After much deliberation we both concluded that it is hing that gives the Temple Polihora an edge over other variants.



I have never used hing in my life, I mean in a direct way, probably mixed with sambhar powder.

I bought hing from an Indian store. What rice, what oil? We spoke at length again on our conundrum to copy that Temple Pulihora. The rice shouldn't be too flaky but slightly sticky and the oil shouldn't be too over-powering.

Nah, after much contemplation we gave up our sleuthing and I improvised in my vain attempt to replicate the look and taste of the Temple Pulihora. Armed with the hodge-podge of hing, olive oil, thai jasmine short rice and unwavering ambition, I set out this morning to rustle up the cosmopolitan pulihora. Snapped a picture to send to her 'Friends are there to pull you' ...from what .... a disastrous combination of pulihora ..kidding ...tastes fine.