Quid Pro Quo With The Gods

On Mornings

I am hell-bent to shed four kilos by the end of the year, hence the pretentious jog else I hardly jog around in the vicinity. I am usually crouched on the quieter elliptical or exercise bike so that I can read on my kindle while I swing those hands and legs. I download movies and watch in my gym hour.

There's only 24 hours. Work, cook, catch-up with friends (ahem! I mean romantic counselling of friends), tidy up the room, and gym takes up 36 hours. Therefore, I prefer to blend my reading in the gym. No wonder it takes me weeks to finish a book. I read a page, then wiki-crawl, one more paragraph from the book, and some more wiki-reading. Kindle app projects your reading time and speed. When my Kindle displays "10 mins left in chapter", I interpret that as "10 days left in chapter" for I am a sluggish reader. I am not a mindful runner or a jogger. I prefer to be distracted while I am exercising to numb that muscle ache. Very rarely, I jog around my area.

 

On Scaremongering

May be they compromised him! Paul being a naive octopus was enticed by the Germans.

Parrots and tarots are clairvoyant! I recall those hotel lounges where the prophetic creatures were exhibited and the Western tourists used to take great delight in crystal-gazing their future. In fact, it is only the Westerners who are fascinated with our Indian mysticism whereas Indians are miffed with pollution, car parking, inflation and other practical deterrents in the charming India. I don't know why PETA never stormed in star hotels where these hapless creatures served as indentured labour.

Few years ago, I had watched the television adaptation of Robert Graves' acclaimed novel of I, Claudius. That period-drama series contained scenes on Roman divination. One of the divination methods was haruspicy.

In the religion of Ancient Rome, a haruspex (plural haruspices; also called aruspex) was a person trained to practice a form of divination called haruspicy (haruspicina), the inspection of the entrails (exta—hence also extispicy (extispicium)) of sacrificed animals, especially the livers of sacrificed sheep and poultry. The reading of omens specifically from the liver is also known by the Greek term hepatoscopy (also hepatomancy).

I don't know which one is more effective in predicting our future -- a parrot pecking at a card or a chicken's liver. I don't understand why the believers cannot wait out to know their future in due course rather than prematurely invoke that oncoming future.

 

On Singing

There are no singers in our family. Hmm, I have been thinking about our talk and I have jotted down "learn singing" in that to-do bucket list to action on once I retire. Though I doubt my stiff vocal chords can be made supple now. Last night, (I am not kidding), I was playing karaoke music in an attempt to learn singing.

And the song I selected was



I shadow-sang and recorded my voice and played back. I was appalled with my singing. Jeez! Even a donkey brays sweeter. And a mongoose shrills rhythmic. I intend to learn singing some day. I have decided to polish my coarse vocal chords. Your maternal grandma has a point. Going by the jarring and raspy trend these days, by the time I hit my 80s, my non-melodic voice may be the rage of the inverted times.

 

Super Saar is a play on the moniker "Super_Star", like Rajnikaant, ShahRukhKhan or bigB. Czarina is a good one, 'cause you rule this enterprise.

 

On Foodies

You are interrogating in my mom's style now. A picture might speak a thousand words but it hardly renders a thousand tastes. One day, be prepared to be astonished by my superior cooking skills.

Don't worry, it will be vegetarian and freshly made including the pastes and sauces.

Strange, no one ever believes that I can cook on meeting my chatty self. Usually the remark I hear is - you cook? you mean you can handle pots and ladles apart from pens and pencils? Eh?

Your Vain,
Chef

 

Usually, my wordplay falls flat, in fact, it sinks, does not simply fall flat and settle.

I have to explain it multiple times and then confuse myself with what I am trying to say.

(Wink) I am happy that you caught my "Sir-ina" pun. Whew! I thought it was another of those sinkers.

 

@Cheeniya

I was thinking last night about tourists and their reluctance to trust locals about navigational guidance. What about locals? Do they trust the locals? But then that is a boring topic. The interesting spin is, do men or women trust the locals more on maps and directions?

In the book, Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus, it was highlighted that men are averse to seeking directions while travelling, whereas women readily lap up navigational assistance from even a sour-looking and burly local. Atrocious! I think men are more willing to seek help. Moreover, men and woman ask for directions differently. Imagine this scenario.

Woman (in her dainty voice): Excuse me, I hope I am not interrupting you. I am so sorry but we are travelling to this place and we seem to be lost. I am so sorry for waylaying you in this manner. By the way, nice phone. Is that the latest in the Samsung range? Oh, I am sorry. I was distracted. Would you be able to guide us, please.

She would be disingenuously apologetic of such intrusion and muster a gratifying tone.

Man (in his stark voice): Arey bhaisaab, we need to go there. How do we go?

See, both seek help but the approach is different.

 

On Singing

There was a passing reference to Demosthenes' stones in an article, so I looked up his act.

Demosthenes used to study in an underground room he constructed himself. He also used to talk with pebbles in his mouth and recited verses while running. To strengthen his voice, he spoke on the seashore over the roar of the waves.

Grinding stones and bawling improved the oratory chops of Demosthenes. I wonder if there is an analogous antidote in singing. Stick something in your mouth to hone your voice. Is there?

 

On Creativity

It is a pity that not much reading material is available online on Ariyakkudi Ramanujam. But from the sparse online pickings, I gathered that he was revered, rather venerated, by his disciples for his musical discipline and talent.

Musical compositions are like jenga blocks. They can sustain and ring melody only when their constituents are arranged in style and structure, else the composition will tumble in cacophony with weak arrangements. I should try to read up more about him, perhaps in a book on Indian classical music.

Music season sounds fun! I recently came to know of niche music festivals in India. These are not traditional music concerts but specialized like Bayreuth or eclectic like Glastonbury. I was surprised that niche festivals similar to them are held in India. Don't get me wrong but I was told that it was neither traditional nor Western but something "niche". Being a music ignoramus, I just nodded my head though I don't know what that "niche" translates to in music parlance.