Of (whispering) cabbages and (prescient) kings

some of us never outgrow our childhood conception of animated plants and talking animals.

many fairy tales star animals, don't they.

like the three little pigs and the hungry wolf growling, "... little pig, little pig, let me in"

anthropomorphism is human, i suppose.

i have never grown out of my idea of eloquent animals and wise trees. which is why, i was over joyed with this recent news report.

(Click here) Hedge your bet, plants "talk"

unfortunately, there is as much of a skeptic in me as the believer, and i am eager to learn more about the research.

hoping it is true.

Grandma's lullaby, now world music

The mobile recording studio of the Playing For Change music project has a charming version of this melodic Telugu folksong, chanda mama. See the finely enmeshed video with an international ensemble of musicians.

The interesting project recently started its fourth music school in Africa. The school is located a village of Kirina in Mali with a rich oral tradition of music and poetry (but without electicity).

Yeah Yeah Yeahs

Maps by the garage-indie-rock band has been my earworm this morning.

Their beautiful frontwoman Karen O with her many on and off-stage guises, along with the monk in comparison drummer Brian Chase and the guitarist Nick Zinner are clean strokes of fresh paint on the contemporary music collage.

Karen O is a stylist's delight. Enjoy the figurine diva perform Maps, on vevo.

language of sand

Kseniya Simonova gushes our emotions with just a handful of sand.

Here is her sand animation of the great patriotic war, courtesy youtube.

language of stone

the ah-ha moment for me the last visit to Orissa was not when i was jostled by thousands of rapturous devotees at the rath yatra. it was fortuitous indeed to have a two week field-trip right when caged gods were given their annual day out.

it was not my four hour long bonding with my rickshaw driver, which ended at midnight, us staring at burning bodies in the crematorium, chugging old monk rum from a bottle. the living and the dead burning.

it was when i saw this face of the konark sun temple, where as Tagore puts it, "here the language of stone surpasses the language of man". this 13th century temple is evidence for trade links with africa. can you locate the giraffe? stop staring at amorous poses and see middle panel.

ah-ha revelations aside. that night at puri burial ground, the dead in flames, the quiet, mutual inebriation and the spontaneous friendships we make, will remain unforgettable.

Feet (feats) that stomped Hitler

Any talk of the 1936 Berlin Olympics will be supine without honors to the man of the hour, Jesse Owens. His feet spent very little time on the track-field and mostly rested on the highest step on the podium with four golds. Hitler refusing to shake the black man's hand is a moving tribute to the significance of his feat. Nonetheless, his was not the only feet that should be credited for spiting Hitler. Hitler's idea of supremacy took another blow on the footballing arena. These feet belonged to Teodoro "Lolo" Fernandez.

Germany had an early exit in the first round games and Hitler had to rely on his birthplace Austria to salvage any pride. In the play-offs, Austria lead 2 - 0 against Peru in the first half. Peru equalized in the next half and slammed two more goals in extra time. Lolo sealed the fate with a goal in the last minute.

The political repercussions of these events are noted in history, and debatable. The immediate reaction was the `Fuhrer' forcing a rematch for foul play. The Peruvian team refused and the whole contingent of the country's athletes withdrew in protest. The event may not be invoked as often as Owen's track blitzkrieg but Lolo is fondly remembered in his homeland Peru. Outside his club team Universitario de Deportes, his statue stands in testimony.

intensity

I cannot stand another afternoon ennui. Give me back my acuity. My thirst.

Would Wagner have borne such weariness and yet written those epic operas? Would the prototypical renaissance man Michelangelo been all that he was and still managed to go through the drudgery of days like this?

Pray, get me out of this.

Self-medication: Three shots of espresso and Baroque music.