Recently, I have turned into a fan of Twinkle Khanna’s column in TOI. I like what she writes. Can’t really match her style. But I decided to borrow the column structure she usually employs. The time points preceding each new thought.

Saturday, 28 June, 2025
9.57 am

The best part of waking up in the morning is the thought of eating breakfast. At Tiffany’s if you will. Unlike those who subscribe to the philosophy that variety is the spice of life, it’s a pretty fixed menu for me. Toasts and butter, soft-boiled egg(s), (two of those when I can’t resist the temptation), seasonal fruits (such as apples, muskmelon slices, ripe papayas, but never mangos, which I reserve for lunch), then a bowl of boiled sweet corn. Washed down with the choicest first flush Darjeeling tea. Bone China style. Love it. Except when the soft-boiled egg reveals itself in the shape of a hard-boiled egg. As Brutus (yes, I mean Shakespeare’s) might have observed, not that I love hard-boiled eggs less, but that I love soft-boiled eggs more.

My recipe for soft-boiled eggs. Put them in a saucepan (or something similar) in cold water. Turn on the heater. Wait of 7 minutes, by which time the water begins to boil. At the strike of 7 minutes (your smartphone timer could help here), turn off the heater. Quickly transfer the hot eggs to an empty vessel and pour cold water over them. (Make sure you don’t need to search for that empty vessel. Have this prop ready at the very beginning of Act I, Scene 1, or else your cooking expedition could end up in a hard egged tragedy towards the end of Act V). Slowly, I mean pour the water slowly, or the egg shells might crack. Wait till the eggs are cold. Then eat the egg(s if you can’t resist the temptation). Most of the time, the recipe works for me, though no one has offered me a prize for the discovery. Except my wife, who says it’s the only part of me that she can tolerate.

10.13 am
Indian Express informs me that India’s agricultural sector has shown significant improvement on account of an increase in the share of meat products in its GDP from 5 per cent to 7.5 per cent. It appears we are exporting hoards of buffalos. I wonder if this is sad news for diehard vegetarians. I used to be a committed non-vegetarian. No more though, having crossed over to the unenviable side of 80. Not sure which countries eat our exported buffalos.

A stray thought. How are they exported? Pre or post slaughter? If pre, I guess the buffalos arrive tourist style in foreign shores in search of abattoirs. May be President Trump imposed tariffs to save our buffalos. The President tried to be a Good Samaritan buffalo population wise. But things didn’t work and our meat exports increased.

1.37 PM

Thinking about Trump, I notice that the noise surrounding Iran’s nuclear facilities’ bombing is suddenly subdued. Only whispers here and there. Some believe that a certain quantum of enriched uranium remains untouched and hidden somewhere. A columnist in the Indian Express observes that, in the face of the combined US-Israel intelligence operations, it’s pretty hard for anyone to hide anything any place. They searched out specific scientists, military personnel and so on and so forth and killed them all in their hidings. So the Iranians may have been caught pants down, with pocketfuls of enriched uranium.

Which reminds me of the buffalos in abattoirs, but that’s another story. Who knows, now that Canada has firmly f refused, Iran may well be declared America’s 51st state. Geographical separation does not matter you know. We used to have East and West Pakistan once upon a time.

I really don’t know where this grisly affair is headed. My own takeaways from the business are science and geography. I understand now that there is something called a centrifuge without which uranium cannot be enriched and that Iran’s centrifuges lie pulverised. Whatever uranium enrichment may mean, I am told that atom bombs require it. That’s the science bit. Geography arrives in the shape of Fordow, Natanz and Isfahan. The first two names are new. The last one sounds familiar. I think I read about Isfahan (or, may be Ispahan) in the Arabian Nights. Wikipedia tells me they are two similar sounding names for the same city. In any case, I am now geographically more educated, thanks to google maps.

2.47 PM

I just noticed that this blog has been concerned more than once with search operations. First, the search for an empty tumbler for eggs, second the buffalos searching abattoirs, third Us-Israel search for scientists to be assassinated and finally, my google search for the bombed cities of Iran. I feel proud. The width and variety of my search operation is vast.

3.31 PM

By the way, Mr. Trump has now overpowered not just Iran but also the courts in his own lair. It seems they can no longer question his orders. Not sure why it reminds me of Mrs. Indira Gandhi.

Of course, I often see connections where none exist.