Category: history

Celebrating Meditative Speed: Shorthand Day

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Before we started using ‘idk’ for ‘I don’t know’, or ‘rn’ for ‘right now’ or ‘fr’ in place of ‘for real’, was another type of shorthand. A shorthand that people had to spend months to master–the shorthand used by stenographers, the shorthand considered an essential skill in middle class families in the ‘40s and ‘50s. Beginners could take down dictation at 60-80 words per minute (wpm), while skilled professionals like journalists or court reporters, usually could do 100-120 wpm , with experts reaching 160 wpm+! This was no mean feat, as they had to listen, process, and record all at once.

A Glimpse of a Page from PITMAN SHORTHAND INSTRUCTOR AND KEY

January 4, marked as Shorthand Day or Stenographers’ Day is the birth anniversary of Sir Isaac Pitman, the inventor of the most widely used system of shorthand.  Pitman, born on January 4, 1813, in England, developed the phonetic shorthand system that uses symbols to represent the sounds words make, allowing writers to take notes quickly. His motto was “time saved is life gained”. 

A History in Shorthand

The story of shorthand begins in ancient Greece, where scribes experimented with symbols to capture speeches. But it was the Romans who elevated it into a fine craft. The best-known system, Tironian notes, is attributed to Marcus Tullius Tiro, the freedman and secretary of Cicero. Imagine him in the Senate, stylus poised, capturing the flights of Cicero’s rhetoric in tiny, elegant symbols at a pace that would daunt even today’s stenographers.

After Rome faded, so did shorthand, only to be revived in Renaissance Europe as printing presses and new bureaucracies demanded speed. From the seventeenth century onward, English-speaking countries became hotbeds of shorthand innovation. Each new system claimed to be the fastest, most logical, most “learnable.”

The Many Styles of Speed

Pitman Shorthand (1837)
Perhaps the most famous, , Pitman is all about economy of movement. It uses line thickness and angle—thin for “p,” thick for “b”—and trusts that your hand can switch gears mid-stroke. Generations of journalists swore by it, and some still do.

Gregg Shorthand (1888)
An American rival, and the stylish one. Gregg is curvy, loopy, and feels like it was designed by someone who thought in cursive. It became the favourite of secretaries through much of the twentieth century, taught in business schools and tucked into shorthand notebooks everywhere.

Teeline (1968)
The modern British system, simpler and easier to learn. Teeline keeps only the essential letters, streamlining the alphabet without demanding Pitman’s precision or Gregg’s artistic flourish. Journalism schools still teach it.

Stenotype Machines
And then came the tap-dance keyboards—stenotype machines that look like something between a typewriter and a miniature piano. Court reporters can reach 200–250 words per minute with these, a speed human handwriting simply cannot match. Here, shorthand transforms from strokes to chords: multiple keys pressed at once to create whole syllables or phrases.

Shorthand in India: Many Languages, Many Scripts

While shorthand is often associated with English, India has a surprisingly rich tradition spanning Hindi, Marathi, Tamil, Telugu, Kannada, Bengali, Urdu, Gujarati, and Malayalam. This diversity is driven by India’s multilingual bureaucracy: courts, legislatures, railways, and administrative offices all needed stenographers who could capture speech in local languages at lightning speed.

Hindi and Marathi were early adopters. The Gopal System of Shorthand, developed by Dr. Gopal Datt Gaur in the 1930s, adapted shorthand principles for Devanagari scripts, making it possible to record Hindi and Marathi speeches with remarkable speed and accuracy. In Maharashtra, government offices and the press used both the Gopal system and Hindi adaptations of Pitman, blending classical shorthand speed with local scripts.

Tamil shorthand took inspiration from both Pitman and Gregg systems, translating their principles into Tamil’s script. Training in Tamil shorthand was common among court and administrative stenographers, and many journals and newspapers relied on it to ensure fast, precise transcription. Telugu and Kannada shorthand followed a similar path, mostly adopting Pitman’s phonetic methods but preserving the unique characters and vowel markers of their scripts. In Andhra Pradesh, Telangana, and Karnataka, shorthand exams still train stenographers in these systems, though technology has greatly reduced demand.

Bengali shorthand was adapted from Pitman and, to a lesser extent, Gregg. In pre-Independence Calcutta, it was the lifeline of the High Court and newspapers, allowing reporters and clerks to capture speeches and legal proceedings without missing a word.

Urdu shorthand, tailored for the flowing Nastaliq script, helped stenographers in North Indian courts and administrative offices maintain the rhythm and elegance of spoken Urdu while working at high speed.

Gujarati and Malayalam also developed shorthand variants, often Pitman-based. While they never became mainstream, they are proof that shorthand was not a one-size-fits-all skill, but a highly customized craft.

Shorthand Today: Not Gone, Just Quieter

While shorthand no longer fills classrooms the way it did in the 1950s, it has found unexpected pockets of revival. Hobbyists post their notes online. Court reporters remain a highly specialised and respected profession. Some journalists still rely on Teeline, especially when accuracy matters more than verbatim transcripts. And in India, Devanagari, Tamil, Telugu, Bengali, and Urdu shorthand still quietly exist in government stenography courses and niche professional spaces.

It may be a skill worth picking up in the New Year! There’s the quiet power of having a private script. Many of us have kept diaries in shorthand—half secrecy, half aesthetic pleasure. Those swooping Gregg curves or precise Pitman strokes can turn even a grocery list into a small piece of art.

–Meena

A Christmas Post Script

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Merry Christmas!

Meena wrote about the Advent Calendar that marked the daily countdown to this day. This tradition has changed over the years to reflect the age of consumerism and commercialization of all things, especially festivals. However, it is heart-warming to find out about a fairly new tradition that transforms this individual household practice into a community celebration.

Pohutukuwa New Zealand’s Xmas Tree

A small village on the Devon Cornwall border in England has started a Living Advent project. As part of this, instead of windows opening out in paper or packages, these are displays in real windows. One day at a time, in the month leading up to Christmas, a window of one house in the village lights up at 17.00 GMT, to reveal a display. The themes are varied and left up to the imagination of the house-owners of the window. The displays are made with great enthusiasm by equally varied ‘designers’,, from children, to senior citizens to professional artists. The result is a warm feeling of being part of a community effort that is enjoyed by all. The idea is catching on. Another village in Cornwall has planned that to take this beyond the window dressing to actually opening up the doors. As part of this, every day one house will open its doors to invite people to a shared meal, a concert, an exhibition, a poetry reading or carol singing, all with a Christmas theme. What a wonderful way to truly celebrate the spirit of the festive season.

That brings us to Christmas day. After the festivities of Christmas Eve, in many parts of the world, this is a day for sumptuous lunches, opening gifts and spending time with family. This is the scenario that is commonly associated with this day.

However, there are many traditions associated with this festival that make for interesting celebrations in different parts of the world. The traditions vary dramatically from place to place, shaped by landscape, history, values and climate. This is a good day to learn about some of these.

Celebrating Spiders: While stars and tinsel decorations are the most common Xmas decorations, in Ukraine it is a spiderweb! Delicate webs are crafted from paper and wire, decorated with spangles and sparkles, and wrapped around the Christmas tree. The practice is associated with a folk tale about a poor woman who had found a pine cone and planted it in the floor of her home. The tree grew well, but when Christmas came, the family could not afford Christmas ornaments. A spider decorated her Christmas tree in the night and the family woke in the morning to find it glittering with silvery webs, and from that day forward, her family was never in need again. Even today, along with the crafted webs, it is considered to be good luck to find a real spider or web on a tree, and these are not swept away during this period. And tiny spiders called pavuchkys maybe be spotted among the tree ornaments.

The Good Witch: If spider webs are reminiscent of Halloween there is a tradition in Italy which is equally so. Christmastime is witching season in Italy. A good witch called Le Befana flies on her broomstick to visit households on 5 January, and stuffs children’s stockings with small goodies to mark the end of the festive season. Why so late? The legend is that Le Befana was housekeeper to the three Magi. So devoted was she to her work that she did not accompany them to the manger, but chased after them later with gifts for baby Jesus. She continues to chase, after Christmas, with her belated gifts!

The Krampus: If Le Befana is a not a wicked witch, the Krampus certainly is a towering hairy monster. A mythic Alpine creature, half goat, half human with goat horns and long tongue, Krampus is the alter ego of St Nicholas who rewards good children with goodies. Krampus is said to visit children on 5 December and punish naughty children with birch rods, or presents of  lumps of coal. Even today the Krampus is a popular part of Christmas celebrations in many Alpine countries including Germany, Austria and Bavaria, when men dressed as Krampus race through the streets.

The Gifting Goat: In Sweden it is Gavle Goat that is the giver of presents. Legend has it that the Norse God Thor’s chariot was driven by two goats, leading to the association of goats with a bountiful harvest. These were later associated with the elves who rode with Santa to deliver presents. Now cities in Sweden erect a tall goat structure made of wood or straw on the first day of advent to signify the spirit of Christmas, and small straw goats are given as gifts.  

Rotten Potatoes: In Iceland it is not goats but the 13 Yule lads that visit homes on 13 nights leading to Christmas. Children place their shoes by the window each night, and receive gifts depending on how they have behaved round the year. Good behaviour is rewarded with sweets, while the less angelic ones find rotten potatoes in their shoes!

While most Christmas traditions are associated with cold snowy climes, we often forget that for half the world, Christmas is a summer celebration! And celebrations are appropriately sunny and outdoorsy.

In South Africa it’s time to picnic in the balmy sunshine with barbeques on braais (charcoal grills).  

In Australia it’s time for the tradition of a family Christmas cricket match. Everyone, old and young plays, and participates, with lots of food, and loads of fun.

In Venezuela people roll up to attend the Christmas mass. Yes literally, following the tradition to arrive at Church on roller skates. Children sleep early so as to get up before dawn, and adults often skate through the night to reach for the early morning Mass. It is a beautiful tradition that signifies not just the destination and the ritual, but also the sense of traveling together and arriving at a common meeting place.

In New Zealand, it is not the temperate fir tree that symbolizes the spirit of Christmas but a native tree that flowers with fiery red tufts in December. This is the Pohutukawa tree. It has been associated with Christmas in New Zealand since at least 150 years, when a Maori leader Eruera Patuone included it in his table decorations for a Christmas feast. The tradition continues and it this tree that evokes the Christmas spirit for New Zealanders.

Today as the world celebrates Christmas in so many different ways, these traditions remind us that the very spirit of Christmas lies in the shared joy of celebrating love, hope, compassion, and peace for all humankind.

–Mamata

Trending for Christmas: Advent Calendars, Elves on Shelves

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Time was when December was a time of plum cakes, rose cookies, carols, visiting malls decked up for the festivals, meeting and greeting friends. But of the last few years,  two unlikely stars dominate the Christmas season: the Advent calendar and the Elf on the Shelf. One ancient, one very new—both now deeply embedded in how we count down to Christmas.

A brief history of Advent calendars

The idea of Advent itself is old—older than Christmas trees. Advent, from the Latin adventus meaning “coming,” marks the four weeks leading up to Christmas in the Christian calendar, a time traditionally associated with reflection, anticipation, and restraint.

In 19th-century Germany, families found little ways to help children visualise this waiting period. Chalk marks appeared on doors. Some households lit one candle a day; others hung up devotional images. By the early 1900s, the first printed Advent calendars were produced—simple paper sheets with numbered windows, behind which lay Bible verses or illustrations.

From chocolate to collectibles

Somewhere in the late ‘40s, after the Second World War, when food shortages eased and printing techniques improved, Advent calendars with edible treats became widespread.Behind each window of the Advent calendar waited a tasty treat—a chocolate, a sugar plum, a sweet treat. What began as a teaching aid slowly transformed into something sweeter, more enticing, and with a marketing twist par excellence.

Today’s Advent calendars have undergone a full-blown glow-up. No longer confined to children—or to chocolate—they now house everything from artisanal teas and scented candles to skincare serums, craft beers, cheeses, socks, and even whiskies and dog treats. Luxury brands release limited-edition calendars months in advance, triggering waiting lists and re-sale markets.

This boom is no accident. The modern Advent calendar aligns perfectly with contemporary consumer psychology: daily rewards, unboxing pleasure, scarcity, and the gentle justification of indulgence because it’s the festive season. The whole month of December becomes a ritualised month of consumption—measured, paced, and delightfully guilt-free. And of course, culminating in the frenzy of consumerism, eating and drinking on Christmas day.

Ironically, this commercialisation has expanded the calendar’s appeal. Many adults who do not observe Advent religiously still cherish the countdown. Waiting, once an exercise in patience, is now sweetened—literally and figuratively.

Enter the Elf: Mischief, manufactured

If Advent calendars evolved slowly over centuries, the Elf on the Shelf arrived fully formed—and at speed. Introduced in 2005, The Elf on the Shelf: A Christmas Tradition was a book created by Carol V. Aebersold and her daughter Chanda Bell.

Neither Aebersold nor Bell were established writers at the time. It was a self-published book which went on to become a tradition–giving hope to all us children’s writers who wait in vain to hear from our publishers!. The book-and-doll set was released through their own company and initially sold through small gift shops and boutiques. Crucially, it was conceived not just as a story, but as a complete ritual-in-a-box: a narrative, a character, a rulebook, and a physical object, all bundled together. Only after it caught on—fuelled by word of mouth and parental enthusiasm—did it enter big-box retail and global markets. The story existed to support the ritual, and the ritual supported the product. Marketing genius!

Performance Pressure

The elf’s premise is simple. A magical scout elf arrives in early December, observes children’s behaviour, reports back to Santa, and relocates every night within the house—often leaving behind evidence of mild mischief. Children wake to surprise; parents stay up late staging scenes.The elf reflects a broader shift in how we experience Christmas: from shared tradition to curated spectacle, from inherited ritual to designed experience.

Unlike Advent calendars, which invite quiet participation, the elf demands performance. Parents become set designers, prank engineers, and continuity managers. Social media has amplified this, turning domestic whimsy into a seasonal arms race of elaborate elf escapades.

For some families, this is joyful creativity. For others, it’s exhausting.

And while children adore it, for many households, the elf reverses the equation, becoming less a surveillance tool and more a test for parents– putting pressure on the parents for performance, rather than on the children for good behaviour!

Why these traditions endure—side by side

At first glance, Advent calendars and elves on shelves seem worlds apart. One is rooted in centuries-old religious practice; the other is barely two decades old and unapologetically commercial. Yet they serve the same essential function: they make waiting visible.

Commercialisation is undeniable, but it isn’t the whole story. Families adapt these trends, soften their edges. Some replace chocolate with notes of kindness. Others ditch the elf’s moral policing and keep only the silliness.

Christmas Cheer

Tradition, after all, has always been fluid. So let us welcome all manifestations, old and new. But not forget the spirit of the season: JOY AND GOODWILL TO ALL!

Merry Christmas!

-Meena

Toy Story

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Meena’s piece on ‘stupid’ toys resonated deeply as I was recently observing my young grandchild ‘play’ with endless possibilities offered by a discarded cardboard carton and corrugated packing material. From basement parking, a hideaway for stashing precious knicks and knacks, to becoming a bumpy road in a ‘rough road-smooth road’ scenario, the original contents of the package became irrelevant in the light of the child’s imagination, in which a host of exciting make-believe objects took on mind-boggling avatars.

Toys that adults may decry as “stupid” afford hours of enjoyment to a child. A toy is described as an object for play, especially for children, or a miniature replica of something real. Toys could be broadly classified on the basis of the material used, like wooden toys, clay toys, cloth toys etc., or the kind of play that they are used in like pulling toys, rattles, dolls and mechanical toys.

The fascination for such objects is as old as humankind is. The earliest toys were made from materials found in nature such as stones, sticks and clay. Anthropologists have found evidence of such toys dating as far back as there is a record of human life. Such toys have been unearthed at the sites of most of the ancient civilizations.  

India has a long and rich tradition of such toys. The origins can be traced back to the Indus Valley Civilization. A wide range of toys have been discovered during archaeological excavations at different sites in Mohenjo daro and Harappa. These include clay figurines, dolls, carts and wheeled animals, as well as whistles shaped like birds, and toy monkeys which could slide down a string. These were made from locally available material, and many of these have lived on through the centuries, with some changes but retaining their essence. Today these are described as indigenous or ‘folk toys’.

India still has a living culture of indigenous toys. Traditionally these were linked with fairs (melas) and festivals where the artisans would themselves sell their own products.  These toys usually fall in two broad categories—static toys and dynamic toys.

Static toys are those that are basically representational like dolls, figures of animals and birds, and models representing themes of everyday life. Many static toys often become decorative items, while others take on ritualistic associations. These include dolls and figurines of gods and goddesses, people, animals, birds and themes related to our day-to-day environment. They are in a variety of materials, clay, wood, metal, leaves, bamboo, or paper, often using established craft techniques.

Some of these figurines are a key element of the Dussera display in homes in the Southern states during Sankranthi or Navratri. Known as Golu (Kannada), Bommala Koluvu (Telugu) or Bommai Kolu (Tamil) these elaborate displays include a great variety of such dolls collected over generations.

The tradition of making these dolls continues in several parts of India. Colourful Channapatna wooden toys are made by a few families in Channaptna town close to Bangalore and Mysore, who continue a generations old tradition, where the designs and techniques are passed on by word of mouth from parents to children.

Kondapalli toys, lightwood toys painted in vibrant colours are made by artisans in Kondapalli close to Vijaywada in Andhra Pradesh, depicting rural life, mythology, and daily life scenes.

Thanjavur toys from Tamil Nadu are roly-poly bobble headed toys made from papier mache or terracotta.

Asharikandi putola are traditional terracotta figurines of deities, animals and everyday objects, handcrafted by craftsman in a village in Assam called Asharikandi.

Almost every state in India has similar traditions and craftspeople who make such toys, but these are being eclipsed by the surge in mass produced toys, usually made of cheap plastic and often using harmful synthetic colours.

As distinct from Static toys, Dynamic folk toys create movement, change form, and make sounds. Such sensory stimuli are direct and clearly understood—which is the object of the toy. They illustrate simple themes derived from our physical environment. These toys provide simple entertainment and amusement for young children. They are simple in construction, but the design of these toys is based on the application of one or more basic principles of physics—the laws of mass and gravity, centrifugal force, simple mechanics, sound and magnetism. These toys are low cost, made of simple, everyday used materials like paper, cardboard, bits and pieces of wood, bamboo, metal sheets, wire, etc. Most of these are ephemeral in nature, lasting a few hours or days. Their themes are often humorous: a wrestler boxing, two men fighting, a joker dancing, an acrobat somersaulting, a sparrow chirruping and flying, a frog croaking, a bee humming, a horse galloping. All these themes fascinate young children.

Traditionally, such toys were associated with fairs and festivals where one could find vendors selling flutes and whistles, spinning paper wind-wheels, moving puppets, chirruping birds in motion, striking bamboo snakes, crawling paper snakes, rattles and drums, optical illusion toys, and more.

It is visiting such local melas that sparked in Sudarshan Khanna the curiosity to understand more about these objects that were simply considered as “child’s play”. Sudarshan Khanna embarked on a lifelong engagement with folk toys to become a pioneer in toy research and design. Among one of the first batches to graduate from the National Institute of Design in Ahmedabad, and later as faculty there Sudarshan Khanna attended mela after mela, collecting, researching and documenting indigenous toys. He was fascinated that the makers of these toys were not formally trained engineers nor designers but they understood the mechanisms and design processes perfectly. Their products were usually eco-friendly, and always child friendly! These observations led him to encourage his ‘official’ design students to also work on toys as products, while he headed the Toy Innovation Centre at NID, one of the very few centres that offered formal programmes in toy making and design. Sudarshan Khanna’s documented work and his workshops and talks have contributed significantly to the revival in interest and conservation of folk toys.

Also a reminder that toys do not necessarily need to be ‘state-of-the art’ products, ordered online, and delivered packed in endless layers. Merry Christmas!

–Mamata

Sandow in our Lives

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The end of the year is a time of going back in time and re-living memories.

And one of the enduring memories for those of us who grew up in the  1950s, 60s and 70s, is the word Sandow. It was a part of everyday lives—an integral part of the pencil box, a dirty grey rubber that erased pencil marks.

For us in India, “rubber” was the term for eraser, a usage inherited from British English and reinforced through colonial schooling. A child did not “borrow an eraser”; they asked for a rubber. And the most trusted rubber of all in our times was the Sandow.

These erasers were made of natural vulcanised rubber, not vinyl or plastic as most modern erasers are. They were firmer, slightly gritty, and erased by abrasion — scraping graphite off paper rather than gently lifting it. They left dark crumbs behind and wore down slowly. A new Sandow rubber meant clean pages. A worn one told the story of errors made and lessons learnt.

Where did Sandow rubbers come from?

The earliest Sandow erasers were almost certainly manufactured in Britain and exported to India during the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries through British stationery suppliers. During the colonial period, Indian schools depended heavily on imported notebooks, inks, slates and erasers.

Stupid Toy Day (December 16) is a celebration of the wonderfully useless things from childhood—rubber chickens, yo-yos, slinkies, and strange plastic objects that made no sense but brought endless joy. From ridiculous toys to unsettling antique dolls that now star in creepy museum contests, this post reflects on how toys—whether silly or sinister—stay with us long after childhood ends. A nostalgic look at why useless never really meant unimportant.

After Independence, Indian factories began manufacturing erasers using similar formulations and — crucially — the same name. By the 1950s, most Sandow erasers sold in India were produced locally. However, the word “Sandow” was never firmly trademarked in India, allowing multiple manufacturers to use it freely. Over time, it became not a brand but a category. “Sandow rubber” simply meant “the regular school rubber.”

Sandows were not the only erasers available. There were white, scented rubbers, with a gel-like coloured top. But alas, most of us never possessed one, given they were about four or five times more expensive!

And a Strongman called Sandow

Another Sandow (though of older vintage) was part of our childhoods too. He lived on barbershop calendars and tattered posters: a muscular European strongman frozen in permanent flex.

Eugen Sandow (1867–1925) was a Prussian-born showman, athlete and entrepreneur who became the world’s first international bodybuilding celebrity. He toured Europe, Britain and America performing feats of strength before royal families and packed audiences.

Sandow was much ahead of his time, and would have done great in the current days, surely becoming a hero of Insta reels, posing as he did to deliberately display his muscularity. He was also a businessman. He published training manuals, endorsed health products, sold exercise equipment, and promoted physical culture as moral discipline. King George V even appointed him “Professor of Scientific and Physical Culture” in Britain — a title that further elevated his image as a respectable authority on fitness.

In India, encounters were through his images — black-and-white posters, calendar art, tins, and labels that travelled through imperial trade routes. But nevertheless, his name was well known, whether with urban kids or rural youth.

Were the rubber and the strongman officially connected?

There is no evidence that Sandow ever licensed his name to an eraser manufacturer. No contract, no advertisement, no endorsement exists in any reliable archive.

However, the naming may have had a connection. The two existed at around the same time, and the name ‘Sandow’ symbolised durability, strength and European modernity. Calling an eraser “Sandow” suggested that it would last, work hard and not fail easily. In an era with loose branding laws, borrowing famous names for product credibility was common.

Today…

Now, erasers come in neon colours and cartoon shapes. Eugen Sandow is remembered only by historians and fitness professionals. But for those who grew up in that older India, the word still carries a double image: fingers dusted with graphite, and a chest forever flexed on fading paper.

Sandow was never just an eraser.
And Sandow was never only a man.

Both were a part of our simple, innocent youth!

–Meena

Photocredit: Wikipedia for Mr. Sandow

ebay for the Vintage Tin advertising the eraser

Of Tongues: Tied and Twisted

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Many of us have student-day memories of freezing up in the middle of an elocution competition, or as adults, not being able to converse comfortably when in a large group of people. We were told that had become “tongue-tied”. The dictionary defines this state as being ‘too shy or embarrassed to speak’.

More recently I was introduced to another, more literal, form of tongue tie. This is a medical condition where a tight band of tissue connects the underside of the tongue to the floor of the mouth, keeping it from moving freely. Nowadays, paediatricians usually check for this in new born babies, and a minor surgical procedure can cut the tight tissue to allow for a free movement of the tongue. While this is not a mandatory nor critical issue, sometimes this restrictive movement of the tongue could hamper the baby from proper breast feeding, and could (though not definitely) be an impediment to speech as the child begins to speak.

This was not a condition that I was familiar with, and I suspect that many adults have grown up unaware about this. At best, these were labelled as people with speech impediments, and either lived with it through their life, or were sent to speech therapists. Perhaps one of the exercises that they were prescribed, was to recite aloud some phrases that had alliteration, rhymes, and repetition. Speech therapists believe that such exercises help to strengthen the muscles that are used when we speak. The muscles of the mouth need to move in certain positions to create individual sounds. Tongue twisters help practice and strengthen these positions and muscles in order to perfect these sounds. 

Even without being guided by a therapist, many of us have childhood memories of getting our tongues in a twist with these lines:

She sells seas shells on the seashore

The shells she sells are seashells, I’m sure

So if she sells seashells on the seashore

Then I’m sure she sells seashore shells.

No wonder such lines were described as ‘’tongue twisters”. Such phrases have been part of the oral tradition in all cultures since early times. In ancient Russia travelling performers called skomorokhi would amuse crowds by reciting fast tricky lines and challenging the audience to repeat these. Most people couldn’t and their fumbling attempts raised a laugh from the others. Folklore in all languages has examples of such nonsense rhymes that need an acrobatic tongue to master.

In fact even today, performers use tongue twisters to loosen up before they are scheduled to go on stage. These help them warm up and get their mouth and tongues ready to perform in front of an audience. Tongue twisters are also used by voice actors before they are recorded.

The term tongue twister is believed to have appeared in print in the late 19th century to describe phrases that are difficult to articulate due to their use of similar but distinct sounds. In the English language these gained attention with the publication of a book called Peter Piper’s Practical Principles of Plain and Perfect Pronunciation, which included a tongue twister for every letter of the alphabet. The book was meant to help children learn the fundamentals of speech mechanics, but it attracted a lot of attention. The title itself garnered curiosity. The author of the book was John Harris, who then was the Peter Piper? The mystery was heightened with the inclusion of the rhyme:

Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers.

A peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked.

If Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers,

Where’s the peck of pickled peppers Peter Piper picked?

It turns out that this one was based on a French horticulturist Pierre Poivre. Pierrre is the French version of Peter, and Poivre is the French word for pepper. Pierre, it is believed, was exploring the viability of growing spices in the Seychelles. Thus the peppers, and the peck which was an old measure of weight.

Tenuous connections, at best, but they do add some spice to the story!

While tongue twisters are accepted as a part of speech therapy, people enjoy these just for the fun of fumbling and stumbling over words in absurd sentences. So much so that there is even a day designated as the International Tongue Twister Day celebrated on the second Sunday in November every year. And there is an International Tongue Twister Contest held at the Logic Puzzle Museum in Burlington, Wisconsin in the USA. First held in 2008, the contest has become an annual tradition. This invites everyone between the ages of ‘6 and 106 years of age’ to test their verbal dexterity. A joyful celebration of the playful side of language!

At the same time there is also serious research being carried out on this subject. A team of researchers from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) have deemed that the most difficult tongue twister in the world is this one:

“Pad kid poured curd pulled cod”.

If one is not quite up to the challenge of cracking this one, here are some others to twist our tongues around:

“The sixth sick sheik’s sixth sheep’s sick.”

“Imagine an imaginary menagerie manager managing an imaginary menagerie.”

“A tutor who tooted the flute tried to teach two young tooters to toot. Said the two to the tutor, ‘Is it harder to toot, or to tutor two tooters to toot?’”

Don’t let these leave you tongue-tied!

–Mamata

Listen carefully. Listen widely. Listen without assumptions: Gallup Polls

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For many of us who grew up reading international newspapers, Gallup was a familiar name—almost a synonym for “what America thinks.” Their polls were quoted in classrooms, editorials, speeches, and policy discussions. If Gallup said Americans trusted an institution, or were worried about unemployment, or supported a policy, it felt as if a nation had spoken.

November 19 marked the anniversery of the birth of the man who started it all–George Gallup, a career journalist. His interest in politics led him into the areana of forecasting polls, and he set up a company to do this. He set up the American Institute of Public Opinion in 1935 to do this, at a time when the idea of systematically measuring public opinion was almost revolutionary.

Gallup polls represent a methodology of scientific polling initiated by George S. Gallup in the 1930s, aimed at accurately assessing public sentiment. This was a significant departure from earlier, less systematic polling methods, as it emphasized the importance of selecting representative samples of the population. Gallup polls gained widespread recognition in 1936 for successfully predicting Franklin D. Roosevelt’s election victory but faced criticism in 1948 when they incorrectly forecasted Harry S. Truman’s defeat. These setbacks led to learnings, and Gallup refined his polling techniques, employing random sampling and continuous polling to enhance accuracy, particularly in presidential elections during the 1950s.

When Gallup moved to random sampling in the 1950s and began polling continuously until the eve of elections, he wasn’t chasing precision for its own sake. He recognised a deeper truth: societies shift quietly, between headlines. Polls must therefore be reliable mirrors, not hurried sketches.

Over the years, Gallup polls have become integral to political campaigns, influencing candidate nominations and public policy discussions. They have also mirrored societal changes, capturing evolving attitudes on issues such as gender equality and civil rights. Despite their utility, there is ongoing debate about the reliance on polling data by political leaders, with critics cautioning against using polls as the sole measure of success. Overall, Gallup polls continue to play a vital role in understanding public opinion and shaping political discourse.

But over the past twenty years, America has changed dramatically. People stopped answering landlines. Survey participation dropped. Voter behaviour became harder to predict. And suddenly, the organisation that once defined polling found itself struggling to keep pace with a shifting landscape.

There were headline moments—for example, missing the mark in the 2012 US presidential election—that forced painful introspection. To their credit, Gallup did omething rare: they hit pause. They stepped back from national election polling, admitted where methods were no longer working, and began a long process of rebuilding.

Today, Gallup occupies a different—but still significant—place in American public life.

They no longer dominate political horse-race coverage the way they once did. But they have pivoted towards areas where long-term, stable measurement matters more:

  • Public trust in institutions
  • Wellbeing and life evaluation
  • Workplace engagement
  • Social attitudes that evolve over years, not election cycles

Their “State of the American Workplace” and “Global Emotions Report” are now widely cited, not for predicting results, but for revealing how people feel about their lives and work. In a country where political noise can drown out quieter realities, Gallup’s longitudinal datasets offer something precious: continuity.

And that, perhaps, is Gallup’s place today. Not the sole voice of American opinion, but a steady, methodical listener in a crowded room.

And Then Comes the Indian Question…

All this inevitably leads to a Indian doubt: Do we do anything like this?

India is a nation where elections are larger than many countries, where tea stall debates spill into WhatsApp forwards, and where “sentiment” is often declared loudly—but loosely. So who is actually listening methodically?

The answer is both reassuring and sobering.

Yes, India does have organisations that follow rigorous polling practices—most famously CSDS-Lokniti, which uses sampling frames, stratified selection, field-tested questionnaires, and detailed post-poll analysis. Some private agencies also attempt scientific sampling, though with varying transparency. But polling in India faces unique challenges: population size, linguistic diversity, urban-rural divides, accessibility, and the sheer logistics of reaching voices beyond the easily reachable.

The result? While we do have pockets of high-quality research, we also have a landscape crowded with “quick polls,” “mood trackers,” and “snap surveys” whose methodology, if printed, might fit on the back of a bus ticket. Till today, election forecasts have minimum credibility.

Let’s see if all the bad press drives election forecasters to move towards more statistically sound and scientifically based approaches. Well, we can hope!

–Meena

Pic from: The India Forum

A Fool of Fruits

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This morning my sisters suddenly remembered our mother’s (who had a great sweet tooth) fondness for Mango Fool. This brought back so many memories of the many sweet dishes that we used to have at home, which included lots of sugary syrupy Indian sweetmeats, as well as the more subtle English ones such as custard and pies. Our combined memories recall that Mango Fool was some form of thick milk shake. Turns out that the real Mango Fool is a more sophisticated desert that includes mangoes, and whipped cream. And, of course, so many years later, the memory nudged me to dig deeper into investigating the curious name of this dessert.

As it turns out ‘Fools’ of the fruity variety have ancient origins and a rich history. Fruit fool is a classic English dessert. Traditionally, fools were made by folding a stewed fruit (originally gooseberries) into a creamy, sweet custard. The documented origins of the desert can be traced back to the 17th century, although it is believed that some form of this existed as far back as the 15th century.

The earliest known recipe is from the time of the Merry Monarch, King Charles II in a book called The Compleat Cook published in 1665, written by an anonymous author ‘Mr WM’. The recipe was for what he called Gooseberry Foole. The recipe included cooked, mashed, and strained gooseberries, which are beaten with sugar, butter, and eggs to form a pudding-like consistency.

Take your gooseberries and put them in a silver or earthen pot, and set it in a skillet of boiling water, and when they are coddled enough, strain them; when they are scalding hot beat them well with a good piece of butter, rose-water and sugar, and put in the yolk of two or three egg, you may put rose-water into them, and so stir it altogether and serve it to the table when it is cold.  Anonymous.  London.  1658.

The recipe endured through the ages, and was almost no change in the one included 250 years later in the Victorian era cookbook The Art Of Cookery Made Easy and Refined.

But why the name Foole? The most popular theory to explain this is that the term comes from the old French term ‘fouler’ which meant to mash or crush. And this is what the recipe demands—that the cooked fruit be crushed or pressed before being folded into the custard mixture. In those days most fruits were cooked, because people thought that raw fruits were dangerous for health.

Another theory points out to the fact that it was an unpretentious dessert which ended a meal, just as a trifle did. Fool was another term for a syllabub or trifle (something of little value). As an etymological dictionary explained Fool is ‘a reallocation of a word for something light-headed or frivolous as a light dessert’. Perhaps these desserts were literally lighter than the stodgy traditional English desserts like Sticky Toffee Pudding, Steamed Syrup Sponge, Jam Roly-Poly, and Suet Pudding.  

Whatever the theory, gooseberry remained a favoured fruit for this dessert, and the Gooseberry Fool was a popular dessert for many years. So popular that Edward Lear even incorporated it into a limerick in his A Book of Nonsense published in 1846.

There was an Old Person of Leeds,
Whose head was infested with beads;
She sat on a stool,
And ate gooseberry fool,
Which agreed with that person of Leeds.

Over time, other seasonal fruits such as strawberries, raspberries, apples, apricots, and cherries, also began to be incorporated in the recipe. Also, the custard was replaced by whipped cream which made it lighter. The combination of fresh fruit and frothy cream, served chilled, makes for a refreshing summer treat.

The ‘Fool’ part was also incorporated in the names of other desserts.

Norfolk Fool as an early type of bread and butter pudding dating back to the 17th century. It included creamy custard, dates and spices.

Westminster Fool was a sweet custard with a flavouring of rose, mace and nutmeg, poured over a penny loaf cut into six slices, soaked in sherry. (Maybe the inspiration for our own Shahi Tukra, or inspired by it!)

Boodles Fool was named after Boodle’s Club, a private exclusive gentlemen’s club founded in 1762. Ironically, in the very class-conscious British society, the club was named after its head waiter Edward Boodle! His namesake dessert featured a citrus (orange and lemon) mixture whipped with cream, poured over sponge cake, served chilled, decorated with orange slices.  

Whatever the ingredients and recipe, Fruit Fools provided for a delicious finale to a meal. Today these continue to be popular as cool summer desserts. Where my mother picked up the concept and term is a mystery lost in time, and so is the actual form of her version, but the name Mango Fool is closely associated with our childhood memories of sweltering hot Delhi summers.

–Mamata

Riding High on the Waves: Women Pirates

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This week Meena wrote about Bungaree the first Aboriginal man to circumvent the continent of Australia. His feat was amazing not only because he was the first to undertake the journey but also because he was from an indigenous tribe, in an era when sailors and adventurers were white men. Bungaree broke the mold in more ways than one, but always remained in the footnotes of the history of sailing.

There is another group that has been in a similar position in this context—women sailors. According to traditional sailing superstition, it was believed that having women on board ships could anger the Gods and lead to misfortune such as storms and shipwrecks. It was also felt that the presence of women on board would be a distraction to sailors and lead to fights and disruptions. In fact seafaring professions were officially barred to women until the 20th century. But maritime history has its own set of tales about spunky women who rode the waves over the earlier centuries, in many cases disguised as men, but also openly and boldly. The most fascinating of these are some of the women pirates who defied every established norm of the day.

Zheng Yi Sao: Queen of the South China Seas

Zheng Yi Sao is described as the most successful female pirate in history. Born in 1775 into humble circumstances, she married the notorious pirate captain Zheng Yi, but on her own terms. She demanded equal partnership in his pirate fleet—an unprecedented and audacious demand. Zheng Yi was agreeable, and she took on the name Zheng Yi Sao (wife of Zheng Yi).

After her husband died when she was 32, Sao took control of his pirate fleet and transformed it into an unstoppable force in the South China Sea. She knew the coastline better than any imperial admiral, using hidden inlets and storm-lashed coves to evade capture. Sao was not just a skilled seafarer, she was a brilliant and brutal administrator. Her fleet was governed by a strict code of conduct:

Loot was divided fairly, with captains receiving a smaller share than their crew to ensure widespread loyalty. Female captives were to be treated with respect, and could only be taken as wives with mutual consent. Rape was punishable by immediate execution. All plundered goods had to be presented for group inspection, all captured goods were registered, and the punishment for disobedience was often beheading. Perhaps her most revolutionary approach was for other women within her fleet. The wives and widows of pirates were encouraged to take on leadership roles, creating an unprecedented situation where women held genuine authority in a violent, male-dominated world.

Zheng Yi Sao reigned supreme with an armada of over 300 ships and a crew of 20,000 to 40,000 pirates. Her fleet successfully defeated the navy of the ruling Qing dynasty, and even the ruling government could not destroy her power. Zheng Yi Sao’s power stemmed not just from ruthlessness and brute force, she was equally a strategic planner and shrewd negotiator. Recognizing that prolonged conflict would eventually erode her power she negotiated a surrender with the government, once again, on her own terms. She secured full amnesty for herself and almost all her crew, the right to keep her accumulated wealth; military positions for many of her top commanders.

Zheng Yi Sao eventually retired with all her loot, and continued to lead a civilian life for the next several decades. However she has gone down in the annals as the most successful pirate of all times. 

Sayyida al Hurra: Pirate Queen of the Mediterranean

Sayyida al Hurra was not just a pirate; she was a queen, a refugee, a warrior and a power broker of the 16th century Mediterranean. She was born in 1485 in a family of Andalusian nobles, but forced to flee to Morocco. While in exile there Sayyida rose to become Governor of a vital port city on the North African coast. Once in power, she decided to avenge Spain and Portugal, not through politics or war, but through piracy. She forged a strategic alliance with Barbarossa an Ottoman admiral and pirate, and together they controlled the seas, he in the east and she in the west.

Sayyida was more than a pirate commander; she was also a skilled diplomat and ruler. She negotiated directly with European monarchs, wielding influence usually denied to women of her era. She even married the Sultan of Morocco and insisted the wedding take place in her city, making her the only woman in Islamic history to have married a reigning monarch without leaving her seat of power. Thus Sayyida established rule over both land and sea, a rarity in history.

 Laskarina Bouboulina: The Pirate Admiral of Greek Independence

Laskarina Bouboulina was born defiant. Her father was a naval captain and rebel who had been imprisoned by the Ottomans. Laskarina was born in a prison cell in Constantinople in 1771, where her mother had gone to visit her imprisoned husband. After her father’s death Laskarina and her mother moved to the island of Spetses. This was no idyllic Mediterranean village, but a haven for smugglers, sailors and rebels who had fled conventional authority. The young Laskarina grew up among pirates and ship’s captains, learning about the language of the sea and sailing ships even before she could read.

By the time she was 40, Laskarina was married and widowed twice, to powerful ship owners, and inherited their fleets and fortunes. She used these resources not just for commerce but to fight the Ottoman Empire. She became a member of Filiki Eteria a secret organisation plotting to overthrow Ottoman control over Greece. Her main role was to smuggle food, weapons and ammunition into Spetses. She used her wealth to commission the construction of Agammennon, her personal warship, considered to be one of the largest and fastest Greek warships of the revolution. She commanded the rest of her fleet from this warship. Spetses was the first island to revolt against the Ottoman Empire in 1821. Laskarina then led her fleet to begin a naval blockade of the fortified city of Nafpoli, followed by the siege of other cities.  

Throughout the battle against the Ottomans, Laskarina conducted her spirited resistance with a mix of strategy, ruthless power and charisma. She was fierce, but an inspiring leader who commanded the respect of the men who willingly joined her battle. Ironically, she was killed in a family feud.

These swashbuckling buccaneers ruled the waves, broke every rule written for women, and rewrote history at sea.

–Mamata

 

 

Around a Continent in 18 Months: The First Circumnavigation of Australia

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When we think of great explorers, we picture men in naval uniforms, compasses in hand, charting “new worlds.” But tucked away in the annals of Australia’s history is a story that breaks that mould. It’s the story of Bungaree—the first Aboriginal man, and indeed the first Australian, to sail right around a continent.

His name is little known today, but his contribution to one of history’s most extraordinary voyages, in an exploration led by Captain Matthew Flinders, an English navigator was extraordinary.

From Broken Bay to the World

Bungaree was a man of the sea. Born around 1775 among the Kuringgai people near Broken Bay, north of Sydney, he grew up at a time when everything around him was changing. European ships had begun to appear on the horizon; new settlements were springing up on ancient lands. While many Aboriginal communities resisted the newcomers, Bungaree was curious. Quick-witted and charismatic, he learned to move between two worlds—his own and that of the British colonists.

By the time Flinders was preparing to embark on his grand voyage of exploration, Bungaree had already earned a reputation as a skilled sailor and interpreter. Flinders, who understood the need for a knowledgeable local person on his mission, invited Bungaree to join the expedition aboard HMS Investigator in 1801.

The Journey Around a Continent

The Investigator’s mission was to chart the entire coastline of the vast southern landmass known then as New Holland. Flinders hoped to prove it was a single continent—what we now call Australia. For this, he needed not just navigational skill, but also understanding—someone who could help bridge worlds. Bungaree became that person.

Throughout the voyage –from December 1801 to June 1803–Bungaree played a vital role as peacemaker and emissary. When the Investigator anchored near Indigenous communities, it was often Bungaree who stepped ashore first—speaking to local groups in shared gestures, explaining the strangers’ peaceful intent, and easing tensions that could have turned deadly. His presence gave the expedition a human connection that maps and compasses could not.

Flinders, for his part, admired Bungaree’s warmth and humour. In his journals, he wrote that Bungaree “was always of service wherever we went,” and that his “good disposition and open, manly conduct” won respect from both shipmates and the people they met. It was a rare acknowledgment of partnership in an age otherwise defined by hierarchy and conquest.

The Man Beyond the Maps

The voyage was gruelling. The Investigator battled storms, leaks, and disease. Food was scarce; scurvy stalked the crew. Yet through months at sea and thousands of kilometres of unknown coast, Bungaree remained cheerful and steadfast—a figure of resilience and adaptability. When they finally completed the first circumnavigation of the continent in 1803, Bungaree had travelled more of Australia’s coastline than any person before him.

And yet, history gave him only a passing mention. While Flinders returned to England (and was later imprisoned by the French), Bungaree returned to Sydney. There he became something of a local character—always dignified, dressed in military uniforms, wearing his medals proudly. He was lovingly referred to as “King Bungaree,”.

An Amazing Feat

So this was the veryfirst successful circumnavigation of an entire continent in recorded history–the first time anyone had completely circumnavigated a single, continuous continental landmass on Earth.

Other earlier famous circumnavigations (like Magellan’s) went around the globe or around islands (for example, Tasmania, which Flinders himself had circumnavigated earlier with George Bass in 1798). But going around a continent — that is, a vast mainland connected by continuous coastline — was unique. (Incidentally, while one can circumnavigate Africa, the Americas through the Panama Canal, and Antarctica when the ice permits, it is not possible to circle Asia and Europe).

Remembering Bungaree

Bungaree died in 1830 and was buried at Rose Bay. His resting place, like so much of his story, is unmarked. But in recent years, there has been a growing recognition of his contribution—not just as a companion to Flinders, but as a symbol of the spirit of adventure, resilience, and bringing two worlds together.

–Meena

PIC from ABC News