Day IV and V in Bhubaneswar - India trip January 2026

Life in Bhubaneswar goes at a slow pace but time passes fast. Before I realized already 5 days from my vacation are over, and before I realize my entire vacation will be over just like the twinkling of an eye. So it's better to make the best out of it.

Sunday as usual is a holiday here, and Bhubaneswar being the capital city harboring multiple government offices with salaried class people saw relatively less crowded on its roads as today was a government holiday here. It was a cool, Sunday morning with a light wind blowing the dust around. The tree leaves on foliage were desperately trying to shrug off the dust by swaying to the wind. Slowly the wind started to taper and winding up. I accompanied a group of friends for a walk inside the Forest Park. The holiday morning traffic seemed a walk in the park. The floor of the park was filled with few broken twigs and leaves lying amidst layers of dust. There were plenty of "Baul and Krushnachuda" trees inside the park. The mango trees in nascent bloom were adorned with "Baula" (mango flowers) looking like star studded mini Christmas trees protruding out of the dusty, green leaves. Patches of greenish yellow flowers sprinkled all over the walking trail.

The Park was crowded with walkers and a few joggers trying to outrun each other. The walking crowd consisted of folks from all walks, fitting perfectly to the local profile of highly disproportionate figures - slim hands and legs with protruding bellies with muffler wrapped heads looking like Eskimos. Some were seen frantically scanning their smartphones while huffing and puffing ahead, taking a break to text before resuming their walk. A few taller and fitter guys were around, taking longer laps among the dust laden trees.

Completing 5 rounds in the park helped me ameliorate the guilty pleasure of my gluttony. Forest park is a commendable place surrounded by tons of greenery supplying fresh oxygen. The Park gets crowded between 7 to 9 AM, hence if you are looking for plenty of elbow space and privacy during that time, it may not be the perfect place. Otherwise much recommended park for a walk.

Centuries ago Bhubaneswar was the center of Saivaites, unlike many back in those days who were Vaisnavites. There was a division amongst the Saivites and Vaisnavites. Even the kings fought with each other based upon their allegiance to two prominent Hindu Gods. Bhubaneswar is full of temples of Lord Shiva, at least a dozen within couple of miles radius from my house - the most prominent being the Lingaraj temple built by Lalatendu Keshari.

Next morning, I took a slow walk to the local Sukhmeswar temple, barely 500 feet from our house. The temple had more than its usual share of devotees today Sombaar (Monday) with Bhakts (devotees) making a beeline to enter into the narrow entrance of the temple, touching the feet of the Bull, the carrier of Lord Shiva lying near the entrance. I finished my "Darshan" (beholding of the diety) and started by walk home after ringing the temple bell. Suddenly rang a bell of this episode from one of my prior trips.

Before walking to the temple I drank Tea, followed by Amul Lassi and couple of glasses of PAIDA (young coconut) water freshly plucked from one of the Coconut trees in our backyard. While on my way back from temple I realised my bladder was about to burst as I won't be able to hold on to it much longer. As there was still some distance to be covered (distance is a relative term and not just a number when you walk with controlling nature's call when meters seem to be miles), I thought it would be prudent for me to open the valve midway.

Frantically looking for a spot with privacy, I found a suitable peeing spot by roadside. It was a dry spot near a wet wall, heavily stained by betel leaf saliva and more heavily stenched by rivulets of urine mixed with red saliva. Couple of guys joined me on both sides of me inspecting the site for a location. The guy on my right looked up into the sky while relieving himself. I turned my head to the left and smiled at the other. He reciprocated by smiling back at me, exposing his phalanx of 32 of his dark, betel stained teeth.

We all shook ourselves off the residual droplets, lifted and tightened our pants and bid each other an unspoken good bye. It is another feeling of the pleasure of relieving oneself under open, blue sky, something I rarely do these days. A la a doggie I managed to leave my scent behind, may be back one day to reuse the spot. It is the best way to recycle these wall urinals lurking around the smart city. No place to wash hands, I knew it will be a few minutes before I reach home to do so - sincerely wishing of not getting an opportunity to shake hands with someone. Feeling completely light and relieved, I started trudging my way back towards home.

Soon my wish was to be belied. On my way back, I saw a familiar face, a neighborhood Mausa (Uncle) rushing towards me - "HAIYO KEBE FOREIGN RU ASILA. KETE DINA ACHHA" - "Hey when did you come from abroad (Foreign in Odia is the term used here to denote a nation outside India, especially Western Countries). How long are you staying", extending his hands for a warm welcome handshake. I did a "Namaskar" to him, thinking there won't be a need for any handshake. But he insisted on shaking my hands. So, reluctantly I took my hand forward, squinting my nose, hesitantly extending my right hand towards him. The smiling person at the other side shook his hands we me enthusiastically for a good few seconds.

Post handshake, he rolled his hands over his lip and chins, making me squint and raise my nose further. Hope someone recorded this handshake moment, it could very well get million plus hits on YouTube a la the greatest handshakes in history - Chamberlain with Hitler, Nixon with Chairman Mao, Ronald Reagan vs Mikhail Gorbachev and so on. Glad I didn't meet any more Mr. Fortunates on my way to shake hands with. More later...

Day II and III in Bhubaneswar - India trip January 2026

 I don't use toilet papers here in Bhubaneswar. Be Roman in Rome. As toilet paper is to Subway sandwich, cold water is to Indian hot and spicy food, absolutely ablutionary and soothing.

A NRI (Non Resident Indian) visiting India once went shopping for Toilet paper. The store was out of it. Retorted the furious NRI, "What kind of store you have, you don't carry a necessity item like Toilet Paper ?" "Sorry Sir" - the storekeeper responded politely. We don't have toilet paper but we have plenty of Sand papers. TIKE ADJUST KARANTU ("Please adjust a little bit)". In many instances it simply means, please squeeze in more than 5 people in a seat made for 3 persons inside a car or any mode of public transport. Or a polite way of saying, "Bear the inconvenience".

Made a trip to "Sarasa Sisira Mela 2026" at the local Exhibition ground. I was told to go around 3 PM in the afternoon to beat the crowd. Though there weren't a whole lot of folks over there, but the haphazard and disorganized onlookers made the venue look crowded.

OLA and UBER cab services are arguably the best thing to happen to the city in recent time. Just book them using your Smartphone App, you can see the cabs rolling in on the screen, doing on-screen somersaults before showing up at your doorsteps in minutes.

The other day I took an UBER cab. As usual I never lose an opportunity to chat, even if that person is a stranger. Sitting next to him I started a tete-a-tete with the driver. Bit stiff initially, he slowly loosened up and boasted that he can slice his way fast through the clogged roads of Bhubaneswar, adept at it as fish is to water. He was planning to drive on till midnight that day and on long term until he goes over the hills over the wheels.

A late migrant from the district of Mayurbhanj to Bhubaneswar, like many job seekers from the hinterland of Odisha he came to capital city, his city of neon lights and opportunity. He landed up as a driver for UBEREY (Uber pronounced in Odia accent) after having a stint spending few years in its competitor company OLA. He shared a small room in a squalor along with 2 other OLA - UBER drivers with an unattached mosquito infested toilet located outside. Every month he sends money to his family in Mayurbhanj. I asked him - "Why don't you go back to your village" ? He replied with a sigh, tired from a long day of stressful drive - "There is hardly any opportunities here. Here I am much better off having a job and save some money to feed mouths back home". The man made his point.

He also shared his frustrations of handling occasional fastidious, recalcitrant passengers, last minute cancellations et all. Like many he dreaded trips to Cuttack, for it's a challenge for him to drive in the labyrinth of lanes of the old city which prides itself on its 52 Bazaars and 53 Streets (BAUN BAZAAR, TEPAN GALI). He detested his customers of Silver City whom he found to be much more obnoxious and less rule abiding compared to those he encountered in Bhubaneswar.

I asked him - "How can you simply generalize like that" ? He continued - "Trust me, you haven't seen Cuttack". He was right. Though Cuttack is our neighboring city, I haven visited it no more than half a dozen times in my life. He went further - "The traffic in the new Capital city of Bhonsar is a walk in the park compared to Odisha's Old Capital city of Cuttack". I chuckled back and told him - "I certainly see how every rule abiding Bhubaneswariya makes his or own road rules on daily basis. Cuttackias can't be any worse".
My ride was over the fare of Rs.160. I gave him a Rs.200 bill (called note here). He reached out to his dashboard for changes. I gestured him to keep the change. During our earlier conversation I raised his curiosity. Now I got his attention to give me a closer look in the street lamp struggling to lighten the darkness.

A la those who come to America rarely go back to their home country, those who once arrive in Odisha's capital rarely leave the city. The Bhubaneswar I grew up with has changed leaps and bounds over the years. Not everyone is happy about the immigrants, especially Bulu (a common nickname among Odias), the owner of a locally popular "Bara" Dokan (shop), a fast food stall barely 100 feet from our home. A proud, original inhabitant of Bhubaneswar he detests all outsiders.

The crowd outside his small kiosk vindicates his popularity. Odias love "Bara". Many don't get a bowel movement if they don't eat Bara for breakfast. Though tasty and okay for occasional consumption, it is unhealthy and produces a lot of gas. No wonder many Odias suffer from gastro-intestinal ailments. People of all sorts cluster around Bulu's Bara Dokan (kiosk). Those from the upper middle class and the nouveau riche of our locality send their domestic help to procure their breakfast. Many on their way to work stop by at this stall for an express breakfast consisting of half a dozen Bara soaked in Ghuguni washed down with hot tea.

All sorts of topics are discussed here. From the cold, bland ones like current weather condition to hot and spicy political gossips as hot and spicy as the simmering Bara dollops getting fried in hot oil. As Bulu the Chef moved around the dollops of "Bara" swirling and wobbling on the surface of boiling oil using his jumbo sized spatula, he exclaimed in an excited voice - "SALAA SABU GAON RU UTHI ASI KAHIBE AME BHONSARA RE RAHIBU" - All those brothers of the sisters I have seduced (SALAA means wife's brother, but in local lingo its usage suggests the speaker is the seducer of the sister of whom so ever concerned). They have come out of their villages with the desire to live in Bhonsara (Bhubaneswar). "RAJADHANI PANI, TANKU ANUCHI TANI - the water of capital city is luring them into it".

Bulu continued further - these folks used to live in squalors in their native villages got no civic sense. They come and live in GOLAM NAGARI (Slave city, ascribed to the rapidly developing portion of the city by those natives who pride themselves as the original city citi-gens), live like POKA - JOKA (insects and leeaches) in illegally constructed buildings. SALE SABU CHIPI HEI MARANTU (Let those guys whose sisters I seduce get trampled and perish).

The tea and snack stall owner Bulu made his point loud and clear. He prides being the true blue blooded boy of Bhonsara, born in Kapileswar, one of the native villages constituting Old town, the real Bhubaneswar. But he is sad, feeling helpless, unable to evict the rusty, arrogant immigrants from his city. Least he can do to change the course of time other than whine about it.

Few years ago during one of my earlier visits, I was watching "Baras" slowly starting to turn light brown from the spotless white dough made out of the soaked grams (lentils). It will take a few more minutes before they get ready. Bulu's unabashed character assassination of the new immigrants continued unabated as my takeout order of Bara was getting ready. Soon the discussion shifted to a spicier topic of someone's teenage daughter from the locality eloping with a smart boy who used to kill line (LINE MARUTHILA) that girl. I looked outside the small kiosk as a big gray bull dumped a fresh mound of shit only a few feet away from me as I could overhear more bullshit discussions going on behind me, akin to the bullshit which I peddle on Facebook on a daily basis.

I picked up my PARSALA order (the carry out or "to go" order is called PARSALA here, the way parcel is spoken in Onglish, i.e., Odia accented English). My order of a dozen of hot Bara costing me only Rs.36 (40 cents) was ready for pickup. A tasty family breakfast for 40 cents, fresh out of wooden clay oven - can't beat it. As he sprinkled some black salt over the dozen pieces of dark brown colored Bara in a THUNGA (Paper packet) along with couple of green chillies and handed over to me, Bulu delivered his final message - "AGYA BHONSARA RE AU RAHI HABANI - Bhubaneswar has become unlivable for us. Glad that you emigrated abroad". It was deja vu for me. He is not the only one who complains about Bhubaneswar, but hardly any one leaves the city. I haven't too, for like one's first love Bhubaneswar still remains close to my heart. More later..

Day I in Bhubaneswar - India trip January 2026

First night after the arrival from traveling across the globe can be painful. A stubborn jet lag can be a real pain in the butt. My body clock simply refuses to relinquish the US Time Zone as I woke up at 2 A.M. in morning. Jet lag for me now seems to get too stubborn to relent as I age. It feels miserable to get up so early in morning, without being able to sleep any further. Kishore Kumar's song from Rajesh Khanna's movie AAP KI KASAM - KARWATE BADALTE RAHE SAARI RAAT HUM (turning sides on bed for whole night) never sounded more prophetic. 

We have installed net across the windows to prevent the mosquitos from getting in and an "All Out" brand repellant in the room in an effort to keep most of them away. But if you think that they are too less in number and too small in size to make an impact, try going to bed with a mosquito in the room. No more than a couple in number, they still kept bothered me as I battled them in darkness to clap them to death.

Thanks to the internet, Facebook and my addiction to blogging, I kept myself busy until the murmurung of mosquito gave way to the tom tomimg of GHANTA (brass plate) from a nearby MATH (monastery) sounded like music to me, more musical than the sporadic KAWALIs (group music) from stray dogs. No sooner the gang of musical mongrels on the Eastern end of the street finished with a seqience of wooo.. wooo..woof.. than their western side competitive cousins responded with their musical version of wooo.. wooo...woof. The Kawali sessions continued for the better part of the night with intermittent 10 - 15 minutes of break.

The long arduous wait in darkness paved way to dawn. The eastern sky grew brighter, turning crimson red as the light slowly drove away the darkness. By now the early rays of morning sun sprinkled the trees with a golden hue, giving their dust covered leaves a shining copper coating. It hasn't rained for a long time in Bhubaneswar, the sporadic winter rains are missing. Lack of precipitation and lot of constructions has converted the temple city into a dusty bowl. The chirping of birds turned louder, so also the sound of GHANTA from the nearby Monastery - sounding the beginning of morning prayer session. Wafted in a Bengali Bhakti (devotional) song through the dust laden mango, jackfruit, coconut and betel nut trees. I could grasp the following stanza - 

JASHODA JANANI DAE, 
BAL KRESHTO KHAE RE.
SONAR NUPUR BAJE,
HARI JENE JAE RE. 

Roughly transliterated... 

Mother Yashoda gives,
Kid Krishna to eat.
Golden anklet makes sounds,
Wherever God goes around. 

I went over to the balcony to take a peek at the outside world. A Bull was placidly chewing cud under a big mound of sand nearly. Couple of mongrels sleeping nearby noticed the tectonic shift in their surrounding as the giant bovine stood up suddenly, shrugging off sand from his body. The doggies shifted further off to a nearby semi-broken concrete culvert, apparently perceived by them as a more secured, safer location. 
One of the dark skinned parish dogs whom we lovingly called "Kaalu" tried to sniff his way near to a man plucking flowers leaning over the nearby fence only to be shooed away - HEY HEY JA JA (Hey, hey, go away). The doggie nonchalantly walked away. From distance approached Newspaperwalla (guy). He swung and threw the paper past our main gate with immaculate accuracy and moved on to the next house.

You must have heard about Sand mafia, Land mafia etc. Have you heard of Flower mafia ? They come at wee hours of the morning, steal flowers from the frontyard gardens and sell them off to the larger market segment. My senior citizen father can hardly do anything to stop them. A very moving morning after my first night's nap in Bhubaneswar.

A jet lag can be an irritant, a nuisance especially for those plying between India and United States. The long journey can put one's body clock out of whack, which varies from individuals who experience little or no jet lag, to those who have to make a trip to the Doctor's office for medication when their jet lag stubbornly refuses to relent. Eventually most get over it. For me it lasts for 3-5 days, now more on the later side as I get older.

Here are a few tips on how to minimize the jet lag. This is hardly scientific, rather based purely upon personal experience. Try not to sleep during the day. Keep yourself busy, sip some caffeine, especially  during late afternoon when your eyelids refuse to stay open. The more you sleep during the day, the longer it takes your body to adapt to the new clock. Also don't forget to drink plenty of water and go easy on food. Don't splurge on fried foods and alcohol when you still have a jet lag, it can cause havoc to your system. 
Last but the least, time is the best healer. Let your body clock take its own sweet time to adjust. If it's already a week since you have landed and the jet lag refuses to go, better see a doctor. More later...

Arrival at Bhubaneswar - India trip 2026

 I was welcomed at the Bhubaneswar Biju Patnaik Airport by a cool and slightly foggy morning (not as bad as Delhi) with the Sun struggling to shine through a hazy hue. There were fewer people inside and outside the Airport, lesser din and bustle, less annoying honking of vehicles and haranguing touts (in local lingo TAUTARs). Old man winter probably drove them into hibernation.

No sooner I stepped out of the Airport, than I smiled at the gray sky and utterd "Good Morning Bhubaneswar", suddenly remembering the Hollywood actor Eddie Murphy in the movie "COMING TO AMERICA". Coming from America, I wished to replicate the same. In that scene from that movie, the actor's wish at top of his voice, "Good Morning my neighbors", is instantly returned by an equally prompt response " Hey, F...k you". Eddie Murphy returns with a smile "F...k You too". Glad no one responded to my Good morning wish at the Airport to reciprocate in kindness.

Everything inside the Airport glitters. But all that glitter isn't gold. There are 3 lanes in front of the Bhubaneswar Airport, lane 1 devoted to the VIPs, lane 2 used by lesser humans for regular airport drop offs and pick ups, lane 3  for the OLA, Uber vehicles booked via online. We are probably the only country on earth still clinging to this sick VIP culture, Odisha being in forefront. The whole place is swarming with scums, touts, unscrupulous elements with passengers having unpleasant experiences to share. Many people present at the Airport are neither passengers, airline or airport staffs. They have no business to be there. Yet they hang around the place creating nuisance.

On reaching home after a long journey of 30 hours spanning over 3 continents and 10 time zones, I badly needed a shit, shave, shower and sleep in my comfort zone of home. Inside the bathroom I turned the faucet on to brush my teeth. Prrrt.. Prrrt.. it farted twice before emitting a thin stream of water which slowly got thicker. The overhead shower wasn't working. So I put water inside a bucket and started pouring mugs after mugs on my head and torso. It was fun to take shower the old fashioned way after a long time and I loved every bit of it. Be Roman in Rome. Through bathroom skylight I could hear the tweeting spree by a bird tweeting "Tweetwoo tweetwoo.. tweetwoo...", with no restrictions on characters to tweet put by its social media counterpart Tweeter.

No sooner I finished eating my typical Puri style home made lunch than I lied down on bed tired after a long journey and jet lag, starting to doze off to the sound of the slow moving overhead fan as midday felt little warmer. On the branch of the nearby mango tree I could hear the coarse cawing of a crow interrupting sweet flute tone of the Cuckoo. It was interspersed with occasional spurts of passing by bikes honking - -"keee..kicky.....", big construction trucks making loud noise, followed by wafting  voices of street vendors - E JHADU NABA JHADU (Want to buy Broom), KAREI NABA KAREI (Want Utensils), E MUDHI MUDHI (Voices selling Puffed Rice).

Back of my mind I thought of avoiding a siesta so that I can better sleep in the night. In a supine pose on bed I started reading the local vernacular Odia newspaper "SAMBADA". Soon I could feel my eyelids refusing to stay open. Didn't realize when sleep overcame me until at twilight I had the deja vu feeling my mother's hand caressing me, waking me up - "Get up my son. Don't sleep any further. Save some sleep for tonight. You have lost weight. Aren't you eating enough these days". I got up, feeling the poor newspaper lying on my side, the smiling face of Odisha's Chief Minister Mohan Majhi on the cover page torn from the middle inadvertently by my elbow when I slumped on it, thanks to my tiring journey of 30 hours. Mom is up in heaven and she is the first thing I miss at home.

A mother's caressing hands on forehead and chest felt so soothing, something I longed for days and months. A mother's love is panacea for all ills. Though she equally loves all her children, she has a special affection for me being her only son and her first child born when she was still in her teens. With passing time her feelings towards me never wavered a bit.

All mothers are alike. Time and again she would ask me - "MO PUA (my son). You must be hungry. Have you eaten anything ?" though I have been munching all the time, trying to make best out from my finite stay. A mother's love for her child is always pure like the water from the mouth of a mountain spring - perennially pristine, unequivocally soothing, unwavering and unflinching. In her voice laced with care and caution, she instructed me to sip my evening cup of hot tea before it gets cold.

My reverie was rudely interrupted when I was served black pepper afternoon tea boiled in ginger. It shugged off my jaded nerves. It trigger me being overcome with a sudden desire to rush to the bathroom. It was 6 PM in India but 7.30 AM morning in America which expained the urge for a trip to toilet. I was reminded though currently in India, I left my biological clock back in USA. More later...

Flight to Bhubaneswar - India trip January 2026

 It was cold and smoky outside Delhi Airport when I stepped outside after managing to drag my 50 lb bag from the carousel amongst the melee of passengers crowding nearby and competing to outsmanoeuvre and outsmart one another to grab their bags. I would never ever risk wearing sandals or light shoes there, lest I want to lose a toe nail or worst a finger. It is not unusual for folks to bump on each other while collecting their gargantuan luggages, occasionally running over them with their trolley, especially on the feet of an absent minded or unsuspecting bystander.

A burst of cold fog welcomed me as I stooped out of the Terminal 3 of IGI Airport rolling my luggage filled trolley to Terminal 2, about a furlong walking distance amidst scores of folks standing outside wearing placards welcoming - Charanjit Sings, Neha Grewals, Vijay Ahujas from So and So Corp. We learnt in our Middle School Chemistry that Air is a mixture of invisible colorless and odorless gases. I could literally see and smell the heavily wet and foggy Delhi air which disproved the age old law of Chemistry. It seemed like pollution stilled the Delhi air as traffic stops at a red light.

While loitering inside the Terminal 2 Airport after checking in and clearing the security before boarding my flight to Bhubaneswar, I saw Samosa displayed at Rs. 250 a piece behind glass cover at a store. It reminded me another saying in Hindi - "BOSS PE BHAROSA AUR AIRPORT ME SAMOSA, DONO MEHNGI PADTI HAI" (Trust on Boss and Samosa at Airport could be costly).

The Air India flight to Bhubaneswar which for years normally starts from from Domestic Terminal 3, was leaving from Terminal 2 this time. No sooner I checked in for my last leg of flight to Odisha's capital, than I settled down on one of several empty chairs next to the boarding area around 4 in the morning. Another 3 hours of waiting before I catch my flight to Bhubaneswar, so I tried to catch up my lost sleep. But the jet lag refused to cooperate. Eyes and ears wide open I spent looking at loitering passengers. Eyes soothed by staring at neatly dressed air hostesses sliding their wheeled bags in one hand and speaking on cell phone on another. Not long ago I could distinctly hear a guy passing by farting loudly, the sound fading away as he marched on, due to what we studied in Physics called sound's  Doppler effect.

As it neared the scheduled departure time of the Bhubaneswar bound flight, the sparcely populated area slowly started filling out. The fog outside forced the sun to take a break to rise above Delhi. A burst of wet fog engulfed me as I stepped into the bus to take me to the termac where my Air India Aircraft meant for my destination was hiding in the misty darkness. I could recognize the typical Odia crowd nearby from their looks, language and mannersism. We Odias have some great civic sense. In one of my earlier trips I saw a guy surreptitiously scratching his private part in public while waiting to board, grimacing with orgasmic pleasure moans of big sighs "Aah, Ooh" laced relief from the itch as the heat and humidity of India can cause real havoc down under. When our eyes met he pretended to adjust his belts with a "Not I" look on his face. 

The Air India flight took off from Delhi turmac slicing through the morning air escaping from the clutches of dense fog to be welcomed by golden sun rays while slicing through thin, low hanging clouds like a hot knife through butter. I looked outside the window. Up in the dust free air the orange sun on the Eastern horizon popped up, looking like the sunny side of poached egg for breakfast. Crimson color cloud on the far eastern horizon suddenly looked like hot lava flowing from a dormant volcano turning active. The world above the clouds is dream, taking you to Cloud 9. The world below it is the reality. The roaring big bird was flying high, whizzing past low lying clouds, enabling me to take a peek outside to get a Bird's eye view. The plane was flying over snow white fleece of cloud looking like a vast cotton plantation. Huge mushroom clouds looked like the snow capped castles of some distant planet in the Guardian of the Galaxy. After 30 minutes in air I could see snow clad Himalayas glittering at a distance. What a lovely view it was !

Years ago I was flying alone to Bhubaneswar on a similar flight. A guy next to me was conspicuously reading The Economics Times. I asked him for his reason for travelling to Bhubaneswar. He said he is on a short trip to Odisha where he envisions future lies in Organic farming as a potential money spinner.

During the course of our conversation the amateur farmer in me asked him certain aspects of farming, which I expected this gentleman with an interest in agriculture to know. Apparently he seemed very novice on farming, sounding more like an investor on a hunt for big bucks and ready for the kill, not to nurture the nature. He was analogus to a soldier who had never set foot on the battle field, a city boy who had never grown a plant by himself. Our conversation turned out to big a damp squib.

Inside domestic flight to Bhubaneswar I have grabbed opportunity to interact with many interesting personalities. Once a man sitting next to me was a garrulous guy full of hot air. He boasted how like Hercules he carries all his company's responsibility on his shoulders and without his expertise it would collapse like a pack of cards. How indispensable he was and has visited all the 75 states of India on various company trips (never knew there were 75 states in India, even if you include the Union territories). 

Years ago in one such homeward flight, groggy with jet lag, I dozed off to the humming of the airplane engine for the first half an hour of the flight, my head drooping sideward. The Airhostess politely woke me up - "Veyzz (veg) or Non - Veyzz, Sir ?". "I like non-veg", was my impromptu, reflex action reply in a semi asleep state. She served the food, suspiciously glancing at me, thinking I passed a double entendre. In India non-Veg means food containing meat, fish or poultry, but colloquially it denotes a person with carnal or amorous instinct. Bawdy, dirty jokes in India are often termed as "Non-veg" jokes. Living outside India for a long time had taken its toll on me. I better be careful lest I am branded as a dirty, middle aged man. 

As the plane lowered itself preparing to land at Bhubaneswar, the rivulets meandering through the grayish landscape down below formed a spectacular sight, basking in a foggy, grayish and bit dimmed morning sun. The green, undulating waves of Eastern Ghat mountains were swimming in the misty fog. River Mahanadi looked like a huge cold blooded Anaconda taking a sunbath on golden sand to stay warm. Approaching Airport, the river Daya down below appeared like a gargantuan brown horseshoe covered in greenish water.

Every other year I fly over Bhubaneswar, the city I moved into as a 7 year old in 1976 and never left, sadly I see more concrete and asphalt, less green foliage as the asthetic city once known for its salubrious weather slowly turning into an urban jungle. Peeked below to take a view of the city I grew up with to notice that has outgrown itself. Saw multiple skyscrapers staring at the plane from down below as vehicles looking like match boxes were snaking on the highways. I left Bhubaneswar for good for more than a quarter of a century now, but the city has never left me. Way too many skyrises see from the top have gone over the top. They are becoming a growing environmental concern - gonna to bite this city big time sooner or later.
How contrasting is the worms eye view of the sky from the ground to the bird's eye view from the top. It makes me understand the meaning of the phrase "Down To Earth". When it all seems you are on top of the world, in minutes you are back on the ground. So are the vagaries of life. How much and how high you fly you have to come down - in no time you must descent from 39000 feet to ground zero. Airplane teaches us a lesson on life than anything else. 

I was reminded of this incident when the flight landed at Bhubaneswar close to lunch time, I heard a guy from the front row shouting to his wife to keep the mutton (goat meat) curry ready for his lunch. I quizzed him "Sir, you must be hungry". "Addressing an unknown as Sir on first meet usually impresses, even flatters the person). He responded "Yes, I am. I had been with Gujjus (Gujuratis) in Bombay on a business trip till Sunday. So no luck with meat in my meal. Followed Monday and Tuesday, (vegetarian day for many Oriyas). Today I desperately want to break free with a typical Odia style home cooked mutton curry". The hungry me rolled tongue over my lips as I swallowed a few sips of saliva while remembering this incident as the flight descended on Bhubaneswar.

My day dreaming came to an abrupt end by by the voice of the stewardess "Please keep your seat belt fastened until the plane comes to a full stop". No sooner the announcement was made than I heard incessant clicks of opening up the seat belts. Surrounding me mobile went up likes the hands in a Baba Ramdev Yoga camp followed by chatters announcing arrival. More later...

In Delhi - India trip January 2026

 At Abu Dhabi Airport sitting next to me was a guy who was writing, or rather texting in Arabic script from right to left. I knew that unlike most scripts in the world which are written from left to right, Arabic is written from right to left. It felt bit unusual and odd yet interesting when I actually saw some one actually type so fast from right to left.

Today on airplane to Delhi reminded me of another eventful flight to Delhi couple of years ago. Midway through flight while taking a cat nap, I was suddenly interrupted when a Sardarjee (Sikh) senior citizen in bright brown turban and flowing white beard sitting behind tapped me, gasping heavily, talking in a very thick Punjabi accented Hindi, complaining about shortness of breath. I immediately alerted the Air Hostess. She tried to communicate with the poor man, but was having trouble as she knew only English and French, whereas our Sikh gentleman could speak neither, for he only spoke Punjabi and a very thick accented Hindi I could barely decipher.

So I became an in-flight translator and managed to figure out that the man was having breathing issues from his words "Saans" (breath), "Taqlif" (difficulties) which started from his connecting flight from Canada to Paris which still persisted. The cabin crew made an announcement looking for a doctor. In minutes walked in a lady Doctor of Indian origin who was travelling from Virginia. The issue again was the Doctor, born in Kenya and settled in USA spoke only English and some Gujarati. Glad I could translate the man's feeble Hindi to English. explaining his problem. She measured his BP. It was much higher than normal. She suspected "Sleep Apnea" and suggested putting the patient on an Oxygen mask. It certainly helped as after sometime the Sikh gentleman uttered "Wahe Guru", announcing feeling better. Glad I could help. All the cabin crews, the Sikh man and not to mention the doctor thanked me for my cooperation. Reminded me of Tom Hanks from the movie FOREST GUMP - "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get". 

The flight to Abu Dhabi to Delhi lasted little less than 3 hours, too short by international flight standard to be eventful. Felt extremely relieved, when the aircraft started to descend over New Delhi with the pilot's voice announced - "Welcome to New Delhi's Indira Gandhi International Airport. It's 3 O'clock in the morning, hazy, 5°C (close to 42° F) outside. 

During one of my earlier trips just before landing at the Delhi Airport came abruptly the voice of an exalted teen sitting close to me exclaiming to his buddy next row, "OI UTTH, BAIN**OD DILLI A GAYEE" (Get up, So and So the sister slammer, Delhi has arrived). More than the pilot, I found the teen's welcome far more enthusiast and the most appropriate way of welcoming to Delhi. As "Jai Maharastra" to Mumbai, Oh' Calcutta to Kolkata, "Jay Jagannath" to Odisha,  Behn**od fits well to Delhi. It was a grandest of grand standing welcome to Delhi, Punjabi style. It is how the self proclaimed Dilwalle Dilli wale (Big Hearted Delhites) often greet each other. Reminded of a limerick alluding to office environment -

ASMAAN MEIN CHAAND HAI,
AUR HAI KITNE TAARE,
YAHA KISI SE BHAROSA MAT KARO,
BAIN**OD HAI SAARE

Roughly transliterated.

"Moon is in the sky,
And also so many stars
Don't trust anyone here,
For everyone is a slammer of sister".

The Terminal 3 of IGI Airport is quite impressive. Restrooms (toilets) were maintained nice and clean. No strong smell of ubiquitous Phenyle and dark brown betel stains at corners of walls. Our International Airports have arrived on the scene and can now be considered truly world class. I saw a digital bill board proudly displaying Mahatma Gandhi's picture, followed by a visual of Chivas Regal Scotch. Ironically the Father of our Nation was never a fan of consumerism, nor he ever extolled us to drink Chivas Regal. Many streets in big cities in India bustling with consumerism are named as M.G. Road, after a man who preached simple living and abhorred consumerism.

Since October last year, you can fill out the immigration form online called e-arrival card. I tried unsuccessfully multiple times 72 hours before travel. It seemed the server was down. Finally I was able to fill out the form before my departure. On the drop down menu on screen when you pick your state in India, it displays "Odisha" as "Orissa". Someone please tell the website developers to change it to Odisha. Such a silly oversight is an apparent step motherly treatment of the state by the Central government. It needs to be noted that we have a "double engine Sarkar" with BJP ruling both the center and state, and if Odisha didn't send 20 MPs to Parliament last time, today BJP would most probably be sitting in the opposition. I breezed through the immigration which was a shoo in for me.

Throughout the journey I watched folks drooling over their smartphones. All heads down like Ostrich, they were busy fingering over the glaring screens of their devices. I have seen this in America, not unusual and unexpected in a nation where individualism rules the roost. But I have observed the same in Europe, Middle East, Singapore and in India. Asian culture is more social and group oriented, where people enjoy a tete-a-tete, even with strangers. I saw many, including Airline crew busy dragging bag in one hand and texting using the other, clinging to their phones and baby sitting their devices.

Last year at Delhi Airport while waiting to catch my connecting flight to Bhubaneswar, the guy next to me was watching some reel where a guy in thick Barhampur accent in full volume on speaker was yelling - "KI KEYLEE AU GAMAATA KARUCHA HEY (So much fun and jokes you are doing) caring a hoot about others sitting close to them. This time I saw many like him. Why can't he use headphones !

Growing up back in the days in India, we use to chat about anything and everything under the sun, covering topics ranging from "NANA BAHA GHARA RU, NANI BAHA GHAR PARYANTA" (From Dad's marriage to Sister's marriage). Perhaps we have gone electronic doing e-Khatti (chit chat) on social media. In the year 1979  barely a 10 year old I had accompanied my Uncle to a play at his Alma Mater Vani Bihar of Utkal University, Bhubaneswar. It was a symbolic Odia play which I could hardly understand then, but now sounds prophetic. I still remember those lines by an actor on stage. 

OTA PAKHI PARI JIBA BHAI 
NAHI NAHI HOIRE,
JIBARE MANISHA SABU
OTA PAKHI HEI JIBARE. 

Roughly transliterated, 

You all will become a Ostrich,
Uttering no no,
Humans will become Ostrich as days go.

We have become Ostriches burying our heads  inside our phones, the way an Ostrich buries its head inside sand. The same drama is now enacted in another era more than 40 years later. The nondescript person who wrote this Odia Drama (play) in 1970s was so prophetic and was certainly way ahead of his time. More later...

India trip January 2026 - Arrival at Abu Dhabi

 Travel opens up myriad frivolous chance encounter opportunities by throwing at us and delivering memorable tryst with human foibles. I am reminded of this funny incident at Heathrow Airport few years ago. A Virgin Airline flight was about to board and names of passengers not boarded yet were called as it was getting closer to the departure time. An Air hostess swung by, shouting at top of her voice - "ANY VIRGIN HERE", obviously looking for some missing Virgin Airline passengers.

Couple of girls raised their hands. Everyone close by started looking at them, some with chuckles and half baked smiles. The shy girls retreated to their privacy by dropping their heads over their smartphones to hide their embarrassment, still peeing through the corner of their eyes to look at the reactions. Non of them got up to board the flight. We humans are slaves of our inadvertent reflex actions.

I was all excited and bit apprehensive upon my arrival at the Atlanta's Hartsfield - Jackson International Airport, hoping there is no flight delays or any untoward incidents. The light cloud in the distance stratosphere in the sky appeared as if an artist painted white with a broad paint brush on a blue canvas. The late afternoon sun peeking through the clouds, exiting them to spread their golden wings. My Etihad Airlines flight to Abu Dhabi, UAE was on time on a relatively cool winter evening. I thought both the Airport and flight would be sparsely populated considering schools are open post winter break. But I was wrong. We were on a packed flight. With the ever growing expatriate population in US  my observation shouldn't come as surprise.

While waiting to board the aircraft, it was interesting to watch flights taking off and landing in quick succession at Atlanta's Airport, the busiest in the world. This being the peak hour, every couple of minutes an airliner lands or takes off from the ground. Flights lined up one after another in blue sky, their tail emissions forming a string of hazy pearls extending into the horizon, as they wait for their turns to land and take off. The Air Traffic controllers must be doing an amazing job. They are in a profession where error is not an option.

Remembered my school days while travelling in our DM School bus when it stopped at Railway level crossings (those days the roads, the arteries of Bhubaneswar were not clogged yet, no bypass in the form of flyover was necessary over the Railway tracks). As a goods train passed by, we waited inside our school bus, enthusiastically counting the number of bogies. Now I don't have patience to watch flights landing and taking off every other minute, forget about counting them.

The flight to Abu Dhabi entered into calm sky as the sky turned from maroon to black as darkness descended. The night was young and short lived as only few hours layer it entered Atlantic past Greenland, the rising sun rose behind the crimson horizon looking like a gargantuan red vermillion on a Hindu woman's forehead. Due to the diurnal rotation of mother earth, while flying West to East you lose time, see reduced amount of day as night passes by too fast, too soon. Again you gain time flying the other way round, as earth is round, vindicating the fact that what goes around comes around.

A few hours of dozing off was all the sleep I got as I am a frugal sleeper in flights. The short night evaporated as I could see glowing sunlight trying to dazzle through my window seat. I slid down the windows to doze off again through intermittent "ding dong" of bell from passengers solicitating air crew and pilots making announcements to put on seat belts due to occasional turbulence.

Inside the flight fired up by couple of cocktails, watched Liam Leeson fire shots in the farcical movie "NAKED GUN".  Unforunately the movie falls short of its original funny version from 1989 bearing the same name based on Frank Debin, Police Squad. Being a long flight in order to pass time between sporadic naps I looked down to view the snow capped Mont Blanc in the Southern Alps mountain range, emitting stars under the bright morning sun. Clusters of pretty bluish white clouds overlooked the aircraft as it flew over the blue star studded Mediterranean waters. The fleece of clouds would have made Mary of Little Lamb fame proud. The top view of the spotless cloud splintering away looked from the virgin sky a la scores of white furred lambs on move on a bluish - green pasture. It seemed I was looking at a gigantic milk shakes with white cream churned on top.

The day of January 14 seemed to fly fast as I flew eastward. Morning became afternoon, afternoon turned into evening as "Suryadev" (Sun God) was in a hurry to complete His journey. It was the middle of afternoon when the airplane glided over the brown Syrian desert and drab mountains before reaching the shore of Arabian gulf, getting closer to Abu Dhabi Airport piercing through a hazy, dusky desert sky. As the slowly descending gigantic bird lowered itself flying in a low altitude, I could see several light blue Oasis amidst golden sand dunes looking like a giant sand boa taking sunbath under bright, sparkling sunlight. The gulf next to the Airport looked like faded sky blue ink on a dusty sandpaper as the ground looked gray and listless. As the aircraft descended further, the sea looked much brighter like a bubbling fountain with scores of spotless ships looking static from top, a la white rubies garnishing the blue sapphire. As the aircraft was barely few hundred feet above ground the palm trees on drab sand looked like gray black dots pores on a Native American's face on National Geographic Magazine. What looked romantic from far away, isn't so when you get closer to reality.
No wonder they say hill from looks beautiful.
Same you get closer, reality strikes back as familiary breeds contempt.
After a long flight of 14 hours from Atlanta I finally reached the Abu Dhabi Airport.

I decided to stretch my legs before catching my connecting flight to Delhi. Took some time to walk around the glittering Duty Free Shops doing window shopping. Apart from many Europeans and Asians, I saw a good number of Africans wearing long gowns roaming around. Arabians in white cotton helmets, with their female folks tagging along in black attire from top to bottom peeping through tiny slits cut below their foreheads and looking like Knights from Medieval era or  Ku Klux Klan members in black attire for a change. Covid virus won't dare penetrate their impregnable visors of these ladies in Burkha attire from tip to toe, as if a bunch of Penguins were let loose inside the airport.

Almost 3 hours flew fast as four more hours of flight time awaits me when I neared the boarding gate to catch my flight to New Delhi. No more Virgins were solicitated as an Air stewardess started calling names of the last minute passengers boarding. More later...