Asios Windy city - Chicago trip 2016

Now the time arrives to bid adieu to the Windy city, post some wonderful time spent with the cherished company of family and friends. Age and having lived  long in South has taken a toll on my cold tolerance. Thankfully, weather for this time of the year was quite cooperative - except couple of days, it stayed seasonal and comfortable.

As the day of departure approaches, the excitement dissipates and a classic role reversal takes place. The ecstatic feeling before making the trip gives rise to a morbid, remorse feeling. In the wee hours of the trip it's the endless cycle of meeting friends and relatives, run errands, packing, weighing, repacking and re-weighing of bags.

What's the similarities between a vacation, a consulting assignment and life ? All have a start date and a end date. Like all good things in life, a vacation has to end one day. A week or a month, however long you stay, it is never enough.

Reinforcing Einstein's Theory of Relativity, vacations get over quickly, time flies where a working day go slow, never ends. Before the Chicago trip I was rejuvenated and filled with energy. Towards the end of the trip I feel jaded,
somewhat depressed. There is always an inherently internal wish you had a few more days to spent.

My visit to the local Jagannath temple of the local Odia society reminded me of this incident from one of my prior trips. It depicts how we humans are basically elements of contradiction. It would be hypocrite not to admit that we have some semblance of hypocrisy embedded within us.

On that particular day in November, it felt very cold inside the temple as the heating system inside was not working. The Head Priest was already aware of this, but did not inform the Utility guys.

The reason being quite silly but not unusual, he felt that he was not properly approached by the members of the temple committee. The man, a 4 feet personna loaded with 4 tons of inflated ego, felt it was punctured.

I was patiently listening to the conversation between the priest and other members of the core temple management committee. Finally I concluded that it was nothing but the priest's BIG ego which put a spanner in the wheels.

In the meantime I noticed a few lines in Sanskrit scribbled on the temple wall AHAM BHAV ATMA KE LIYE KHARAB HAI.. meaning  "Ego is bad for the soul". Earlier the same evening the Priest also mentioned the same during his 30 minutes long PRAVACHAN (sermon).

When it was time to leave, I asked the priest "PANDITJEE (Respected priest), can you please explain those lines written in Sanskrit on the wall to me ?" He duly obliged. I thanked him, did my NAMASTE (Indian tradition of greet and good bye).

As I started walking towards the exit door, I heard the Priest's voice from behind - "Dash Jee, I have a feeling you knew the meaning of those lines but still asked me". He shied and continued " I agree, we don't always practise what we preach. That's why we are mere humans needing guidance from God".

I chuckled back when a burst of howling chilly Chicago wind at my face gusting through the semi-open door reminded me to run towards the warm comforts of my car. Late that night I heard that to every one's delight the priest did a volte-face and agreed to call the maintenance folks to fix the heating, the first thing next morning.

Adios Fridel Castro

He defied US way to long. A rare feat by the mighty leader of this tiny island called Cuba, just 90 miles off Key West, the Southern most tip of Florida. He finally died a natural death, in spite of his unnatural death being sought after living dangerously too close to an adversary called America, the Citadel of Capitalism striving hard for decades to eliminate him.

Fidel Castro, the bearded, Chain "Havana Cigar" smoking leader who defied Cancer along with multiple assassination attempts on him, was deified by the Commies World over. From Bay of Pigs from the "Capitalist pigs", to more assassinations attempts. Apparently God was on his side for the man who refused to believe in God. Cat has only 9 lives, Castro reportedly had 638, incuding one by his ex-lover Marita Lorenz.

Revered by many world over for taking on the might of USA, the Cuban Americans of South Florida have a different take on him. He prosecuted and persecuted many in his island nation using brutal tactics, motivating many to risk lives to migrate to United States, just a few hours of boat ride away. Apart from his opponents, his repercussions extended to the Cuban gays whom he loathed as the carriers of the Western disease called Homosexuality.

Castro steadfastly stuck to communism when the rest of the world slowly abrogated it. He refused to endorse the winds of change blowing from the Big Bear Communist Czar land of Soviet Union led by Mikhail Gorbachev's refreshing Glasnost and Perestroika.

As communist nations all over the world crumbled around him, Fidel Castro refused to partake it. He took pride in being the Black Sheep amongst the commie nations, as the only nation to join North Korea in boycotting the Seoul Olympics in 1988. He banned the Russian magazine SPUTNIK in the late 1980s, accusing it of no more toeing the Commie line.

From Dwight Eisenhower in 1950s till Barack Obama, Fidel Castro had dealt 11 US Presidents - most of whom harbored anathema to him, except Jimmy Carter and Obama who were less enemical. In fact, the later lifted embargoes which targeted the Island nation.

The inaguration of Donald Trump in January would have completed the "Dirty Dozens" of the Capitalist pigs he dealt with. But he never lived to see that day,  yet lived long enough to see the changing times.

His citizenry got a glimpse of the outside world and realized that getting rich is fun. As the veil of embargo lifted, with US Cruiseliners, a symbol of American capitalism started cruising towards Havana. His death marks the closing curtains of communism, which he painstakingly thrived over during his long reign. Adios Fidel Castro - Amigo to many, Anathema to the rest.

Thanksgiving Day shopping - 2016

Thanksgiving Day in USA is synonymous with Black Friday shopping. It is the harbinger of the holiday season, which culminates on Christmas day.

Traditionally these 4 weeks between the Thanksgiving and Christmas day are the most profitable phase for all retailers. Whatever loss they might accrued in the last 11 months, they end up recouping in the final month of the peak shopping season.

In accounting, red ink shows a loss on the balance sheet, whereas black ink is used to indicates profit. Hence the name - "Black Friday", as the retailers go black or profitable from the Friday following Thanksgiving.

Now a days it should rather be called "Black Thursday", because stores are open on the Thanksgiving Day itself, rather than the Friday, the day following. With plan to buy a luggage on sale in my mind, I arrived 15 minutes before the 3 PM opening at the local J C Penny store in Chicago suburb.

The line was pretty long, it felt longer while standing for quarter of an hour flushed by a windchill factor of subzero temperature. The conspicuous heavy presence of DESIS (a slang used for Persons of Indian origin in US), nearly half of the crowd surprised me.

Soon I found out the reason. They store was offering $10 coupons per person, a major attraction for freebie loving Desis. A four member family can fetch $40 in free coupons. So buy something for $45 and end up paying only $5.

It reminded me of the huge crowd waiting for KANGALA BHOJANA (food offering for the miserables) on Puri BADADANDA (Broadway). The difference - a different kind of jacket and overcoat clad KANGALAs were standing for cheap products as DAANA (gift) with $10 as DAKHINA (additional tip) in a faraway land.

Inside the store there was no space for mustard seeds to reach the ground, meaning so big was the crowd that even the tiny mustard seed couldn't be accomodated (transliterated from the Odia saying SORISA PAKEIBAKU JAGA NATHILA).

My warm comfort inside the store was short lived, as I was trampled on my feet by a Desi bhai's (brother) trolley and a Desi Behen's (sister) stilletolike shoes. I jostled my way towards the luggage section, tip toeing carefully to avoid any further collison.

A bunch of Travellers luggages were on sale at a corner. Sensing some privacy, a Desi bhai was scratching his private parts in public. It didn't escape my prying eyes. When our eyes met, he appears like a fox caught on headlight. He grimaced back, returning a half baked smile while shaking off and straightening his legs.

I grabbed my share of KANGALA BHOJANA. Combine that with my "Made in China" 5 piece luggage set of which only few were left, the final price came to 32 bucks. Not bad, huh. As I kept rolling on with my just acquired luggage set towards the checkout counter, near the kickenware section, I saw another Desi bhai picking his nose, sticking it to the back of a Toaster and looked around with a "Not I" look on his face. I would like to raise a toast to the guy who bought this nasal toaster.

The next stop was Best Buy, the popular electronics store which opened at 5 PM. It wasn't offering any free coupons. No freebies on menu, no freebies seekers - which explains why unlike the previous store there weren't many Desi bros and sis on the line. Us constitute 1% of US population. In freebie lines we constitute 50%. More later...

Happy Thanksgiving - 2016

It's Thanksgivings Day in America. Like every year this day I take the opportunity to thank all my friends on Facebook for taking the pain and patience to go through my posts. As far as possible I try to inform you, amuse you, occasionally irritate you. But I love you all. Your comments and likes keep me going.

It is always okay to agree to disagree on my views as long as it's not done in an utterly disrespectful way. If I am wrong please free to correct me, but not the freedom of my free thinking.

Ever since I started writing 5 years back, never in my wildest of dreams I imagined coming this far. A decent number of compliments started trickling in, many from unknowns who admit (some grudgingly) enjoying my writing. One went on even further "even if you write junk I still make it a point to read it, don't know why. You have converted Bullshit into a form of Art." I took it as an infallible compliment.

People love spicy stuff, be it food or writing. I may give a long speech about the Odia dish SANTULA (a boiled mix veg dish) or DALMA (a dish of boiled Dal and veggies) being healthy. But in reality I cherish a dish of chilli chicken or goat meat curry. I cater to it, dishing out spice laced flavor.

I get my share of brickbats and gauntlets too, for being occasionally blunt and extrovert. Not long ago, someone inboxed me, threatening me of thrashing upon my arrival at Bhubaneswar for a self deprecating joke alluding to Odias. I responded him back, a la some convict asking for last wish - "May I have my wish fulfilled before getting thrashed ?"

"What" ? He sounded confused. I went on - Before beating me up, please spare  me 5 minutes of your time and a can of JADAA TELA (Castor oil). PITHI RE LAGEI KI ASIBI (I will smear a liberal dosage of it on my back) and you can thrash me to your heart's content. He didn't respond any further.

I am not a brave person, but the threat of being beaten by some lumpen element doesn't disturb my night's sleep. Also, not sure why castor oil is prescribed as an antidote for thrashing and its efficacy. Does it relieve the pain from getting beaten ? Does it act as a lubricant making the marauding hands slip off from one's back ? Not sure.

By no means I feel flattered. It fills me with a feeling of immense gratitude and I extend my wholehearted thanks to them, as their threatening hardly hurts me.

Many solicit advise about writing. My answer to them, is there is no magic bullet. It's like any creative skill. If it's inside you, one day it gonna burst out. So just pen your thoughts and let it take its shape.

Some even suggested me to chose writing as a career. It is a great creative outlet and escape from daily drudgery in life, accompanied by a sense of pleasure and fulfillment. I don't have an iota of doubt about it, so plan to keep penning my thoughts till I go over the hills.

But writing as a profession? I don't think it is a pragmatic path to chose at this stage of my life. There is an immense sense of satisfaction, but frankly no money in this line. No offence to their professions, even the PANA and MADA DOKANIs (betel and liquor shop owners), petty DALAALs (brokers) make more money than writers these days. It's the reality of our age.

My current profession does not pay me a whole lot, but pays my bills, with the additional safety net of some post retirement benefits. A la the electrical Main switch of a house, it keeps the power turned on in my home. Everything else falls in place and would stop once the main Switch is switched off. So at most I will keep it as a hobby, with a book or collection of articles sometime down the road.

To those in USA, HAPPY THANKSGIVING turkey gobble day. To those in Odisha, happy early days of CHHHADAKHAI (fish/meat gobble day). Stay safe and enjoy the day with your family and friends.

On top of Sear Tower - Chicago trip 2016

Any visit to Chicago is incomplete without visiting the famous Sears Towers (now Wills Tower) - one of the tallest buildings in the World, standing tall at 108-story, 1451 feet tall in Chicago downtown.

Close to the lake front, the windchill added to the chill factor. We knived our way through the mad rush of evening homebound crowd, all huffing & puffing towards warmer comfort, exhaling white steam swept away in seconds to be engulfed by the incessant lakefront wind meandering through the cold concrete jungle.

The feel of walking couple of blocks within the sea of overcoats and jackets, wading through vehicles was as overwhelming as the feeling of a village simpleton inside the din and bustle of a big city. The ordeal turned to warm relief, as we turned the turnstiles to enter into the Skydeck entrance of Sears Towers.

The credit towards building this building of architectural marvel goes to a person of Indian origin (technically Bangladesh, where he was born in 1929 it was still part of India). He is FAZLUR KHAN, also known as - The Einstein of Architecture.

Born in Dhaka, educated in Calcutta, he migrated to USA to pursue higher studies. He earned two Masters degrees and PHD in Structural Engineering. Soon after, he was considered as the father of Tubular Design which is used in the construction of high rise buildings.

This design led to the foundation of Sears Tower and dominated the future of skyscrapers business. The man has left his indelible mark building cities in the sky, as most of the more than 40 storied buildings in the World since 1960s use his Tubular Design technology.

BANA MALLI BANA RE PHUTI JHADI JAE - goes the saying in Odia, meaning the Jasmine in the jungle blooms and eventually wilts, its fragrance never to be appreciated. Glad Fazlur Khan's fame spread far and wide, as the whole world  benefied from talent picked and nurtured by United States.

On top of the tower it felt like top of the world. Arrays of blinking light resembled Strings of Pearl strewn over a dark velvet carpet. From a birds eye view they all looked like twinkling stars on a sky fallen flat on surface of the earth.

Dwarfed by Sears Tower but distinctly visible, stood Trump Tower a few miles away, built by another man who must be feeling on top of the world. No one cared about taking a look at it, until now.

My 11 year old was quite forthright about his anticipation of taking a peek at the Trump Tower from the top of Sears Towers. A visibly lone, blinking red light on top of his own Tower should remind Donald Trump that it's always lonely on top of the world.

As the late evening crowd dissipiated, we felt lonely at the top and came down to take comfort in melting into the madding crowd on far from us on the cold sidewalks. More later....

Michael Jackson used my loo and media credibility

Since getting elected, President- Elect Trump has called up the prime ministers of Ireland, Australia, Canada, Japan, Italy, Israel, Denmark and the UK in addition to the presidents of Egypt, Russia, Turkey, France, China, Mexico, Argentina, South Korea and Ukraine. Trump has also spoken to German Chancellor Angela Merkel, United Nations Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon and Saudi King Salman bin Abdelaziz Al-Saud.

Though a call hasn't been yet placed to the Prime minister of India, it may come sooner or later. Our entire media will go ecstatic. The time and duration of the call, the degree of temperature in the warmth of Trump's voice, each word of the conversation will be fully analyzed. How many words in Hindi Trump used will be scrutinized to the core.

In case he doesn't, he may be chastised for not using NAMASTE (salutation) before starting the conversation. A comparison will be made to the more benevolent Obama, who was Modi's old friend Barack in first-name calling terms. It reinforces the notion of our media focussing too much on immaterial sound bites over substance.

Couple of decades ago Michael Jackson made a trip to not yet Mumbai Bombay. He visited MATOSHREE, the residence of Bal Thackarey. After giving the Rockstar a rockstar's welcome, the undisputed Don of Bombay and the self proclaimed Tiger who scared the hell out of the city's citizens, cowered like a kitten, posing for a photograph with MJ.

The lord of Bombay even went on boasting, being privileged of Michael Jackson using his loo. More than the Moonwalker's ever gyrating hips, his residues left in Balasaheb's residence mattered the most (Thanks Dipti bhai for this piece of info).

General Musharaf was the major brain behind the execution of Kargil War in 1999. Only a year after, in 2000, he visited India in the capacity of the President of Pakistan for the much media hyped "Agra Summit". Blood stains had not yet dried on the summit of Kargil Hills, as its chief architect was treated no less than a Rock Star.

Our media went ga ga over the menu of "Commando" Musharaf's breakfast, what he ate for lunch, how close he sat with his wife in front of Taj Mahal, how romantic the couple looked.

The media looked more like an ardent fan of the general. It's another matter that rarely major foreign policy decisions are made under media glare. Media's loss of credibility with the masses is neither new, nor unprecedented. Apparently not much has changed after 20 years.

Day of our tryst with CHAKADOLA in Chicago

Yesterday was the day of our tryst with CHAKADOLA (Round Eyeballs) - one of myriad lovable ways of addressing Lord Jagannath by us Odias.

The Lord was well ensconced inside a small house by the large hearted Odias who are a section of the devoted devotees from the Jagannath Society of Odisha Of Greater Chicago.

The icy chilled abode soon warmed up, as the heating cranked up inside the building, followed by the high decibel cranking of hand held GHANTA (lummox cylindrical brass plates hit with stick) and GINI (runt, ear shaped pair of brass, more shoothing to the eardrums).

As the puja juggernaut trudged ahead, the sound transported me back down the memory lanes on a Time Machine, when on the night of DASHAHARA (Dussera) festivals, chariot carrying our village diety would roll on the narrow, dusty track in between the lines of thatched roofs.

It would make intermittent stops in front of each house, as the designated priest would climb the stairs made from MANKADAA PATHARA (black poked sedimentary rock) leading to the main door.

He would swivel his GINI (another conical device made from brass) on his left arm and swirl few drops of water around the BHOGA, the sacred offering of PITHA (rice and lentil based cakes) from the household, uttering OM HING KLING NAIBEDYAM SAMARPAYAMI (oh lord, I offer thee these pious offerings).

Soon the priest will walk down, followed by urchins from the household joining the melee, chasing the chariot. Most of them who invariably wore loose fit outfits, frantically lift their short pants which frequentltryst withy slip off as they chase the chariot amidst the haze of dust lifting up under lantern lights.

The incessant cacophony from the GHANTA continued, as the chariot juggernauts ahead. I queried a fellow village youth, what a particular tune of DHAIN DHAIN DHAIN..DHAIN DHAIN DHAIN means. He told me it rhymes with,

AHE CHAKA DOLA
TAMA BOPA KALE KHAITHILA KI
BAIGANA SANTULA

Transliterated to English...

O Lord Jagannath
In your father's generation,
Did you ever ate grilled Eggplant ?

Now I could mentally tune in to the local context,

AHE CHAKA AKHIA
TAMA BOPA KALE KHAITHILA KI
BAIGANA SANTULA

O Lord Jagannath.
In your father's generation
Did ya ever had Chicago Pizza sessions.

Chicago Trip 2016 - 19th November

It felt really like the real Chicago, as by the evening the temperature dropped down to freezing. The howling wind gusts of 25 miles (40 km) per hour gave me a cold slap, forcing me cover my other cheek with the jacket hood and rush seeking warmer comfort.

It's not unusual for the weather in middle America to plummet in a few hours, as unlike India, there is no Himalayas in North to protect the cold winds blasting its way from Canada. Himalayas stands tall as a barrier from the marauding Siberian chill, while the runt Rocky Mountains in USA hardly help prevention the cold intrusion from North.

It felt so refreshing to see some snow on the ground - not a whole lot, but the sight of snow after 5 years was deeply exhilarating for some one visiting from the Deep South.

The north-west Chicago suburb is as white as snow, with a few Desis (Indians) and Chinese strewn in. Having stayed in the Dixie Land for a long period of time, it was a very different sight with a difference.

Chicago is located in the midst of the Northern Prairies. One can sees miles of its famous grasslands, undulated mounds of meadows interspersed with a few bald trees, some of them still sporting golden fall leaves, glistening under a setting fall sun, like Donald Trump's hair.

The commercial minded Americans have converted these rolling Meadows into Golf courses, a few I saw criss crossing the Chicago suburbs. The accent of the midwesterners is as flat as the flatlands of the Prairies. It is far cry from the Southern drawl I am more conversant with. Didn't hear anybody talking y'all at all.

The English accent varies a lot between the North and South, with the New Yorkers having their own Yankee accent. Same as in Odisha, we have Katati (coastal) accent, Barhampuri Southern accent and Sambalpuri western accent.

When a Minnesotan says "you betcha", it reminds me of "GAMATA EKKA" (Fun only), in Barhampuri Odia. Same as Mein (in Allahabadi Hindi), Hum (Bihari Hindi) vs Apoon Ka Hindi in Mumbai. Accents do vary, with regional punch in every language across the world. More later...

Arrival at Chicago - 2016

A blistery windy night aptly welcomed us to the Windy city of Chicago. Bursts of fresh air swarmed us as we stepped out of the airport. The balmy weather of 65 degrees close to minight in mid November Chicago, felt really unreal - vindicating global warming is for real.

The holiday season flight was full. The Airlines was offering $500 flight vouchers to be used for future flights, if I rebook on another flight leaving next day. I passed this generous offer.

May be one day will come, a la town buses in Bhubaneswar, people will be allowed to stand in flights. At time of landing, take off and turbulence, one can hang on to the plastic covered metal linked chains, hanging like hanging noose stuck to horizontal metal bars at the top. I am sure folks won't mind, especially during the peak holiday seasons in the short duration flights.

I once sat on a stool during an overnight bus service from Rourkela to Bhubaneswar, as all the seats were occupied. In the middle of journey, a junk movie named PAAP KA ANT (End of evil) was playing on the hazy TV screen, as the bus topsy-turvied its way forward. To my drowsy eyes the name looked Italian - PAAPA KA ANTA (Dad's Waist).

As I rubbed my eyes trying to figure out the movie, the driver suddenly slammed the brake. Every one surged forward in sequence, same way a bunch of bricks standing in a line would fall upon one another, if the chain reaction is triggered by kicking the one at the end.

Thankfully I was in the middle. The guy on the front stool who was gaping at the screen with his mouth wide open, savoring a scene from the cinema, was not so lucky. He bore the brunt of  Newton's Law of Motion (a body continues to be in rest or motion unless an external force is applied), as he was flung foward, his phalanx of front teeth hitting the thick metallic rod in front of him.

We Odias are very peaceful Gandhians, with a high sense of tolerance, with a higher forgiving mindset. Rather than being annoyed, he smiled back, exposing his swollen lips and bloody teeth, continuing watching the movie.

May be a day will come, stools will be placed in the middle for a Boing 757 to accomodate the overbooked passengers. More later...

Trump and I

Trump and I - tempted to compare myself with the President Elect Donald Trump.

I can see certain similarities between Trump's style of speaking and my style of writing - audience of both being the commoners. Trump speaks in short, crispy, impromptu sentences, directly connecting to the audience. I strive to do the same, writing in simple, crispy words, which from a layman's prospective is easy to grasp.

Trump's opponents - noticeably Jeb Bush during the Republican Primaries and Hillary Clinton during the national campaign, spoke using long, drab and often boring monologues, which failed to arouse any interest in the electorates. Both, who wanted to carry the legacies of Bushes and Clintons respectively, were decisively trumped by Trump.

Similary, my writing is an appeal to the general mass, who I know, have neither patience nor appetite to read inordinately long, bland stuff. No one has time or interest to read beyond 5 lines. Your 6th line has to be interesting to glue your reader. Trump speaks something stupid every 6th minute in his speech to rouse controversies. I share with him my share of controversies, punching a satire or two every 6th line, which can be a rabble roser, but rarely hurts me.

When it comes to imagery - we can be brothers at arms. We share our persuation skills. Trump says in his public addresses "Hey. Look at the crowd. There are tens of thousands of them". There might be actually a thousand, but the impression amplifies and sticks in the mind of the targetted audience is, "Wow - how popular is this guy !!!".

Trump says "ISIS douse you in oil, burn you in a cage, they chop your heads", making hand gestures. Don't think ISIS will ever come to the American heartlands of Tulsa, Oklahoma or Green Bay, Wisconsin do the same, but the image of such brutality created by his oratory skills creates a sense of apprehension of Trump being their protector, their Knight in Shining Armor.

Akin to Trump, I concoct many visuals in my writing which connect well to the readers (of course, they are not political types as I don't harbor any such ambitions). Such visuals inside the brain creates a persuasive image, inculcating a lasting impression, more lasting than facts and figures. Images created via Emotions is more influencial than logic - as love (its opposite hatred too) is strongest when its unreasonable. Human heart is known to override our judgemental head.

Of course, the similarities between us ends there. Trump is a billionnaire who lives in plush Manhattan Penthouse and travels in his private jet. I live in a 4 bedroom house in a mid-size town, driving an antique, mid-size Honda, the perfect mid-dle class guy with simple living and hallucination laced high thinking.

Cholesterol and awareness about Healthy heart

I heard the word Cholesterol for the first time in life during my first year in Engineering College Hostel. I used to frequently order double egg Omelette with my meal. One day my friend Prakash Patnaik sitting right across the table told me to be careful as egg has a lot of cholesterol.

"Cholesterol ? What's the hell is that ?" I queried. Prakash went on explaining what it was and how it can clog the arteries.

In my Engineering college I had numerous friends who were Elephants of Knowledge. They were moving encyclopedias in a googleless iFree world. Now-a-days an answer might be a click away on a computer or a touch away on iWHAEVER. But I can proudly proclaim that in our REC (now NIT) hostel we had human computers.

One does not have to look beyond his next table in the dining hall or a few rooms down the hallway to find an answer to any subject under the sun. (There were a few GULIAs too who used to Kill GULLIES or harmless White Lies, but were ignored).

Coming back to cholesterol - those days there was hardly any awareness about it and its relation to heart disease beyond those who studied Biology or Medicine. In mid 80s there was this Gentleman who was then in his early 50s who complained to wife in the middle of the night MO CHHATI MAARUCHI (I am getting pain in my chest). "CHHATI MARUCHI NA TUMA GA**I PADUCHI (Your are getting a heartache, or your a*s is farting a lot)," - dismissed his wife, alluding it to her husband's chronic gas problems. She rolled over to sleep. Moments later when she shook her husband, he was no more.

Odisha those days lacked a decent facility for the treatment of heart related ailments. The best cardiac equipment our hospitals were equipped with were ECGs. Odias had to travel outside, mainly to Vellore for any major heart surgery, if lucky to be identified beforehand.

Things have come a long way. Thankfully, awareness has gone up these days. Even Middle schoolers are well aware of Cholesterol and beyond. Thousands of lives have been saved and many lives prolonged, dissatisfaction with the health care system not withstanding.

There is something about America

Do you remember a popular movie back in the 1990s, "There is something about Mary" ? Looking at numerous posts from back home, mostly from those who often proclaim "Indians don't care about America", vindicates what psychologist often say - "An open critic can be your secret admirer". I don't care, is often the human way of admitting "I do".

We talk or gossip  about celebrities, not commoners. It explains why we rarely discuss about the elections in Nigeria, though it's as foreign a nation as the United States to us. Rarely I have seen any discussion about elections in Britain, Germany, France, Japan or South Korea, all first world democracies. A friend's transliteration of a Tamil proverb - People love to throw stones at a tree filled with fruits rather than a barren one, now makes hell lotta sense.

Probably explains why the combined media coverage of a Putin, Xi Xingping or Cameron on a trip to India make as much of a media coverage (social or otherwise), as a single Obama visit to India.

Define irony. The same America haters have no qualms about guzzling Jack Daniel with Coke, watching the latest Hollywood flick and flocking to the nearest KFC or McDonald, not to mention the craving craze to send their kids abroad for higher studies - while doing America bashing on a social media forums which are after America's gift to the world. One more thing, Thank God, it's Friday - TGI Friday a popular restaurant chain in every major Indian city is an American franchise.

I can go on and on, but its beyond the scope this blog. But enough to make my point well made, I would love suggesting a sequel of the romantic comedy movie "There is something about Mary". It should be aptly named "There is something about America", a comedy about Romance, one sided of course.

Post Election Blue - Elections 2016

2016 US presidential election is now over for good. Lots of my Democrat freinds are having Post election Blues. Daggers are out, Monday morning quarterbacking widely prevelant.

In Oriya we frequently say - EITA HEITHILE SEITA HEITHANTA (if this would have happened, that could have happened). To all my Hillary supporters, what had to happen, has happened. It's time to face the inevitability & move on.

I still remember April 1986 when the Pakistani cricketer Javed Miandad hit a six of the last ball to clinch a match against India. I was shell shocked. Inside my immature teenage mind there was an infinite loop of thoughts, what if the ill fated bowler Chetan Sharma bowled a bouncer, yorker instead of a full toss, until i realised there is no ifs and buts in life, sports and now Politics.

The stigma of that defeat lasted long in the psyche of Cricket India. This election is nothing compared to the 1968 Presidential election, which was preceded by the assassinations of Civil Rights leader Martin Luther King Jr and the leading Democratic candidate Robert F Kennedy moments after he won the California primaries.

That election season saw race riots and violent anti-Vietnam protests in America, still as a nation it didn't run riot or collapsed. It has grown stronger since, no Soviet Union now as a challenging Superpower. Because, the nation's fundamentals and founding pillars are strong, not built as castles in air based on empty rhetorics.

Having said that - Trump's election is not the end of America or world. Such views envisoned by those on the basis of this slugfest election are both preposterous and premature. A bad hangover never lasts forever, it gets over healed by time.

Last day before the final polling day - Election 2016

Only a few hours to go as the curtain falls on a gruelling vetting process of numerous debates, campaigns and voter reach outs - a process commenced 1 1/2 years ago and culminates tomorrow.

If the opinion polls are to be believed, heading on to the final polling day, Hillary Clinton has a slight lead over Trump. She is just a breath away from the arguably highest elected office of the land, a record first for a woman.

But remember - opinion polls are not the actual poll, the real poll matters. The counting of the real poll starts less than 24 hours from now, which can be so near, yet so far.

Let me repeat my often repeated quip from Amitabh's movie HUM (Us) released in 1991. In a scene Anumam Kher who plays a crook cop, delivers a very meaningful monologue - BAGAWAT MEIN TIN KISAM KE ADDMI HOTE HAIN (There are three kinds of people in a mutiny), ATYACHAARI (the tormentor played by Danny), KRANTIKARI (the mutineer, played by Amitabh), AUR UN DONO KA JHAGDE KA FAIDA UTHATE HUE HAMARA JAISE BYAPARI (Taking advantage of their rivalry are our kind of businessmen).

Very aptly described indeed, its the media, the BYAPARI being the real winner of this election cycle. Not to mention Trump, also a PUCCA BYAPARI who knows his business has already made his business. Win or lose - he will be immensely helped by his newly aquired brand status.

As Ronald Reagan famously said the closing statement of his only debate with President Carter in 1980, when you head tomorrow to polling booth as yourself - Are you better off now, than 8 years ago ? If you think yes, your choice is obvious. If you think no, you have your choice too. You are the best judge, so be judicious. The game is still on folks - as it enters the final stage, into the end of the 4th quarter or the final overs. 

Making caricature of our leaders

Come election time, Saturday Nights Live, also known as SNL, a late night program show, comes into prominence. It makes spoofs of the Presidential candidates with lasting impact on the audience and electorates.

The spoof of the all Presidential debates between Trump and Clinton made me laugh until my stomach ached. (It's available on YouTube). Alec Baldwin (the Baldwin brothers are great actors and comedians) did a wonderful caricature, copying Trump's voice, bullying mannerisms and his ridiculing look with a pouty, snorted face. The message was, Trump not only didn't know the answers to policy matters, he didn't understand questions.

Bill Maher, the half Jewish liberal comedian and one of my favorites, once countered Trump's claim that Obama wasn't born in USA by demanding a proof from the orange hair Republican nominee to validate that he wasn't sired by a Orangutan. Trump didn't find this very funny and threatened to sue Bill Maher.

The comedians often make mincemeat of the politicians, the end result can be devastatiIn 1976 on SNL, comedian Chevy Chase made a mockery of Gerald Ford, slipping off stair cases and stage. It made look him like a bumbling buffoon in front of the electorates and certainly contributed to the Republican candidates defeat.

Tina Fey's epic caricature of Sarah Palin in 2008, made her look like dumb (she wasn't far from bring so) and unprepared for Presidency. She made a hilarious clone of Sarah Palin, making satire of the later's lack of foreign policy experience when she spoofed - "I am great at foreign policy as I can see Russia from my home".

It is always easier to make fun or creatate cartoon of extrovert and flamboyant characters. Apart from Trump and Sarah Palin is Bill Clinton. Clinton jokes galore in America, especially at the height of Monica Lewinsky scandal when comedians has a field day.

At the same time, it is difficult to make caricature of those with cool demeanor. Obama is one such celebrity, who is not much mocked at. Eminent Indian cartoonist R K Laxman famously said it was most difficult for him to make a cartoon of Jawaharlal Nehru for the same reason.

Making fun of our political leaders is the hallmark of a healthy democracy. In many cases, the politicians make their audience laugh at their own expense. It make them more respectable and acceptable.

In contrast, if one dares to do mock the leaders of Russia, China or North Korea, Gulag or a gun squad await you. Glad we are living in democracies, where we dare to poke fun and make satire of our leaders.

To err is Huma(n)

For those who came late and those who don't know - Huma Abedin, Hillary's (wo)man Friday and at the center of  email scandal, is of Indian origin. Her father, Zainul Abedin, a graduate of Aligarh Muslim University migrated to the United States, sometime during 1960s. He died in 1993, when now 40 year old Huma was still in her teens.

Huma is known to be extremely close to Hillary Clinton, her indefatigable and inseparable organ. Hillary, who knows her since the later was 19 year old, supposedly said - "If I would ever had another daughter, she would be Huma".

Huma's mother, once told is jest, that she was jealous of Clinton because her daughter spends more time with her with her mom. Perennially seen in company of Hillary, a quick learner of the art of maneuvering in the Washington's milieu, her rise has been nothing spectacular. But her meteoric rise in heaven, where marriages are supposedly made came crashing down to earth.

Her marriage in 2010 to the talented but controversial politician Anthony Weiner turned out to be a fiasco. A Jewish Congressman from New York, Anthony's claim to fame was being caught during his wreckless, irresposible act of sexting with teenagers.

His laptop contained Hillary's emails which were traced by FBI, turned out to be a perennial albatross on Huma's neck. A constant companion to Hillary for close to two decades, she is now staying away from the Democratic nominee, lying low, at least till the campaign ends.

Marriages might be made in heaven, but marital tragedies are made on earth. A plum post which awaited Huma in a Hillary cabinet, now looks like a mirage.  But Huma is after all human, she made an error in judgement marrying a voyeur, caught on cameras. To err is Huma(n) , but forgiving may not necessarily be the policy.