Cholera in Odisha

 Latest news from my home state back home is about Cholera - an epidemic thought to have been extinct decades ago is now back as several cases has been detected in Bhadrakh and Jaipur districts. A dreaded diarrhea and dehydration causing disease, Cholera along with Small Pox used to eliminate families in matter of days and thought to be eliminated after the arrival of vaccination is raising its ugly head again.

During my childhood, I often used to spend long Summer vacations in my native village, not far from the temple town of Puri. One commonly used GALI (rebuke) in our village was BAADIPODA. Growing up in Bhubaneswar, I wasn't familiar with this slang, which literally means "Barbecued from Cholera" - a death wish curse to perish from a malignant, dangerous disease of "BADI" or Cholera, dysentry followed by dehydration due to a disease which was a scourge only few decades ago.

It's not Condom, but Cholera which kept India's population under control couple of generations back. Life then was a matter of surviving the next cholera season (small pox was a close second). Both wiped out entire homes, leaving many rudderless in matter of days. Many of my grandparent's siblings and cousins perished from Cholera. So much so that, after cremating one, there will be more dead bodies in pipeline to be picked up along with firewoods. Three of my grandpa's Cousins, 2 of his sisters and a brother, all perished from Cholera within a time frame of 48 hours.

Lack of knowledge and awareness - like soaking rice with water for PAKHALA (A staple Odia diet) from the same pond where folks washed their bottoms post ablution took a toll on hygiene and helped in spreading the disease. But  superstitions galored. During the epidemics, the entire village would shut down after dark. No sooner the twilight sets in, than the villagers liberally filled huge earthen pots outside with PITHA (cakes made from rice and grams), PANAA (a sweetened puree made from yogurt and fruits like Banana and Stone Apples or BEL) for the consumption of BAADI THAKURANI (Cholera Goddess) or Maa SITHALA (Small Pox Goddess).

Job done, the villagers rushed back to home never to dare venture out untill dawn, lest they earn the wrath of the Goddess. Not sure how far the diety was appeased, but the stray dogs of the village had a field day. They put on a lot of weight and seemed healthier and happier than their human counterparts.

Post independence, vaccinations virtually wiped out many communicable diseases. Since the MAHAMAARI or Epidemics like Cholera and Small Pox became curable, we are perpetually fighting a losing battle against the menace of explosive population growth. The term BADIPODA was relegated to the Museum of Slangs. Cancer Poda or AIDS Poda, both incurable diseases are better substitutes.

A dose of Cholera inoculations I received during my childhood was no fun. I have a very faint memory of small pox vaccine which was tattooed on my hand, the scar of which is still visible. But my first vivid memory is getting a shot (called injection in India) of cholera vaccination when I was in primary school. As the D-Day arrived I was scared to death. After getting the shot I mistakenly assumed that the ordeal was over. I was proved wrong. By evening I was running a high temperature and could hardly lift my left arm which was hurting like hell. My grandma gave me LUNA PODA SEKA, gently sponged the vicinity of the tiny orifice on my arm pierced by the needle with heated pad of salt wrapped in a piece of cloth. The pain subsided after couple of days. A piece of paper called Inoculation Certificate is all I got after bearing all the physical & mental agony.

Little I knew that this Certificate will come handy a few months later when I was on a bus to Puri days before the famous RATH YATRA. On the outskirts of the city near Chandanpur, the bus was stopped by a battalion of health officials eagerly waiting with syringe on hand. It was time to give cholera shots. I proudly brandished my inoculation certificate and they spared me.

Those who didn't meekly disembarked and lined up for the shots. A few who tried to flee were immediately chased down by the officials. Some escaped by wading over the paddy fields, melting away behind the coconut groves. Those not so lucky were grabbed by their collars and a DAMPHANA (the Odia term for thick needles used to sew jute sacks) sized needle was stabbed to their bottom with great force. They grimaced and screamed in pain, limping back to bus in full view of passengers peeping through the window. I was watching Wild Wild West enacted on the east coast of India.

Things are much better now and folks are able to overcome the fear of syringe. I think it is wise to take a Cholera booster shot to upgrade the last ones our generation took in the 1970s as it may not be still effective. Never know if your next GUP CHUP (As GOLGAPPA or PANI PURI is called in Odia) session could land you in a hospital. Prevention is better than cure and better safe than sorry.

 

Foreign policy and human relationships

 Many of us have this question in our mind that in spite of Pakistan being the breeding ground of terrorism, why countries still support it and remain neutral whenever India retaliates militarily or diplomatically being a victim of terrorism directed from across the border. At best these nations do perfunctory, statutory condemnation, preferring to call terrorists as gunmen.

I am no foreign policy expert, but here is my 2 cents of common sense, based upon what commoners like me encounter and familiar in our world every day of our life. I remember a scene from iconic Amir Khan starrer movie - "3 IDIOTS". When the comic character Chatur was inadvertently making fun of the college principal by reading from an altered script, the Minister sitting next to him was bursting with laughter. But no sooner the fun was directed at him, than he became serious and went over the stage to kick the poor reciter's butt. In the 1980s there used to be a saying in US State Department about Saddam Hussain who then was friendly towards America - "He is a bastard, but our bastard", until he went out of hand. In our common men's (women's) world, we keep relationships with folks with the full knowledge of the fact that they are bastards, but are our bastards, until one day they kick our butt really hard.

Like good girls get attracted to bad boys, sometime good people are attracted to bad folks. They are kept in good humor as long as they harm others, but not us. We only realize the hard way only when our butt is at the receiving end. Until then, we care less. I am reminded of the proverbial tale - "If you keep snakes in backyard thinking that it will bite only your neighbors, then you live in a fool's paradise. One day it will turn its head at you". Similarly, we in our small real life keep snakes in our backyard for various reasons - personal, social and financial. We care less as long as the snake keeps biting our neighbors fully aware that one day it could strike its ugly fang at us and inject its toxic venom into our veins. By the time we realize, as per this Odia proverb "NEDI GUDA KAHUNI KU BOHI JAITHIBA (The jaggery from the palm would have reached elbow), which simply means it's a case of too late.

We, who live in cities and villages encounter such human conundrum on a regular basis. Now consider the world as a global village. Foreign policy and international relationships is based on hard realpolitik, not emotions where a nation's self interest is primary and preserved at any cost. Like in real life friends turn enemies and enemies turn into friends like drop of a hat. A la sinusoidal waves, changes happen fast and relationships swing to and fro like a pendulum. Stray dogs who always fight but make up and make love during their mating season, repeating every year. We have seen humans repeat the same behavior everywhere and I am sure I am not the only one who noticed this.

Now looking in a holistic way, Pakistan is not only a bastard, it is an important bastard to USA and the other countries which matter in international politics, China, Russia, Middle East, NATO etc for various reasons - strategic and military. That is simply because of Pakistan's very geographic position and it having nuclear weapons. However brilliant our Foreign policy may be, when push comes to shove, like we just saw in the recent 3 days war between India and Pakistan, the rest of the world chose to remain neutral. China, Turkey, Azerbaijan (it hardly matters anyway) sided with Pakistan, overtly or covertly, with China providing real time satellite imagery to Pakistan. For their own selfish reasons those world powers who matter still continue to hyphenate between India - Pakistan. Though we would love to see this change, it is unlike in unforeseen future. Foreign policy is filled with hypocrisy and double standards. It always was and going to stay same way, whether it's foreign relationships or in our daily life.

Raja festival of Odisha - 2025

 The month of June is regarded as the beginning of summer in USA, whereas in Odisha, my home state back home in India it marks the beginning of the end of the blistering, hot summer season. RAJA SANKRANTI is a popular festival during this time of the year - especially in the long, culturally rich coastal Odisha welcoming the monsoon rains which brings down the scorching heat. The festival invariably comes in mid June per the Gregorian calendar and marks the beginning of the summer crop plantation, especially rice. Raja festival isn't native to Western Odisha and frugally celebrated there.

The festival of Raja is also considered as the harbinger of the cooler rainy season, as the South West monsoon rolls over the state from the North East, lashing it with silvery stripes of rain. The nimbus cloud bearing dark sky gets alive with the spectacle of flashes of white lightning as if zillions of flashlights are switched simultaneously in the sky, a la the zigzag lights on circus stage. During daytime the rain is often followed by the sky getting rewarded in the form of a garland of rainbow. These long awaited rains bring much needed relief from the long streak of heat and prickly humidity, healing the parched earth dried from a long, extended Indian summer.

As the silvery monsoon rains ornament the thick humid air, the perfume of PODA PITHA (baked rice cake) pervades the environment. Young and old alike play on DOLI (swings), with men snarling their blackened teeth and girls exposing red pouty lips - post effect from chewing PAAN (betel leaves filled with colored condiments and scented tobacco for those habitual with the stuff). The drenched earth, now softened by the fresh summer rains on parched earth accompanied by petrichor, gets ready for tilling, marking the beginning of the KHARIP crop farming season when water supply gets plenty following the monsoon rains. 

I still cherish the memories of my trips to our ancestral village near Puri for a fun filled lunch of GHEE (clarified butter) laced NADIA KHECHUDI (coconut sprinkes sweet rice), thick sweet DAAL (Lentil soup), an array of Curries and fries, washed down with KHIRI (sweetened skimmed milk). It would invariably be followed by an afternoon session on the RAJA DOLI (swing). Dinner would be PITHA (Rice cakes) and more varieties of PITHA - the icing on the cake would be occasional PODA PITHA made from ripened TAALA, fruit from tall palm trees, as a fitting finale to a day of RAJA MAUJA (fun).

I remember the tall palm tree standing taller than the surrounding Coconut trees behind our house in our village, right behind our home facing a green pond perennially covered with a cessful of watercress in its dark, stenchful barely visible water where locals wash their utensil as well as their buttocks post defecation. During the early monsoon close to the 3 day long Raja festival these large brownish-black color fruits from the palm tree, looking like coconut sized plums with a yellowish orange pulp ripen and fall off from the tree. Many roll into the green swamp. Those who survive make their way to make PODA PITHA of different flavor. I was sad to hear that particular palm tree ruptured from its middle as it couldn't withstand the devastating force from Cyclone Fani a few years back, closing a chapter of the history of my ancestry.

A few summers ago in Odisha, on the morning of RAJA Festival I switched on the TV. A promotional song LEMBU, ATI CHUPUDILE PITA (Excessively squeezed lemon tastes bitter) from an Odia movie scheduled for the RAJA release (same as prominent Bollywood movies go for Diwali Release) was playing on screen as an Odia actress danced to the tune of a song from that movie. 

This was followed by an interview of the actress. It didn't go unnoticed to me that a discussion about an Odia movie, between an Odia anchor and a leading Odia actress getting released on a leading Odia festival, was taking place with a typical accented Odia with almost an equitable spread of 50% Odia, 30% English and 20% Hindi. Speaking in pure Odia is a sign of being a GAUNLIA (from village origin) these days, whereas talking accented Odia sounds so cool. A lot of billboards and commercials on local newspapers take pride in pronouncing RAJO instead of RAJA. 

A person usually speaks with an accent when speaking a language other than his or her mother tongue. Odisha is perhaps the only place on earth, where some (certainly not all) natives not only love to speak their own mother tongue with an accent, also chose to write it in another accent, e.g, RAJA as RAJO, MANSA as MANSHO bear testimony of it. Wish you a Happy RAJA (certainly not RAJO) from the bottom of my heart. Have a feel and fill of RAJA MAUJA - bound by the rules of social distancing as Covid may be down but not out as it has started showing its ugly head again.

Happy birthday Binod Kanungo - writer of Gyana Mandala

 Today is the birthday of one of Odisha's forgotten heroes. His name is Binod Kanungo, the man who wrote GYANA MANDALA or Encyclopedia in Odia.

Born this day in the year 1912, Mr. Binod Kanungo wasn't highly educated, nor he earned any fancied degree. But he was a brilliant student and a voracious reader. Like many famous creative persons he was a school dropout, though he left pursuing formal education for a different reason. Inspired by JATIYA KABI (National Poet) Bira Kishore he decided to drop out of school on 10th of April, 1930 to join the Freedom movement against the British on full fledge.

After being released from the jail, in post independent India he had the option of plunging into the more lucrative profession of politics. But spreading knowledge was his motto, so he settled down in Cuttack which was the happening place Odisha at that time, a counterpart of our present day Bhubaneswar. To give him company was his frugal possession of a 1 Rupee note, a cotton shirt, a MASINA (plain mattress) and his most prized material - An array of books.

He never pursued formal education, nor thrived for a degree which could have landed him a decent job those days. A la the famous dropouts Bill Gates, Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg, he went above and beyond doing a job. He wanted to do something more contributory and beneficial to the society.

So he started writing GYANA MANDALA or an Encyclopedia in January, 1954 - a first of its kind in Odia and in Odisha. It took him six long years to collect, compile and present all the necessary information in an age when Internet and Google were strictly fantasy. On 2nd of December, 1960 his baby - PRATHAMA SANSKALANA or the first edition the first ever Odia encyclopedia was born.

Winner of the Odia Sahitya (literature) Academy awards and Civilian Award Padmashree, he carved his niche before passing away in June, 1990 - the same month he was born at the age of 78. May Odisha produce more pioneers like him.

The Odisha Bengal marital alliance

The hot news from back home is Pinaki Mishra, a multiple time Member of Parliament from Puri constituency, the constituency of my native village got into a marital alliance with the flamboyant female MP Mohua Moitra from Odisha's neighboring state of Bengal. 

Earlier Raja (Kings) and Maharaja (Emperor) used to marry their daughters and sisters off to their counterparts to bolster goodwill between the Kingdoms in order to buy peace or further strengthen their empire. These days Odisha and Bengal are at loggerheads due to government of Bengal's plan to construct a Jagannath temple at Digha near Odisha's border. This is seen by Odias as a needless attempt by Bengal to claim Lord Jagannath who is very close to the heart of Odias as their own and reduce the importance of the centuries old Jagannath Dham in Puri to just another temple. Hope this marriage will go a long way to bring peace and harmony between the people of Odisha and Bengal.

Marriages between Odias and Bengalis aren't anything new. Almost all of these marriages fall into the category of love marriages (The term love marriage is a misnomer as in many cases it is self negotiated or self arranged marriage of convenience rather than any kind of true love associated with it. The usual disclaimers apply). Most of these marriages to my knowledge are between Odia girls and Bengali boys. It probably got to do with the prevalent myth chose that the soft spoken, "Bhadralok" (gentleman) type, wife worshipping/fearing Bengali boys make perfect husbands. That's why I know more Odia girls end up marrying Bengali boys than the other way round. 

Odias and Bengalis are lot similar. I have many Bengalis friends. The states of Odisha and Bengal bordering each on the eastern coromondel coast of Bay of Bengal have a lot of similarities - from the dress they wear, the language they speak. They share common food habits, festivals, culture and traditions. Many call each other's state their home. There is hardly any Odia who has never been to Calcutta, nor any Bengali who has never visited Puri, a favorite holiday destination of the neighborhood state from all classes. Each year Millions of Bengalis throng the temple town of Puri, enjoying its pretty, pristine sandy sea beach. You can say Bengali is the 2nd language of Puri as the locals speak it in typical Odia accent to communicate with the Bengali tourists. Shops and restaurants all over the town have signs and hoardings written in Bengali. If for some reason Bengalis decide to stop coming to Puri, rest assured the township's economy will collapse like pack of a cards, at least temporarily.

Odias and Bengalis look very similar. Few years back a PANDA (Priest) in Puri mistook me for Bengali and started chasing me - "OH DADA, ESON ESON (Bro, come with me). I immediately switched to Puri accent, "HAIYE MALIKE, AME PIRA BALI SAHI LOKA" (Boss, I am from the local Bali Sahi, adjacent to the temple) faking the Puri accent, for being originally from that area. The Panda got confused and disappointed for dealing with a local chap, a stingy fellow Brahmin, not a vulnerable tourist to be ripped off. Still not giving up on me he made a last attempt - "HAU, MAHAPURU 10 TA TANKA DIA", "OK, master. Pay me 10 rupee in the name of God". I replied back, "Bhaina (my elder bro). I don't have a single penny in my pocket". As I moved on, I heard our frustrated Panda bad mouthing behind me -"KANGALA KAHASE AYA", "where from this impoverished bankrupt guy has come" ! (We Odias switch to Hindi when we get excited). It was quite a funny experience for me.

Years ago amidst skyrocketing prices of potatoes in Odisha the Mamata Banerjee government in Bengal, a high producing state of this vegetable regulated its supply to other states to control prices in their local market. Meantime in Odisha, the Chief Minister Naveen Patnaik who has good terms with West Bengal Chief Minister, wrote her a letter seeking her intervention to ensure a smooth supply of potatos from Bengal as it has stopped supply of the tubers to other states.
Now coming back to potatos, in Odia and Bengali we have a term called ALUDOSH (the potato flaw). Pronounced in different accents in Odia and Bengali, they mean the same connotation in both languages. Overall it denotes Idiosyncrasies or unusually irritating attitude, usually lascivious behavior by men towards women, though not just limited to it. That is exactly seemed to be happening between the both neighboring states. The Potato politics due to the ALUDOSH from both sides have stung the consumers for whom the vegetable is a staple side item to their primarily rice based diet.

Price of potato had reportedly shot into Rs.50 per kilo. It made the Odias mad, threatening Bengal for not releasing enough of the tuber to its neighboring states. Bengalis weren't too happy about it. There is an age old saying in Africa "When two elephants make love or war it is the grass which suffers". It is always the hapless consumers who bear the brunt. The brewing potato fight between the states could have been stopped by making them agree to rather brew some potato based Vodka. That can sooth their nerves by sitting together and having a friendly chat imbibing that fiery drinks together.

At that time, I suggested a solution to this ALUDOSH. Pappu (Naveen) and Didi (Mamata), the most eligible bachelors from the states should have tied the marrital knot. It didn't happen. Now that another celebrity alliance have actually tied the knot, hopefully this marriage between Mishra and Moitra will go a long way soothing the nerves between Odias and Bengalis, from claiming the patent of Rasagola to Lord Jagannath.

 

Ides of June

 The first week of June also reminds me of couple of events of far reaching consequences. One is the Operation Blue Star, which happened this week exactly 41 years ago in the year 1984.

Congress party which perfected the art of mishandling crisis (Bangladesh war of 1971 being the exception), completely blew the Punjab situation out of proportion by catapulting Bhindranwale, a Sikh with a flowing beard and aquiline nose from a small time preacher into a big time martyr. (BJP is fast catching up with Congress in mishandling issues - the longer is its tenure in power, the more screw ups are in making. But that's a different story for a different day). 

As Khushwant Singh mentioned in his autobiography, Giani Zail Singh, India's ex Home Minister and President famously described Bhindranwale as SADDE DANDA or "our stick" to beat the Akalis with. Congress party wanted to use him as an useful idiot to settle score against its opponent. Eventually the so called useful idiot became a genie escaped from the bottle and the DANDA became a huge stick to cause pain to Congress and the nation's backside. 

Bhindranwale's myth still lives on. It's not unusual to find T-shirts figuring his turbaned head and cassettes containing his speech in parts of Punjab, especially in the rural areas. His simple but powerful one liners like 'JO DARTA WOH SIKH NAHI AUR JO SIKH HAI WOH DARTA NAHI' (one who fears is not a Sikh, one who is a Sikh never fears) caught the imagination of the Sikh youth.

The violence and senseless killings reached its peak in the late 1980s when the Punjab problem seemed beyond solution. I met an Odia guy, who was lucky to survice one such attacks in JCT Mills, Phagwara. One night, a bunch of terrorists entered the plant compound and wrapped up those from outside of Punjab they could get their hands on. Then they forced them to stand in a line and shot them randomly. 

But before doing their cold blooded target practice, those heartless folks took some time to play with their victims who were crying and begging for their lives. Our Odia guy was standing in a dark corner. In the commotion, he decided to take his chances. He slowly stepped backwards, jumped off a wall and ran away, luckily surviving the volley of bullets sent after him. The darkness and his luck saved him. The next morning (Night time bus services were banned in Punjab those days) he left Punjab once and forever, determined not to return ever again. His story sent chills down my spine.

Sending out the Army into the Golden Temple to flush out terrorists was akin to bringing down a house to get rid of rat menace. Operation Blue Star on 4th June had its series of consequences. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was assassinated by her own Sikh bodyguards not long after the operation to flush out terrorists from Golden Temple. Khushwant Singh who once used to be close to her family, especially to her younger son Sanjay Gandhi, but later fell out of her favor after Sanjay's death in an air crash, still wanted to visit her place to pay his last respect, in spite of their estrangement. When he was about to leave he got a call from a well wisher - "Sardarjee (as Sikhs are addressed), have you lost your mind by any chance ? Don't ever dare going out now. The goons of Congress are dragging Sikhs out of vehicles, roasting them alive. They are going to make a Sikh Kabaab (barbecue) out of you". 

Indira Gandhi's death was followed by killing of many innocent Sikhs who were buthered by hired Congress goons. The Sikhs retaliated by killing many innocent Hindus in Punjab as the terrorism continued for many more years to come.The other event in June is the 36th Anniversary of the Tiananman Square massacre in China. The famous picture from the 1st week of June 1989, of the lone young man standing bravely in front of a Tank carries a lot of connotations.

It is an image of defiance and a strong desire for freedom by the contemporary youth. Sadly the Chinese government effectively quashed the freedom movement. The movement became dormant, but is far from dead. Quarter of a century later in that nation well connected with microbloggers it's sitting on a tinterbox who knows one day could implode any moment. History could be made any time. One never knows.

Memories from Graduation party

 Summer in America is time for young minds graduating from Schools and Colleges, followed by Graduation parties to celebrate the occasion. I am reminded of one such graduation party evening couple of years ago. The crowd consisted mostly of PIOs (Persons of Indian Origin) - Gujaratis, Punjabis and South Indians. Incidentally we were the only Odia family present at the occasion.

My son got busy with his friends and my wife found ladies for company. I was quietly sipping a large Mango Mohito cocktail at a corner by with me and myself as company. Sensing my loneliness a guy approached me, sitting next to my chair. After we exchanged perfunctory pleasantries, as normally Desis (an ubiquitous nicknamed for folks of Indian origin in America, often in a deregatory way) do, the Gujarati man asked which part of India I was from. I replied - "I am an Odia from Odisha". He appeared confused. I continued - "Have you heard of Jagannath temple in Puri. I am originally from that place", hoping it could ring a bell. 

"Oh, Jagannath Dham ?" - He exclaimed and went further "We have the Lord's Rath Yatra in Ahmedabad every year." I responded - "Of course, you do. But Puri Jagannath Rath Yatra is very special. About a million congregate on the world famous occasion. Puri is in Odisha". He said - " Oh, is it so ! I thought Puri is located in Bengal". 

The ignorance about Odisha and Odias wasn't new to me. In one of my trips to India, inside my Paris to Delhi flight I was sitted next to a Punjabi lady who was traveling with her baby. During our tete-a-tete she mentioned that she lives in Boston and glad that her long journey ends at Delhi. I said to her - "I am not so fortunate. It will be at least a five hour arduous wait in the middle of night with jet lag at the Delhi Airport before I catch the morning flight to Bhubaneswar". 

Now I could see surprise in her eyes - "Bhubaneswar ? Where is it and how far from Delhi ?" I replied - "It's the capital of the state of Odisha". "I am sorry, I have no idea where is Odisha", she said. "Well, do you know Jagannath Puri ? " was my response thinking the better known Lord Jagannath temple of Puri will at least ring a bell. The Punjabi lady's eyes sparkled a bit as she suddenly came with an answer - "I have a relative Jagannath Puri who lives in Greater Kailash, Delhi". I got my answer. 

It was getting late in the evening at the party. The western sky suddenly turned darker, cool wind started blowing as harbinger of impending rain, brutely forcing the giant crimson son in the horizon into hibernation as constant drizzle forces us to get inside the house. I had already imbibed couple of large glasses of Mango flavored Mohito cocktails. My bladder was full. I went inside looking for bathroom and found it locked and occupied. I checked back minutes later. The bathroom was still occupied. My bladder was about to burst and I desperately needed to open my valve. The sole unisex rest room kept on being occupied, testing my patience. 

Twilight had given away to darkness outside as rain had tapered into light drizzle. Looking around and making sure no one was noticing, I ventured to a corner of the fence to relieve myself, whistling a song, letting out a jet stream. As a fitting finale I was about to shrug off the residual piss - a rare pleasure to urinate under "MUKTA AKASHA" (open sky) in America, looking around to make sure no one was noticing my sneaky escapade. 

So I thought ! All of a sudden I heard a growling sound of a big, burly canine across neighbor's fence. It was followed by loud barking, only the wooden Deewar (fence) separating us. Not impressed with me encroaching its neighborhood territory, the doggie was standing in two legs on the opposite site of the fence, snarling, baring its fangs just inches away from me peeing and him peeping through the the narrow gap. The fence saved my day. Otherwise a scene of the doggie pulling me, catching me pants down and I screaming at my top of my voice trying to extricate myself from the mess would have been enacted. If someone recorded the act, the video would have got multi million hits on YouTube, making me an overnight superstar celebrity. It could have made headlines in the local Newspaper "Cocktail led to Cock snatched away by a doggie". Glad it wasn't my day being a celebrity. Since then every graduation party I attend or is invited to reminds me of this memorable incident.

Sabitri Brata 2025

 Today (in India) and tomorrow (in USA) is the festival of SABITRI which is mostly exclusive to Odisha (there could be slightly different versions elsewhere, but it's kind of unique to Odisha). It is widely celebrated on the New Moon day of the Lunar month of JYESHTA, which per Gregorian calendar comes anywhere between mid May to mid June every year (it is to be noted that the Hindu festivals are celebrated per Lunar Calendar). 

On this day married women pray for the long life and well being of their husbands. You can call Sabitri an Odia version of "Husband's day" though no such day exists in the Western world, the closest would be Valentine's day. In our PURANAs (ancient religious texts), it is mentioned that a young man named  SATYABAN died a sudden, unnatural death. His wife SABITRI who was a SATI (the pious and chaste one), ardently  prayed Lord YAMA (God of death) to restore her husband's life. Gratified by her devotion and penance, Lord YAMA duly obliged. Her husband woke up to life as if he just woke up from his sleep.

Following this mythology our ladies do UPABAASA (fasting) on this auspicious day eating frugally; surviving mostly on fruits and yogurt. Parents send SABITRI BHARA (the gift bucket for Sabitri) to their married daughters, which apart from SINDOOR (vermillion) and Bangles symbolizing long marital life also contains a wide array of fruits, including but not limited to locally grown tropical fruits like Mango, Banana, Jackfruit, Lichi, Guava, Date, Palm and Pinapple. Now a days non native fruits, a la Apples, Oranges and Grapes have added taste and veriety to the traditional ones.

The presence of a SABITRI BHARA inside house can be identified by the  conspicuously strong scent of ripened Jackfruits, which are in season at this time of the year and can be smelt miles away. The jungles of Odisha are filled with Jackfruit trees and it is not unusual for this large size fruits cluster around the bottom of the tree, protruding from tree trunh like the sagging fat of a Sumo wrestler. Bears and Jackles who get attracted by their smell love to feast on them.

The downside of this festival is the prices of fruits and SAREEs (traditional attire of Indian women) skyrocket days before the festival, both due to their demand and hoarding by nefarious  merchants. Glad I don't face same situation here in USA as the prices of fruits are no different from any other day. Last few years there was low key celebration of Sabitri due the nationwide lockdown imposed as a preventive measure against Covid pandemic. 

This year, this day falls on a weekday. If it happens on a weekend and my Sabitri is too tired to cook dinner for me, the SATYABAN doesn't shy away from SHURAPAAN (help myself with few sundowner) and order take out of some exotic dish to end the auspicious day. Happy "Sabitri Brata" to all ladies.

Birthday blog 2025

 Thanks everyone for your wonderful birthday wishes. Completely flabbergasted, floored and flattered, pleasantly overwhelmed by multiple number of birthday wishes on social media and still counting. Thanks for those being so creative to create a story for me on Facebook for this occasion. I can only write crap, can't be creative like you all.

Not much of a milestone commemorative type of person, for me my birthday and marriage anniversary is just another day. This year's birthday was no exception. On top of that, on a sombre note it came at a time a year from my mother's passing away. It will be my second birthday without her to whom I owe my existence. She would invariably be the first person to call and wish me, reminiscing about that very day more than half a century ago. Her is the wish I am going to miss forever for the rest of my life. 

Per Western Astrology I have the same zodiac Sun sign Gemini as every one else who is born between May 21 and June 20. Geminians are considered to be good communicators and tend to be popular in social circles. At the same time Geminians are known to be fickle, restless and mercurial in nature. It is the sign of twins. Apart from other Geminians they get well along with Librans and Aquarians. 

On a lighter note Geminians tend to be popular among opposite sex, the famous Geminian examples are John F Kennedy, my teenage crush Brooke Shields, Clint Eastwood, Marilyn Monroe, Angelina Jolie just vindicate this fact. Not necessarily all Geminians are Casanova, but many I know having this star sign end up in love marriages (a term used in India for those marrying after falling in love or in self negotiated marriages). Being a girl shy person, I am probably an exception to this very Geminian rule.

During my childhood, on our birthdays my mom would pray and cook KHEER (a sweet dish) for us siblings. An additional luxury could be a special dish from her kitchen. Those days birthdays were tame affairs sans balloons, cake cuttings or any kind of fanfare. It's still the same for me. We grew up in a collective society where our identity is more qualified by lineage, village, caste, community and so on (many South Indians and Punjabis have their village names tagged to their name. For example - for P. Ravi Kumar, P could be the first initial of the man's native village. For a Sikh named Jagjit Singh TALWANDI, the last part is the name of his PIND, or village). I or Me as an individual always came last after the society, village, city or district. Unlike the current generation, it was the norm for most parents of our time to have more than two kids. On top of that many lived in joint families who shared the same roof and celebrated thirteen festivals in twelve months. Birthdays of an individual rarely made into the priority list, always put in the back burner.  

But things in India are changing fast with rapid urbanization. The bonding built as a result of long term fusion of Nuclear families is fast dissipating by fission. DINK (Double Income No Kids) and DITK (Double Income Two Kids) is the new normal, prominently proclaimed by rise in birthday celebrations as the harbinger of neo individualism. While I hardly celebrate my birthday, my son plans ahead for months to celebrate his. It is quite understandable. For him growing up in America where individualism rules the roost, his birthday is a matter of celebration.  

No wonder in US they make a big deal about Birthdays. Years back one fine morning no sooner I entered my work place, than I found it nicely decorated with balloons proclaiming "HAPPY 50th BIRTHDAY". Half dozen teammates barged in, singing an impromptu Happy B'day song. A cake was cut. I had my few minutes of celebrity fame. They gave me a funny card signed with something like "Why Men Turn Naughty After Fifty" printed on it. (Americans make a lot of fuss about celebrating birthdays, liberally punching them with dosages of humor. We in India are fast catching up). 

I forced myself a smile by fully exposing my phalanx of my 32 teeth and took a snap with them. Yet it was a stark reminder that being 50 in Chemistry lingo I have already reached the half life period, a la radioactive elements. In ancient India at this age people use to take VANAPRASTA (preparation towards retirement). In modern age life begins after middle age. 

Thanks again for your birthday wishes. As my mother wasn't there to wish me, for her wish was the one I always long for and I still can hear her wish from heaven. Let me yet again repeat this stanza from the famous Mukesh song in movie "MERA NAAM JOKER" dedicated to her :

"CHAHE KAHI BHI TUM RAHO,

CHAHENGE TUM KO UMR BHAR

TUM KO NA BHOOL PAENGE".. 

Roughly transliterated... 

"Wherever you are going to live,

I will long for you all my life,

Shall Never be able to forget you"....

The short lived Indo-Pak war

 I haven't written a single blog about the recently concluded short but not sweet war between India and its belligerent neighbor Pakistan. With so much blogs, reels, articles short and long flooding the social media, not to be left behind, I scribbled something for the FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) factor. 

Truth is the first casualty of war. Now as the dust settles down after the 3 day skirmish where the foot soldiers of both nations stayed within the limit, both warring sides started taking credit for outright victory. Pakistan lied to its teeth claiming to have downed multiple Indian fighter jets, including India's famed Rafael which costs nearly $250 million a piece. Indian media went to the extent of announcing India's occupation of POK (Pakistan Occupied Kashmir), followed by collapse of Lahore and Rawalpindi while our Naval ships were busy bombing the hell out of Karachi. The Pakistani Army Chief Asim Munir shat in his pants and was deposed. The social media amplified it. For a moment I thought it was true and Indian soldiers have reached Iran border, until a few hours later I found out that these were fabricated lies. 

I am sure the same was happening on the Pakistani side of the house. This gave fodder to Western media, mostly liberal, which has its share of bias against India to hyphenate India - Pakistan. These liberal media reeking with double standards still cling to their traditional narrative of calling terrorists who attack Israel as terrorists, but those who kill innocents in India as gunmen. The West in general and America is particular still loves to equate between India and Pakistan as equals, treating them two recalcitrant kids who fight. We, both India and Pakistan spectacularly fall in line as a la the Headmaster of Elimentary School chastises two fighting students to fall in the line, or else.... 

Unfortunately, not a single country came to the rescue of India or took it sides, whereas China, Turkey and Azerbaijan (does its support matter ?) came out openly in  support of Pakistan, rest preferring to stay neutral because of their geopolitical compulsions. Turkey supplied Pakistan a ship filled with drones whereas China tested its weapons given to its vassal country. China, not known to speak truth went to the extent of celebrating its Air to Air missile from the J - Series Fighter planes it has sold to Pakistan successfully downing at least one of India's prized Rafael Fighter jets. Chinese TikTok reels flooded social media poking fun at India. The truth only God knows. 

But the truth is America was able to broker a ceasefire between Delhi and Islamabad in a short time. Ideally India should have taught Pakistan a lesson rather than agreeing to the ceasefire too fast, too soon. America on the other hand, in spite of Modi holding the hands of "my Fraand Doland", uttering loudly "Ab Ki Baar Trump Sarkar" (next time it's Trump's government) in much published "Howdy Modi" in Texas, followed by showering Trump with hundreds of thousands of flower petals in Ahmedabad, refused to side with India. Rather it stayed neutral and worked in the background to bring the ceasefire between the battling nations. Typical of Trump, before the ceasefire was confirmed by either India or Pakistan, he twitted in Truth Social taking credit for the ceasefire which went viral in quick seconds. Many in India came to know about the American mediated ceasefire from Trump's tweet before it was officially announced by GOI (Government of India). 

Now we see lull after the storm with every political party worth its salt is trying to make the most political capital out of it and factions on social media boxing with each other. This ceasefire is very fragile. Another terror attack on Indian soil will definitely lead to a more vigorous and devastating attack by India on Pakistan. And it could get ugly, really ugly the next time.

Americanized Odia names

What's in a name ? "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet" - William Shakespeare wrote in Romeo and Juliet. 

Shakespeare was so ahead of time when he mentioned it in the 16th century. The personality of a person is entirely personal, with his or her name hardly playing any role in it. I know an untruthful guy named SATYABRATA who came out as a congenial liar to the core, a plain looking girl named "TRIPURA SUNDARI (Universal Beauty)". A Beggar was named as KUBERA (the Hindu God of wealth), a man dying at an early age bore the name JEEVAK (Long life). A person with the name SUBUDHI (Good thoughts) should have ideally be named DURBUDHI (Bad thoughts) - his name proved to be a misnomer as his mind was filled with filth. 

Back home in India, we grew up in a collective society where our identity is often qualified by our lineage, village, caste, community etc etc. Names got influence by it. Most South Indians and many Punjabis have their villages tagged to their names. For example, for a P. Ravi Kumar, P could be the first initial of his native village somewhere in South India. A Sikh Jagjit Singh TALWANDI, the last part being the name of his PIND - village. We, as an individual entity always come last. 

Most South Indian Hindus from my generation have at least a God or Goddess's name embedded in their own. There is hardly a name without Ram, Laksman, Lakshmi, Parvati, Krishna, Gopal, Shiva, Srinivas, Ganesh, Karthik, Murugappan or a combination of some of these. Some have all Gods in one name, e.g, Laxman Shivaramakrishnan.

During one monsoon, no sooner my flight took off from Calcutta than violent air turbulence engulfed it. The agnostic in me now remembered God instantly and came up the name of the cricketer "Laxman Shiva Ramkrishnan" to my mind. The nervous passenger in me started chanting his name which comes with all premier Gods name in a Combo package. Before I could finish uttering my chant 108 times, the flight was preparing for its descent at the  Bhubaneswar Airport.

In olden days, half of the kids used to die before they reached the age of 5 in an age when there was no vaccination to kill harmful micro bugs before they kill you. If one of these diseases Tetanus, Polio, Whooping Couph, Diptheria, Malaria, Flue won't get you, the dreaded Cholera or Small Pox would. In Odisha it was superstitiously believed that Lord Yama, the Hindu God of death ignores the kids with mundane names as he prefers to take children with catchy, fancy, attractive names. So parents used to give avoidable names as AINTHA (Miss Messy Food-Leftover), GOBARAA (Mr. Cow Dung), BALUNGA (Mr. Weed), POCHARA (Mr. Dirty Rotten) and so on. Not sure if Lord Yama obliged.

Time flew and many Odias developed wings to fly to faraway lands as Europe, Australia and of course the farthest and most attractive destination for immigration - The United States of America. But they never imagined their names would go through distortion which Lord Yama would yet again love to ignore.

Here is a list of such names along with their American / Anglicized ones which the westerners find hard to pronounce. 

Pitambara - Pitt
Nityananda - Nit
HarishChandra - Harry
Dhananjay - Dan
Dinabandhu - Dean
Krupasindhu - Krip
Narayana - Nora
Nabaghana - Nab
Nilamadhab - Neel
Pradipta Kumar - PK
Satyajit - Satty
Debasis - Dave
Krishnamurthy - Krish
Radhakrushna - Reed
Jagannath - Jaggs
Nikunja - Nick
Markandeswar - Mark
Bichitrananda Patnaik - Did'nt want to go with the shortened version of his first name "Bitch", preferring a shortened form of his last name Pat, thankfully not by a truncated version of his first name.

Dambarudhara Patra - Similar situation here Prefers to be called Pat, not Damb, which sounds like dumb.

So, what's in a name ?

 
 
 

Happy Mother's Day 2025

There is a song from Amitabh Bachchan's blockbuster movie "KHUDDAR" released in the year 1982 where the tall actor who was the unquestioned Superstar, the King and the one man Bollywood industry sings onscreen Kishore Kumar's song - 

"MAA KA PYAAR, BEHAN KYA PYAAR,

KABHI KABHI DULHAN KYA PYAR,

TERE PYAAR KA RANG HAZAAR". 

Roughly transliterated... 

"Mother's love, Sister's love,

Sometimes the love of the beloved,

Their love comes in thousand colors". 

Women's day this year reminded me of this song from my teenage years. The love of mother is in its purest form, precious and unadulterated, like the clear Spring water bubbling out of the top of a glacial mountain. It is perennially pristine, unequivocally soothing, unwavering and unflinching. When I went to India, my mother's hug and caressing hands felt so soothing, something I long for days, months and sometimes years. Mother's love is panacea to all ills plaguing mind and body, heart and soul. Unfortunately she is no more and I am yet to get over the loss and probably never will. No wonder the vacuum from the loss of mother about a year ago still haunts me, the lacunae in my heart remaining  unfilled. 

Few years back around this time of the year when I spoke to my mother in India, I told her that the recent heavy rains had filled the creek behind my house. I saw a lot of frogs in my backyard and  occasionally few snakes to complete the food chain. As usual in a concerned voice she advised me to be careful and pray Lord Siva to keep the slithery beast away.

Teasing her mildly (as we often take this liberty with our mothers, though we rarely take the same with our fathers) I said - "Mummy, we all know Lord Siva has a stranglehold over Cobra, not sure if he has the same control over the snakes of America. Sanskrit SLOKAs (hymn) won't work here. Southern American accent filled prayers and sermons from the local Methodist church might help in keeping the snake away." As usual she interrupted to chastise me, "Stop teasing and take my advise seriously. I will pray for you to Lord Siva to keep you safe from those PODA MUHA (Burnt Face) "Rattle SAAPA (snake)". The depth of her love to me is unfathomable. 

Whenever I go home, she puts an Igloo shaped mound of rice on my lunch plate, telling - "TU PETA PURA KARI KHAUNU, JHADI GALUNI (you are not eating stomach full and losing weight), though there was hardly any visible sign of my weight loss. For her, this hemispherical shaped lump of rice on plate should be high, high enough for its tip to touch the legs of a cat trying to jump over it. That's her unit of measurement of quantity of food for keeping her son's stomach fulfilled. 

When I insist on reducing the amount of rice, suggesting that intake of extra carbohydrate would add unwanted extra amount of flab to my waist, my mother vehemently disputes it - "TORA SWASTYA TIKE HEICHI, TATE MOTA KIE KAHUCHI ?" "You are little healthy, how dare someone calls you fat" ? Like all mothers from our generation, gaining weight by their son is a matter of pride.  

A chubby chap is known as "KHAIBA PIBA GHARA PILA" (in Odia) or KHANE PINE KA GHAR KA LADKA (in Hindi) - meaning a boy from a well to do family who liberally spends on food. (In India a SWYASTAWALA or healthy son earns accolades for the daughter-in-law for feeding the son well. On the other hand a slim husband can earn the wrath of the mother-in-law for not feeding her son enough). 

She used to advise me - "BARSA RE ODA HABUNI, THANDA DHARIBA" - Don't get drenched in the rain, lest you catch a cold. If she ever found out that I have a fever, she would advise me to eat Apples and LUNI BISCUIT (Saltine crackers, similar to the RITZ crackers, popularly consumed during fever during my childhood as it titillates numbed taste buds) and eat PAUNRUTI (sliced bread) dipped in warm milk. She still treated me like a 10 year old. Though I am way past that and in the middle of my middle age, her love was unwavering and eternal. No matter how far I am from her, her unadulterated love and concern for me never ever ebbed. I had complete faith on her devotion. Now that I have outsourced my well being to her I could roam freely in my backyard and get on with my life.  

Motherly instinct isn't just limited to humans. It extends to the animal world too. Not just cats, cows, tigers and lions - the snakes too are very protective of their little ones. Other day on Discovery Channel I was watching a female King Cobra hatching her eggs she just laid. She could sense intrusion from the anchor and the camera person. Protective and insecure the 15 feet long Queen Cobra raised her hood to a height of 5 feet, hissing furiously. The anchor was cautious - "We aren't carrying any anti-venom. Need to be very careful here. This protective mother is pissed off with us uninvited guests trying to get closer to her eggs she is succintly protecting. One bite from this angry mom Queen Cobra will inject a gargantuan amount of neurotoxin into the bloodstream, potent enough kill 20 of us in few minutes. We stand no chance". All mothers are same, protective and their children's well being being their topmost priority. HAPPY MOTHERS DAY !!!

Return to US - India trip 2025

 More than twelve percent of all commercial pilots in India are women, highest percentage in the world. This is credible because the number of commercial aircraft and pilots in India is substantial. 

On my flight from Bhubaneswar to Delhi I met a lady passenger whose final destination like me wasn't Delhi, she was travelling enroute to Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania, Africa. Sitting next to me she asked in Hindi if I am an Odia. I replied - "MU SOLA ANA ODIA" (I am a 24 carat Odia). She was travelling with her little girl as she was visiting home for summer holidays. Her husband works as a Chartered Accountant in the African nation of Tanzania. 

The lady asked me where I live and what I do for a living. I replied - "I live in USA and work in IT (Information Technology)". "Wow", she said. It seems I initially raised her curiosity, now suddenly got her attention. "APANA TA HELE SETHI SERVICE KARANTI, "So you work over there ! (In Odia the term service is often synonymous with job"), she continued. "Yes", was my response. 

Our tete a tete continued. I have encountered many NROs (Non Resident Odias) who live in North America, Middle East, Far East and Australia, never one from Africa. It was my turn to ask questions. I asked her how many Odias live in Tanzania. "A very small community. Unlike a large number of Gujjus (Gujaratis) who live there, only about 60 odd Odia families are there in Dar-es-Salaam, the capital of Tanzania". I asked - "With such a small community the Odias over there must be an united bunch". No, she laughed. We are a divided house, split rightly in the middle into two groups. My husband who is a Chartered Accountant Odia caught the guy in the leadership position of local Odia association red handed swindling money, exposing the misappropriation of money at the local Sri Jagannath temple. Though Rath Yatra is held every year, last year it was a damp squib due to persistent internal bickering amongst Odias. In America the Odias are educated lots. They must be united and not involved in dirty politics like the Odias in Tanzania. 

"Yes and No", I chucked back. Yes, most Odias in America are educated with degrees from cherished institutes in India and abroad. No, because the politics amongst them can put others to shame, even in Temples across the United States which should be free from mean, nefarious activities are citadels of nasty politics. The Odia society in Tanzania is split into two. That's not too bad, considering the Odias in USA are divided into 2 or even more than 2 in city in America - big or small. There are goodnumber of groups and subgroup in certain states, large enough to organize a cricket match. My last sentence made her laugh. 

She continued talking about Tanzania. You know, it's a wonderful country with salubrious climate. The weather is neither hot nor cold all throughout the year, though of late it is starting to get hotter. I said - "that's probably because the politics amongst Odias there is getting hotter, impacting the weather there". She laughed again and commented - "You have a good sense of humor". When two Odias talk there is invariably discussion about good. She continued - "All kinds of Indian vegetables are available in Tanzania except "POTALA" (Parval or Pointed Gourd), a popular Odia vegetable. However the scarcity of POTALA is compensated abundance of another Odia favorite "Mutton" or Goat meat which is cheaper than chicken as goats are raised aplenty in that African nation. The Odias over there do an Utkal Diwas and Rath Yatra program, followed by a picnic on sea beach once in a year, I said - "We Odias in America apart from what you do, we do Saraswati and Ganesh Puja, Holi and Diwali in addition". "Hun... that's a whole lot of event", she responded. "Well, the more the events, more seeds of groupism it sown and spread, as familiarity breeds contempt" - I replied impromptu. She nodded in agreement. 

A sudden burst of air turbulence shook the flight. The announcement came on air asking passengers to fasten their seat belts. A few recalcitrant ones stood up, tiptoeing through the narrow aisle in between the seats trying to keep themseves steady. The Airhostess politely checked the lady's little daughter who was fast asleep and told her mom to fasten the kid's seatbelt. But she wasn't very polite to these errand passengers still loitering around. In a soft yet firm voice she told them to go back to their seats.

It didn't take very long before the short flight from Bhubaneswar to Delhi was over. As the flight descended, the houses looked like a colony of fireflies dispersed in a large concrete jungle. The string of cars on roadways looked like yellowish red Lava flowing from an actively erupting volcano. I bid adieu to the lady and her little daughter as I headed to pickup my luggage from the baggage claim area and proceed to the International gate. 

In life such encounters in train, plane and automobiles rarely last long. It reminds me of a passage from our epic Hindu scripture BHAGVAT GEETA - two logs floating in the middle of Ocean collide with each other, to get separated forever, never ever to meet again. Back of my mind I knew, the same awaits me after the rendezvous with many of whom I am sure I am destined not to meet them ever again. 

The Doha to Atlanta flight on Qatar Airways was 14 hour long. The food was good, but the seats in cattle class (economy class) were crammy. To make the situation worse, I was in a window seat, the other two adjacent seats were occupied by two Amazonian women. It was an herculean talks for them to get up and let me go whenever I needed a break during the 14 hour long flight. I decided to watch movies and take a nap, using this opportunity to take a detox break cut off from social media.

Back in Georgia to a cool and breezy, late evening temperature of 80°F (27°Centigrade). It would be early morning in India. Already miss the humming of mosquitoes and brutally clapping them to death, the yodelling of mongrels in middle of night. The crispy air of Georgia felt refreshingly fresh as I stepped out of the Airport. It felt odd not to hear a single vehicle honking on my 100 miles (160 km) road trip from Atlanta to Columbus. Miss the din and bustle, crowd and the continous kickee...kickkee..kickee...of bikes yonking horn and slicing their way through the traffic - the ubiquitous jerk on the road and the bumpy rides, the roads being too smooth for comfort to my back here. No place under sun can match India in the richness of flora, fauna, chaos and characters to write about. Often chaos and disorder brings the fun and frolic out of life rather than orderly tidiness. 

Traveled nearly 15,000 miles toing and froing between my family in United States and India. Felt sad to bid adieu to ndia, happy to get back to my family, the daily grind in Georgia. Left India with Jai Jagannath in mind, back with "Georgia in my mind" - to echo the famous song by Ray Charles. I have two hearts, India and USA, separated by 7 seas and 13 rivers, united by the bond of love. Rooted strongly in both, I am rooting for both. Though I love United States, my adopted home, like first love in life India is and always will be close to my heart. Thus concludes my travelog to India this year.

Goodbye India - India trip 2025

 It's a pride and status symbol for every Odia to own a house or at least an apartment in Bhubaneswar. I being a Brahmin who neither owns a house nor an apartment in the capital city of Odisha (the house where I currently live free of cost belongs to my dad) is destined to be a "BRAHMA RAKHYASA" - King of Ghosts (A Brahmin with low accomplishment in life is supposed to become a BRAHMA RAKHYASA after his death. I being a PENA (useless) or DHAIN (nincompoop) per local lingo who doesn't own anything in Bhonsar fits the bill, and well on track to become a BRAHMA RAKHYASA and scare the hell out of others.

Weather here is too hot to handle. The heat is enormous between 10 AM till sunset. It feels better when it gets windy with evaporation causing cooling. Otherwise the stifling heat and humidity occasionally makes you feel like fish out of water. Air Conditioning and occasional KALABAISAKHI summer thunderstorms has been very helpful during my stay, keeping the temperature at bay. For those who live in cooler climate, unless it's absolutely necessary it is better to travel to India during the salubrious winter months.

Many here give me unsolicited advice to be careful about PETA GARAM or the Hot Stomach Syndrome in this scorching heat. This colloquial and mysterious medical adage is blamed for every common human ailments, from constipation to cough. During childhood days in Odisha, I once had a prolonged dry cough following a bout of fever. My father took me to a prominent doctor of Bhubaneswar, who happened to be his close friend. When the self diagnostic in me told my Doc Uncle that the cause could be PETA GARAM (warmth of the belly), he simply smiled back at me while writing his prescription. His medicine fixed my cough in a few days. But it hardly shook my faith about this hot belly syndrome.

No one still knows exactly what the elusive PETA GARAM is, but drinking plenty of PAIDA PANI (coconut water) and flashing mugs of cold water on your lower belly at shower is the prescription to get rid of it. The term PETA is more famously associated with the acronym for "People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals". But here, the treatments for PETA GARAM which is associated only to a species of mammal called humans, ethically flashing mugs of water on the outer surface of belly is considered as a prevention which any day is better than cure. The cause of a lingering dry cough is always blamed on that elusive PETA GARAM. In case of fever, especially during the summer, it is advised to take a bath with sprinkling less water on head, but a liberal flashing of mugs of cooler water on belly (PETA) to prevent it from going hot (GARAM).

If your Pee resembles Mustard oil in color and viscosity, it's again the symptom of legendary PETA GARAM. Shower and ablution those days were a combination of water, bucket and mugs, the fad of toilet paper was still elitist. The concept of toilet paper was as alien as aliens were to us. Toilet and paper were two separate entity, juxtaposing them was strictly fantasy in a country where in 40 degree heat and after consuming hot food, water feels a lot better than paper.

Brahmins were expected to take shower in a semi naked state to prevent their PAITA (sacred thread worn over their shoulder) from getting MAARA (spoiled). And it should involve pouring mugs of water on your belly to keep it in cool and forming a barrage against disease. It's not uncommon for me here to come out of bathroom with drenched and dipping cloth, a la male version of Mandakini, of Raj Kapoor's "Ram Teri Ganga Maili" fame. In summer such an experience is pleasant. In winter one needs to shiver for minutes before changing to dry clothing.

In our college hostel, there would be a beeline in front of the standing showers when the municipality supply water comes running at noon. The line used to be longer during the winter months as the running water was relatively warmer than the stored one.
The first couple of mugs of water would be poured over the body with a burst of latest Bollywood hit song at top of his voice. That would instantly kill the fear of cold water. The BESURA (tone and beat less) song continues as mugs of water are flashed on the belly to prevent PETA GARAM. The song slowly dies down, as the next person in line keeps knocking on the door, a terse reminder to wrap up with soaked GAMUCHA and tip toe back to your room. Not sure if those preventing measures really prevented us from common ailments. But am sure, PETA GARAM it is just another name for dehydration. By drinking plenty of water one is better off than flashing liters of cool water on the torso.

Few would be aware of Rama Chandra Mishra, the unsung but talented author of many Odia short stories who went by his pen name  FATURANANDA. He was known for his wit and sarcasm laced writing whose description of minute details of human foibles was amazing - especially those related to human feelings. He was very young when he lost his eyesight, so he could never fall in love at firstsight. He described his feeling of blind love in Odia - "PETA RU GARAM PABAN BAHARI CHHATI KU KUTU KUTU KALA PARI ABHINGAYA" (Love is the feeling of a hot air emanating from the stomach and tickling your heart). I fell in love with that expression of a person who could see it without able to see anyone. Such a feeling of PETA GARAM isn't too bad.

What's the similarities between a vacation, a consulting assignment and life ? All have a start date and an end date. Like all good things in life a vacation has to come to an end. Before vacation one is rejuvenated and filled with energy. Towards the end of the trip one is jaded, somewhat depressed. There is always an inherently internal wish you had a few more days to spent. Three, four or five weeks, however long you stay it is never enough. In the wee hours of the trip it's always the endless cycle of last minute shopping, meeting friends and relatives, run errands, packing, weighing, repacking and re-weighing of luggages.  Now the time has arrived to bid adieu to my motherland. Good Bye India. See you later...

Day XV and XVI in Bhubaneswar - India trip 2025

 In our epic MAHABHARAT Duryodhan, the Scion of Kuru Dynasty refused to yield a "SUCHYAGRA MEDINI" (a land equivalent to tip of a needle) to his cousin Pandavas leading to the 18 day war where his entire Kuru clan perished. Glad Duryodhan lived in Hastinapur, not Bhubaneswar. Had he lived in the capital city of Odisha, he wouldn't have find a land equivalent to tip of a needle here, as every bit of land is occupied. Wherever I travel inside the city I don't find a single square inch of land unoccupied. There are houses, stores, kiosks everywhere. Even roads, streets are occupied by vehicles and there are people everywhere, sometimes it's difficult to find a decent place to stand and contemplate.

At the counter of a local bank, I stood on line to encash my check. "Agyan computer online HABAKU TIKE TIME LAGIBA" (it will take a while to get online). I didn't mind standing right under the fan which churned out the AC air drying my sweat, cooling it off as well as driving couple of mosquitoes 🦟 towards the teller, who tried frantically clap them to death. The tiny blood sucker duo escaped, continuing their guerrilla warfare. Mosquitoes are like humans - they flatter you by singing sweet nothing around your earlobes, but do backbiting. But unlike humans they don't carry the burden of hypocrisy.

I was reminded me about this funny incident regarding mosquito at a hotel in Florida a few years ago. As the pretty receptionist handed over me the magnetic strip key to our room, I saw a mosquito surreptitiously sitting on her cheek. Noticing me staring at her she smiled back at me "Do you have any questions ?" I replied back "Yes, May I slap you ?" "What ?" She retorted back ! I pointed to the mosquito on her cheek. She instantly burst into laughter as her reflect action led to slap herself and blurt out - "Welcome to Florida. We call Mosquito, the National Bird of our State". Glad a la Mahatma Gandhi she didn't show her other cheek to the mosquito.

I was startled back to reality as unlike in Florida I wasn't facing a pretty girl at this bank counter, rather a man with Walrus moustache with nose hair drooping like equi-potential vectors we studied in intermediate Physics. As he was about to hand me the cash, he got a call. It was apparently his wife at the other end checking on the summer lunch menu of Pakhala, Sukhua and so on. The customer can wait, not a call from wife.

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, similar to Shia versus Sunni, Catholics versus Protestant. 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. And the city, especially the Old Town area is filled with Coconut trees including 3 of our own. I am savoring the tender Coconut water (PAIDA) as much as possible to keep me hydrated.

Coconut water reminded me of this funny incident from one of my trips years ago. After finishing my brisk walk in the Forest Park, followed by a quick shower 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 that day being the double whammy day of Sankranti and Sombaar, 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" of the diety and started by walk home after ringing the temple bell.

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 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 home with washing my hands on my first to do list upon reaching home.

Soon my wish was to be belied. I saw a familiar face, our neighborhood Mausa (Uncle) rushing towards me - "HAIO 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 unwashed 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 now Sambeet Dash vs local Mausa. Glad I didn't meet any more Mr. Fortunates on my way to shake hands with. 

Another commonly used word to address someone here is "Sir or SAAREY, spoken in thick Odia accent). In the Southern part of US, one is often addressed as Sir as a matter of respect and gratitude, no matter what you are and what you do. It is considered as an integral part of Southern hospitality and mannerism in the Dixies States of United States. In Britain you need to go an extra mile for the same. You need to command respect to earn it. SIR is usually associated with the coveted Knighthood, reserved only for persons with extraordinary abilities - in the fields of Sports, Literature or Politics.

In India the word "Sir" is used way too loosely. During my growing up days the word Sir was sparingly used only to address Teachers and high level officials who sipped "Teachers". Now a days, any dumb addresses the dumber as Sir, a perfect example is me addressed as Sir on multiple occasions in India without hardly doing anything noteworthy to deserve such an accolade. Often sugar coated, wrapped in obsequiousness and delivered with a bended spine posture, it often comes in form of "SIR Jee" as if just SIR is not enough. This is also invariably followed by the character assassination of the Sir behind his back. As soon as Sir steps away, the Sir turns into a "SALAA" - which means wife's brother but in a derogatory way it alludes "I am the seducer of your sister".

Once I met a friend who came late to a friendly gathering no too long ago. His excuse - he had to drop his SAAREY at the Airport. Fair enough. I sarcastically asked him "You have been dropping your SIRs at Airport since time immemorial. Is it not high time for you now to be a Sir ?" Nodding in approval were those who were around, having a hearty laugh at my joke's expense. Hope his turn to be at the receiving end of the coveted Sir status, the ultimate dream of many arrives sooner than later. More later...

Day XIII and XIV in Bhubaneswar- India trip 2025

 Are you with your Missus and family ?", is a question I am commonly asked here by commoners. People in Odisha are bit shy of using the word "wife" if enquiring about your's. The word Missus is widely prevalent and is the preferred word for wife. When I eat the succulent Mangoes, the King of fruits native to India, I remember my Missus and son who are very fond of mangoes. The three of us have a history of devouring a dozen mangoes in just one sitting.

There are also differences in the usage of certain words (phrases) in America and my native state of Odisha. One such word is "Nonsense". In US the word nonsense simply means something which doesn't make sense or difficult to understand with no malice to anyone. But in Odisha saying "Nonsense" can be considered as a GAALI or rebuke, taken in a derogatory sense. Another one is the usage of the phrase "I don't care". It implies lack of inclination or disinterest or simply "it's non of my business". In Odisha saying "I don't care" can instantly brand you as a heartless person lacking empathy. Meanings of innocuous word or phrases can be lost in translation.

Manage and adjust are two widely used words here in Bhubaneswar where population is high while resources are limited. A frequently used phrase one comes across is - "TIKE ADJUST KARANTU" (in Odia) or "THODA ADJUCT KIJIYE" (HIndi), both meaning, "Please adjust a little bit" (A modern Bhonsariya loves his daily dosage of Hindi however convoluted or "Pakhala Khia" it may be). In many instances it simply denotes, please squeeze in more than 5 people in a seat for 3 persons inside a car or any mode of transport. Or a polite way of saying, "Bear the inconvenience".

The word adjust is ubiquitous and can fit to multiple scenarios. A NRI (Non Resident Indian) visiting India once went shopping for Toilet paper. The store was out of it. Said the furious NRI, "What kind of store you have ? Can't you carry a necessity item like toilet paper ?" "Sorry Sir. My bad", the storekeeper responded politely. We don't have toilet paper but we have plenty of sand papers. TIKE ADJUST KARANTU ("Please adjust a bit)".

One thing I have observed that folks in Bhubaneswar have become a lot more health conscious these days. The sweets like Rasagola, Chhena Jhili, Rabidi, Rasabali tastes a lot less sweeter these days. I asked this to the owner of "Bhai Bhai Rasagola", a popular sweet store close to my home about this lack of sweetness. He said that as more Odias are detected diabetic these days, the general preference is for low sugar sweets. Though healthy, the great sweets from the sweet state of Odisha now lack the punch of the yesteryears which could be attributed to reduced sugar in these syrup based sweets.

Life in Bhubaneswar runs at a slow, crazy pace but time passes fast. Before I realized already 2/3rd of my vacation is over and soon my entire vacation will be over just like the twinkling of an eye. So it's better to make the best out of it. Despite the scorching heat in daytime, it was a cool, cloudy, morning today with light wind blowing the dust around. The tree leaves on foliage were desperately trying to shrug off the dust by swaying with the wind. Gradually the wind started to taper, winding up. 

Accompanied by a small group of friends, I stepped inside the Forest Park. The morning traffic to the park seemed a walk in the park. The floor of the walking trail was filled with few broken twigs and leaves from the wind. There were plenty of "Baul (Acacia) and colorful Krushnachuda (Gulmohar or Royal Poinciana)" trees inside the park. The fruit laden mango trees were looking protruding out of the dusty, green leaves like green ornament studded Christmas trees. The gargantuan brown jack fruits hung from tree trunks like the fat flab hanging from torso of an overweight. Patches of greenish yellow red 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 mainly of men and fewer women of short stature and highly disproportionate figures - slim hands and legs with protruding paunch fitting perfectly to local milieu. Some were seen frantically scanning their smartphones while huffing and puffing ahead, taking a break to text in between before resuming their walk. The few taller and fitter guys around were taking longer laps, jogging among the dust laden path surrounded by trees.

It was a good sign to see increasing number of morning walkers in Forest Park which I frequented during my stay. As I walked in a  circle passing an enclosed enclave, I could hear the high decibel Bollywood song playing - "ANKH MARE O LADKI ANKH MARE" (The girl winks at me a lot). My curious eyes too inadvertently winked at them as I peeped through the narrow opening in between the walls with one eye closed. I saw a lot of pot bellied middle aged men and women gyrating their tummies to the tune of the Hindi music exposing their white protruding chest, breast hairs and betel stained teeth. They were desperately swinging their 6 pack fats striving hard to get a 6 pack abs. Having my fill in my role of peeping Tom watching their missteps in their dance sessions and glancing at a peeing Tom relieving himself next to the wall, I resumed my walk.

Completing 5 rounds in the park helped me ameliorate the guilty pleasure of my gluttony. Surrounded by tons of greenery supplying fresh oxygen, Forest park is a commendable place to take a walk. The Park gets crowded between 7 to 9 AM, hence if you are looking for plenty of elbow space and privacy you may have to avoid that timeframe. Otherwise much recommended park for a walk. More later...

Day XI and XII - India trip 2025

These days in Bhubaneswar I am eating a lot like pig. The result was something I ate last night tore up my stomach pretty bad. I think it was GUPCHUP (Golgappa or Pani Puri), a popular street food the culprit. I have been a stickler to eating only freshly cooked hot food and drinking bottled (mineral) water when I am eating outside. Gupchup doesn't fall under either of these categories. During my growing up days in Bhubaneswar, I would drink any food and water, rarely suffering from stomach ailments. But guess living outside India for close to 3 decades has taken the toll on my immunity. My tryst with outside food drained me out well till last drop. 

During upset stomach it's not important how many times you lose loose shit, it's rather how many times you pee. I kept on drinking water until I directed the movement of liquid to the right orifice. Couple of back to back urination indicated that the worse was over. I had to skip my breakfast and took a light lunch of Dahi Pakhala, Santula (a mixture of boiled vegetables), Alu Bharta (Mashed potato) and Badi Chura, followed by a long afternoon siesta. Felt much better and lighter in the evening and a lot looser waistline. Loose motion can't be done in slow motion, but made this loser's trousers felt a lot looser.

Last evening I was standing near a GUPCHUP vendor who was busy perforating the large, crunchy, puffed shells using his long, uncut thumb nails looking dark at twilight from the dirt inside it. It was about 6 PM, the peak time when like all fast food vendors in the streets of Bhubaneswar, he got busy pouring mashed potato and chickpea paste inside the shell after carefully cracking its top with his fingers, dipping it in the spicy water stored in a large, earthen pot before distributing the dollops to the surrounding buyers.

The vendor's customers, most of them girls holding tiny plates made from leaves (more eco friendly than plastic plates) were taking their turns extending their hands to the man, demanding - "MATE AU TIKE PANI DIA. MATE SUKHA GOTE DIA" (Give me more spicy water, gimme a dry one). The multitasking man was super busy catering to their needs, counting the number of Gupchups he passed on to his customers, immaculaly keeping track of those consumed by each individual.

I heard a girl closeby talking to her girl friend in a soft but audible voice - "EI MAA, TU JANICHU NA, MU EXAM RE 2 TA QUESTION BHUL KARI DEICHI (Oh my dear, you know ?

I gave wrong answers to couple of questions in the exam)". The other girl absorbing every bit of it mocked back - "TU TA KHALI TO BOYFRIEND KATHA BHABUCHU. EXAM RE TO MANA AU KOUTHI" (You are only thinking about your boyfriend. Your mind isn't in the exam, rather somewhere else). Her answer led to giggles among other girls, one of them burst into laughter, almost pouring out the half eaten Gupchup stuffed inside her mouth.

Both girls were oblivious to my eyedropping.
As I was taking my bite, I latched on to every bit of this spicy conversation in rapt attention, spicier than the watery Gupchup I was washing down my throat. Boyfriend/girlfriend can be big distractions at this tender age when emotion overrides logical thinking as hormone in young bodies runs amock. Good luck girl ! Hopefully you are less distracted and concentrate more on your other exam papers. You should learn from the Gupchup vendor how to multitask and yet stay focused.

Done with their rounds of GUPCHUP gossip and munching, the girls left their leftover plates strewn around. A pariah dog lurking around, waiting for the right opportunity to started licking them, polishing off whatever it in the narrow window of the timeframe he had before being chased away. The irritated vendor shooed it away with "Hey JA JA (Go away), as the hapless mongrel fled with its tail well tucked behind hind legs. There was a puddle of water nearby. Feeling secured and safe from a distance of 10 feet, the dog started slurping from the close by puddle of water to quench its thirst post feasting on the spicy leftovers.

Arguably the best thing to happen here is UPI, the ubiquitous smartphone App enabled electronic payment systems like "Phone Pe" you see everywhere, used by all, from fast food stall owners to vegetable Vendors. Last Sunday I saw the huge "phone pe" bar code covered with stains of blood besides a goat torso hanging upside down at a roadside butcher shop. A customer after buying his pack of goat meat clicked his payment on the bar code, started his bike, honked twice, stuttered before Scooting away without even making an eye contact with the butcher.

For no reason the power went poof for couple of hours in the morning. There was not a bit of cloud in the sky, no sign of thunderstorms, yet power played truant. So much about the so called Smart city of Bhubaneswar where everyone roams around with smartphone. In Webster's dictionary the word "smart" means "clever, witty, brainy" etc. In Bhonsar dictionary a guy riding bike, wearing shining shoes and chasing girls is considered a smart guy. The name "Smart city" tag given to Bhubaneswar speaks for itself. More later....