The other day I was in the toilet the other day when my reflex action was looking for a toilet paper only to realised that there was no toilet paper. Luckily a copy of the local Newspaper was there nearby. But then it was already full of shit.
Difference between the Orient and Western culture starts from toilet. In East most squat to relieve themselves, in West they sit to shit. I grew up using Oriental toilet until I moved out of India and switched to Commode. In India we use left hand to clean our bottom. In West we use the right hand. Currently in India I am relieving my flashback days as the old fashioned flashing off cold water to wash my bottom feels soothing. The toilet papers is to Subways Sandwitch, as a Mug of Cold water is to hot chilli chicken.Rain, Rain don't go away,
Stay here until I stay..
My wish of a slightly modified nursery rhyme from my childhood has been answered since my arrival here a week ago. The seasonal KALABAISAKHI summer thunderstorms has been way too frequent keeping the scorching heat at bay. Around 9.30 this morning the western sky suddenly turned dark, gray and grim, with lightning garlanding the swaying, swinging tall coconut trees in high wind. It reminded me of my grandmother who during our childhood used to tell us that thunder is nothing but Lord Indra farting in sky after eating a lot of "Biri Bara" (a lentil based fried popular snack of Odisha). It sounded like that.
Downstairs near our gate few semi-stray cats we regularly feed could sense the approaching stom, rushed jumping on the fallen leaves and twigs under our patio, scared of the rain and thunder. Couple of stray dogs and a gigantic gray bull preferred to stand under the canopy provided by the branches of the mango tree extending over the wall. The pounding silvery streaks of slanting rain bounced on the asphalt road, creating a misty visual of a miniature Niagara Falls. The bursts of fresh air brought in sweet fragrance from some distance garden. The storm had already floored dozens of green mangoes. A good hour of solid rain didn't make me feel like we are already past middle of April in Bhubaneswar.
As usual my morning bowels don't move here until I drink my cuppa tea and read some shitty news on the local vernacular newspaper. I wasn't disheartened with this first page news - "MAATI CHHANTI ROAD ROMEO" - Eve teasers on prowl harassing girls on roads in epidemic proportion. It transported on a Time Machine bridging back my tryst with Rain and Road Romeos few years back. One summer evening after a bout of fresh monsoon rains my wife, son and I stepped out, waiting on the street right next to our house for our Uber ride. Three guys on a motorcycle started oggling at my wife. No sooner they saw her, than their heads turned in unison by 90 degree towards her, like they hadn't seen any girl before in life.
All of sudden their pillion stumbled a pothole filled with ankle deep water. Distracted, one of them fell on the muddy poodle, while the other two got busy extricating their buddy from the mess. We had a hearty laugh at the fallen road Romeo's expense. Rain brings its share of fun and joy.
Google has sensed my position and has surreptitiously passed my location to Facebook which is bombarding me with lot of reels about Bhubaneswar - about the ongoing local politics, foods and interestingly multiple Reels about "JATRA" (local theatrical troupe) which are having lot of Drama these days. Two leading artists were doing each other's character assassination on local media which loved every bit of the juicy soundbytes, so also the audience. I hardly cared about the slugfest, but got reminded of a JATRA few years back at KHANDAGIRI in northwestern suburbs of Bhubaneswar titled - "SABU CHHAKKA RE SASURA GHARA" (Screwing at Crossroads). These double entendre laden shows are hugely popular in Odisha during the festivals and the dog days of summer. Our local stud street dog does the same at every crossroad near our house. Probably he have seen that Jatra episode.
Stepped out in heat this morning to run a few errands. It took a long time, given the fact that things move here at a snail's pace starting with the traffic. Time flew as the tropic sun pouring heat all over reminded me it was getting close to noon. On my way back home longing for a shower to cool off, I saw huge commercial billboards adoring the road sides, from making you fair skinned overnight (we have a clear obsession with fair complexion), removal of unwanted body hair through laser espoused by a leg and thigh exposing girl (the city has got smarter with exposures these days) to self proclaimated strides made by the State Government with the picture of Odisha's Chief Minister Mohan Majhi smiling with folded hands and a grinning bearded Prime Minister on his side.
Akin to make America great again, there are road side commercials proclaiming to make your hair grow again on your bald head for just Rs.9999 ($120) with a contact number of something like 9439712345. Picture of a complete bald head before the miracle application treatment shared space beside a lushy black Hippie hair head post application of the magic potion to vindicate the efficacy of the formula. On that billboard picture, I saw a few black beads on the bald head which I gave the benefit of doubt as few leftover hairs by God's grace. On closure look, those few dark spots turned out to be the dried out bird poops. There may not be enough public restrooms in the Smart City, but these Billboards do make the local birdies happy by providing a platform to use for rest and restrooms.
At night on the road I could fake Robert Frost in me - "The roads were dark and the light of the approaching vehicles were deep. Miles to go before I reach" - while heading my way home meandering through the Bhubaneswar traffic. One needs to be extremely careful about cows sleeping on the road, dogs loitering around and humans approaching on your own lane from opposite direction. More later...
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