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...
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