Urban legends from Childhood days

 Like many from my generation, I grew up amidst several Urban legends (few Rural too) in Odisha. For a long time I believed them as gospels written on stone. Here you go :

Jeff Thompson was known to be the fastest bowler during my childhood days. It was then said, to Sunil Gavaskar, the better known cricketer of our time, once the ball came out of Thompson's hand it looked like a woman's Sindoor (Vermilion dot which adores Hindu women's forehead as a symbol of marriage). A la Hindu women, it was destined for Gavaskara's (Sunny's last name pronounced in a thick Odia accent) forehead.

But our little Gavaskara knew about this folklore attributed to him. Because the Little Master had the height advantage of having a small height, readily ducking Thompson's "bounsara" missiles without getting hurt. As we know in India, cricket is more skewed towards the batsmen (probably the reason why we rarely produce quality fast bowlers). So whatever supposedly came out of our Gavaskara's mouth who dominated in the 1970s and 80s was treated as the gospel.

A guy in our neighborhood used to say that the world's fastest bowler was Lillian Thomson. Many would be wondering how can be a woman be the world's fastest bowler in a male dominated sport. Fast bowlers are known to hunt in pairs, so he innoculosly combined Lillie and Thompson duo as Lillian Thomson. But unfortunately later on we alluded the guy as "Gullian" Thompson (Gullia in Odia means a person who kills light hearted jokes).

In the 1979s a person from near my ancestral village near Puri, Odisha got into the Civil Services, undoubtedly the most cherished job those days when government was the largest employer in the country. The legend goes like this. In the UPSC interview panel he was questioned - "What's Half Circle, Full Circle, Half Circle A, Half Circle, Full Circle, Right Angle A". Instantly came his answer - "Coca Cola", which catapulted him to a top rank above the rest who were not brilliant enough to answer this question correctly. Not sure if that question prompted George Fernandez, the champion Socialist of that era to drive Coke and IBM out of India. It's rumored he toiled hard to nationalize the Tatas, the largest private sector of the time. Glad sanity prevailed, nothing of that sort happened.

And this one beats all - the myth about Mahatab's head. A widely circulated story attributed to the brain of late Dr. H.K. Mahatab, a Congressman and ex-Chief Minister of Odisha and the Governor of the state of Maharastra. Considered to be a wily politician of his time, it is said after his death America secretly fetched his head from Odisha to investigate and explore the secrets behind his masterly shrewd political brain.

It is still rumored to be well preserved is some remote research lab in the United States as the American scientists still can't fathom the depth of his immense political acumen and shrewness. Source of this GULLI (a light hearted joke) is most likely the Old Town area of Bhubaneswar where he lived and still has a lot of fan following. Many credit him for being the Founding Father of the New Capital city of Bhubaneswar who influence with Nehru tipped Bhonsara in its favor rather than the originally panned Anugul as the capital city of Odisha. Never know one day I might stumble upon a mummified head in some museum in US with a slab underneath it 'The Brainiest Head in the history of Mankind'. 
 
The story about his head is a devotional lie which transformed itself into a well believed truth. No wonder Goebbels, Hitler's propaganda Minister during the days of Nazi Germany famously said - "A lie repeated hundred times becomes the truth". We have an Odia proverb - "TINI TUNDARE CHHELI KUKURA - " a goat can be a dog if three mouths say so". The meaning is self explanatory as lies after lies peddled these days are believed as gospels by gullible folks.

Shivaji - the great Maratha warrior

 On the birthday of Chhatrapati Shivaji let me present you a fascinating story about the life and time of the great Maratha warrior. It's a rare success story of a small time Hindu Chiftain who went on to built a Maratha empire of his own and was christened as CHHATRAPATI (Emperor) in an age when Muslim rulers dominated most of India. Showing uncanny guile and leadership, he was one of very few Hindu Kings in a thousand year span who successfully survived the onslaught of his enemies, including the Badshah of Bijapur and Nizam of Hyderabad who were in his surrounding neighborhood, not to mention the mighty Mughals under Aurangzeb in North.

Shivaji was tactical in his approach and a master strategist. He was prudent enough to use these three elements - "Flattery, Bravery and Bribery" to win over his rivals, as and when needed. He was not a foolhardy like the Rajputs, who although very brave lacked guile and strategy, perennially facing defeat. Shivaji was unmatched, for he used his guts along with classic guerilla warfare tactics and pre-emptive strikes, altogether forming an explosive combination for success. 

He attacked Shayast Khan, the Mughal General inside the later's own den in the middle of night. The burly Mughal was lucky, as he barely escaped alive with few of his fingers chopped off by non other than Shivaji himself. After almost killing Shayast Khan he planned his escape well in advance, letting loose the Bullock carts carrying flames he brought along with him. As the faltering Mughals took time to recuperate, they ended up chasing the Bullock carts only to find that they have been duped and misled by Shivaji, giving him and his band of merry men precious enough time to to escape in the darkness.

But non of his several escape escapades matched the breaking free from his house arrest by the Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb in Agra. Shivaji was invited to The Emperor's birthday-cum-coronation ceremony after the middle son of Shah Jahan earned it after eliminating his potential rivals. The Mughal Emperor was sitting on his peacock throne when the Maratha King along with his son Sambhaji who was a boy arrived at the Diwan-e-Khas (The gathering of the Elites). Badshah Aurangzeb was fanned by his attendants who sprayed cool mist around him on a hot day in mid May, right in the middle of North Indian summer.

It was the only occasion they ever met. The day was very special for Aurangzeb - his birthday and the day of coronation to the crown which he had earned by successfully eliminating his own blood brothers. Though there were many eminent personalities present at Court to grace the occasion, Aurangzeb's Cobra like piercing eyes (as described by Shivaji himself) were prying on the Maratha icon laced with suspicion and apprehension at the man he named as "MOUNTAIN RAT". He knew about Shivaji from the days when his father sent him to Deccan to deal with him. The man had frustrated him time and again. Shivaji had a history of making spectacular escapes when surrounded with all escape routes closed only to resurface earning this sobriquet. Now the same man was standing right in front of him, so his look was fixated on Shivaji.

Ignored and feeling humiliated being made to seat behind those whom he once defeated, Shivaji lost his cool on that hot summer day in the Mughal capital city of Agra. Exhibiting flaired temper he protested his humiliation at top of his voice. Shivaji's protest in front of Aurangzeb was tantamount to sacrilege, never heard of in the history of Mughal rule. The standard protocol in front of a Mughal Emperor was to keep the head down, speak softly with handkerchief on face, that too only when asked to do so, never out of turn. A person in front of Emperor was not supposed to return showing his back to the "Badshah". He must bend and walk backwards until out of sight of the Alamgir (Lord of the World). But what Shivaji Raje did was unthinkable. He turned his back to Aurangzeb and went out of the Durbar (Gathering of the Elites) in haste. 

By this act of defiance Shivaji blatantly broke every protocol of Mughal book of etiquette in front of "Jahapanah" (Emperor) which was considered a sacrilege. The Scion of Mughal Empire, Aurangzeb the ruthless, observed this, but didn't show his reaction in public. He sent his faithful, one of his trusted Hindu Rajput lieutenants to pacify Shivaji and bring him back to his court. But to his chagrin the Maratha Chieftain refused to oblige. This became the much talked about incident on a day the third son of Sah Jahan after ruthlessly killing all his brothers waited for six long for his imprisoned father to die to ascend the throne. Aurangzeb asked those present around him solicitating their opinion on how to deal with Shivaji. The fact that a Hindu provincial Chief misbehaved and refused Aurangzeb didn't go well with his queens and the courtiers. All opined in unison that Shivaji should be severely punished.

It was a long day. A tired Aurangzeb was seen twitching his moustache using his left hand as he scrolled a string of pearl beads which he religiously carried with him chanting "Bismillah Rahim" (O God, the Benevolent, the Merciful). He announced to the Court - "Allah has given us this beautiful gift called sleep". Saying this he called it a day, needing some rest. The very next morning, on Emperor Aurangzeb's order Shivaji was put under house arrest in Agra.

Kingship is better than kinship. Aurangzeb had no qualms about killing his own brothers. Though the de facto Emperor, he couldn't be crowned until Sah Jahan was dead. So Aurangzeb had no patience to wait any longer as the old man was still alive in the Agra fort more than 6 years after he sent his brothers to the abode of Allah. It was rumored that he poisoned his father as the old man Shah Jahan took too long to die. Shivaji expected no mercy from such a man. In fact the day Shivaji escaped, Aurangzeb had plans to send him to a Haveli and kill him there.

Many were surprised by Shivaji's cool, nonchalant behavior even if he was imprisoned by no other than the ruthless Aurangzeb. But the wily Maratha was not to sit idle. He was silently plotting his next move. Successfully feigning illness, he ordered crates of sweets to be sent out to the mendicants of Agra as gifts of charity in leau of blessings for his early recovery from his feigned illness. This continued every day.

One night he changed his dress with one of his trusted attendants, a barber who shaved off his well trimmed beard and moustache, put his son in one of the sweet crates and carried it disguised as a bearers on his way out. Next morning the attendant sent out a message to the guard that Shivaji Raje had trouble sleeping last night and was catching up with sleep, hence he shouldn't be disturbed. It was well past noon when the guards got suspicious only to find that Shivaji had already made his escape the previous night.

Aurangzeb was immersed in his royal duties when he got the news of Shivaji's escape. He was furious and aghast that the "Mountain Rat" didn't escape from one of his forts in Marathwada area, but right under his nose in the capital city of Agra - the seat of Mughal Supremacy. Now a man possessed, ruthless yet religious man, he threw his string of pearl beads to the ground. As the courtiers were shivering, speculating the next head to roll, the infuriated Emporer ordered them out. As he often did at times of crisis, alone he knelt down praying facing West towards Mecca -" Ya Allah, what has happened. The infidel has escaped right under my nose" !

Meanwhile in the outskirts of Agra, the fastest horses of the Maratha cavalry fanned by six of Shivaji's most trusted lieutenants, all burly, strapping six feeters were waiting for their diminutive Raje to take him towards safety. (Shivaji was a short height man surrounded by tall well built generals). He was smart enough not to immediately ride the horse out of Agra as he expected tight scrutiny on the surrounding roads. He waited few days for things to cool down, took a circuitous route North-East towards Mathura and Kashi, as he knew that surveillance would be tight Southbound to Deccan which he needed to cross before getting into his familiar territory of Marathwada region. His small but devoted entourage travelled in night, resting in dense forests during the day to avoid undue suspicion. 

Shivaji was disguised as a mendicant. He still had days to reach his Fort, but sent out instructions to his folks to fire cannon from the Fort to keep his pursuants at tenterhooks. The news of the celebratory cannons shots reached the Mughals which they construed as Shivaji's safe arrival at his fort, thus lessening the intensity of search. Shivaji outsmarted them yet again, but this time no other than Aurangzeb, the Emperor of India who fumed for a long time on the aftermath of Shivaji's Houdini act.

A great lesson for those who love history, that a battle isn't won by strength or number of soldiers alone, not by emotions but by using shrewd strategies and smart moves. Shivaji had the acumen to read it well and it was his secret sauce for survival and success. But sadly the man who made some of the incredible escapes in history couldn't escape communicable diseases and died in 1680 when he was only 50 years old, succumbing to Typhoid as per the symptoms recorded by the historians, a water born disease he contracted during the marriage ceremony of his second son Rajaram. He never recovered from it.

Wish the man who frustrated Aurangzeb to no end lived longer. The Mughal King who was at least a decade older than Shivaji, lived much longer, at least more than quarter of a century after Shivaji's death and died in 1707. He was the harbinger of the end of Mughal empire. It was followed by  rise of Marathas and then the British who were still trading in India but watching the political developments with great interest. Shivaji once said about the British - "The Englishmen aren't mere traders. They are very shrewd and can steal from right under your nose without you even knowing it". He was so prophetic.

Clemency for Imran Khan

 Imran Khan still hangs on, hasn't hung up his boots yet. News from Pakistan is the former famous cricketer-cum-playboy turned politician is seriously ill in prison fighting for his life and on the verge of losing eyesight, at least in one eye. His sad and precarious condition has prompted many prominent ex-cricketers raise "May Day" which includes well known ex-cricketers and Imran's contemporaries Sunil Gavaskar, Vivian Richards, Kapil Dev, Clive Lloyd and Chappell brothers requesting Pakistan's government for urgent clemency.

Imran Khan had a highly successful career as a Cricket player. As the cricket captain of Pakistan he desired to defeat England in England and India in India - both countries he loved to hate, though In his book "All Round View" Imran Khan wrote that in the 1982–83 season, Mohinder was quite simply the best batsman in the world. He got both his wishes fulfilled by defeating India in India in the spring of 1987 and later England in England in summer. Then he went on to win the Cricket World Cup in 1992 after motivating his team when all hope was gone as they were one game shy from elimination. He said he told his players to behave as cornered tigers and the team responded magnificently.
He soon built a Cancer hospital in memory of his mother, first of its kind in the poverty stricken nation of Pakistan.

The ultimate Alpha Male, Imran Khan a playboy of repute bedded a number of lasses, some of them rumored to be Rekha, Moon Moon Sen and notably Zeenat Aman whom he almost married but for the objection from his mother. He produced at least one kid out of wedlock from the six feet American celebrity girl Sita White. He first denied but in the age of DNA test he admitted of fathering the girl child when an US Court summoned him to do a paternity test. Sita White died young at a young age 43, suddenly collapsing before her Yoga class in Los Angeles. Imran was forced to take his daughter into his custody. He married multiple times which included Jemima Goldsmith, his first wife and daughter of a super rich Jewish tycoon - a girl half his age.

Imran Khan had a great eye for talent. Once in 1990 he saw a young Inzamam Ul Haq at the nets and was impressed. He told Akram and Waqar to bowl to him. He also bowled couple of bouncers to Inzamam who successfully pulled them. Imran walked to Rameez Raza and said - "Pakistan got its Vivian Richards".

When Imran Khan joined politics, he was laughed off and expected not to replicate his success on the Cricket field in the murky world of Pakistani politics. A man destined to be the yet again winner all the way, he went on to become the Prime Minister of the country - the ultimate dream of any politician from the Indian subcontinent.

But politics is a different ball game. His dream would soon turn into a nightmare. Allah, Army and America rule the roost in Pakistan. Imran Khan should have realized that, but he made the cardinal mistake of taking on two of the three, i.e. Army and America. Every successful person doesn't necessarily succeed in the murky world of politics. Ask India's Bollywood megastar Amitabh Bachchan who quit politics barely two years after he became a Member of Parliament with a lot of fanfare only to realize that politics wasn't his cup of tea.

Imran Khan is paying the price of taking on the all powerful Pakistani Army establishment, the institution which got full support of America. It ain't happened yet. Though ailing the gritty Pathan won't quit without a fight. I always admire and adore leaders with "never say die" attitude, also famously exemplified by British Prime Minister Winston Churchill during the World War II (incidentally both Imran and Churchill weren't great fans of India).

A born fighter, Imran Khan hasn't hung up his boots yet. Like a cornered tiger when he came back from behind against all odds to inspire a talented but maverick Pakistan side to win the 1992 Cricket World Cup, he is still in the game, down but not out. Though fighting an increasingly losing battle, he can take solace from the legendary American baseball player Yogi Berra who famously said - "It ain't over until it's over" ! Good luck all rounder.

Change of habits after coming to America

 I was in India last month where I observed how much things have changed in almost 30 years since I left India. Here is a list of my change in habits after coming to the United States. I am sure most of my contemporary NRIs are on same boat.

1. It has been a long time since I have taken a shower in cold water. During my growing up days back in India, I used to take bath in normal tap water stored in tanks, even during the coldest of winters in Rourkela, Odisha where the temperature dips to single digit (in centigrade) in night. Can't do that now. Even in Bhubaneswar the water was cold enough to mix it with hot water from the overhead Geyser water heater. Cold water bath is considered for the body protecting skin from dryness. Read somewhere that the prisoners in the famous Alcatraz Island are given shower in warm water jets, so that they can't escape swimming in the cold waters off the San Francisco bay. They have a point.

2. Putting ice in drinking water. Water in Room temperature tastes so bland, iced water tastes so crispy and fresh ! Many in India were surprised at looking at me pouring ice cubes into my drinking water and drinking refrigerated water in the middle of January. Bad habit.

3. Washing hands after peeing. Never did that when I was India and didn't regret shaking hands with others after shaking  the residue off immediately after peeing. I have watched some of them with trepidation when they rolled their hand over their chin and nose after shaking hands with me. Converted many tree trunks and walls as urinals, not anymore as there is no empty space left in Bhubaneswar to do relieve yourself, even at night.

4. Catching up with Hollywood movies I missed earlier and became extremely selective on Bollywood ones, the later lacking ingenuity as years progress. No wonder a junk Bollywood movies are becoming blockbusters. OTT stuff on Netflix and Amazon are much better these days.

5. At work, Coffee has taken over Tea. Never liked the tea made out of tea bags. Love the brewed Tea which is restricted to home and developed a taste over cold, sweet tea - a specialty in the Dixie land of the Southern United States.

6. No more looking for News inside the Newspapers. I scan them for Coupons and Sale items in my neighborhood stores. Mostly get news from the Internet and Social media these days. Even TV has taken a backseat these days.

7. While stepping in or stepping out of doors or Elevators (called Lifts in India), I let the other person go first. Never cared to do that before, no one cared for me either. Rarely I get a thank you when I do the same back in India.

8. Never had the feeling of driving a car with steering wheel on the right hand side of the vehicle, as I never drove a 4-wheeler in India. Won't dare now. Used to lane driving and driving automated cars (have never driven a shift gear car with cluth in my life). If I ever drive a car in Bhubaneswar, you can bet that either I will either hit some one or some one will hit me within a mile of me driving.

9. Developed gardening and blogging as a hobby. Never thought in wildest of my dreams I will cultivate these hobbies, but now I am addicted to those, cultivating veggies and fruits in my backyard every summer.

And few old habits die hard.

1. My flashback to days in India. Unless I am using a restroom (toilet) outside my home, old fashion flashing off cold water to wash my bottom feels soothing. The softest of toilet papers is to Subways Sandwitch, as a Mug of Cold water is to hot chilli chicken.

2. Never could develop a passion for American Sports like Football, Baseball and Basketball. Still love Cricket, Soccer and Field Hockey (Hockey in US defaults to Ice Hockey which I find fast, furious and boring).

3. Wasn't able to develope a taste in English music. When the rockstar "Prince" died I got curious and asked others - "Prince, who" ? I googled about Rihanna when she twitted something controversial sometime back. Still stuck in the old Hindi music of Kishore Kumar, Mohd Rafi, Mukesh, Lata, Asha, Akshay Mohanty, Pranab Patnaik, Chitta Jena era whom I find soothing to my soul and don't mind at all.

Leaving Odisha - India trip January 2026

 I have been visiting Bhubaneswar every year post Covid since 2021, twice in the year 2024. Couple of things stood out to me, exponential growth in pollution and alcohol consumption. Since I flew out of India my cough, runny nose and throat irritation has suddenly become a thing of the past. I have a feeling it was the pollution and dust laden air of Bhubaneswar causing it. Throughout my stay the cloudless sky of the Capital city of Odisha looked gray not blue. The mid afternoon sun resembled incandescent bulb.

From my childhood I know the color of the sky is blue. For a Gen Z kid growing up in Delhi and Bhubaneswar, the capital of India and Odisha respectively, the color of the sky is gray. No sooner I arrived in Abu Dhabi than its morning sky looked bright and blue which I missed for almost 3 weeks. Normally you would expect otherwise in a city in the middle of a sand and dust filled desert.

Now coming to alcohol, it is available aplenty these days with most known foreign brands flooding the market to be consumed by the noveu riche Bhonsariya who of late have carved their niche with growing affordability. But alcohol juxtaposed with arrogance are on the rise, forming a deadly concoction. One evening after finishing my dinner at a well known hotel-cum-restaurant in the city I suddenly stumbled upon an old friend. At the hotel lobby he introduced me to a guy - "This is my friend Sambeet". His companion who was already heavily inebriated asked me in a slurry voice, "Where do you live ?" I replied, "In America". "Oh, I see. There must be one lakh (100,000) Odias in America" - he queried.

I found one lakh a gross overestimation of the population of Odias living in the USA and concluded it as a perfect calculation of a drunken mind. Before I could correct his unrealistic assessment he dropped another bombshell - "AMERICA RE JOU LAKHYE ODIA ACHHANTI SABU MO BA**A BA*LA" (All the Odias living in USA are my pubic hairs). In response I somehow blurted out "How could you count your pubic hairs so accurately and arrive at the exact figure of one lakh ?" I went a step further - "How do you manage to count and groom your 100,000 pubic hairs ! Do you count them by hand or use a machine, the kind uses by bank tellers to counter cash emitting a whirring sound" ?

He was too drunk to get my joke, but told me - "Hang on. I will see you around". He never came back. My friends were still laughing at my reply. No sooner I turned around than came a loud thud. I looked back to see our drunk friend fall down at the doorstep of the hotel lobby and farted loudly enough to be audible over a distance as his friends struggled to pull him up. Staggering a few feet, he suddenly leaned on a car close by and started vomited on the tyre, belching out BHAK..BHAK in waves as one of his friends poured a bottle of water on his head and then forced him into the back seat of a car.

On my way to the Airport while going over the Punama Gate overbridge which bridges my  locality to the Airport, making it only a 15-20 minute drive, not too bad by Bhubaneswar standard. I could see a lot of people in front of a podium loud blaring music. It was a Melody, a local lingo for Orchestra going on for the occasion of "Agi Purnima", a bonfire festival in Odisha to celebrate end of winter and the beginning of spring when the days start to get warmer but the night is still cool. The traffic slowed down for me to take a peek. The singer on the stage was apparently doing lip syncing in front of a boisterous crowd. I doubt many from the current generation of Odias would be remembering "Agijala" (bonfire) Purnima which has been mostly relegated to villages.

At Bhubaneswar Airport I found our Bhais (brothers) and Behens (sisters) occupying chairs near the boarding gate and blocking a seat next to them by placing handkerchief or bag on it for their spouses who leisurely roam around as if seats are their father's property. I removed one such bags from a chair and sat down on it. The lady next to me complained. I said - "You can't reserve a seat while others are standing".

Those who have traveled by bus in Odisha know this a classic way of reserving seats. Once while travelling to Dhenkanal by bus I waited for my turn and took my time to board. Once inside I saw some empty seats though many were still standing, reluctant to occupy those seats by the windows strewn with handkerchiefs. I nonchalantly swished away one of those "RUMALS" (handkerchief) from a cherished window seat and occupied it. After a few minutes here comes this guy leisurely strolling towards me munching a packet of peanuts (groundnuts), spilling the shells on the bus floor. He wasn't too pleased to see me occupying his side seat.

While bending down to pick up his Rumal he started accusing me of stealing his seat which he painstakingly reserved for himself by throwing that piece of cloth. I told him pointing to a Scooter parked outside "So you think by throwing your handkerchief on this vehicle you can claim it as your own" - trying to drive my point. I could hear muffled laughter from the surrounding co-passengers.
But the punchline was yet to come. Another guy sitting behind followed me in his typical Odia in Berhampuri accent "HA RE PUA, MO MAAIKINA MUNDARE RUMALU TA THOI KAHIBU TO MAIKINA TA MORA EKKA" - "Oh my son, you can put the handkerchief on my wife's head and claim my wife as your's only." Now the entire bus burst into laughter.

My deja vu recollection of the event was rudely interrupted when the boarding call was announced for my flight for Zone 3 and the rest were told to seat until their turn arrives. There were 3 lines (queues) clustered around i
like the Triveni Sangam of Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati in front of the gate. Inside the flight I had a Mosquito as my co-passenger getting a free ride, swarming around. I also noticed Wheel chairs being abused, folks looking perfectly healthy using it.

My flight to Delhi landed at Terminal 2 close to midnight. I quickly grabbed my luggages from the carousel and took a walk to the international Terminal 3 pushing my trolley in a cold, foggy night with low visibility. The immigration and security check was shoo in, thanks to a pretty tall, pretty pretty girl from the Airline who goaded me through the security gate. During our walk together we had a bit of tete-a-tete. She had a mixed view of her employer. Originally from Gorakhpur, UP she lives an hour from the Airport and does night shift from midnight till 10 AM. Every day she travels by a bus designated for the Airport which picks her up close to home. After the security check in I told her to wait until I put my belt on - "Without the belt my trousers could go down. Don't want to stand wearing my boxers in front of hundreds of passengers in the middle of an Airport". She laughed at my joke covering her mouth with her palm.

From inside of the full flight I could see the Full moon close by, the rabbit inside it looked eager to jump into my lap. The 30 hour long journey including the in between flight stoppage time seemed eternal. I finally reached home tired and jet lagged. My first day at work wasn't too bad except late in afternoon when my chin started to drool and hit the space bar of computer keyboard. Still drooling over my India trip. No black coffee or aspirin can assuage post vacation hangover, only time will heal it. My trip didn't go in vain. Travelled miles to achieve several milestones meeting family and friends, connected with old friends and met new ones, ate a lot of local food with fun filled moments, last but the least managed to get my first book see the light of the day.

Reminds me of Kamal Hasan from the movie PUSHPAK who while staying in a posh hotel could not sleep as he missed the sights and sounds of his locality, where his deep rooted roots lied. The pleasure of staying amongst your own is unparallel. One always tends to fall in love with own millieu. Love it or hate it, amidst all these there is a unique flavor of incredible India which you do not find elsewhere. Thus concluds my travel blog to India. More next time...

Day XIV and XV - India trip January 2026

 A Math question for today. The first few lines of an Odia duet number I overheard in a Barber's shop (saloon) in Bhubaneswar.

Boy - TO SEXY SEXY ANTA DEKHI
          MO DIL FIDA HELA.
(Looking at your sexy waistline,
My heart is super fine).

Girl -  TO STRONG STRONG BODY DEKHI
          MO NAZAR LAKHI GALA.
(Looking at your strong body,
My eyes were fixated on it steady)

Calculate how many English, Hindi and Odia words are there in this so called Odia song loaded with tons of vulgarity. It is high time for the legendary Odia singers Akshay Mohanty, Chitta Jena, Prafulla Kar et all to take rebirth to save Odia music from adulteration, cataclysmic alteration and eventual extinction. When I told the saloon owner to switch to another song, his reply was - "Folks prefer to listen such songs these days". I am a middle aged expatriate. Who cares for my opinion here anyway !

This isn't the sole example. At a local sweet shop I saw a purely Odia looking girl talking in pure Odia with someone on phone suddenly taking a pause and asking another pure Odia shop owner - "BHAYA JARA JALEBI DENA" (Brother, give me some Jalebi). Bhai has become Bhaya and Jilapi has turned into Jalebi. Dhantera has replaced the festival of Akshay Trutiya. We are now celebrating Lori. To those who imbibe North Indian culture I have a question, how many North Indians will celebrate Raja or Kumar Purnima !

North Indian invasion is not just limited to festivals. Nani and Apaa have become Didi. Bhinei has become fashionable Jiju and so on. A lady who I used to address as APAA (elder sister) for decades insists on being addressed as DIDI (as they address elder sister in Hindi). "APAA, NA KADALI CHOPAA (Banana peel), MOTE DIDI DAAKE (call me Didi)" - she retorted back. I got the message loud and clear. Ekta Kapoor's serials clearly had their effect. First time I heard the word "bro" was in Hollywood movies and after coming to America. Now bros are roaming rampant in Bhubaneswar, many address one another with "Hi bro".

For someone from current generation of middle class in Bhubaneswar being closer to Hindi and English sounds "Hef" (the word used for being cool here). The Forest Park dwellers, Netflix and Amazon Prime watchers are one step ahead of them in "Hef" category, as they chew "Phew, Oops, Shit" in English - for them Hindi is so passe as English rich slangs are more fashionable


The barber at local saloon gave me a close shave, followed by haircut and application of color to my hair. He continued chatting while clipping my hair. Hailing from Bhanjanar and speaking with a Southern Odisha accent, he told me that there aren't lot of opportunities back home. Here in Bhonsara he lives in a rented house close to the Saloon and makes enough money to send to his folks in Bhanjanagar. He went on - "In my village there are many unemployed youth who don't do anything and sit idle at home. When I go there they demand a BHATA-MANSA (Rice and Goat meat curry) party from me. At the same time they burn with jealousy for those who have gone out of village and make a decent "ROJAGARA" (income). Bloody double headed snakes". With such stories rampant here, he made his point.

On Saturday I went to the Toshali Literature Festival which featured the release of my first book "Architects of Odisha - a NRI's prospective", a compilation of my selected blogs on Odisha, its achievers, culture and traditions. The program commenced on time. Many accomplished writers and poets were on stage, speaking from the podium. Some speeches were short, witty and eye-catching, others dour and long winded which gave me an excuse to step out to view the farmhouse named "The Ranch" located in Mangalpur, about 10 miles from Bhubaneswar on the National Highway to Puti. The place had a lot of flora consisting of dwarf Mango trees filled with nascent bloom, short Papaya, Coconut trees which didn't look native to me. The cool breeze and chirping of birds outside sounded much more soothing.

My book was released on time just before the noon tea break, followed by some photo ups. Excitement would be an understatement. I was super thrilled on the release of my first ever book. It was followed by another session of addresses and discussions followed by a very homely lunch. On the last throes of my India trip I was glad to able to get my book published and released. I returned back home late in the afternoon.

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 in India 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...