India trip 2018 - Day IV

While scouring local Odia TV Channels, I saw a promotional video of an Odia movie SUNDARGARH RA SALMAN KHAN. A song in that movie goes as- "HEY CHHORI, TU BEAUTIFUL KANYA KUMARI". Nice to know words "Chhori and Beautiful" are new additions to Odia lexicon. I flipped to another Odia channel where a girl was explaining how to prepare an Odia dish in a very PHULEI (Attention seeking girl) accented Odia - DEKHANTU, EI LA JAWAB DISH, KHAILE SONE PE SUHAGA HEI JIBA. She continued further - EI MASALA TI ETHI "BELONG" KARENI. Disgusted, I switched the TV Off. 

However I learnt a few new Odia terms - La Jawab, Sone Pe Suhaga, Belong etc. Odia must have surpassed the English language in enriching itself by adapting words from other languages - even if Fakir Mohan Senapati and Pandit Nilakantha Das turning in their graves. God bless my mother tongue.

In the meantime some one tried to sell me a residential plot in the outskirts of Bhubaneswar, now marked as premium because it is located on road side. In US, the most coveted residential lots are those located on the cul de sac of the neighborhood with premiums attached to them. In Bhubaneswar, it is other way round. Closer they to the main road, more expensive are they. Two different worlds homes apart.

One of my small plesures of life was fulfilled today - peeing in open air under an open sky (In Odia as they say MUKTA AKASHA TALE), a privilege not so readily available in America. At peak of middle age a softened prostrate can't hold it much any longer. After I consumed couple of glasses of cocunut water, the opportunity to avail this much cherished guilty plessure arrived. I found a secluded location under the cover of darkness on the side of a highway. It can be termed as an eco friendly pee - away from residential area and far from the madding crowd.

Today when I pulled out my credit card to pay, the reluctance to accept it as form of payment was visibly stark from the expression on the face of the cashier. Bet he wasn't so ecstatic to see the plastic, even if the purchase amount was good enough to cover the 2% they need to pay as processing fee to the bank. The cashier gave me unique look - a blend of the feeling of losing a CHARENI (25 paisa coin) and chewing a bitter lemon. Last time I had a similar experience at a merchant as the man at the cash counter said - "SARE, CASH HABANI" (Sir, can't you pay by cash) ? "Sorry, I don't have cash, so please use my Mastercard" - I insisted back.

Reluctantly, he swiped my card. After a minute, he said "AGYAN, MESINI KAMA KARUNI - Card machine doesn't work". I told him to swipe again and leaned over for a closer look. Another guy, think his supervisor, snatched the card from his hand and chastised him, "KIRE MESINI CHALEI JANINU. MATE DE", Don't you know how to run the machine, lemme try". Now the MESINI (machine) worked miraculously and my card went through clean, like a hot knife through butter, resulting in the ejaculation of the receipt, coming out in a stuttering whir.

I have a feeling both of them were acting in unison, a la "Good Cop, Bad Cop". Why so much fuss, NATAKBAJI (histrionics) then ? My guess - One, it's typically the merchant greed, who would love to hold on to that 2% cut at most (transaction and settlement fee has come down a lot these days). Two, these transactions are recorded and accounted for. So, they can't do a Tax FANKI (avoidance), which could come back to haunt them later.

Online Railway and flight reservation in India has cut down the role of touts and middle men and the accompanied corruption. Similarly, more use of credit cards down the road will lead to cleaner, accountable transactions - Adding to national exchequer and substantially subtracting the Tax fraud. It will take time, but more use of plastics in the shop and less use of plastic bags when coming out of it is a step in the right direction. More later....

India trip 2018 - Day III

First night can be painful - the night with jet lag. A stubborn Jet lag can be a real pain in you know what. My body clock simply refuses to relinquish the US Time Zone as I woke up at 2.30 AM this morning. Jet lag for me now seems to get too stubborn to relent as I age. It feels miserable to get up so early in morning, without being able to sleep any further. Kishore Kumar's song from Rajesh Khanna's movie AAP KI KASAM - KARWATE BADALTE RAHE SAARI RAAT HUM (turning sides on bed for whole night) never sounded more prophetic. 

Goodnight Mosquito repellant had its effect, but if you think you are too small to make an impact try going to bed with a mosquito in the room. A couple of them still bothered me as I battled them in the darkness to clap them to death. Thanks to internet, Facebook and my addiction to blogging, I kept myself busy until the murmurung of mosquito gave way to the tom tomimg of GHANTA (brass plate) from a nearby MATH (monastery) sounded like music to me, more musical than the sporadic KAWALIs (group music) from stray dogs. No sooner the gang of musical mongrels on the Eastern end of the street finished with a seqience of wooo.. wooo..woof.. than their western side competitive cousins responded with their musical version of wooo.. wooo...woof. The Kawali sessions continued for the better part of the night with intermittent 10 - 15 minutes of break.

The long arduous wait in darkness paved way to dawn. The eastern sky grew brighter, turning crimson red as the light slowly drove away the darkness. By now the early rays of morning sun sprinkled the trees with a golden hue, giving their dust covered leaves a shining copper coating. The chirping of birds turned louder, so also the sound of GHANTA from the nearby Monastery - sounding the end of its morning session of prayer.

I went over to the balcony to take a peek at the outside world. A Bull was placidly chewing cud under a big mound of sand nearly. Couple of mongrels sleeping nearby noticed the tectonic shift in their surrounding as the giant bovine stood up suddenly, shrugging off sand from his body. The doggies shifted further off to a nearby semi-broken concrete culvert, apparently perceived by them as a more secured, safer location. 

One of the parish dogs tried to sniff his way near to a man plucking flowers leaning over the nearby fence only to be shooed away - HEY HEY JA JA (Hey, hey, go away). The doggie nonchalantly walked away. From distance approached the Newspaper walla (guy). He swung and threw the paper past our main gate with immaculate accuracy and moved on to the next house.

A jet lag can be an irritant, a nuisance especially for those plying between India and United States. The long journey can put one's body clock out of whack, which varies from individuals who experience little or no jet lag, to those who have to make a trip to the Doctor's office for medication when their jet lag stubbornly refuses to relent. Eventually most get over it. For me it lasts for 3 to 5 days, now more on the later side. 

Here are a few tips on how to minimize the jet lag. This is hardly scientific, rather based purely upon personal experience. Try not to sleep during the day. Keep yourself busy, sip some caffeine, especially late in the afternoon when your eyelids refuse to stay open. The more you sleep during the afternoon, longer it takes your body to adapt to the new clock. Also don't forget to drink plenty of water and go easy on food. Don't splurge on fried foods and alcohol when you still have a jet lag, it can cause havoc to your system. 

Last but the least, time is the best healer. Let your body clock take its own sweet time to adjust. If it's already a week since you have landed and the jet lag refuses to go, better see a doctor. More later...

Arrival in India trip 2018 - Day II

At IGI Airport in Delhi I breezed through immigration which was a shoo in for me. The Terminal 3 is quite impressive. Restrooms (toilets) maintained nice and clean. No strong smell of ubiquitous Phenyle and dark brown betel stains at each corner. Our International Airports can now be considered as world class. I saw a digital bill board proudly displaying Happy Gandhi Jayanti, followed by a visual of Chivas Regal Scotch. Ironically our Mahatma was never stood for consumerism, nor he extolled Chivas Regal.

In the year 1998,  no sooner I came out of IGI Airport in the middle of night night than I was treated like a hapless hlHare amid Hounds baying for my blood in form of haranguing touts. I was forced to do an about turn and beat a hasty retreat, only to come out at break of the dawn to be ragged again. It was not unusual then for hapless passengers to dish out a $20 note (Bill) to buy themselves out of harassment by Customs. Such things are now passe.

After checking in for my last leg of flight to Bhubaneswar, I settled down on a chair as the sun brightened the horizon, revealing the array of Aircrafts on the turmac, spraying them with Orange hue. The Roundtrip return fare between Delhi and Bhubaneswar cost me only Rs.4443. I remember paying at least Rs.21000 for the same in the 1990s, a stupendous amount then. How the affordability of airfare has changed in less than 2 decades !!!

The departure area of the Domestic Airport before boarding resembled our BADAMBADI Bus stand in Cuttack. I saw a guy surreptitiously scratching their private parts in public. When our eyes met he pretended to adjust his belts. The Air crew were goading passengers like cattle towards to board the flight (hats off to the person who coined cattle class for the economy class). 

Inside the flight a man sitting next to me was let out a lot of hot air - both literally and figuratively too. The silent, sneaky hot air from down below with a "Not I" look on his face was followed by some bombadistic hot air from his loud mouth. He boasted how he carries all his company's responsibility on his shoulders and visited all 75 states of India (never knew there were 75 states in India, even if you include the Union territories).

Groggy with jet lag, I dozed off with my head drooping sideward, as the Airhostess politely woke me up - "Veyzz (veg) or Non - Veyzz Sir ?" While munching the food I looked out through the window. The roaring big bird was flying low, whizzing past low lying clouds, enabling me to take a peek outside to get a Bird's eye view. The plane was flying high over snow white fleece of cloud looking like a vast cotton plantation or a big flock of sheep. As the plane lowered itself preparing for landing, the rivulets meandering through the gray undulating land down below formed a spectacular sight. The green waves of Eastern Ghats was taking shower of morning sunlight. River Mahanadi looked like a huge Anaconda taking a sunbath on golden sand.

Every other year I fly over Bhubaneswar, sadly I see more concrete and asphalt, less green foliage as an once asthetic city known for its salubrious weather slowly turns into an urban jungle. Way too many skyrises have become a growing environmental concerns - gonna to bite this city big time sooner or later.

How contrasting is the worms eye view of the sky from the ground to the bird's eye view from the top. It makes me understand the meaning of the phrase "Down To Earth". When it all seems you are on top of the world, in minutes you are back on the ground. So are the vagaries of life. How much and how high you fly you have to come down - in no time you must descent from 39000 feet to ground zero. Airplane teaches us a lesson on life.

I was welcomed by a not too hot muggy Bhubaneswar weather. On my way home I savored the sights of the millieu where vehicles yonked their way through in a zigzag maze. As I stepped out of my vehicle I could feel beads of sweat swelling on my chin and forehead. A sudden burst of breeze felt good, vindicating the old law of Physics "Evaporation caused cooling".

Dog tired after a journey of 28 hours across 3 continents, I badly needed a shit, shave, shower and sleep. I turned the faucet on. Prrrt..Prrrt..It farted twice before emitting a thin stream of water which slowly got thicker. I could hear the tweeting spree by a sparrow which would have given Donald Trump run for money - "Tweetwoo... tweetwoo...tweetwoo..", without bothering about any character restrictions.

It gave way to coarse cawing of a crow on the branch of the nearby mango tree, interspersed with occasional spurts of bikes honking -"keee..kicky.....kicky..." and

wafting of street vendors - E KADALI KADALI (Banana, Banana), AMBAAAACHAARA LEMBAAACHAARA (Mango pickle, Lemon pickle). No sooner I had my lunch of rice with Ilisi ( Hilsa) fish curry cooked with Yougurt, than my eyelids refuse to stay open. More later...

Trip to India - Day I at Doha

After a long flight of 14 hours from Atlanta I reached Doha, Qatar. It was late afternoon, local time as the flight descended piercing through a hazy sky, the gulf next to the Airport looking like faded sky blue ink on a dusty sandpaper. 

Being peak school season, the flight was filled with good number of vacant seats along with mostly old couples and families with infants & toddlers - some of them cranky and cacophonous. I boarded the fligh the evening of October 2 in Atlanta and arrived in Doha close to evening of next day. In between the night went fast, so also the day. On the 3rd of October this year I saw the shortest duration of daylight - thanks to the diurnal rotation of mother earth from West to East. Flying West to East you lose time, you gain time flying other way round, as earth is round.

Four more hours before connecting to Delhi, I took time to walk around. Folks in Arabians in white cotton helmets with their female folks tagged along in black attire from top to bottom peeping through tiny slits cut below their foreheads - looking like Ku Klux Klan members in black.

A Virgin Airline flight was about to board and names of passengers not boarded were called. An Air hostess swung by, shouting at top of her voice - "ANY VIRGIN HERE", obviously looking for some missing Virgin Airline passengers. Couple of girls raised their hands. Everyone close by started looking at them, some with chuckles and half baked smiles. The shy girls retreated to their privacy by dropping their heads over their smartphones to hide their embarrassment, still peeing through their corner of their eyes. Non of them got up to board the flight. We humans are slaves of inadvertent reflex actions.

Through out the journey I watched folks drooling over their smartphones. All heads down like Ostrich, they were busy fingering over the glaring screens of their devices. I have seen this in America, not unusual and unexpected in a nation where individualism rules the roost. But I observed the same in Europe, Middle East, Singapore and India. Asian culture is more social and group oriented, where people enjoy a tete-a-tete, even with strangers. I saw many, including Airline crew busy dragging bag in one hand and texting on the other, clinging to their phones, baby sitting their devices.

Growing back days in India, we use to chat about anything and everything under sun, alluded to topics ranging from NANA BAHA GHARA RU, NANI BAHA GHAR PARYANTA (From Dad's marriage to Sister's marriage). Perhaps we have gone electronic doing eKhatti (chit chat) on social media.

In 1979, when I was hardly 10 year old, I accompanied my Uncle to a play in his Alma Mater Vani Bihar under Utkal University. It was a symbolic play which I could barely understand but still remember those lines 

OTA PARI JABA BHAI NAHI NAHI HOIRE,

JIBARE MANISHA OTA HEI JIBARE

PITHI RE KUJA, KI MANOHARA....

Roughly transliterated,

You will become a camel, uttering no no,

Humans will become camel as days go,

How wonderful to have humps on back !

Replace OTA (Camel) by OTA PAKHI (Ostrich) and KUJA (Hump) with Smartphones. The drama is now enacted in another era. The nondescript person who wrote this Odia Drama (play) in 1970s was so prophetic and way ahead of his time. More later...

Departure for India trip 2018

Jet, set and go. A long journey awaits me with the itinerary of Columbus --> Atlanta --> Doha--> Delhi ---> Bhubaneswar, spanning seven seas, thirteen rivers spread across multiple continents. Hours left before I leave and miles to go before I reach.

This is the moment I eagerly look forward to every other year, an exciting time before I make my trip to India. It is normally planned months ago with a lot of parameters factored into - getting time off from work, social, family or festive occasions, price of air tickets and of course the weather in India (which may not exactly salubrious now, but hopefully not be awfully bad either as SHARADIYA or Autumn like weather with clear, blue skies with crispy, still air - usually around the Durga Puja Holidays).

Apart from cricket, it is arguably the weather which unites India at this time of the year - it is sultry. This is the time a tired monsoon winds down and bids adieu to the most part of India, leaving behind a trail of moisture hanging in the air. Barring a handful of places on higher elevation, from Ahmedabad to Agartala,  Chandigarh to Chennai it is invariably muggy at this time of the year but nights are cool and bearable.

I am too excited and ready to take the heat. In life the feeling of apprehensive curiosity in anticipation of an event is much more pleasant than the event itself. It is going to be my 14th journey from Coke Land to my Motherland India in more than couple of decades of stay in US.

As the D-Day approaches, excitement builds up. Can't focus on work as mind is preoccupied about the trip and what lies ahead. My coworkers find it a bit odd that we visit our home on vacation, when they travel away from home for same. Yet there is so much fun homecoming when you are away from home.

Upon arriving in India, the initial days of jet lag and reverse cultural shock gives way to lot of attention from friends and relatives, a la an infrequent guest is treated more cordially than a regular one. Even if I try not to, I invariably eat like a pig, shit like a Bull and end up write a lot of bullshit as blogs. Time is short and finite, engagements are many - way too many things to do, so much food to sample.

Looking forward to challenge my sweet tooth, splurging on an array my favorite Odia sweets which includes but not limited to, CHHENA JHILLI, CHHENA PODA, PAHALA RASAGOLA. The other stuff I like are Cuttack Mixture, freshly baked Naans, numerous Street foods, AVADA from temple and much more which I don't get here. I have made a solemn promise to myself not to eat any Pizza, KFC, Subway, McDonalds (the last one I believe doesn't have an outlet yet in the smart city of Bhubaneswar). I firmly believe in - Be Roman in Rome, be Indian in India.

Excitement would be an understatement, I am so thrilled for a fun filled 3 weeks, no work and full play. Dear Motherland, here I come. Sandwiches, Burgers, Pizza and Pasta - please take a backseat.

Mid life blues

Call it the Midlife crisis or mid life blues, I can see it coming to my generation who are approaching 50 or recently jumped over the half century age barrier. The signs are stark, apparent and in certain cases ominous. Some have taken it into the stride, learning to live with it. The less fortunate are unfortunately consumed by it, becoming its unsuspecting victim.

It is a phase of life when you are neither here, nor there - pretty much akin to early teen days which is a veritable blend of THODASA BACHPANA, THODI SI JAWANI (A bit of childhood, a bit of youth). The Middle age stands for THODISI JAWANI - THODASA BUDHAPABN (A bit of youth and old age). In North India they say UMAR PACHWAN KI, DIL HAI BACHVAN KI (Age is 55, heart is of a child). This is about when the mid life crisis strikes without any warning. 

The mid life blues for men are mostly related about their job, business and career. For them their frustration hovers around career and money. Many harbor grudge towards themselves with a feeling of not making the best of their ability, with a morbid feeling of falling behind, especially when they compare to others. 

Every comparison is relative, it is worse when made with relatives who can be your worst enemy and  unhealthy competitors. For women, the blues is mostly their dwindling youth and vigor as they glide into the wrong side of 40s. The fairer sex is fully aware that of their youthful days are numbered, yet many pretend to be the possessor of eternal youth. This reminds me of a stanza from Kishore Kumar Song DIYE JALTE HAIN from movie NAMAK HARAAM -

DAULAT AUR JAWANI,

EK DIN KHO JAATI HAI.

(Money and Youth, One day will perish)

Can't speak about Money, but youth falters and fast loses its luster with aging, especially for female of the human species. A prized possession for them, many women can't cope up with this reality and enter into the mid life blues.

A good number of couples go through turmoils in married life as most divorces takes place at this age. Many procrastinate this inevitability till their middle age when they can go their separate way when the kids are big enough to understand and adjust. Till then the couples live as two different sides of the same coin - they live together, yet can't see one another.

Some dive into spiritualism, taking the plunge expecting to escape from the daily mundane drudgery, seeking instant gratification. It must be noted that not every body's mind, body, heart and soul are tuned to spiritualism. Most fail in their quest for peace and are taken advantage of by frauds and charlatans who try selling snake oil as instant panacea as cure to the boredom and frustrations in life. The return is hardly satisfying for the overwhelming majority and cherished mental peace still remains elusive.

A telltale sign of the mid life blue is the outpouring jealously laced innuendos on the social media towards Anup Jalota, a BHAJAN (devotional singer) who recently married a woman half his age. It is the spontaneous outcome of a vicarious feeling towards the the talented celebrity who could do what the salivating middle agers aspire but can't.

It reminds me a monologue from the Hindi movie SAAJAN -

TAQDEER BANANE WALE

TUJHE KUCH KAMI NA KI,

AUR KISIKO KYA MILA

MUQADDAR KI BAAT HAI.

The fortune maker hasn't

Made you any lesser,

Who gets what

Is a matter of life's fate.

To Sir and Honorables with love

These days I have seen posting on Facebook, mostly by employees of Government of India who address mundane MPs and MLAs as Honorable So and So. It makes sense when "Honorable" is deserved for the deserved few, e.g., the President, Prime Minister, Chief Justice and even Chief Ministers of States in India. But to address an MP or MLA as Honorable reeks of British era sycophancy (it is another matter an overwhelming majority of them are even scum enough to earn the Honorable tag).

Same goes with the usage of ubiquitous "Sir". 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 - considered as an integral part of Southern hospitality and mannerism. 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 India the word "Sir" is too loosely used these days. During my growing up days the word Sir was sparingly used only to address teachers and high level officials who sipped TEACHERS. Now any Dumb addresses the Dumber as Sir, a perfect example is me being addressed as Sir on multiple occasions in India without hardly doing anything noteworthy to deserve such accolade. 

Often sugar coated, wrapped in obsequiousness and delivered with a bended spine posture, it 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. Define hypocrisy.

Once a friend came late to a gathering in India. His excuse was - he had to drop his SAARE (The word Sir pronounced in thick Odia accent) at the Airport. Fair enough. I sarcastically asked him, " Since time immerial you have been dropping Sirs at Airport. Is it not high time for you now to be a SAARE ?" Nodding in approval were those who were around and had a hearty laugh. Hope his turn to be at the receiving end of the coveted Sir status, the ultimate dream of many arrive soon.