Matriculation examination time

 It's examination time back home, especially the Matriculation or Board examinations, the counterpart of what we call Tests in America.

Arguably matriculation examination was a make or break moment of our time. It is the first occasion during our student days to prove ourselves academically. Failure was not an option. A below par performance in any other exams always had the solace from the hope of a second chance. But if you screw up in this particular matric exam chances of a comeback is remote, though not mission impossible. Because depending upon the marks (score) you get, your future is set - as you need to chose Science, Commerce or Arts (Humanities) and go from there. During our time the choice of a subject wasn't based on interest, rather than the marks scored in matric exam. If you score 70% or above you go for Science stream, the next fortunate lot between 60 - 70% opt for Commerce and the leftover go for Arts (Humanities) - the usual disclaimers apply with a miniscule minority opting for Arts stream with Civil Services in mind.

Some I have come across still regret that 30-50 odd more marks in this crucial examination could have altered their career when they compare themselves to others at this stage in life, lamenting for falling behind for missing the boat due to being CHHATARA (Girl chasing vagabonds) and not focusing on studies. Thoough there are a few exceptions who after passing out in GANDHI SHRENI (Class) sarcastically named after our Father of the Nation who passed Matriculation in the 3rd division but later excelled in academics. Often I wonder why not name 2nd Division after Nehru and 1st Division after Subash Bose as a fitting tribute to both icons who passed Matriculation in those divisions. 

A good score in Matriculation assures you an entry into a decent college, otherwise for many the goose is cooked. Not getting into a good college can get you tagged as a DHAIN, which in the local lingo means a person with respiratory ailments gasping for breath but as a slang depicts a "worthless" person, a nincompoop. 

It's not unusual for teenagers to commit suicide due to the ignominy of poor performance in this crucial examination, as they can't cope up with the prospect of being persona non grata or as we call in Odia LOKE BOLIBE KANA (what the public will say) ? Often failing in an exam in Odisha in the local lingo is said as KHARAP HEIGALA or "shit happened"  more of a soothing metaphor rather than the ubiquitous ill sounding "Fail".

In my father's generation passing the Matriculation examination was a matter of prestige as well as a passport to a decent government job. A contemporary of him passed it after no less than half dozen attempts. His initial attempt was with Mathematics Optional paper, the preferred option for good students. After failing, he kept on switching optionals to the less preferred Sanskrit yet failed again. Finally he toggled with the least preferred Physiology & Hygiene and Home Science optionals before finally managing to clear the exam well in his 20s, following the footsteps of Gandhi by getting Gandhi class, but more importantly he passed he landed up getting a coveted Class III Goverment job and a secured life. His passing in Matriculation after 6 long years was a matter of celebration in his village as the ecstatic gentleman went around distribution sweets and offering gratitude to at least a dozen of Gods and Goddesses.

Many who could not clear the papers under Odisha BSE (Board Of Secondary Education) had the option of getting the Matriculation degree from Andhra, known as Andhra matric. The later was considered an easier option - second rate degree, yet still provided the solace of having one. Those less fortunates were condemned themselves to the rest of their life sentenced to MABF (Matric Appeared, Bychance Failed).

No wonder, In our time there was a saying in rhyme -

"Matriculation examination,
Is a great botheration,
For the young generation".

Good luck to the kids appearing in this years Matriculation, fashionably called Board Exams these days. 

RIP Prafulla Kar

 He was one of the last of the original, prominent male playback singers left in Odia music industry which has currently gone to the dogs mixed with Hindi and English lyrics (one person from that fading generation still alive is Pranab Patnaik). Others like Akshay Mohanty, Chitta Jena, Sikandar Alam have passed away to heavenly abode long ago. Today Prafulla Kar, the well known Odia singer passed away.

Those from the generation who grew up in Odisha in the 1970s and 80s still fondly remember him for his plethora of Jagannath JANANA (devotional songs) as well as LAGHU (light hearted) romantic songs and few funny numbers as well.

Sri Prafulla Kar use to write well also and wrote several columns in Odia. He is the father-in-law of my friend and classmate from REC (NIT Rourkela), Rajib Rath who lives in Cleveland, Ohio and visited USA on few occasions enthralling and entertaining his audience with his golden voice. He narrated the following funny episode in one the columns carried on a leading Odia Daily.

One fine morning during one of his trips to USA he was taking his usual morning walk in the community where his daughter and son-in-law live. He had drank a lot of water in empty stomach that morning and got an urge to relieve himself after walking some distance.

It was nature's call which could have happened to anyone. There was no public Restrooms (as toilets are called in India) nearby. He had no option but to empty his bladder surreptitiously at a wooded corner thinking no one was noticing the act. And so he thought. No sooner he zipped his pants and turned back he saw a police officer right behind him. He managed to convince the police who didn't press any charges and let him go. He narrated this incident in a funny and lucid way.

RIP Mr. Prafulla Kar. Whenever I remember the Odia Janana "MAHABAHU, AKHILA JAGATA NATHA.." I will remember you. My heartfelt condolences to Rajib and his family. Om Shanti.

When fortune drives the fate

 I finished watching the latest of the Narco series "Narcos Mexico" on Netflix. Set in the 1980s it has captured the life and progress of Mexican drug cartels, especially Miguel Angel Felix who rose from a junior level Police official in the badlands of Sinaloa to a Billionaire Drug trafficker of international fame.

It was the time "El Chapo" the infamous drug lord who is currently in US custody was merely a driver in Miguel Felix's gang. He was called by his big bosses to fetch packs of cigarettes, pour them a drink and occasionally give them a head and shoulder massage. Slowly El Chapo (meaning Shorty in Spanish) started driving the drug trade and driving the officials nuts on both sides of the US - Mexican border.

Drivers, also referred by better sounding Chauffeurs while sitting close to their bosses and listening to their conversations have a history of learning the skills of the game and acting as henchmen for their masters, occasionally adapting their master's skills. An ex-politician from India's state of Karnataka C.K. Jefferson Sharief started as a driver of a better known politician and ended up as a Cabinet Minister in various ministries during the Congress party days.

In the 1987 movie SATYAMEVA JAYATE (Only Truth Prevails) the police inspector Vinod Khanna responds when threatened by the driver of a minister for stopping the later's car - "MINISTER KA GAADI CHALATE CHALATE KHUD KO MINISTER SAMAJH RAKHA HAI KYA" (By driving Minister's car you thought yourself as minister or what) ? That was reel life. But such arrogance of drivers of folks at the helm of affairs aren't something not entirely unheard of. In real life  C.K.Jaffer Sharief went one step further. He actually became a minister. 

Miguel Felixe was the Pablo Escobar of Mexico. In one scene the famous Columbian, Escobar of Madeline cartel threatens Felix to feed him to his pet Hippos. Pablo Escobar was to drug trafficking as Pele was to Soccer - the all time great had a fetish of keeping exotic animals including Tigers and Giraff as pets.

El Chapo rose from a mere driver to the driving force behind the famous Sinaloa Cartel - a billionaire drug mafia. Many stalwarts and his competitors in the drug business would perish sooner or later. He had couple of close encounters with death too but was fortunate to survive. At one point he was almost killed when gunmen shot his boss from point blank range and were about to execute El Chapo when he pleaded for his life - "I am a mere driver. Leave me alone". "So can you drive our vehicles ?", he got an whimsical order. El Chapo wasn't in a position to decline such once in lifetime, life saving offer. He had his luck to live another day until it finally ran out a few years ago landing him in one of America's maximum security prisons where he is currently harbored.

There used to be a popular saying during the days of Mughals who ruled India at  medieval time - "TAKHT YA TAKHTA", meaning "Crown or Coffin". It aptly described the fratricidal wars fought between the brothers for the prized Kingship which knew no Kinship. In the end one ended up with Crown, the rest destined to graves.

Nothing much have changed. In the quest to control the lucrative drug trade many went unsung to their grave, but El Chapo survived by a whisker to earn the crown. Dawood Ibrahim, India's most wanted Don played the second fiddle to his brother. His brother Shabbir Ibrahim was shot dead, Dawood got shot on his thigh close to his groin but survived. He is a rumored to be a billionaire who is India's most wanted fugitive but no one remembers his brother.

In our own state of Odisha a don Pratap Swain of Barhampur was slain on the street while his counterpart in Cuttack CHHOTA (Lame) Ananta was trampled under a truck. Yet one of their contemporary Dons who rumored to have survived a shoot out went on to become a well to do businessman still at the helm. Another one such Don on to become a minister. It's always TAKHT YA TAKHTA, Crown or Coffin.

Such a thing called Destiny ! It can be freaky, cruel and rewarding, destroying at the same time. History is always partial to the winners, with losers destined to its dustbins. Life ain't fair and lovely. Fortune drives fate. It is no better elucidated in the "Narcos Mexico" series.

One and half month of war in Ukraine

 If someone is prodded to attack me, then hits me, he may give me a few punches having the initial advantages before I start retaliating. But chances are he may not stay motivated for long enough though he is the bigger bully, for he is not on a mission on his own and is fighting  someone else's war. On the other hand I being at the receiving end will stubbornly fight back as I have nothing to lose with everything at stake to protest, whereas my much powerful opponent has everything to lose being the aggressor. The more the fight lingers on, the more confidence I gain by keeping my opponent engaged and slowly dragging him into a quagmire. 

Same is happening between Russia, the aggressor and Ukraine the defender. After one and half months of the war it is quite apparent that Russia hasn't made the progress it aspired for. Without any tangible gain it seems to be on the back foot looking at a stalemate. Usually the side at the receiving is more motivated to defend its territory. That's exactly what Ukraine is doing as happened in Vietnam, Iraq and Afghanistan when the fancied USA and Russia after some initial success their soldiers lost their appetite to fight on long run. The underdogs familiar with their home terrain launched classic guerrilla warfare frustrating their assaulters, resulting in an eventual insulting and ignominious exit of the superpowers.

Same could be happening to the Russian forces. Who wants to die for a dictator Putin's whims and fancy, whether a country named Ukraine joins NATO or not ? A la Bhishma's wise councelling in Hindu epic Mahabharat - "YUDH KI BAAT KARNA EK BAAT HAI, YUDH KARNA AUR EK BAAT HAI". It is one thing to talk about war, another to actually fight a war.

The only motivated people fighting on Russian side I see now are the keyword warriors and self proclaimed Bhakts-turned-Putin fans who have never stepped a day in their life on a battlefield. They seem to be the ones who are excited about this war, backing Russia because it backed us during the 1971 war with Pakistan. They are conveniently forgetting that both Russia and Ukraine were part of the erstwhile superpower Soviet Union who helped us during Bangladesh war. But what more to expect from our Whatsapp University graduates !!!

The real soldiers who have stepped on the battlefield do not want their asses on line for the whims and fancies of a megalomaniac oligarch and seem to be low on their mojo to carry on forward. On the other hand the gritty Ukrainians have a lot to fight for and resist about as the needless war drags on and on. The longer this skirmish continues it will be advantage Ukraine and disaster Russia.

In the game of Chess in which the Russians are known to excell, the opponents go for a draw when they see a deadlock situation is reached from which no one can win. Hence it's high time for Putin to realize the folly and end it with a face saving gesture. A dictator with billions of dollars stashed abroad may have nothing to lose, but his poor countrymen have everything to lose. He should call it a draw to end the stalemate with a graceful exit. It will be good for him, good for the world.

Loss of culture in name of beautification

 My home in Bhubaneswar is located in the Old Town area of the City where the residents take pride as the original inhabitants of the temple town. I lived in the same neighborhood for years until my education and job took me elsewhere. The place has a reputation of old temple culture that involves SANGA, BHANGA, SANGEETA and PANGATA (Friend, Cannabis paste, Music sessions and Sumptuous Meals), similar to its sister city of Puri famous for Lord Jagannath temple.

Those who live in Old Town wear their pride of original inhabitants close to their heart. The new capital built around it which saw gargantuan growth in later years is ascribed by them as "GALAAM NAGARI" (City of Servants). It isn't far from truth. The numerous government employees quartered in its multiple Units are called Public Servants known for their servitude. It is aptly displayed by the monstrous bureaucracy where starting from the Peon at the lowest echelon, at the highest level by the IAS officer to his minister boss, all acting in unison no less than servants to their supervisors. DALAALs (middlemen) too rule the roost in a feudal Babudom dominated society. So whoever coined the term GOLAAM NAGARI wasn't far from the truth.

During my trip to India last September one day it rained incessantly all night. There was a brief pause in the morning as lashing rains gave away to a steady drizzle. I took out my umbrella and walked towards a local tea stall which also serves BARA (Vada) and GHUGUNI (Cheakpea curry) barely 100 feet from our house. There was a smaller than usual crowd in front of the stall with customers eager to savor a breakfast of Bara dipped in Ghuguni with black salt, onion chunks and green chili on the side - perfect start to a rainy day. 

After taking my order Bulu, the shopkeeper-cum-chef told me "AGYAN TIKE DERI HABA (there might be a little delay in service) as he carefully pushed around the wooden planks inside the burning clay oven to add fuel to the fire. He kept on turning the wooden shaft to turn on the heat and turned over about couple of dozens of Baras slow fried on a huge, dark pan. 

A little delay - a "little" can be anything between 5 to more than 30 minutes, little being a relative term. Bara needs to be fried on medium flame for the best results, so that both its surface and the interior is fried uniformly. Many on their way to work parked their motorbikes and bicycles by this stall for an express breakfast consisting of half a dozen Bara soaked in Ghuguni washed down with hot tea. No wonder many Odias suffer from chronic gastric issues as Bara and Ghuguni combo though tasty can be notoriously gas producing.

A guy parked his Scooty and walked in to deliver his Breaking News of the morning - A 3 storeyed building shrank by 3 feet in Dumduma area due to the ongoing deluge, now standing like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. As Bulu the Chef moved around the Baras swirling and wobbling on the surface of boiling oil using his jumbo sized spatula, he uttered back in excitement - "SALA SABU GAON RU UTHI ASI KAHIBE AME BHONSARA RE RAHIBU. "All those brothers of the sisters I have seduced (Sala means wife's brother, but in local slang it's usage suggests the speaker is the seducer of sister of whom so ever concerned) have come out of their villages with the desire to live in Bhubaneswar. "RAJADHANI PANI, TANKU ANUCHI TANI - the water of capital city is dragging them here".

Bulu continued further. These folks who are used to living in squalors in their native villages have no civic sense. They come in droves to GOLAM NAGARI to live like POKA, JOKA (insects and leeaches) in illegally constructed buildings. SALE SABU CHIPI HEI MARANTU (Let those whose sisters I seduce get trampled in the collapsed building and perish). The future prospect of Bhonsar doesn't look too good. You should see how they have destroyed our Lingaraj temple vicinity in the name of beautification. This is a glimpse of the classic old town culture of small talk giving big pleasure.

Bulu was correct. What I just portrayed is a typical Old Town GULLI KHATTI (light veined talk) discussion ridden laid back lifestyle. The area surrounding famous Lingaraj temple bustling with life where the shops, kiosks, carts, flower sellers along with Bulls, Pandas (temple priests) and visitors lived in peaceful coexistence had been cleared and relocated half a mile away. The place has been robbed off its heart and soul that defined the milieu of Old Town. 

A forlorn feeling engulfed me as I could smell the miasma of GOLAAM NAGARI now encroaching into the Old Town culture true to its self. Often chaos and disorder brings the fun and frolic out of life rather than orderly tidiness. The quintessential Old town was missing. Perestroika in name of embellishment seems to have altered its culture. I found no difference between Nayapalli and Old Town - the vivacity attached to it gone forever.

The Urdu Controversy

 There is a recent rise in the character assassination of Urdu language by the extreme right wing fundamentalists fueling intolerance, mostly by BJP and its blind supporters to score cheap political goals by juxtaposing the language with the Muslim community. Media, social or otherwise has its role in fanning this fire. Most of those who are indulged in this nefarious activities do not know "L" of any language. What more to expect from our Whatsapp University graduates ? Hope sanity prevails, but we live in insane times.

Though English and Urdu are different, both bear stark similarities. Both are flexible, don't have a script of their own (English uses Roman and Urdu uses Arabic script). Both lack any stringent grammatical rules (for that matter American English hardly follow any grammar). In fact many passing deregatory terms for Urdu language aren't aware of the fact that the script of the language is Arabic. It should be also be noted that Punjabi is written in Gurumukhi in Indian part of Punjab, whereas the same language spoken in Pakistani Punjab uses Arabic as the script. Sanskrit in Odisha is taught in Odia Script. I read and wrote my school exam in Sanskrit using Devanagari script whereas my counterparts in Odia media wrote Sanskrit using Odia script. So what so big about a script ?

Urdu is a nice blend of Hindi, Persian and Arabic, a smooth blend like blended Scotch Whiskey. The flexibility of both Urdu and English has contributed to their richness, robustness and longevity. Such languages are destined to flourish as long as they adapt to be the survivor of the fittest.

Interestingly, both Urdu and Sanskrit are ornamental languages which are not widely spoken in mass. Though Urdu is the official language of Pakistan, they mostly speak Punjabi, Sindhi, Pashto and Hindustani - a much diluted version of Urdu mixed with Hindi. Bengali not Urdu is the official language of the Muslim majority Bangladesh.

The knowledge and competence in any language, including Sanskrit and Urdu has hardly anything to do with religion. Nothing prevents folks from other religions to learn it. Many Westerners Christians are excellent scholars of Sanskrit with in depth knowledge of the subject. Many deep researched books on the history of Odisha and India are written by Westerners. In my college days the technical textbooks written by Westerners, mostly by American authors addressed my real doubts while books by Indian Authors rarely did so.

A language is not the monopoly of any faith. Gulzar, an outstanding and accomplished Urdu Poet whose lyrics are huge Bollywood hits is a Sikh. It's unwise to give a communal angle to a language. If we will continue to do so we will still stay struck in our vainglorious days of 5000 BC.

Imran Khan won't hang up

 Imran Khan still hangs on, hasn't hung up his boots yet. As the cricket captain of Pakistan he desired to defeat England in England and India in India - both countries he loved to hate. He got both his wishes fulfilled. 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 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 known bastard from the six feet American celebrity girl Sita White. He first denied it but in the age of DNA test he admitted of fathering a 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.

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.

Allah, Army and America rule the roost in Pakistan. Everyone thought that by taking on to the powerful Army establishment supported by  America he will fizzle into oblivion. It ain't happened yet. The gritty Pathan is showing no signs of quitting 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.

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. Game on folks.