23rd Anniversary of 9/11

Today is the Anniversary of 9/11, when a prominent chapter was added to America's history on this day exactly 23 years ago on September 11, 2001. How time flies ! A child born on that day is no more a teenager. Feels just like yesterday when on a cool, late summer morning commute to my work at Toyota Motors in Kentucky where I was working as a consultant, the news of terrorist attack on the World Trade center was a bolt from the blue. That day is forever etched in my memory. 

Most at my workplace were stunned, but stayed calm and composed. Many were frantically trying to find Afghanistan on the world map and I remember helping a few in locating the beleaguered nation on the map which made the cardinal mistake of harboring Osama-Bin-Laden. No hysteria in public but it was not business as usual.

I had the habit of filling my car with gas at a local SHELL gas station which used to give 5% discount on Tuesdays and unfortunately that September 11th fell on a Tuesday. On my way back home when I went to fill up my gas tank, I encountered long line. There was hardly any car on the road. People were mostly indoor, glued to TV.

The aim of terrorists is to create terror and they really succeeded that day in scaring the hell out of Americans who were attacked on their Mainland for the first time in history (technically the first major attack on US soil took place at Pearl Harbor by the Japanese on 7th of December 1941. But it was in Hawaii, America's 50th State thousands miles away from mainland).

Contrast that to the indomitable spirit amongst Indians. Mumbai and many other cities in India have gone through several terror attacks. But within hours the life comes to normal. It's not about the number of people being killed, those many are killed in road accidents every day. The main goal of the terrorists is to create terror in the hearts and minds of the people. In that aspect they fail miserably in India, though it has more to do with the need for ROZI ROTI (daily bread) than any great bravery against odds or fighting spirit. Yet they still deserve the credit of defying the odds and getting back to normal life quicker than anywhere in the world.

More than 2 decades years down the road, hardly anything has changed. Though, touch wood, America has been able to prevent any major terror attack on its soil, terrorism across the globe still thrives. No nation on earth is fully immune to this disease which is spreading its tentacles far and wide like cancer, nor they're entirely blame free for letting this menace prevail due to their short sighted political goals.

Some one is a good terrorist as long as he is an useful idiot to serve one's own business, but becomes a bad terrorist if it hurts the state which sponsors them for creating terror in another country. Someone's terrorist is another one's Freedom Fighter. If not curbed, on long term terrorism is going to do irreparable damage to the mankind unless everyone close in to root out this evil. Remember, if you keep snakes in your backyard thinking that it will only bite only your neighbors then you are living in fool's paradise. One day that snake is going to bite you. The lessons learned from 9/11 should never be forgotten.

Dus NUMBARI - No 10

William Shakespeare famously said - "What's in a name ! You call Rose in some other name, it still smells the same." But there is something about numbers we can't ignore.

Not long ago I was watching an old Hindi movie DUS NUMBARI (Number 10). The leading actor, called "Hero" in Bollywood parlance, was wearing his trademark jersey with no.10 proudly painted on top.
This is not the kind of no. 10 Jersey worn by Maradona, Romario or Messi, the famous sports stars wear. It rather refers to the Number 10 file in the police stations in India, where the names and details of habitual criminals are registered.

In the same movie the actress Hema Malini while shopping asks for the price of DAAL (lentil) at a grocery store. At Rs.4 per kilogram those days, she finds it very expensive (the movie was from 1970s), and accuses the shopkeeper MILAWAT KE BAAD BHI ITNI MEHNGI (even after adulteration it is so expensive) ? The accused was involved in DO NUMBARI (No 2 deeds, ascribed to illegal activities in Indian subcontinent).

It instantly reminded me a stanza from a comic Odia song from the talented singer Akshay Mohanty : 

MASTARAM GIRIDHARI
PURUNA CHORA BEPARI;
BEPARA KARI SE CHANDAA;
TAKU MALOOM ANEKA DHANDAA.

Roughly transliterate...

Mr. Mastram Giridhar;
The nefarious old Black Marketeer.
Deep pocketed business made him bald;
Many hidden sleeves he has on his hand.

The store keeper whom Hema Malini suspected of adulteration perfectly fitted the bill of an unscrupulous trader - A bald man clad in LUNGI (Loincloth worn around waist which could be easily removed for urination, defecation or sex) and white short sleeved banyan. The front of his head has a few strings of isolated hairs hanging loosely from sides of his barren head, and a fewer left on the backside of his head. But he had plenty of hairs growing on both of his ears like weeds. It was the perfect image of a CHORA BEPARI (Black Marketer) of those days. Now a days frauds clean-shaven, wearing expensive clothes and suits.

Adulteration has been our way of life. There is a popular Odia idiom - KETE PANI MISICHI (how much water is mixed) to ascertain the degree of manipulation or adulteration made. It is best seen in gully cricket matches where at least 5% score is added by the scorer to the ultimate tally. Back then, it was a normal practice.

Like milk, a little bit of adulteration here and there in gully cricket score was not seen as a big deal, it won't hurt anything. I was aware about tiny black pebbles were bought from a special place near JATNI, a small city on the outskirts of Bhubaneswar. It was used as an the perfect mix for Rice and Daal. Grounded red brick granules were considered as the ideal mix for Chilli powder, dried Papaya seeds for Black pepper and so on. It probably explains why Gold is always 22 carats, never 100% pure.

Cheating in Indian subcontinent is also called CHAR SHO BISHI which simply denotes the number 420. The number comes from the section 420 of Indian Penal Code which deals with cheating.

The eminent writer Khushwant Singh's father Sardar Sobha Singh was a rich contractor in Delhi having plenty of cars at his disposal. He would visit Delhi Vehicle Registration office asking for CHANGA (eye catching) numbers to make his cars to make them distinguishable from others.

He was promptly given a number of 420 by a playful employee of the office. The poor rich Sardar (Sikh) drove the car around Delhi with SARDAR 420 engraved on the number plate on the car, until someone disclosed it to him that he had been taken for a ride. The fuming Sardar changed the number plate.

So names may or may not, but numbers have their significance, from no. 1 till no. 420. As the song from the movie DUS NUMBARI goes - DUNIYA EK NUMBERI, TO MEIN DUS NUMBARI (The world is no. 1, straightforward, but I am no. 10, Crooked).

Goodbye Sanu Mausi

 Very sad to hear about the sad demise of Sulochana Patnaik (Sanu Mausi). She passed away mid day yesterday in Florida where she moved in the year 2021 after a long stint in Canada, Philadelphia, Maryland. 

She has been very close to our family for a long time. In the year 1997, when I was a new comer to the United States she helped me settle down in Philadelphia. Sanu Mausi was the first person who discovered the flair in my writing. She was a School teacher in English subject and would on occasions during my childhood days give me assignments to write essays. She would throw random topics at me - marriage and other social occasions I attended, cricket matches I saw at the Barabati stadium, Cuttack and my annual summer vacation trips to our ancestral village near Puri. During the summer of 1978, I finished an assignment she gave me to translate from Odia to English. She was so impressed that she showed it to her school students as example. 

She would tell my father - "Sir, Babloo (my nickname) writes lucid, captivating English. You should nurtur his writing skills". She used to bring me tons of books and magazines to read. I remember in the summer of 1979 as a 10 year old finishing Indian cricketer Sunil Gavaskar's Autobiography "Sunny Days". She was very impressed and suggested my father to switch me from my Odia medium school to the English medium D.M. School. There was an entrance examination followed by an interview to get admission to the coveted institution, arguably the best English medium school at that time. I made it. She immensely contributed to my knowledge in both English and Odia during my formative years, for which I will forever stay indebted. 

Now a days when I as see compliments on my blogs, I remember her contributions in shaping my writing skills. I will still remember for the rest of my life. May she rest n peace. Om 🕉 Shanti !!!

Happy birthday Dhyan Chand

 Since 2012, National Sports Day is celebrated on August 29 every year to commemorate the birthday of Major Dhyan Chand, the Hockey Legend from India. Born in year 1905, Dhyan Singh was called 'Chand' (moon) because during his youth he practiced hockey under the moonlight as he had a day job in the Indian Army. This name stuck to him as he came to be known as Dhyan (Chand) or moon.

He represented India in many Olympics and won laurels as part of the Gold medal winning India team until Pakistan just partitioned from India broke the monopoly in 1960 Olympics when after decades India lost the Olympics gold medal to Pakistan. A good number of players stayed in Pakistan along with Lahore, the hockey capital of the world at that time. India came back to win the Hockey Gold at Tokyo 1964, but it has been a steady downslide ever since it until India won back to back bronze medals in Olympics in Tokyo 2021 and Paris 2024, harbinger of it being back in the game.

Dhyan Chand's wizardry in Field Hockey was noticed and widely acclaimed so much that his stick was once searched for glue or magnet because when he dribbled past it seemed as if the ball was stuck to his hockey stick like glue as he juggernauted his way towards the opposition's goalpost.

In the famous final of the 1936 Berlin Olympics where Hitler showcased it to advertise Nazi Supremacy, in front of a full crowd and Fuhrer. India rolled over the favorite home team Germany 8 goals to 1. Hitler was watching the game from the podium. He soon sought an audience with Dhyan Chand, a rare gesture by the charismatic German head of state to a foreign athlete. Impressed by Dhyan Chand's impressive stick work, Hitler instantly offered him German Citizenship and a position of Colonel in Deutschland Army. Dhyan Chand politely declined.

Soon India got its independence from Britain. After retiring from military at the age of 51, he worked for development of Hockey amidst heavy paucity of funds. He suffered a lot, but nobody helped him. The man who mesmerized Hitler by leading from the front to smash German team in finals of 1936 Berlin Olympics and smashed the Fuhrer's ego of Aryan Supremacy, died unsung from liver cancer in the general ward of a nondescript Hospital.

Dhyan Chand's son Ashok Kumar represented India in Hockey in 1970s. But he was hardly a replica of his famous father. His biography tells us why a few people dare to take up sports as a career in India. It also explains the reason of the poor show by Indian athletes in Olympics and elsewhere. Happy birthday to the legend. You remind us that we have achievers beyond cricket.

College elections in Odisha

 College elections in Odisha which was stopped from 2018 is going to start from next year. Not sure why it was banned in the first place, and not sure why it was brought back. 

I studied in BJB college in Bhubaneswar for couple of years from 1984 to 1986, where elections were highly farcical with a lot of political undertone. My father who taught Physics there was the Adviser to the College Union. I never participated in any Election - Vilection, nor there was much violence those days to remember and write home about. The aspirants for different positions of student's Union would push their candidature through cards into the hands of the prospective voters - aptly called "Pushing cards". 

The girls standing in clusters around  the SANATAN CHAT stall would get the scented versions of the pushing cards exclusively reserved for them, scent coming out of some cheap perfumes strewn over the card. The less fortunate ones, the boys had to be contented with plain, rugged pushing cards. 

The day of reckoning comes to a climax on the "Why I stand" meeting when the contestants are supposed to go at length explaining their candidature at large on the stage. This meet is invariably more histrionics and of less substance. Whatever of little substance is has gets lost in the cacophony. Post election the promises made by the candidates were rarely kept, yet this annual farce continued year after year as precious days of Academics were ruined. 

The icing on the cake in that meeting used to be the much awaited arrival of the candidates for the position of Dramatic Secretary on the stage. They tried their best to outsmart each other by singing loudly, jumping to the tunes of the latest Bollywood hits and telling bawdy, semi vulgar jokes.  

The more the giggling of the girls in audience more enthusiastic are those on the stage, their presence enticing the hopeful Dramatic Secretaries to swing their hips in a more dramatic ways. Once a candidate tore off his pants on stage while dancing to a Jeetendra - Sridevi number exposing his DORA, a popular underwear of that time.  

He continued to dance until the muffled laughter from girls in the audience with their face covered in palm gave away to cat calls from the boys. It made him realize that something was wrong. After discovering his plight he took out his handkerchief (a must carry for youth of that time), covered his exposed area and ran towards backstage. 

Rowdiness or goondaism was frugal, limited to only verbal threats. Bullets or bombs were strictly fantasy. If someone threatens you then taking the name of so and so from BADAGADA, a village in outskirts of Bhubaneswar was enough to assure your safety. (Though brawny, the residents of the village were known to be naive, slow witted and their heads were rumored to be stuffed with cowdung). 

Apparently things started to get worse and no wonder a incident of bombing was reported not long ago in BJB College. In my opinion these needless elections should have been stopped all together long back. It hardly helps, rather hurts the image of these colleges - with a lot of precious time getting wasted. In REC (Now NIT) Rourkela where I did my Engineering, there was no such Students Union or Elections associated with it. There was only a cultural Secretary from the 3rd year who used to organize cultural and fun fests. There were some Elections for rudimentary positions in the hostels but not elections supported by political party of any kind. In that context not sure what the present government of Odisha is smoking to bring back these totally avoidable College Union Elections. 

The rape of the lady doctor in Calcutta

It is summer of discontentment in India. Close to the heels of bad news from Olympics front regarding an woman wrestler who accussed the Wrestling Federation Chief of rape and molestation, comes another bad news of the ghastly rape and murder of a young lady doctor in the Eastern Indian city of Calcutta. The news is as shocking as the Nirbhaya rape case which incidentally happened winters ago in nation's capital Delhi, followed by the rape and murder of a lady doctor in Hyderabad. Drawing a parallel, a la the Nirbhaya and Hyderabad rape case was fast tracked and perpetrators were swiftly punished, the culprits in this case should be quickly apprehended and rewarded with nothing sort of death penalty.

The debate over Capital Punishment and the state taking law into own hands in a civilized society is probably as old as the civilization itself. I have seen many squabble over the efficacy of death sentence as a deterrent to crime. In this respect the contrast of opinion between males and females is conspicuous. 

Men are certainly anguished by this heinous act of rape and murder, but the outpouring outrage from the women is quite understandable as the fairer sex can relate more to the agony the poor victim would have gone through. It probably explains why more number of males than females question the righteousness of the death penalty, especially in case of rape. Personally I would love to see the rapists hung by their neck till they shiver, quiver and lay still, cold as revenge is best served cold.

Reminds me of this monologue delivered by actor Anupam Kher playing a bad cop in 1991 movie HUM - "YEH KHOON BHI BADI AJEEB SI CHEEZ HAI. APNO KA NIKALTA HAI TO DARD HOTA HAI. LEKIN DOOSRON KE NIKLE TOH MAZAA AATA HAI (Blood is a weird thing. It hurts a lot if it is your own. If it comes from others, watching it is fun). For some idiots on Facebook it sounds fun. Nevertheless, I have already reported few tasteless remarks on the poor girl to Facebook.

Before passing some judgment let's take a pause, contemplate by stepping into the shoes of the victim's family, be it Nirbhaya's (the woman raped in Delhi) or the medico girl in this case. It would be easy for me to preach eye for an eye is wrong, the state has no right to kill an individual, blah blah. But would I be talking at the same breath if I can relate the victim to one of my near and dear one ? Hell no.

In America death penalty is a state subject, most conservative states have it, most liberal states don't. The nation is evenly divided on the issue. Here the family of the victim is allowed to watch the execution of the perpetrator. They perhaps do it for a reason. 

Dastardly act often provokes dastardly response. It may not be humane, but it is human. I have no illusions of being a superhuman. Normally I won't hurt a fly, let alone watch someone die. When I see one of our backyard feral cats get hurt, it hurts me a lot. Yet God forbid, if one day I am invited to such an event, I will unabashedly take the front row, taking the sadistic pleasure of watching the turbulent last moments of the convict.

No wonder in movies nobody sheds a tear when the bad guy falls. Hope one fine morning (not sure why hangings are done in the morning), these rapists will be hung until death from the hangman's noose.

Hang in there. Before I go, I can't but mention this sonnet from the Hollywood Western Classic - "3.10 TO YUMA ", based in 19th Century US. Electric Chair wasn't invented yet. Hanging in Public was the preferred mode of execution in America's Wild Wild West. A hangman taunts the convict before taking him to the gallows :

"They will hang me in the morning,

They will hang me before the dawn.

They will hang me in the morning,

I will never see the Sun".

I can attribute the same sonnet to these convicts. Don't RIP girl, until those who harmed you never see the sun as they walk to be garlanded by the hangman's noose. Hope that day is not too long away.

Songs and scenes make us gay and happy

I keep a decent collection of old vintage Odia songs inside the dashboard of my car. On my way back home after a hectic day at work, those are panacea to a tired soul. By default I am tuned to the NPR news, but whenever I need a break from the glut of media malaise, I switch to music which sounds music to my ears. 

One day I was on my way to lunch with a team member. No sooner I turned the keys, than wafted a song from 1970s, sung by two lady singers Trupti Das and Gita Patnaik. 

TORA MORA KATHA HABA CHUP CHAP,

TORA MORA BAHAGHARA THIK THAK. 

My friend asked me to translate the song into English. I obliged, 

"Let's chit chat whispering emotion;

As our marriage is set on motion." 

He raised his eyebrows and asked "Is this a gay song?". While having a hearty laugh, I responded, "This song depicts two nubile girls who as friends do, were chatting about their marriage been fixed, not that they are getting married to each other. Their coyish whispering indicates their shyness, a trait amongst girls in Indian society. Nothing remotely the lyrics ever suggest that they are gay. 

Now rewind back to the year 2002, when I invited an American friend home for dinner in our apartment in Kentucky. I put on the a music DVD playing Hindi songs and came flashing a scene where Akshay Kumar and Salman Khan, exposing their bare chested chiseled body, torso wrapped just by a towel. They were holding each other's hand, high-fiving and dancing on sea beach, gyrating and wrapping their hands around their waist. 

When I translated the name of the movie MUJHSE SAADI KAROGE as "Will you marry me", his instant response was, "Is this a gay movie?". 

I again burst into laughter, almost erupting whatever I was sipping off my mouth. I explained, in the movie these two guys will eventually propose to their lady friends. That's all it means. And I harbor no fetishes of watching gay movies. Singing and watching movies makes all gay and happy, it's just lies in the way you see it.