The short lived Indo-Pak war

 I haven't written a single blog about the recently concluded short but not sweet war between India and its belligerent neighbor Pakistan. With so much blogs, reels, articles short and long flooding the social media, not to be left behind, I scribbled something for the FOMO (Fear of Missing Out) factor. 

Truth is the first casualty of war. Now as the dust settles down after the 3 day skirmish where the foot soldiers of both nations stayed within the limit, both warring sides started taking credit for outright victory. Pakistan lied to its teeth claiming to have downed multiple Indian fighter jets, including India's famed Rafael which costs nearly $250 million a piece. Indian media went to the extent of announcing India's occupation of POK (Pakistan Occupied Kashmir), followed by collapse of Lahore and Rawalpindi while our Naval ships were busy bombing the hell out of Karachi. The Pakistani Army Chief Asim Munir shat in his pants and was deposed. The social media amplified it. For a moment I thought it was true and Indian soldiers have reached Iran border, until a few hours later I found out that these were fabricated lies. 

I am sure the same was happening on the Pakistani side of the house. This gave fodder to Western media, mostly liberal, which has its share of bias against India to hyphenate India - Pakistan. These liberal media reeking with double standards still cling to their traditional narrative of calling terrorists who attack Israel as terrorists, but those who kill innocents in India as gunmen. The West in general and America is particular still loves to equate between India and Pakistan as equals, treating them two recalcitrant kids who fight. We, both India and Pakistan spectacularly fall in line as a la the Headmaster of Elimentary School chastises two fighting students to fall in the line, or else.... 

Unfortunately, not a single country came to the rescue of India or took it sides, whereas China, Turkey and Azerbaijan (does its support matter ?) came out openly in  support of Pakistan, rest preferring to stay neutral because of their geopolitical compulsions. Turkey supplied Pakistan a ship filled with drones whereas China tested its weapons given to its vassal country. China, not known to speak truth went to the extent of celebrating its Air to Air missile from the J - Series Fighter planes it has sold to Pakistan successfully downing at least one of India's prized Rafael Fighter jets. Chinese TikTok reels flooded social media poking fun at India. The truth only God knows. 

But the truth is America was able to broker a ceasefire between Delhi and Islamabad in a short time. Ideally India should have taught Pakistan a lesson rather than agreeing to the ceasefire too fast, too soon. America on the other hand, in spite of Modi holding the hands of "my Fraand Doland", uttering loudly "Ab Ki Baar Trump Sarkar" (next time it's Trump's government) in much published "Howdy Modi" in Texas, followed by showering Trump with hundreds of thousands of flower petals in Ahmedabad, refused to side with India. Rather it stayed neutral and worked in the background to bring the ceasefire between the battling nations. Typical of Trump, before the ceasefire was confirmed by either India or Pakistan, he twitted in Truth Social taking credit for the ceasefire which went viral in quick seconds. Many in India came to know about the American mediated ceasefire from Trump's tweet before it was officially announced by GOI (Government of India). 

Now we see lull after the storm with every political party worth its salt is trying to make the most political capital out of it and factions on social media boxing with each other. This ceasefire is very fragile. Another terror attack on Indian soil will definitely lead to a more vigorous and devastating attack by India on Pakistan. And it could get ugly, really ugly the next time.

Americanized Odia names

What's in a name ? "A rose by any other name would smell as sweet" - William Shakespeare wrote in Romeo and Juliet. 

Shakespeare was so ahead of time when he mentioned it in the 16th century. The personality of a person is entirely personal, with his or her name hardly playing any role in it. I know an untruthful guy named SATYABRATA who came out as a congenial liar to the core, a plain looking girl named "TRIPURA SUNDARI (Universal Beauty)". A Beggar was named as KUBERA (the Hindu God of wealth), a man dying at an early age bore the name JEEVAK (Long life). A person with the name SUBUDHI (Good thoughts) should have ideally be named DURBUDHI (Bad thoughts) - his name proved to be a misnomer as his mind was filled with filth. 

Back home in India, we grew up in a collective society where our identity is often qualified by our lineage, village, caste, community etc etc. Names got influence by it. Most South Indians and many Punjabis have their villages tagged to their names. For example, for a P. Ravi Kumar, P could be the first initial of his native village somewhere in South India. A Sikh Jagjit Singh TALWANDI, the last part being the name of his PIND - village. We, as an individual entity always come last. 

Most South Indian Hindus from my generation have at least a God or Goddess's name embedded in their own. There is hardly a name without Ram, Laksman, Lakshmi, Parvati, Krishna, Gopal, Shiva, Srinivas, Ganesh, Karthik, Murugappan or a combination of some of these. Some have all Gods in one name, e.g, Laxman Shivaramakrishnan.

During one monsoon, no sooner my flight took off from Calcutta than violent air turbulence engulfed it. The agnostic in me now remembered God instantly and came up the name of the cricketer "Laxman Shiva Ramkrishnan" to my mind. The nervous passenger in me started chanting his name which comes with all premier Gods name in a Combo package. Before I could finish uttering my chant 108 times, the flight was preparing for its descent at the  Bhubaneswar Airport.

In olden days, half of the kids used to die before they reached the age of 5 in an age when there was no vaccination to kill harmful micro bugs before they kill you. If one of these diseases Tetanus, Polio, Whooping Couph, Diptheria, Malaria, Flue won't get you, the dreaded Cholera or Small Pox would. In Odisha it was superstitiously believed that Lord Yama, the Hindu God of death ignores the kids with mundane names as he prefers to take children with catchy, fancy, attractive names. So parents used to give avoidable names as AINTHA (Miss Messy Food-Leftover), GOBARAA (Mr. Cow Dung), BALUNGA (Mr. Weed), POCHARA (Mr. Dirty Rotten) and so on. Not sure if Lord Yama obliged.

Time flew and many Odias developed wings to fly to faraway lands as Europe, Australia and of course the farthest and most attractive destination for immigration - The United States of America. But they never imagined their names would go through distortion which Lord Yama would yet again love to ignore.

Here is a list of such names along with their American / Anglicized ones which the westerners find hard to pronounce. 

Pitambara - Pitt
Nityananda - Nit
HarishChandra - Harry
Dhananjay - Dan
Dinabandhu - Dean
Krupasindhu - Krip
Narayana - Nora
Nabaghana - Nab
Nilamadhab - Neel
Pradipta Kumar - PK
Satyajit - Satty
Debasis - Dave
Krishnamurthy - Krish
Radhakrushna - Reed
Jagannath - Jaggs
Nikunja - Nick
Markandeswar - Mark
Bichitrananda Patnaik - Did'nt want to go with the shortened version of his first name "Bitch", preferring a shortened form of his last name Pat, thankfully not by a truncated version of his first name.

Dambarudhara Patra - Similar situation here Prefers to be called Pat, not Damb, which sounds like dumb.

So, what's in a name ?

 
 
 

Return to US - India trip 2025

 More than twelve percent of all commercial pilots in India are women, highest percentage in the world. This is credible because the number of commercial aircraft and pilots in India is substantial. 

On my flight from Bhubaneswar to Delhi I met a lady passenger whose final destination like me wasn't Delhi, she was travelling enroute to Dar-es-Salaam, Tanzania, Africa. Sitting next to me she asked in Hindi if I am an Odia. I replied - "MU SOLA ANA ODIA" (I am a 24 carat Odia). She was travelling with her little girl as she was visiting home for summer holidays. Her husband works as a Chartered Accountant in the African nation of Tanzania. 

The lady asked me where I live and what I do for a living. I replied - "I live in USA and work in IT (Information Technology)". "Wow", she said. It seems I initially raised her curiosity, now suddenly got her attention. "APANA TA HELE SETHI SERVICE KARANTI, "So you work over there ! (In Odia the term service is often synonymous with job"), she continued. "Yes", was my response. 

Our tete a tete continued. I have encountered many NROs (Non Resident Odias) who live in North America, Middle East, Far East and Australia, never one from Africa. It was my turn to ask questions. I asked her how many Odias live in Tanzania. "A very small community. Unlike a large number of Gujjus (Gujaratis) who live there, only about 60 odd Odia families are there in Dar-es-Salaam, the capital of Tanzania". I asked - "With such a small community the Odias over there must be an united bunch". No, she laughed. We are a divided house, split rightly in the middle into two groups. My husband who is a Chartered Accountant Odia caught the guy in the leadership position of local Odia association red handed swindling money, exposing the misappropriation of money at the local Sri Jagannath temple. Though Rath Yatra is held every year, last year it was a damp squib due to persistent internal bickering amongst Odias. In America the Odias are educated lots. They must be united and not involved in dirty politics like the Odias in Tanzania. 

"Yes and No", I chucked back. Yes, most Odias in America are educated with degrees from cherished institutes in India and abroad. No, because the politics amongst them can put others to shame, even in Temples across the United States which should be free from mean, nefarious activities are citadels of nasty politics. The Odia society in Tanzania is split into two. That's not too bad, considering the Odias in USA are divided into 2 or even more than 2 in city in America - big or small. There are goodnumber of groups and subgroup in certain states, large enough to organize a cricket match. My last sentence made her laugh. 

She continued talking about Tanzania. You know, it's a wonderful country with salubrious climate. The weather is neither hot nor cold all throughout the year, though of late it is starting to get hotter. I said - "that's probably because the politics amongst Odias there is getting hotter, impacting the weather there". She laughed again and commented - "You have a good sense of humor". When two Odias talk there is invariably discussion about good. She continued - "All kinds of Indian vegetables are available in Tanzania except "POTALA" (Parval or Pointed Gourd), a popular Odia vegetable. However the scarcity of POTALA is compensated abundance of another Odia favorite "Mutton" or Goat meat which is cheaper than chicken as goats are raised aplenty in that African nation. The Odias over there do an Utkal Diwas and Rath Yatra program, followed by a picnic on sea beach once in a year, I said - "We Odias in America apart from what you do, we do Saraswati and Ganesh Puja, Holi and Diwali in addition". "Hun... that's a whole lot of event", she responded. "Well, the more the events, more seeds of groupism it sown and spread, as familiarity breeds contempt" - I replied impromptu. She nodded in agreement. 

A sudden burst of air turbulence shook the flight. The announcement came on air asking passengers to fasten their seat belts. A few recalcitrant ones stood up, tiptoeing through the narrow aisle in between the seats trying to keep themseves steady. The Airhostess politely checked the lady's little daughter who was fast asleep and told her mom to fasten the kid's seatbelt. But she wasn't very polite to these errand passengers still loitering around. In a soft yet firm voice she told them to go back to their seats.

It didn't take very long before the short flight from Bhubaneswar to Delhi was over. As the flight descended, the houses looked like a colony of fireflies dispersed in a large concrete jungle. The string of cars on roadways looked like yellowish red Lava flowing from an actively erupting volcano. I bid adieu to the lady and her little daughter as I headed to pickup my luggage from the baggage claim area and proceed to the International gate. 

In life such encounters in train, plane and automobiles rarely last long. It reminds me of a passage from our epic Hindu scripture BHAGVAT GEETA - two logs floating in the middle of Ocean collide with each other, to get separated forever, never ever to meet again. Back of my mind I knew, the same awaits me after the rendezvous with many of whom I am sure I am destined not to meet them ever again. 

The Doha to Atlanta flight on Qatar Airways was 14 hour long. The food was good, but the seats in cattle class (economy class) were crammy. To make the situation worse, I was in a window seat, the other two adjacent seats were occupied by two Amazonian women. It was an herculean talks for them to get up and let me go whenever I needed a break during the 14 hour long flight. I decided to watch movies and take a nap, using this opportunity to take a detox break cut off from social media.

Back in Georgia to a cool and breezy, late evening temperature of 80°F (27°Centigrade). It would be early morning in India. Already miss the humming of mosquitoes and brutally clapping them to death, the yodelling of mongrels in middle of night. The crispy air of Georgia felt refreshingly fresh as I stepped out of the Airport. It felt odd not to hear a single vehicle honking on my 100 miles (160 km) road trip from Atlanta to Columbus. Miss the din and bustle, crowd and the continous kickee...kickkee..kickee...of bikes yonking horn and slicing their way through the traffic - the ubiquitous jerk on the road and the bumpy rides, the roads being too smooth for comfort to my back here. No place under sun can match India in the richness of flora, fauna, chaos and characters to write about. Often chaos and disorder brings the fun and frolic out of life rather than orderly tidiness. 

Traveled nearly 15,000 miles toing and froing between my family in United States and India. Felt sad to bid adieu to ndia, happy to get back to my family, the daily grind in Georgia. Left India with Jai Jagannath in mind, back with "Georgia in my mind" - to echo the famous song by Ray Charles. I have two hearts, India and USA, separated by 7 seas and 13 rivers, united by the bond of love. Rooted strongly in both, I am rooting for both. Though I love United States, my adopted home, like first love in life India is and always will be close to my heart. Thus concludes my travelog to India this year.

Goodbye India - India trip 2025

 It's a pride and status symbol for every Odia to own a house or at least an apartment in Bhubaneswar. I being a Brahmin who neither owns a house nor an apartment in the capital city of Odisha (the house where I currently live free of cost belongs to my dad) is destined to be a "BRAHMA RAKHYASA" - King of Ghosts (A Brahmin with low accomplishment in life is supposed to become a BRAHMA RAKHYASA after his death. I being a PENA (useless) or DHAIN (nincompoop) per local lingo who doesn't own anything in Bhonsar fits the bill, and well on track to become a BRAHMA RAKHYASA and scare the hell out of others.

Weather here is too hot to handle. The heat is enormous between 10 AM till sunset. It feels better when it gets windy with evaporation causing cooling. Otherwise the stifling heat and humidity occasionally makes you feel like fish out of water. Air Conditioning and occasional KALABAISAKHI summer thunderstorms has been very helpful during my stay, keeping the temperature at bay. For those who live in cooler climate, unless it's absolutely necessary it is better to travel to India during the salubrious winter months.

Many here give me unsolicited advice to be careful about PETA GARAM or the Hot Stomach Syndrome in this scorching heat. This colloquial and mysterious medical adage is blamed for every common human ailments, from constipation to cough. During childhood days in Odisha, I once had a prolonged dry cough following a bout of fever. My father took me to a prominent doctor of Bhubaneswar, who happened to be his close friend. When the self diagnostic in me told my Doc Uncle that the cause could be PETA GARAM (warmth of the belly), he simply smiled back at me while writing his prescription. His medicine fixed my cough in a few days. But it hardly shook my faith about this hot belly syndrome.

No one still knows exactly what the elusive PETA GARAM is, but drinking plenty of PAIDA PANI (coconut water) and flashing mugs of cold water on your lower belly at shower is the prescription to get rid of it. The term PETA is more famously associated with the acronym for "People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals". But here, the treatments for PETA GARAM which is associated only to a species of mammal called humans, ethically flashing mugs of water on the outer surface of belly is considered as a prevention which any day is better than cure. The cause of a lingering dry cough is always blamed on that elusive PETA GARAM. In case of fever, especially during the summer, it is advised to take a bath with sprinkling less water on head, but a liberal flashing of mugs of cooler water on belly (PETA) to prevent it from going hot (GARAM).

If your Pee resembles Mustard oil in color and viscosity, it's again the symptom of legendary PETA GARAM. Shower and ablution those days were a combination of water, bucket and mugs, the fad of toilet paper was still elitist. The concept of toilet paper was as alien as aliens were to us. Toilet and paper were two separate entity, juxtaposing them was strictly fantasy in a country where in 40 degree heat and after consuming hot food, water feels a lot better than paper.

Brahmins were expected to take shower in a semi naked state to prevent their PAITA (sacred thread worn over their shoulder) from getting MAARA (spoiled). And it should involve pouring mugs of water on your belly to keep it in cool and forming a barrage against disease. It's not uncommon for me here to come out of bathroom with drenched and dipping cloth, a la male version of Mandakini, of Raj Kapoor's "Ram Teri Ganga Maili" fame. In summer such an experience is pleasant. In winter one needs to shiver for minutes before changing to dry clothing.

In our college hostel, there would be a beeline in front of the standing showers when the municipality supply water comes running at noon. The line used to be longer during the winter months as the running water was relatively warmer than the stored one.
The first couple of mugs of water would be poured over the body with a burst of latest Bollywood hit song at top of his voice. That would instantly kill the fear of cold water. The BESURA (tone and beat less) song continues as mugs of water are flashed on the belly to prevent PETA GARAM. The song slowly dies down, as the next person in line keeps knocking on the door, a terse reminder to wrap up with soaked GAMUCHA and tip toe back to your room. Not sure if those preventing measures really prevented us from common ailments. But am sure, PETA GARAM it is just another name for dehydration. By drinking plenty of water one is better off than flashing liters of cool water on the torso.

Few would be aware of Rama Chandra Mishra, the unsung but talented author of many Odia short stories who went by his pen name  FATURANANDA. He was known for his wit and sarcasm laced writing whose description of minute details of human foibles was amazing - especially those related to human feelings. He was very young when he lost his eyesight, so he could never fall in love at firstsight. He described his feeling of blind love in Odia - "PETA RU GARAM PABAN BAHARI CHHATI KU KUTU KUTU KALA PARI ABHINGAYA" (Love is the feeling of a hot air emanating from the stomach and tickling your heart). I fell in love with that expression of a person who could see it without able to see anyone. Such a feeling of PETA GARAM isn't too bad.

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 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...

Day XV and XVI in Bhubaneswar - India trip 2025

 In our epic MAHABHARAT Duryodhan, the Scion of Kuru Dynasty refused to yield a "SUCHYAGRA MEDINI" (a land equivalent to tip of a needle) to his cousin Pandavas leading to the 18 day war where his entire Kuru clan perished. Glad Duryodhan lived in Hastinapur, not Bhubaneswar. Had he lived in the capital city of Odisha, he wouldn't have find a land equivalent to tip of a needle here, as every bit of land is occupied. Wherever I travel inside the city I don't find a single square inch of land unoccupied. There are houses, stores, kiosks everywhere. Even roads, streets are occupied by vehicles and there are people everywhere, sometimes it's difficult to find a decent place to stand and contemplate.

At the counter of a local bank, I stood on line to encash my check. "Agyan computer online HABAKU TIKE TIME LAGIBA" (it will take a while to get online). I didn't mind standing right under the fan which churned out the AC air drying my sweat, cooling it off as well as driving couple of mosquitoes 🦟 towards the teller, who tried frantically clap them to death. The tiny blood sucker duo escaped, continuing their guerrilla warfare. Mosquitoes are like humans - they flatter you by singing sweet nothing around your earlobes, but do backbiting. But unlike humans they don't carry the burden of hypocrisy.

I was reminded me about this funny incident regarding mosquito at a hotel in Florida a few years ago. As the pretty receptionist handed over me the magnetic strip key to our room, I saw a mosquito surreptitiously sitting on her cheek. Noticing me staring at her she smiled back at me "Do you have any questions ?" I replied back "Yes, May I slap you ?" "What ?" She retorted back ! I pointed to the mosquito on her cheek. She instantly burst into laughter as her reflect action led to slap herself and blurt out - "Welcome to Florida. We call Mosquito, the National Bird of our State". Glad a la Mahatma Gandhi she didn't show her other cheek to the mosquito.

I was startled back to reality as unlike in Florida I wasn't facing a pretty girl at this bank counter, rather a man with Walrus moustache with nose hair drooping like equi-potential vectors we studied in intermediate Physics. As he was about to hand me the cash, he got a call. It was apparently his wife at the other end checking on the summer lunch menu of Pakhala, Sukhua and so on. The customer can wait, not a call from wife.

Centuries ago Bhubaneswar was the center of Saivaites, unlike many back in those days who were Vaisnavites. There was a division amongst the Saivites and Vaisnavites. Even the kings fought with each other based upon their allegiance to two prominent Hindu Gods, similar to Shia versus Sunni, Catholics versus Protestant. Bhubaneswar is full of temples of Lord Shiva, at least a dozen within couple of miles radius from my house - the most prominent being the Lingaraj temple built by Lalatendu Keshari. And the city, especially the Old Town area is filled with Coconut trees including 3 of our own. I am savoring the tender Coconut water (PAIDA) as much as possible to keep me hydrated.

Coconut water reminded me of this funny incident from one of my trips years ago. After finishing my brisk walk in the Forest Park, followed by a quick shower I took a slow walk to the local Sukhmeswar temple, barely 500 feet from our house. The temple had more than its usual share of devotees that day being the double whammy day of Sankranti and Sombaar, with Bhakts (devotees) making a beeline to enter into the narrow entrance of the temple, touching the feet of the Bull, the carrier of Lord Shiva lying near the entrance.
I finished my "Darshan" of the diety and started by walk home after ringing the temple bell.

Before walking to the temple I drank Tea, followed by Amul Lassi and couple of glasses of PAIDA (young coconut) water freshly plucked from one of the Coconut trees in our backyard. While on my way back I realised my bladder was about to burst as I won't be able to hold on to it much longer. As there was still some distance to be covered (distance is a relative term and not just a number when you walk with controlling nature's call when meters seem to be miles), I thought it would be prudent for me to open the valve midway.

Frantically looking for a spot with privacy, I found a suitable peeing spot by roadside. It was a dry spot near a wet wall, heavily stained by betel leaf saliva and more heavily stenched by rivulets of urine mixed with red saliva. Couple of guys joined me on both sides of me inspecting the site for a location. The guy on my right looked up into the sky while relieving himself. I turned my head to the left and smiled at the other. He reciprocated by smiling back at me, exposing his phalanx of 32 of his dark, betel stained teeth.

We all shook ourselves off the residual droplets, lifted and tightened our pants and bid each other an unspoken good bye. It is another feeling of the pleasure of relieving oneself under open, blue sky, something I rarely do these days. A la a doggie I managed to leave my scent behind, may be back one day to reuse the spot. It is the best way to recycle these wall urinals lurking around the smart city. No place to wash hands, I knew it will be a few minutes before I reach home to do so - sincerely wishing of not getting an opportunity to shake hands with someone. Feeling completely light and relieved, I started trudging my way back home with washing my hands on my first to do list upon reaching home.

Soon my wish was to be belied. I saw a familiar face, our neighborhood Mausa (Uncle) rushing towards me - "HAIO KEBE FOREIGN RU ASILA. KETE DINA ACHHA" - "Hey when did you come from abroad (Foreign in Odia is the term used here to denote a nation outside India, especially Western Countries). How long are you staying", extending his hands for a warm welcome handshake. I did a "Namaskar" to him, thinking there won't be a need for any handshake. But he insisted on shaking my hands. So, reluctantly I took my hand forward, squinting my nose, hesitantly extending my unwashed right hand towards him. The smiling person at the other side shook his hands we me enthusiastically for a good few seconds. 

Post handshake, he rolled his hands over his lip and chins, making me squint and raise my nose further. Hope someone recorded this handshake moment, it could very well get million plus hits on YouTube a la the greatest handshakes in history - Chamberlain with Hitler, Nixon with Chairman Mao, Ronald Reagan vs Mikhail Gorbachev and now Sambeet Dash vs local Mausa. Glad I didn't meet any more Mr. Fortunates on my way to shake hands with. 

Another commonly used word to address someone here is "Sir or SAAREY, spoken in thick Odia accent). In the Southern part of US, one is often addressed as Sir as a matter of respect and gratitude, no matter what you are and what you do. It is considered as an integral part of Southern hospitality and mannerism in the Dixies States of United States. In Britain you need to go an extra mile for the same. You need to command respect to earn it. SIR is usually associated with the coveted Knighthood, reserved only for persons with extraordinary abilities - in the fields of Sports, Literature or Politics.

In India the word "Sir" is used way too loosely. During my growing up days the word Sir was sparingly used only to address Teachers and high level officials who sipped "Teachers". Now a days, any dumb addresses the dumber as Sir, a perfect example is me addressed as Sir on multiple occasions in India without hardly doing anything noteworthy to deserve such an accolade. Often sugar coated, wrapped in obsequiousness and delivered with a bended spine posture, it often comes in form of "SIR Jee" as if just SIR is not enough. This is also invariably followed by the character assassination of the Sir behind his back. As soon as Sir steps away, the Sir turns into a "SALAA" - which means wife's brother but in a derogatory way it alludes "I am the seducer of your sister".

Once I met a friend who came late to a friendly gathering no too long ago. His excuse - he had to drop his SAAREY at the Airport. Fair enough. I sarcastically asked him "You have been dropping your SIRs at Airport since time immemorial. Is it not high time for you now to be a Sir ?" Nodding in approval were those who were around, having a hearty laugh at my joke's expense. Hope his turn to be at the receiving end of the coveted Sir status, the ultimate dream of many arrives sooner than later. More later...

Day XIII and XIV in Bhubaneswar- India trip 2025

 Are you with your Missus and family ?", is a question I am commonly asked here by commoners. People in Odisha are bit shy of using the word "wife" if enquiring about your's. The word Missus is widely prevalent and is the preferred word for wife. When I eat the succulent Mangoes, the King of fruits native to India, I remember my Missus and son who are very fond of mangoes. The three of us have a history of devouring a dozen mangoes in just one sitting.

There are also differences in the usage of certain words (phrases) in America and my native state of Odisha. One such word is "Nonsense". In US the word nonsense simply means something which doesn't make sense or difficult to understand with no malice to anyone. But in Odisha saying "Nonsense" can be considered as a GAALI or rebuke, taken in a derogatory sense. Another one is the usage of the phrase "I don't care". It implies lack of inclination or disinterest or simply "it's non of my business". In Odisha saying "I don't care" can instantly brand you as a heartless person lacking empathy. Meanings of innocuous word or phrases can be lost in translation.

Manage and adjust are two widely used words here in Bhubaneswar where population is high while resources are limited. A frequently used phrase one comes across is - "TIKE ADJUST KARANTU" (in Odia) or "THODA ADJUCT KIJIYE" (HIndi), both meaning, "Please adjust a little bit" (A modern Bhonsariya loves his daily dosage of Hindi however convoluted or "Pakhala Khia" it may be). In many instances it simply denotes, please squeeze in more than 5 people in a seat for 3 persons inside a car or any mode of transport. Or a polite way of saying, "Bear the inconvenience".

The word adjust is ubiquitous and can fit to multiple scenarios. A NRI (Non Resident Indian) visiting India once went shopping for Toilet paper. The store was out of it. Said the furious NRI, "What kind of store you have ? Can't you carry a necessity item like toilet paper ?" "Sorry Sir. My bad", the storekeeper responded politely. We don't have toilet paper but we have plenty of sand papers. TIKE ADJUST KARANTU ("Please adjust a bit)".

One thing I have observed that folks in Bhubaneswar have become a lot more health conscious these days. The sweets like Rasagola, Chhena Jhili, Rabidi, Rasabali tastes a lot less sweeter these days. I asked this to the owner of "Bhai Bhai Rasagola", a popular sweet store close to my home about this lack of sweetness. He said that as more Odias are detected diabetic these days, the general preference is for low sugar sweets. Though healthy, the great sweets from the sweet state of Odisha now lack the punch of the yesteryears which could be attributed to reduced sugar in these syrup based sweets.

Life in Bhubaneswar runs at a slow, crazy pace but time passes fast. Before I realized already 2/3rd of my vacation is over and soon my entire vacation will be over just like the twinkling of an eye. So it's better to make the best out of it. Despite the scorching heat in daytime, it was a cool, cloudy, morning today with light wind blowing the dust around. The tree leaves on foliage were desperately trying to shrug off the dust by swaying with the wind. Gradually the wind started to taper, winding up. 

Accompanied by a small group of friends, I stepped inside the Forest Park. The morning traffic to the park seemed a walk in the park. The floor of the walking trail was filled with few broken twigs and leaves from the wind. There were plenty of "Baul (Acacia) and colorful Krushnachuda (Gulmohar or Royal Poinciana)" trees inside the park. The fruit laden mango trees were looking protruding out of the dusty, green leaves like green ornament studded Christmas trees. The gargantuan brown jack fruits hung from tree trunks like the fat flab hanging from torso of an overweight. Patches of greenish yellow red flowers sprinkled all over the walking trail.

The Park was crowded with walkers and a few joggers trying to outrun each other. The walking crowd consisted mainly of men and fewer women of short stature and highly disproportionate figures - slim hands and legs with protruding paunch fitting perfectly to local milieu. Some were seen frantically scanning their smartphones while huffing and puffing ahead, taking a break to text in between before resuming their walk. The few taller and fitter guys around were taking longer laps, jogging among the dust laden path surrounded by trees.

It was a good sign to see increasing number of morning walkers in Forest Park which I frequented during my stay. As I walked in a  circle passing an enclosed enclave, I could hear the high decibel Bollywood song playing - "ANKH MARE O LADKI ANKH MARE" (The girl winks at me a lot). My curious eyes too inadvertently winked at them as I peeped through the narrow opening in between the walls with one eye closed. I saw a lot of pot bellied middle aged men and women gyrating their tummies to the tune of the Hindi music exposing their white protruding chest, breast hairs and betel stained teeth. They were desperately swinging their 6 pack fats striving hard to get a 6 pack abs. Having my fill in my role of peeping Tom watching their missteps in their dance sessions and glancing at a peeing Tom relieving himself next to the wall, I resumed my walk.

Completing 5 rounds in the park helped me ameliorate the guilty pleasure of my gluttony. Surrounded by tons of greenery supplying fresh oxygen, Forest park is a commendable place to take a walk. The Park gets crowded between 7 to 9 AM, hence if you are looking for plenty of elbow space and privacy you may have to avoid that timeframe. Otherwise much recommended park for a walk. More later...

Day XI and XII - India trip 2025

These days in Bhubaneswar I am eating a lot like pig. The result was something I ate last night tore up my stomach pretty bad. I think it was GUPCHUP (Golgappa or Pani Puri), a popular street food the culprit. I have been a stickler to eating only freshly cooked hot food and drinking bottled (mineral) water when I am eating outside. Gupchup doesn't fall under either of these categories. During my growing up days in Bhubaneswar, I would drink any food and water, rarely suffering from stomach ailments. But guess living outside India for close to 3 decades has taken the toll on my immunity. My tryst with outside food drained me out well till last drop. 

During upset stomach it's not important how many times you lose loose shit, it's rather how many times you pee. I kept on drinking water until I directed the movement of liquid to the right orifice. Couple of back to back urination indicated that the worse was over. I had to skip my breakfast and took a light lunch of Dahi Pakhala, Santula (a mixture of boiled vegetables), Alu Bharta (Mashed potato) and Badi Chura, followed by a long afternoon siesta. Felt much better and lighter in the evening and a lot looser waistline. Loose motion can't be done in slow motion, but made this loser's trousers felt a lot looser.

Last evening I was standing near a GUPCHUP vendor who was busy perforating the large, crunchy, puffed shells using his long, uncut thumb nails looking dark at twilight from the dirt inside it. It was about 6 PM, the peak time when like all fast food vendors in the streets of Bhubaneswar, he got busy pouring mashed potato and chickpea paste inside the shell after carefully cracking its top with his fingers, dipping it in the spicy water stored in a large, earthen pot before distributing the dollops to the surrounding buyers.

The vendor's customers, most of them girls holding tiny plates made from leaves (more eco friendly than plastic plates) were taking their turns extending their hands to the man, demanding - "MATE AU TIKE PANI DIA. MATE SUKHA GOTE DIA" (Give me more spicy water, gimme a dry one). The multitasking man was super busy catering to their needs, counting the number of Gupchups he passed on to his customers, immaculaly keeping track of those consumed by each individual.

I heard a girl closeby talking to her girl friend in a soft but audible voice - "EI MAA, TU JANICHU NA, MU EXAM RE 2 TA QUESTION BHUL KARI DEICHI (Oh my dear, you know ?

I gave wrong answers to couple of questions in the exam)". The other girl absorbing every bit of it mocked back - "TU TA KHALI TO BOYFRIEND KATHA BHABUCHU. EXAM RE TO MANA AU KOUTHI" (You are only thinking about your boyfriend. Your mind isn't in the exam, rather somewhere else). Her answer led to giggles among other girls, one of them burst into laughter, almost pouring out the half eaten Gupchup stuffed inside her mouth.

Both girls were oblivious to my eyedropping.
As I was taking my bite, I latched on to every bit of this spicy conversation in rapt attention, spicier than the watery Gupchup I was washing down my throat. Boyfriend/girlfriend can be big distractions at this tender age when emotion overrides logical thinking as hormone in young bodies runs amock. Good luck girl ! Hopefully you are less distracted and concentrate more on your other exam papers. You should learn from the Gupchup vendor how to multitask and yet stay focused.

Done with their rounds of GUPCHUP gossip and munching, the girls left their leftover plates strewn around. A pariah dog lurking around, waiting for the right opportunity to started licking them, polishing off whatever it in the narrow window of the timeframe he had before being chased away. The irritated vendor shooed it away with "Hey JA JA (Go away), as the hapless mongrel fled with its tail well tucked behind hind legs. There was a puddle of water nearby. Feeling secured and safe from a distance of 10 feet, the dog started slurping from the close by puddle of water to quench its thirst post feasting on the spicy leftovers.

Arguably the best thing to happen here is UPI, the ubiquitous smartphone App enabled electronic payment systems like "Phone Pe" you see everywhere, used by all, from fast food stall owners to vegetable Vendors. Last Sunday I saw the huge "phone pe" bar code covered with stains of blood besides a goat torso hanging upside down at a roadside butcher shop. A customer after buying his pack of goat meat clicked his payment on the bar code, started his bike, honked twice, stuttered before Scooting away without even making an eye contact with the butcher.

For no reason the power went poof for couple of hours in the morning. There was not a bit of cloud in the sky, no sign of thunderstorms, yet power played truant. So much about the so called Smart city of Bhubaneswar where everyone roams around with smartphone. In Webster's dictionary the word "smart" means "clever, witty, brainy" etc. In Bhonsar dictionary a guy riding bike, wearing shining shoes and chasing girls is considered a smart guy. The name "Smart city" tag given to Bhubaneswar speaks for itself. More later....