Janmastami and Godmen

 We just passed JANMASTAMI, Birthday of Sri Krishna, an Avatar of Lord Vishnu. It reminded me of this Baba, a charlatan in the guise of a saint who once lived in Bhubaneswar. He proclaimed himself as an incarnation of Lord Vishnu, his 11th Avatar. On this auspicious day it was rumored that the Baba turned himself into BAL GOPAL (Baby Krishna). His women devotees cuddles him and took turns in feeding him milk. Preaching others about avoiding fatty food but himself not so averse towards it, the Baba was said to have a preferences for full fat milk over semi fat ones.

Well, he imbibed so much milk that he could not digest and so also the local populace couldn't digest his escapades. One fine morning his ASHRAM (abode) was stoned and Baba fled away. Don't know what happened to this self proclaimed 11th incarnation of Vishnu. He was rumored to have resurfaced elsewhere.

In Punjab the controversial Baba Ram Rahim Singh was in news not long ago. The Baba had been convicted of rape charges and his followers had taken to street, taking the tri-state of Punjab, Haryana and Delhi into hostage for a few days as violence reigned. He had patronage of all political parties including BJP. Now we have examples of fake Babas from East (Odisha) and North (Punjab), South (Tamil Nadu) in the form of Nityananda Swami and West (Gujarat) in Asharam Bapu complete the pan-India affliction of the Baba franchise.

I am not against Godmen. They and their followers have every right to their belief and peaceful assembly to preach and sooth the tired souls as long as they stay within the framework of law. But some are known to take law for granted and into their own hands. They also indulge in obnoxious activities, often involving women and children. The myths surrounding them eventually get shattered, replaced with controversies and free fall from grace.

What's the secret potion that enables these Babas to sustain, survive and elude the authorities of any misdeed ? Many of those nefarious Gurus have equally unscrupulous folks as disciples which includes but not limited to politician, bureaucrats and businessmen. The Baba often acts as a conduit, a wheeler and dealer for those in power, a backroom boy who knows their secrets and use them an insurance for future.

The vast majority of the disciples of these Babas aren't illiterate, poor folks as we would think, they are rather from the middle class and upper strata of our society. Many, especially women suffering from insecurities and bored with their bland daily drudgery of suburban, small city life become the SHISYAS (Female devotees) of these charlatans to get some kick and adventure as an scape ftom their mundane lives. But familiarity breeds contempt. The disillusionment kicks in for some at some point when they discover how uncouth and fake these Babas are. Their Guru's misdeeds events gets exposed with time as the ocean floor gets exposed after the fall of high tide.

But these folks are in minority, for come what may, still a vast number of brainwashed BHAKTs (disciples) chose to virulently defend their Babas. This doesn't come as a surprise to me. When I posted earlier about the milk loving Baba of Odisha, a friend of mine who incidentally had studied in IIT apparently got pisses off and started trolling me. If this was the reaction from a highly educated guy (studying in IITs, a premier Technical Institution is arguably considered the highest form of education in India).

Karma is a bitch ! Gladly, law and their own Karma eventually catches them. I hope they rot in jail, excelling in CHAKKI PEESING..PEESING.. PEESING (A Hindi allegory describing jail time).

Teacher's Day 2026

Today is TEACHER's Day, all other brands are prohibited (Teachers is a popular brand of Scotch). Joke apart, I salute to all my teachers who have made a huge difference in my life by shaping my knowledge and character. It is not just limited to my teachers in school and college. My parents were my first teachers. Then came friends, relatives, acquaintances as my teachers in various forms at different stages in my life. There is always something to learn from every human being, a prince or a pauper, a beggar or a sorcerer, an animal or an inanimate object. Life is the biggest teacher. 

A good movie can be a good teacher too. In the iconic movie 3 IDIOTs, on the Teacher's Day of September 5, the character Chatur Ramalingam goes on stage to recite a Sanskrit Sloka (hymn) eulogizing the teachers of his college. He rotes the Sloka by memory, without understanding a single word, nor caring about its content, without realizing that the original speech was altered by a playful and witty Rancho (played by Aamir Khan). 

As Chatur on the stage was about to vomit the Sloka he rote from what Rancho wrote, the later told his friends to get ready to hear a sermon about the former's farting prowess. Chatur recites:

UTTAMAM GAD GADATA PADAM,

MADHYAM PADAM TUCHAK TUCHAK;

THUR THURIYA KANISTAM PADAM,

SUR SURIYA PRANA GHATAKAM.

Roughly transliterated...

"Loud farts are majestically thundering;

Medium farts come along stuttering,

Small Farts arrive whisteling & sirening;

The silent ones can be life threatening."

As the crowd goes berserk rupturing with laughter and poor Chatur gets kicked out of the stage. Racho's dark humor taught us another lesson in academics - Knowledge acquired through roting sans understanding may earn you a degree, but will get you nowhere. My father always emphasized on learning through understanding rather than roting.

Decades ago there was this incident, when a sub-collector in Sonepur district of Odisha did this shameful, cowardly act of kicking a hapless school teacher, abusing him as a poor MASTRA (the way the word master is often pronounced in Odia, a term mostly used in derogatory sense for teachers back home). 

I remember a cartoon related to this incident which came out on the local vernacular Newspaper "The Sambada" with the following caption, (rhyming with our famous Sloka "GURU BRAHMA GURU BISHNU... "

GURU DEENA GURU HEENA

GURU SAMANYA MASTARA;

KANDOOKA SAMAN GURU

TASME SRHEE GOITHA MARA

ITI UPA- COLLECTOR

JILLA NAMA SONAPUR.

Transliterating in the same rhyme form to keep the theme intact,

"Teacher is poor, Teacher is mere;

Teacher is just an ordinary Master.

Teacher is akin to a football;

To be kicked for sure.

Courtesy Sub-Collector,

From the district of Sonepur."

I have heard parents asking their children in Odia "KIRE MASTRA AJI KANA PADHEILA" meaning "Hey, what did the master teach you today". The English transliteration may not sound so bad but the way it is delivered in the native language is not a sign of great adulation. It shows the respect they the guardians give to their teachers.

My simple take - A society which does not respect its teachers, can never prosper. Period. Great nations are made by great men. Great men (and women) are shaped by their teachers. HAPPY TEACHER'S DAY to all.

The legend of Sher Shah Suri

 Babur, the founder of Mughal empire convened a meeting of officials of his Kingdom to celebrate a hard fought victory in the battle against the Rajput confederation led by Rana Sanga, which followed his easy victory over Ibrahim Lodhi in the historic first Battle of Panipat. A massive feast was served to the emperor and delegates from various provinces of his Kingdom.

Sitting on top of the elevated throne something caught Babur's eyes. From the high pedestal he could see a young man struggling to eat a big chunk of meat placed in front of him. The man took out his knife, cut the meat into smaller chunks and started eating those pieces using his knife. In those days it was something unusual, considered a daring act in front of the Mughal Emperor, where a certain court etiquette needed to be followed in front of royalty. Babur noticed it and told his close courtiers - "Keep an eye on this man. I have a feeling he will go very far in life".

The Mughal Badshah who didn't live very long after this incident was quite prophetic. Couple of decades later this young man Sher Shah Suri would defeat Babur's son Humayun in two successive battles - Battle of Chausa in 1939 and Battle of Kanauj in 1940. He chased and drove away Humayun who took refuse in Persia. Sher Shah now become the undisputed Emperor of India. He ruled for 5 years from 1940-45 as a successful ruler,  military campaigner and an able administrator.

Sher Shah Suri was not born into royalty. He was the son of a minor Afghan Jagirdar in modern day Bihar. It is said that when Sher Shah's mother was pregnant with him, she had an unusual dream of a crescent 🌙 moon entering her swollen belly which is considered lucky in the Islamic world. She woke up in a state of bliss, recounting this dream to her husband who kept her awake rest of the night, not to let this auspicious dream pass by, overriden by another one.

Born Farid Khan, he become Sher Shah Suri in his youth when he single handedly killed a tiger. Following his father's footstep, Sher Shah spent his early career managing estates for others inside the very Mughal court he would one day erase. The emperor he defeated, Humayun, was the son of Babur, the founder of one of the most formidable dynasties in South Asian history. None of that protected him against the swift tactics of Suri.

Sher Shah rose through the Lodi and then Sur tribal networks in the Bihar region of northern Hindustan during the 1520s and 1530s. By 1538 he had already seized Bengal and was openly challenging Humayun's authority. Humayun marched south to crush him. The two forces met first at Chausa in 1539 CE, where Sher Shah routed the Mughal army and declared himself Sultan of Hindustan on the battlefield.

Humayun regrouped and returned with a larger force. But Sher Shah who was said to possess the ferocity of a tiger and shrewdness of a jackel was waiting for him. A master strategist, at the Battle of Kanauj on May 17, 1540 CE, Sher Shah attacked before the Mughals could organize their crossing of the river Ganga. Humayun's army collapsed. The Scion of Mughal himself barely escaped, reportedly crossing the river on an inflated animal skin by a local boatman. He fled westward into Sindh, then Persia, living as a fugitive while Sher Shah governed in Delhi. Later after Sher Shah's death when Humayun regained Delhi throne he allowed the boatman to sit on his throne for one day as a matter of gratitude.

Another instance of his strategic shrewdness  is documented when Sher Shah was facing a formidable Rajput rival. He figured out that his opponent was better positioned with a larger army, so he immediately made a requisition for reinforcement. In the meantime fearing an attack from the Rajputs not to be outnumbered by them, Sher Shah spread leaflets outside the opponent's camps spreading a fake message that some Rajput Chieftains had switched sides to Suri's camp. It created confusion in the enemy ranks, buying enough time for Sher Shah get his replenishment to defeat the Rajput King.

Within five years of taking power, Sher Shah Suri had completed a road system known as Grand Trunk Road stretching approximately 2500 kilometers from Chittagong in the east to Kabul in the northwest, lined with rest houses, wells, and shade trees every two kilometers. He also minted coins and created a fair taxation and revenue system later cloned by the Mughals. In the year 1545 an accidental gunpowder explosion during the siege of Kalinjar fort killed him. His descendants were incompetent and couldn't sustain his legacy. Had he not died in that freak accident, India might have have seen a different history. But no man ever in India had ever rose so fast from the scratch to became the Emperor and ruled for so little time of 5 years to carve his niche, leaving an indelible mark inked into its history.

Stockholm syndrome

 Exactly 53 years ago, on August 23, 1973 a group of gunmen and women led by Jan Erik Olsson - high on drugs and holding a gun took hostages in a bank in Stockholm, Sweden. The world has seen several hostage dramas before and after this event. But what makes this one uniquely different is the hostages developing an emotional bond with their captors giving birth to a new phrase called  "Stockholm Syndrome".

The whole hostage drama got wide television coverage. The world was glued to TV round the clock. The audience were surprised when one of the girls taken hostage while talking to the authorities over phone started defending her captor. She had already developed a huge crush on her hostage taker who was a charismatic speaker and humored her by telling stories and playing Checkers.

The drama ended on day six when police sprayed gas into the bank, forcing the culprits to surrender, freeing the hostages and ending the crisis. But the "Stockholm syndrome" never ended and stuck around like a chewing gum stuck to your pants, refusing to go. It continues unabated in many places, in various forms where the victims love the perpetrators.

I have seen some of my college mates idolizing those professors who harassed them to no end, going an extra yard to eulogizing them, both before and after their demise. I am a son of a professor and I have ultimate respect for teaching profession. But needless harassing of young minds isn't something to be eulogized. It's Okay to admire the good things about our teachers, but to my surprise I have seen many victims of harassment needlessly going an extra yard out of way harboring "Stockholm syndrome" towards them. The famous writer Khushwant Singh who didn't spare any one including himself once wrote - "A person doesn't become better after death". He never spared anyone in his eulogy, he didn’t even spare himself when he wrote an self eulogy years before he died.

Coming from a feudal society, I heard folks eulogizing Babus (Bureaucrats), often smitten by them and the power they wield. It is not unusual to see victims at the receiving end of the Babus in Odisha saying -"ARRE SEY IAS OFFICER PEE KI BADEILA" (So and So IAS officer got drunk and beat some hapless folks). As if getting drunk and beating innocents by taking law into their own hands and taking advantage of their position is something praiseworthy. I know many who are forever stuck like glue to their marriages with "Stockholm Syndrome" in spite of being in an abusive relationship. Once a girl confided to me about her abusive relationship from a perennially cheating husband. When I questioned her compulsion of clinging to marriage and being stuck to a toxic relationship, her response was reminding me the title of a Hindi song -

"BHALA HAI BURA HAI, JAISE BHI HAI.
MERA PATI MERA DEVTA HAI".

Roughly transliterated,

"Good, Bad or Ugly, Wherever he stands.
After all, he is my husband".

We see lots of examples of the "Stockholm syndrome" in real life. Psychologically many of us tend to sympathize with our perpetrators. Part of it is due to our inferiority complex which makes us appreciate the stronger person bullying us which we aspire to do but can't due to various reasons - it could be lack of courage, the societal pressure etc etc. We get a vicarious pleasure by seeing our wishes replicated by someone else. What happens then is a perfect example of - "if you can't beat them, join them". More than 50 years since we are stuck with the "Stockholm syndrome" forever.

RIP Pranab Patnaik

When Kishore Kumar died the month of October, 1987 an article printed in the popular English newspaper of the day "The Times of India" as a tribute to the eccentric genuius of Bollywood (literally printed on paper as internet or the ubiquitous world wide web was strictly a fantasy then). It ran with the title - "The last of the originals", indicating that after Mukesh who died in 1976 and Mohammed Rafi in 1980, Kishore Kumar was arguably the last of the original male playback singer in Hindi film industry.

Same can be ascribed and attributed to Mr. Pranab Patnaik, the well known Odia singer from our generation who passed away today taking the youthful memories of one generation with him. He was the last of the originals of the Odia music after the greats Akshay Mohanty, Sikandar Alam and Chitta Jena who have passed awsy. A la Kishore Kumar, Akshay Mohanty was a virtuoso, a multifaceted artist, a versatile singer and lyricist who has penned many of his own songs. Sikandar Alam and Chitta Jena were akin to Mohd Rafi, their voices were sweeter than the legendary Pahala Rasagolla, a famous local sweet. In my view Sri Pranab Patnaik was the Mukesh of Odisha. Similar to the legend who was know for his DARD BHARE GAANE (heart touching melancholy songs), you can feel the same from his Odia counterpart's melodious voice straight out of the inner most core of his heart.

Pranab Patnaik sang tons of popular Odia songs, mentioning all is beyond the scope of this blog. For me couple of them stood out - "Seemahina Dariya" from the movie Batighara and "Majhire" from Sesha Shrabana. Both songs were from the 1970s. The 80s saw the decrease in the number of songs from the famous troika of Akshay Mohanty, Chitta Jena and Pranab Patnaik as the listener's choice shifted to cacophonic voices and double meaning bawdy songs with bad lyrics barring few exceptions.

We had a family connection to Pranab Patnaik. He was my father's friend, though a few years older to him. Mr. Patnaik's wife was my father's classmate in Ravensaw College who used to complement my father saying that I can't stop laughing at Purna's jokes. They lived close to Ravi talkies, a stone's throw from BJB Flats where I spent my childhood and early part of my youth. His son Satyakam Patnaik was a year senior to me in school. We used to take the same bus to D.M. School and play badminton together during our childhood day. It was a small world in Bhubaneswar those days when every one knew everybody and can instantly recognize a person from the color and number of the vehicle. Those were the days !

Mr. Pranab Patnaik left for heavenly aboard at the age of 88 with his indelible mark in Odia music. He took the tearful farewell of a generation of music lovers to the afterlife. Mortal man, immortal melodies. May he RIP. Om 🕉 Shanti.

Happy Independence day to India

A history of thousands years, an advanced civilization counted amongst the oldest of the old. An enchanting land of sages and the sagacious. Cradle of Eastern mysticism from which emanated some of the major religions now spread all over the world. A land of sages and ages of culture and traditions, opulence in art, literature and classical languages and music.

Hinduism, also called Sanatana Dharma, the oldest religion in universe, is the foremost among them. Buddhism was another religion which originated from this country several hundreds of years before Christ or Prophet Mohammed were born, subsequently spreaded south and far east, as far as China and Japan. So also Jainism, a religion which surfaced before the time of Gautam Buddha from the same exotic land and still in practice. That's India, the land of my birth.

For centuries India was the El Dorado, rich and considered the land of opportunity during the medieval period. Its tales of riches attracted travellers, traders and invaders from rest of the world. Columbus, the legendary Spanish explorer died a frustrated man, for he was not able to discover his dreamland called India - considered the land of milk and honey. He died a forlorn man, forced to stay  content at discovering a chain of Islands called "West Indies", his consolation prize for failing to discover India.

Eventually and unfortunately, India lost its freedom and wealth to myriads of invaders - from Alexander to Afghans, from Turks to Persians, from Mughals to the British. Many invaders from outside exploited India economically and politically, some looted and returned, some stayed back to rule us until we met our tryst with destiny on August 15,1947 when we finally got our independence. That's India, my motherland.

Since we gained our freedom and became a Democratic Republic, we haven't done a whole lot of justice to our immense potential. Very few nations can boast of abundance in natural resources, lushy green fertile lands, a wide variety of flora and fauna (India is the only country which has both Tigers and Lions, Africa which has varieties of wildlife doesn't have tigers). It got a diverse biosphere and a strong, talented workforce of English educated middle class. India has been a caged tiger, who needs to be unleashed to go for the kill.

I am tempted to lift these few lines from a popular Odia song LE NAVEENA from the year 1981. (Naveena here depicts the typical down to earth Odia guy, no relation to any person bearing the same name).

LE NAVEENA TIKE PACHAKU ANA,
HATHE BADI DHARI THIA BAPUJI NANA,
BAPUJI BUDHA RA AAKHI RE LUHA,
TA RAMA JAIJE AAJI YAMA RA BHAYA.
Transliterated..
O Naveena, just look behind.
Holding the stick in hand,
The Bapuji man is standing.
The old man's eyes are filled with tears.
Yama, the God of Death;
has filled his Dreamland with fear.

Mahatma Gandhi, the Father of Nation often credited for bringing independence to us, dreamt a RAM RAJYA (Utopian State) of India. But unfortunately, his dream remained stillborn, though post independence, we had a spell of ROME RAJYA (Romancing the indirect rule by a person of Roman origin). 

Lots of water has flown under Mahanadi bridge as we have come long way since 1981. We have come out of the miasma of poverty and malnutrition with classic Hindu rate of growth, now chugging ahead steadily, inching towards a $4 trillion GDP while moving tens of millions out of poverty.

Still a lot needs to be done, as multiple challenges lie ahead. Rocky are the roads, turbulent are the streams and miles to go before we sleep. And I am sure one day we will get there. HAPPY 79th BIRTHDAY to Motherland INDIA.

Bus and the handkerchief

Back in the early 1990s, I was travelling by bus in Odisha, wanting to board one at Barhampur bus stand. No sooner it arrived at the stop and slowed down than some passengers jumped like monkeys while running adjacent to it and started throwing their handkerchief on the seats through the open windows.

Those who have traveled by bus in Odisha know this a classic way of reserving their seats before boarding, making a line before embarking the vehicle be damned. I waited for my turn and took my time to board. Once inside I saw some empty seats though many were still standing, reluctant to occupy those seats by the windows to of which strewn with handkerchiefs.

I nonchalantly swished away one of those "Rumals" (handkerchief) from a cherished window seat and occupied it. After a few minutes here comes this guy leisurely strolling towards me munching a packet of peanuts (groundnuts), spilling the shells on the bus floor. He wasn't too pleased to see me occupying his much cherished side seat.

While he bent down to pick up his Rumal he started accusing me of stealing his seat which he painstakingly reserved for himself by throwing that piece of cloth. I told him pointing to a Scooter parked outside "So you think by throwing my handkerchief on this vehicle I can claim it as my own" - trying to drive my point. I could hear muffled laughter from surrounding passengers.

But the punchline was yet to come. Another guy sitting behind followed me in his typically Berhampuri southen Odia accent said - "HA RE PUA, MO MAAIKINA MUNDARE RUMALU TA THOI KAHIBU TO MAIKINA TA MORA EKKA" - transliterated "Oh my son, you can put the handkerchief on my wife's head and claim my wife as your's only." Now the entire bus burst into laughter.

Few years ago Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos fulfilled his dream of travelling to space by taking his spaceflight on "New Shepherd" - the rocket ship made by his space company "Blue Origin". The flight was for 10 minutes which propelled him 60 miles above the earth into the space. This baby step taken is certainly going to be the harbinger of many more such trips to space, making it more affordable to fly into the space as time flies.

A la Dr. Martin Luther King Jr who had a dream about Georgia, today I have this midsummer daydream. One day during my lifetime when the space bus would be parked I would be able to reserve a window seat by throwing handkerchief. If the space bus is overloaded I won't mind standing inside it, paying half the price of ticket. From space I will expose the phalanx of my 32 teeth and do "HeeeHeeeHeee" and wave my hand to the mere mortals on earth down below.