Civic sense and sensibility

 Recently there has been lots of news about lack of civic sense shown by Indians living or visiting abroad. On foreign lands from dancing on train tracks, airport termacs to soiling bathrooms and bathrooms in hotels, using swimming pools as community baths wearing "Gamcha" & rubbing soap on body to be videographed, talking loudly in hotel lobbies, making reels at historic places like Great Wall of China, shoplifting and so on.

In Texas, America our Desi (a term used in USA for Persons of Indian origin, often in a deregatory way) siblings dance beating drums on roads inside the suburban communities celebrating Hindu festivals and drying "Papads" on their driveways, raising eyebrows. Not long ago many LUNGI (Indian loincloth which can be removed quickly for multipurpose acts) wearing bros showered a portrait of their favorite movie actor with milk followed by wild dancing lifting and swinging their Lungis for wide eyed onlookers clicking pictures and videos of theie action. The list is long and endless.

This behavior of us Desis hasn't gone unnoticed by the countries at the receiving end, followed by swift reactions. There has been reports of restaurants in Vietnam putting up boards proclaiming "Indians not allowed". In Switzerland a hotel displayed a note not to wash utensils in the bathroom tubs after discovering marvelous, curry smelling grease residue on white marble. Most of the Wheel chairs used to board Aircrafts are cornered by Indians who are accused of grossly misusing this facility. I have overheard an Airline staff pushing the wheelchairs passing disparaging remarks against Indians.

Are majority of Indians or person of Indian origin involved in these ? Certainly not. Only a handful of them do so, enough to spoil the name of the entire community. Why are we doing this ? Old habits die hard. A Keonjhar mining mafia in Odisha who not so long ago started from an humble beginning suddenly got rich taking advantage of the iron ore mining boom in the district. Though he built multiple mansions equipped with state of the art bathrooms, he still prefers to shit in open fields. Even on rainy days he ventures out in open to take a huge dump under "MUKTA AKASHA" (open sky) and gets immense pleasure by taking a look at the size of his dump. The bigger the size of the dump, more satisfaction he gets to return home happy.

I am now reminded of the popular Odia proverb, 

BATA RE HAGILE NA PADE
DEULA TOLILE NA PADE .

Roughly transliterated..
If you shit by roadside you get fame,
if you build a temple you also get fame."

While most persons of Indian origin depict the "building temple" part, a few of us Desis are exactly busy doing the road side act, occasionally literally. If you put a spoon of wine to a barrel of shit, it is shit. If you put a spoon of shit to a barrel of wine, it is still shit. Unfortunately the image of an entire community gets tarnished due to the act of a few.

We need to a bit careful about displayed our lack of civic sense abroad. Every country isn't lenient to such behaviors and can come down heavily on the recalcitrant folks. Countries like Singapore are formidable and can teach you an unforgettable lesson. For example the government of the successful city-state didn't bother a bit to consider US President Bill Clinton's appeal in 1990s to be lenient to an American citizen who did an act of vandalism on Singapore's soil. They will care a hoot about an Indian tourist. Similarly our next reel taking in China or Russia could land us in a Gulag and our spare parts may never be found.

In the last couple of decades many of us  have earned money and grown stinking rich. But our mannerism, civic sense hasn't been able to cope up with our nouveau riche status. This, coupled with sections of the diaspora having a negative perceptions through arrogance, prejudice, and an inflated belief that India has become a global superpower whose citizens deserve special treatment everywhere doesn't help. To add fuel to fire, in the age of social media and reels, such acts of lack of civic sense gets amplified. And it is the silent law abiding Indian diaspora abroad who is paying a price for such obnoxity ! Hopefully it changes for better in future.7

Raja festival of Odisha 2026

The month of June is regarded as the beginning of the summer season in USA, whereas in Odisha, my home state back home in India it marks the beginning of the end of the blistering, hot summer season. RAJA SANKRANTI is a popular festival during this time of the year - especially in the long, culturally and historically rich coastal Odisha welcoming the monsoon rains which brings down the scorching heat prevalent for months.

The festival invariably comes in mid June per the Gregorian calendar and marks the beginning of the summer crop plantation, especially rice. Raja festival isn't native to Western Odisha and frugally celebrated there. It is also considered as the harbinger of the cooler rainy season, as the South West monsoon rolls over the state from the North East, lashing it with silvery stripes of rain. The nimbus cloud bearing dark sky gets alive with the spectacle of flashes of white lightning as if zillions of flashlights are switched simultaneously in the sky, a la the zigzag lights on a circus stage or a JATRA (dance troupe) show popular in Odisha. During daytime the rain is often followed by the sky getting rewarded in the form of a rainbow of garland. These long awaited rains bring much needed relief from the long streak of heat and prickly humidity, healing the parched earth dried from a long, extended Indian summer.

As the silvery monsoon rains ornament the thick humid air, the perfume of PODA PITHA (baked rice cake) pervades the environment. Young and old alike play on DOLI (swings), with men snarling their blackened teeth and girls exposing red pouty lips - post effect from chewing PAAN (betel leaves filled with colored condiments and scented tobacco for those habitual with the stuff). The drenched earth, now softened by the fresh summer rains on parched earth accompanied by wafting petrichor scent, gets ready for tilling, marking the beginning of the KHARIP crop farming season when water supply gets plenty due to monsoon rains. 

I still cherish the memories of my trips to our ancestral village near Puri during my childhood days for a fun filled lunch of GHEE (clarified butter) laced NADIA KHECHUDI (coconut sprinkes sweet rice), thick sweet DAAL (Lentil soup), an array of Curries and fries, washed down with KHIRI (sweetened skimmed milk). It would invariably be followed by an afternoon session on the RAJA DOLI (swing). Dinner would be PITHA (Rice cakes) and more varieties of PITHA - the icing on the cake would be occasional PODA PITHA made from ripened TAALA, fruit from tall palm trees, as a fitting finale to a day of RAJA MAUJA (fun).

I remember the tall palm tree standing taller than the surrounding Coconut trees behind our house in our village, right behind our home facing a green pond perennially covered with a cessful of watercress in its dark, stenchful barely visible water where locals wash their utensil as well as their buttocks post defecation. During the early monsoon close to the 3 day long Raja festival these large brownish-black color fruits from the palm tree, looking like coconut sized plums with a yellowish orange pulp ripen and fall off from the tree. Many roll into the green swamp. Those who survive make their way to make PODA PITHA of different flavor. I was sad to hear that particular palm tree ruptured from its middle as it couldn't withstand the devastating force from Cyclone Fani a few years back, closing a chapter of the history of my ancestry. 

A few summers ago in Odisha, on the morning of RAJA Festival I switched on the TV. A promotional song LEMBU, ATI CHUPUDILE PITA (Excessively squeezed lemon tastes bitter) from an Odia movie scheduled for the RAJA release (same as prominent Bollywood movies go for a Diwali or Eid Release) was playing on screen as an Odia actress danced to the tune of a song from that movie. It was symbolic of Raja being commercialized, now  celebrated in big hotels in bigger cities as the action has shifted from the villages to the cities.

This was followed by an interview of the actress. It didn't go unnoticed to me that a discussion about an Odia movie, between an Odia anchor and a leading Odia actress getting released on a leading Odia festival, was taking place with a typical accented Odia with almost an equitable spread of 50% Odia, 30% English and 20% Hindi. Speaking in pure Odia is a sign of being a GAUNLIA (from village origin) these days, whereas talking accented Odia sounds so cool. A lot of billboards and commercials on local newspapers take pride in pronouncing RAJO instead of RAJA. 

A person usually speaks with an accent when speaking a language other than his or her mother tongue. Odisha is perhaps the only place on earth, where some (certainly not all) natives, especially from the new generation not only love to speak their own mother tongue with an accent, also chose to write it in another accent, e.g, RAJA as RAJO, MANSA as MANSHO bear testimony of it. Wish you a Happy RAJA (certainly not RAJO) from the bottom of my heart. Have a feel and fill of RAJA MAUJA.

My tryst with AC going poof

There is a saying in Odia - MANISHA SABU THARU BADA SUBIDHA BAADI PRANI (Humans are creatures of comfort). No wonder I was vindicated in last 24 hours.

I normally set my home temperature at 78°F (25°C) in summer. Yesterday afternoon no sooner I entered my home, than I felt a burst of warmth, not the usual cool comfort of humming sound of the Air Conditioning on a  summer day. I instantly suspected that something was wrong with my AC. Soon my worst fear came true. The thermostat read 84°F (27°C). It was tell tale sign of the Air Conditioning going poof.

It wasn't until the next day afternoon the AC mechanic arrived. Fixed my Air Conditioning Unit cost me a cool $278. As the unit started pumping out pleasantly cool air wafting across my house, it was literally a breath of fresh air for us. The humming of the AC circulating fresh air sounded like music to my ears. The sight of the slow climb down of the thermostat from 84°F to 78°F felt so comforting.

The outside temperature was 92 degrees (33°C), nothing compared to the Indian summer heat of 40°C (104°F) I was accustomed to, much higher with the heat index if you take the sweltering humidity into consideration. During this time of the year we go through the phase of ANASARA GULUGULI (muggy) days in Odisha. The almost static air, pregnant with water vapor and barely moving a leaf on trees becomes unbearable. One feels like a melting man with hardly any relief in sight. We all took solace from a free Sauna bath.

Without access to Air Conditioning we can adjust to the environment, vindicating Darwin's theory of the survivor of the fittest. Humans being intelligent animals readily adjust to the situations and cicumstances. That's why we survived whereas the dinosaurs, mammoths and mammoth number of animals part of the fauna couldn't.

Yet we didn't complain and suffered the heat of the summer and humidity into our stride those days when Air Conditioning, now ubiquitous, was strictly a luxury item - a fantasy for the Indian middle class. But nowadays just 90 degree Fahrenheit heat with lot lesser humidity makes me feel like a fish out of water. 24 hours without AC felt like eons. Man is definitely without any doubt a creature of comfort and I am certainly not an aberration. Just 24 hours without AC in summer vindicated this fact.

During World War II at the time of relentless Nazi Bombing the British Royal Air Force fought bravely against the air blitzkrieg of Germany's Luftwaffe. Winston Churchill, then British war time Prime Minister said this about the Royal Air force - "Never in the History of mankind so many were dependent on so few", a tribute to the contribution of the handful of pilots who stubbornly defended the entire English population from the Nazi onslaught. Same can be attributed to AC - "Never in the history of Mankind, so many humans were dependent on a mechanical unit". When in the summer month of July, 1902, a 25-year-old engineer from New York named Willis Carrier invented the first modern air-conditioning, little he knew his invention would be indispensable a century later.

How two rainstorms shaped history

How two rainstorms decided the fate of British Empire by defining the outcome of two major wars and the future of two British colonies on both sides of the world.

The Englishmen were lucky from the outset of the Battle of Plassey fought in a mango orchard of Bengal. It was the month of June and a heavy pre-monsoon downpour wetted the gunpowder of the Army of local Nawab Siraj-ud-Daula who was preparing to take the British Army head on. His generals were foolish not keep the gunpowder dry from the pouring rain. In contrast, Robert Clive, the master strategist leading the much smaller British army had the foresight to cover his gunpowder stock with rain proof tarpaulin.

No sooner the rain cleared and the war started, than English cannons came blazing in full force. The Nawab's army already weakened by treachery of Mir Jaffer and his soggy gunpowder failing to ignite, the helpless cannons were witness to a crushing defeat of the Nawab's army. This victory was a major step towards the establishment of the British empire in India. The year was 1757.

Exactly 20 years later in 1777 on other side of the globe, the same British were engaged in a fight to the finish with the American army led by the legendary George Washington near a city to be later named after him close to river Potomac. Washington was a bit nervous due to the size and sophistication of the professional, experienced and battle tested well trained British Army and the French help on its way was days away.

Just before the battle began, the wind started gathering speed. The sky started turning into gray, suddenly becoming dark with lightning as powerful Nor'ester approched which is very typical of North Eastern America during summer. The Armies from both sides failed to see the gathering storm and were rattled, but it was the British standing on a lower ground were at the worst receiving end. Their powerful but heavy artillery and cannon got buried, stuck in slush mud. The horses and men were scattered helter skelter. Damage caused by the weather was devastating enough to stop the war not for hours but for several days before the French troops arrived from the North to bolster the American troops. Boisterous with the new enforcement, the Americans led by an able General in George Washington managed to defeat Lord Cornwallis's British Army in a bitterly fought yet divisive war which led to the foundation of the United States of America.

A frustrated, dejected Lord Cornwallis under whose wings the British faced a rare defeat at that time, later went to India to establish the British empire there, its crown colony by defeating Mysore's Tipu Sultan few years later. This is how two rainstorms in 12 years shaped history of the world separated by 12 time zones.

Happy birthday Binod Kanungo

 Today is the birthday of another of Odisha's forgotten heroes. His name is Binod Kanungo, the man who wrote GYANA MANDALA or Encyclopedia in Odia.

Born this day in the year 1912, Mr. Binod Kanungo wasn't highly educated, nor he earned any fancy degree. But he was a brilliant student and a voracious reader. Like many famous creative persons he was a school dropout, though he left pursuing formal education for a different reason. Inspired by JATIYA KABI (National Poet) Bira Kishore he decided to drop out of school on 10th of April, 1930 to join in full fledge the Freedom movement against British.

After being released from the jail, in post independent India he had the option of plunging into the more lucrative profession of politics. But spreading knowledge was his motto, so he settled down in Cuttack which was the cultural epicenter, a happening place Odisha at that time, the state's capital and a counterpart of our present day Bhubaneswar. To give him company was his frugal possession of a 1 Rupee note (bill), a cotton shirt, a MASINA (plain mattress) and his most prized material - An array of books.

He never pursued formal education, nor thrived for a degree which could have landed him a decent job those days. A la the famous dropouts Bill Gates, Steve Jobs or Mark Zuckerberg, he went above and beyond doing a job. He wanted to do something more contributory and beneficial to the society.

So he started writing GYANA MANDALA or an Encyclopedia in January, 1954 - a first of its kind in Odia and in Odisha. It took him six long years to collect, compile and present all the necessary information in an age when forget Internet and Google, electricity was strictly fantasy and out of reach for a rural centric Odisha. On December 2, 1960 his baby - PRATHAMA SANSKALANA or the first edition the first ever Odia encyclopedia was born.

Winner of the Odia Sahitya (literature) Academy awards and Civilian Award Padmashree, he carved his niche before passing away in June, 1990 - the same month he was born at the age of 78. May Odisha produce more pioneers like him. Happy 114th to the creator of the first Encyclopedia in Odisha.

Ides of June

The first week of June also reminds me of couple of events of far reaching consequences. One is the Operation Blue Star, which happened this week exactly 42 years ago in the year 1984. The Congress party which perfected the art of mishandling crisis (Bangladesh war of 1971 being the exception), completely blew the situation in Punjab at that time out of proportion by catapulting Bhindranwale, a Sikh with a flowing beard and aquiline nose from a small time preacher into a big time martyr. (BJP is fast catching up with Congress in mishandling issues - the longer is its tenure in power, the more screw ups are in making. But that's a different story for a different day). 

As Khushwant Singh mentioned in his autobiography, Giani Zail Singh, India's ex Home Minister and President famously described Bhindranwale as SADDE DANDA or "our stick" to beat the Akalis with. Congress party wanted to use him as an useful idiot to settle score against its Akali opponents. Eventually the so called useful idiot became a genie escaped from the bottle and the DANDA became a huge stick to cause pain to Congress and the nation's butt.

Bhindranwale's myth still lives on. It's not unusual to find T-shirts figuring his turbaned head and cassettes containing his speech in parts of Punjab, especially in the rural areas. His simple but powerful one liners like 'JO DARTA WOH SIKH NAHI AUR JO SIKH HAI WOH DARTA NAHI' (one who fears is not a Sikh, one who is a Sikh never fears) caught the imagination of the Sikh youth of that generation.

The violence and senseless killings reached its peak in the late 1980s when the Punjab problem seemed beyond solution. I met an Odia guy, who was lucky to survice one such attacks in JCT Mills, Phagwara. One night, a bunch of terrorists entered the plant compound and quickly wrapped up those from outside of Punjab they could get their hands on. Then they forced them to stand in a line and shot them randomly. But
before doing their cold blooded target practice, those heartless folks took some time to play with their victims who were crying and begging for their lives.

Our Odia guy was standing in a dark corner. In the commotion, he decided to take his chances. He slowly stepped backwards, jumped off a wall and ran away, luckily surviving the volley of bullets sent after him. The darkness and his luck saved him. He just ran away and next morning (Night time bus services were banned in Punjab those days) he left Punjab once and forever, determined not to return ever again. His story sent chills down my spine.

Sending out the Army into the Golden Temple to flush out terrorists was akin to bringing down a house to get rid of rat menace. Operation Blue Star on 4th June had its series of consequences. Prime Minister Indira Gandhi was assassinated by her own Sikh bodyguards not long after the operation to flush out terrorists from Golden Temple. Khushwant Singh who once used to be close to her family, especially to her younger son Sanjay Gandhi, but later fell out of her favor after Sanjay's death in an air crash, still wanted to visit her home to pay his last respect, in spite of their estrangement. When he was about to leave he got a call from a well wisher - "Sardarjee (as Sikhs are addressed), have you lost your mind by any chance ? Don't ever dare going out now. The goons of Congress are dragging Sikhs out of vehicles, roasting them alive. They are going to make a Sikh Kabaab (barbecue) out of you". 

Indira Gandhi's death was followed by killing of many innocent Sikhs who were butchered by hired Congress goons. The Sikhs retaliated by killing many innocent Hindus in Punjab as the terrorism continued for many more years to come.The other event in June is the 37th Anniversary of the Tiananman Square massacre in China. The famous picture from the 1st week of June 1989, of the lone young man standing bravely in front of a Tank carries a lot of connotations.

It is an image of defiance and a strong desire for freedom by the contemporary youth. Sadly the Chinese government effectively quashed the freedom movement. The movement became dormant, but is far from dead. Quarter of a century later in that nation well connected with microbloggers it's sitting on a tinterbox who knows one day could implode any moment. History could be made any time. One never knows. So beware of the Ides of June !

FATURANANDA - the forgetten Odia writer

 He is a fellow Gemini like me. I doubt many from current generation would remember him today. A talented but underrated writer he was born on this day more than a century ago in Odisha. He possessed the typical traits of a Geminian, being an excellent communicator and artistically inclined since childhood. His real name was Rama Chandra Mishra, but went by his pen name FATURANANDA - a writer of Odia short short stories who has physically blind.

Born in Jhanjhirmangala, Cuttack he was a non conformist and his writing mostly satirical. He suffered from a disease during his childhood which took out his eyesight. Growing in an era when Odia literature was not appreciated a whole lot, nor could buy a decent, comfortable living - he vented his frustration and cynicism in his writing using satire as a weapon. His language was lucid with a unique flow, his black humor and sheer poignance driving the images of his characters. 

Faturananda's description in minute details of the ethos and pathos of life was amazing - especially of the human feelings. He was very young when he lost his eyesight, so could never fell in love at firstsight. He described the feeling of love in his unique way, the way a blind man sees it - "PETA RU GOTE GARAM PABAN BAHARI CHHATI KU KUTU KUTU KALA PARI ABHINGAYA" (Love is the feeling of a warm air emanating from the stomach and tickling your heart). I fell in love with that expression of a person who could see his feelings which he was unable to see through his eyes.

In one of his short stories, a talented but failed painter was surprised at the sudden adulation in his art gallery. He painted a portrait of BUDHHA DEBA (Lord Goutam Buddha). But suddenly he noticed some changes on his painting. Without his knowledge, the night before his infant son played with the paint brush, crisis crossing Lord Buddha's painting with his playful hue straight out of his shit. A connoisseur of art interpreted the brownish shit coated portrait as BUDDHA DEBA (a Gentle God) turning into KRUDHA DEBA (An Angry God) and its aroma depicting the non-violence protagonist Buddha's disgust at the prevalent go of the world. The poor and struggling arist got a hefty price when that painting was auctioned, least knowing that the credit should goes to his child's fresh shit on his canvas.

There is this story behind his unusual pen name FATURANANDA. Every evening he and his friends used to gather together (called GULLI KHATTI or light hearted chatting in local parlance) inside a dilapited room of a local Club in Cuttack. In one such Gulli Khatti gatherings everyone was asked to give a nickname to the other guy ending with the word "Nanda". The participants gave each other a name like Prema (love) - Nanda, Dharma (righteous) - Nanda, Dhana (wealth) - Nanda, depending on their proficiency in love, spirituality and wealth. Nobody could coin the appropriate name for him, so he came up with FATURANANDA - which basically means nothing. But the name stuck to him and he used it as his pen name. 

His Biography "MO PHUTA DANGA RA KAHANI" (The story of my punctured Boat) was a bare all of the morbid milieu and his struggle in a feudal, poverty stricken Odia society of the time known to be a graveyard for any kind of creative pursuit. I believe he was the proverbial "BANA MALLI BANA RE JHADI JAE" - "Jasmin flower in the forest falls off without its fragrance ever getting noticed".

Mortal man with immortal contribution. My two cent of tribute on his 111th birthday - to the man who is one of many talented Odias ignored by the sands of time, hoping it inspires the current generation and many more generations to come.