Happy new year 2016

The year 2015 paves its way to the year 2016. As the old man 2015 bends extending his hand and opens the door to welcome the New Year, it's time for some introspection.

A la getting rid off the old cloths for new ones and the soul moving from one body to another as famously extolled by Lord Krishna in BHAGWAT GITA, only a number 1 is added to the number of the year. Hardly anything changes. It's just the same shit, different day, as more or less the status quo is maintained. We may forget history but we don't forget to repeat it year after year. Similar to this starting stanza of the Kishore's song

EK RUT AE, EK RUN JAE PHIR,
MOUSAM BADLENA, BADLE NASEEB.

"One season comes and another goes,
the season changes not the fateful woes".

This year came with a mixed bag of good, bad and ugly. Made new friends, revived old ones and lost some ones, once and for all.

To me, almost all the New Year wishes expressed over the years have been pleasant which makes them forgettable. Our inherent human nature makes us remember the unpleasant ones. I remember this one from 1st January, 1982. On the first New Year after his marriage to Diana, Prince Charles wished the nosey British Paparazzi, " Have a Nasty New Year".

Let me repeat the forgettable wish, as I do not forget to do at the end of every year, HAVE A WONDERFUL NEW YEAR 2015. Stay blessed.

Back to US - India trip 2015

Back to US, It feels unusually warm in Georgia. A low of 15 degree Centigrade here makes it warmer than Bhubaneswar on this day. The cool air, moist and thick, feels refreshingly fresh. My ride back home from the Airport felt too smooth for comfort. I missed the bumpy rides back home, the din and bustle, the cacophony of honks and the chaotic traffic, the murmuring of mosquitoes and clapping them to death, the yodelling of mongrels in the middle of night and so on.

Reminds me of Kamal Hasan from the movie PUSHPAK, who was staying in a posh hotel, but could not sleep as he missed the sights and sounds of his locality, where his roots were deep rooted. Love it or hate it, amidst all these there is a unique flavor of India one does not find anywhere else. My first working day post vacation awaits me. Post jet lag, late in the afternoon, my chin is destined to drool and hit the space bar on my desktop keyboard.

India trip over and the holiday season coming to an end, I already feel like gaining a few pounds. Nothing unusual after a visit to India, during which one eats a lot, followed by little or no exercise. My mother disputes the, saying "MO PUARA SWASTYA TIKE HEICHI, SE MOTA HEINI" - my son has become healthy not fat. Like all mothers from our generation, gaining weight by their son is a matter of pride. A chubby chap is known as KHAIBA PIBA GHARA PILA(in Odia) or KHANE PINE WALA GHAR KA LADKA (in Hindi) meaning a boy from a well to do family who liberally spends on food.

A slim trim guy is considered as a DHAIN (in Bhubaneswar slang, meaning a nincompoop) - someone who is stingy and miser(able). A SWYASTAWALA or healthy son earns accolades for the  the daughter-in-law for feeding the son well. On the other hand a slim husband can earn the wrath of the mother-in-law, more if she is a SWASTAWALI (a healthy-she), in which case she is accused of gobbling her husband's share of food.

Still drooling over my India trip. No black coffee or aspirin can assuage this post vacation hangover, only time will heal it. My trip did not went in vain. Travelled miles to achieve several milestones including my first visit to Taj Mahal, a trip down the memory lane to NIT Rourkela, meeting parents and relatives, connecting to old friends and so on.

Still the feeling of homecoming to America is unique. Reminds me of a scene from B R Chopra's epic serial MAHABHARAT, during late 1980s. Just before the war starts, Duryodhan boasts in front of Bhishma that he has warriors like Pitamah himself, Drona, Karna, Ashosthama, Dushashana and many more on his side. Pitamah Bhishma, the wise one replied back "They all still have to face Arjun and ARJUN PHIR BHI ARJUN HAI (after all Arjun is still Arjun), elucidating the fact that Arjun is still above the rest. Drawing a similar analogy, I conclude that while I have seen many great places in the world, America is still America, standing taller amongst the rest. (PS: This is purely my personal view and one does not necessarily have to agree).

Preparation for departure - India trip 2015

Last night saw on TV, a news regarding some University students indulging in vandalism, throwing tomatoes and rotten eggs at their Chancellor. Riots, bottle, chair and stone throwing is a global phenomena. But throwing of eggs and tomatoes are very typical of India, probably extending to its neighbors Pakistan and Bangladesh. Why not potatoes and bananas, what's so special about eggs and tomatoes ?

More than 3 weeks gone since I came to India. I had a great time. Wherever I went I got stomach full of food and heart full of affection. As the time to bid adieu approaches the excitement dissipates and a classic role reversal takes place. The ecstatic feeling before making the trip gives rise to a morbid, remorse feeling. In the wee hours of the trip it's the endless cycle of meeting friends and relatives, run errands, packing, weighing, repacking and re-weighing of bags.

What's the similarities between a vacation, a consulting assignment and life ? All have a start date and a end date. Like all good things in life, a vacation has to end one day. Three, four or five weeks, however long you stay, it is never enough.  Vindicating Einstein's Theory of Relativity, vacations get over quickly, time flies where a working day go slow, never ends. Before the India trip I was rejuvenated and filled with energy. Towards the end of the trip I feel jaded,
somewhat depressed. There is always an inherently internal wish you had a few more days to spent. So with a heavy heart, but a pleasantly soothing balm of  anticipation to meet my family in United States, I bid adieu to Odisha and India.

Rourkela Day II - India trip 2015

Yestersay, while taking a stroll around the campus, I met a group of students who obliged me by agreeing to a selfie taken with them. Our tete a tete continued, they were surprised to discover that we passed out from the institute before they were even born. One of them asked, "You must be a big shot". "No, I am not", I responded, "I am a very small fry compared to numerous NITians who are highly successful around the globe". The institute has its stamp in Technocracy, Civil Services, Research and higher echelons of the Corporate World. I told them how proud I am of my Alma Mater and you all should be, whatever you do, wherever you land up in future.

On hearing to what I just said, their cup of joy was full, spilling all over in form of smiles and giggles, as if they won an event in Spring Fest defeating their rivals. I continued further, saying how pleased I was seeing so many girls in NIT, compared to hardly a dozen from our batch. And how during our days a Rengcolian boy's dream was to get the dream job of DARWAAN (the Gate Keeper) of the Ladies Hostel, to watch the damsels toing and froing Mecca. It brought the young folks laughter to crest. When solicited, my parting advise to them was to follow your Dreams, even if it's the dream of being the Ladies Hostel DARWAAN. I could still hear their giggling, which slowly waned as they melted away as I walked ahead.

When I told all these, making eye contacts with the eyes of these youngsters filled with dream, I wasn't exaggerating and stand vindicated on my assessment. Rengcolians from my batch are in myriad professions, spread over from Timbuktu to Turkmenistan. Nowhere you will find so many students after graduating, in such a wide spectrum of professional fields. We have folks in Civil Services (one each in IAS, IPS, IRS), Post grads from IIMs, Xaviers, IITs and many prominent American Universities. Top class techies, managers, bankers, businesspersons, they are spread their tentacles in 6 continents, probably with the exception of Antarctica. It's said that if you throw a stone in California Bay area, the center of creativity and innovation, it might hit the head of a Rengcolian (as a NIT, Rourkela person from my time is referenced as).

Next day, we woke up to a sunnier and chillier Rourkela. A fun filled day awaited us at our batchmate Hardeep's farmhouse in Panposh, on the outskirts of Rourkela. Secluded, but filled with modern amenities and lush green foliage, it had ample of space and facilities to host an event. In the middle of winter, I discovered a bunch of green mangoes, hanging in clusters, barely few feet above ground. Varieties of lavishly laid food platters were spread out for us, to keep us munching on through out.

As the day progressed, it felt exhilarating to catch up with the past quarter of century and beyond. Our Sardar friends, Hardeep and Gurmeet were conspicuous by their bright turbans, shining like the sands of River Brahmani on a sunny day. Sands of time has seen many of us losing our hairs, apparent from receding hairlines and eggheads, but we haven't lost our sense of humor and camaraderie. Many of us have put on weight, developed double chins, some looking mature with their salt & pepper top.

We shook our salt & peppers and protruding bellies to the tune of songs from our batchmates, especially from Rajesh Dhabre, who kept on churning out one after another numbers. A Mechanical Engineer, now with IRS, a part of Civil Services, he has become a great singer, having produced his own album. Rajesh entertained us with a plethora of hits from 60s and 70. The long day finally came to the end, as the dusty twilight was soaked with our farewell tears.

ZINDAGI NA MILLEGA DOBAARA, life won't come again the second time. Such encounters in life reminds me of a passage from our epic BHAGVAT GEETA - that 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 us after the rendezvous with our batchmates, some of whom I am destined never to meet again, never ever.

Trip to REC Day I - India trip 2015

My friend Satyakam (Happy) Dash and I boarded the Tapaswini express from Bhubaneswar to Rourkela to re-live our glorious college days, a la the guys from the Hindi movie ZINDAGI NA MILLEGA DOBAARA. After several years I had the opportunity of making a train journey in India. The Puri station has undergone a complete transformation. The profile of the passengers have changed. The folks from general class have graduated to 2nd class, 2nd class to to AC II tires, and AC II tire folks to AC 1st Class and so on.

Inside the train, we had a surprise in store. Our chatting about our college and the upcoming Silver Jubilee celebration raised the curiosity of a lady sitting next to us. She turned out to be Sweety Kanoria, our topper and one of the 11 girl students we had from our batch. She had covered Puri and Nandankanan zoo, before going to Rourkela. 

Other friends joined at Bhubaneswar station, some of whom flew from different parts of the globe. Bhubaneswar is better connected than Rourkela, so it's convenient to travel to the steel city from the capital of Odisha. Incessant chats from good ole days continued late as the trains rolled its way through stations. It was late when we decided to retire. The scent of the metal chain used to hold the berth and the diesel smoke not far from my nose, the whistle of the engine aroused a deja vu feeling. Did not know when I was rock and rolled by the train to sleep like a baby inside a cradle.

On arrival at Rourkela station a person sharing the platform floor with a dog, both lying lazy taking the advantage of the hazy winter sun on a cold morning. Both were in deep slumber, their chests heaving in rhythm hardly bothered by the swarming flies and surrounding cacophony. Couple of men were relieving themselves standing. Upon noticed they suddenly turned 45 degrees and then looked down to ensure that trajectory is maintained.

Soon proceeded to REC (Now NIT) and were amazed by the changes we saw since we left our Alma Mater 25 years  back. Boys and girls on foot and bike all over the campus with cell phones on hand, otherwise walking hand on hand, chatting. At the venue those who arrived from all over the globe were hugging and embracing, struggling to chaff out the looks of quarter of a century ago, from the current pot bellies and receding hairlines from my college days. A few with shining silver hair looked apt for Silver Jubilee.

The air was thick with excitement. We sat inside to the AV (Audio Visual) Hall, going through the valediction process, flattered by the heroic welcome we got, for doing nothing heroic except visiting our Alma Mater after 25 years. We started with paying Homage to all the departed souls from our batch. After being served a sumptuous lunch, we strolled around Campus and Hostels  (called Halls of Residence these days). Many students were met were fascinated by the fact that they were not even born when we passed out from the college.

No trip to NIT, Rourkela is complete without a trip to the famed Back Post. My friend Ratnakar went to Backpost, and after seeing many girls joked that it's not the same Backpost anymore. He wasn't far from the truth. Backpost has gone through complete transformstion over the years.

The short winter day was getting shorter, shadow slowly started looming with the approaching evening. The winter sun turned crimson and was well on his way to set. Rourkela is colder than Bhubaneswar,  I suddenly felt the urge for a light warm clothing. After a long day, we went to our respective hotels to freshen up, followed by hitting the dance floor, charged with the voice of Rajesh Dhabre and Subrat Das, a fitting finale to the perfect day I of our meet.

Puri trip II - India trip 2015

Woke up to a foggy morning under a gray sky in Puri, a chilly weather for the locals but extremely comfortable weather for me. It drizzled in the morning. As the sun came out and the fog cleared a bit, we left for the sea beach. The vastness of the sea reminded of the Hindi phrase DARIYA DIL (Sea like heart), the term we use address persons of  huge benevolent heart. How small and unimportant we are, when we see the unbounded horizon of the ocean ahead of us.

The beach was crowded as usual and equally dirty. Such a wonderful and pristine beach with golden sands and rolling blue waves. But its beauty is spoiled by the littering, petulant and pilfering locals and tourists alike, with an inefficient and corrupt authority looking the other way, same as the guy on the beach, who looked the other way, when I caught him scratching his private parts in public.

Walked past the SWARGADWAR cremation ground which was quite busy with several pyres burning. Swirling smoke was spiraling up in the air, slowly thinning and melting away. Reminds me of the eventuality, All your money and power one day will go up in smoke and it will be just the ashes which will remain as residue.

We walked past the Puri hotel on the beach. The jam packed holiday crowd shared the sand with pariah dogs sniffing for food. Many tourists posed with malnourished camels and mules. Some were seen snapping selfies of their half drenched bodies with their pot bellied partners in strpped shorts with hanging NAADAA (strings). As we approached the Mayfair, the stench from the sewage became unbearable enough for me to leave the beach. Now over to Rourkela for NIT Silver Jubilee celebration.

Puri Visit I - India trip 2015

No trip to Odisha is complete without a visit to Puri, the legendary city on the sea of Bay of Bengal. There is a chaotic serenity associated with this historic city famous for the Lord Jagannath Temple, symbolizing our rich culture and heritage. I have a personal connection to this city as my roots belong here, my ancestors were natives close to Puri.

The ride to Puri was never smoother for the roads have become wider and lane oriented. At one stretch our car was going at 70 mph (110 kmph) which is the fastest ever speed I have clocked on the road to Puri. This would be unthinkable a few years back. The time to travel to Puri has drastically gone down as no more bumpy rides through narrow lanes for most part of the journey, though stray cows, dogs and incoming homo sapiens from the opposite direction on the single lane were avoidable nuisance

We walked on BADA DANDA (The Broadway) towards the Jagannath temple carefully treading our path amongst numerous bulls and beggars. It is sad that most of our places of worship has turned into an abode of charlatans, pickpockets and beggars ( I have nothing against beggars who are needy but many I saw begging in Puri were healthy enough to work, taking the devotees for a ride).

No sooner we got close to the temple, than the PANDAS (priests) started casing us. Years back, once a PANDA followed me, addressing me in Bengali, DADA ESON ESON.(Brother, come, come with us. Most tourists in Puri hail from Bengal, if Bengalis decide to boycott Puri some reason the local economy will take a huge hit). I switched to Puri dialect proclaiming myself as a native not a Jatri (tourist), expecting to be left alone. The dejected Panda pursued me for a while before asked me for Rs.10. As I did not relent, he melted away muttering behind me, KANGAALA KAHASE AYA (a miserly man of penury has come from somewhere). I took it as a compliment and moved on.

The dogs are prohibited inside the temple. In case a dog is discovered inside the temple, the entire  MAHAPRASAD of the day becomes MAARAA (desecrated). But Cats and monkeys roam aplenty inside the tea. I saw a mama monkey revolving on a tree branch, while the baby monkey did the same around her neck, same way moon revolves around the earth and earth revolves around the sun.

The salubrious weather of December drives hordes of tourrists towards Puri and today was no exception. It was 8 in evening, the inside of the temple resembled mini India, with crowds visible from nooks and corner of India, vindicating it is the best time to visit Puri.

It was jam packed inside the temple. The short height folks were standing on the toes and short sighted ones adjusted their glass rims, to take a peek at the Lord. I saw an Air Conditioner hanging from the roof, close to dieties. One thing didn't go unnoticed, the inadequacy of safety measures towards preventing tragedy. Though our Lord is known for His Benevolence, deaths due to stampedes inside the temple is not something unheard of.

A trip to Market Building - India trip 2015

The weather was just perfect, neither hot, nor cold. Yesterday's rain washed out some dirt and settled down the dust. The foliage looked more greenish than gray, though the sky stayed gray for most of the part.

Made a trip to Market Building, the Times Square of Bhubaneswar. Bought a few goodies from UTKALIA, a government owned shop, popular for selling gift items related to Odisha history and culture. Had a nice shopping experience, found the prices quite reasonable. No imposition of vacillating prices and inconvenience from bargaining with touts. The staff nicely packed my stuff, while I spent the waiting time using their free wi-fi.

I was surprised to find places like Cafe Coffee Day, and even Bhubaneswar Club doesn't have a wi-fi. In local parlance, a smart guy is not some one who is creative or intelligent. He is smart, if he is well attired, drives a nice bike, his smartness being directly proportional to the number of girlfriends he carries on it. Bhubaneswar is a not-so-smart city, rather an extended village. Similar to the city's definition, the smartness is more cosmetic, rather the real thing.

Thanks to Dipti bhai for my only tryst with smartness in Bhubaneswar so far. He used the OLA App, a cab service similar to Uber, to call a cab. It fetched me from Swosti Grand, near Master  Canteen to my home. It arrived promptly, in less than 2 minutes. My trip home cost me only Rs.109, slightly more than auto fare, but lot more convenient. The service of OLA cab impressed me to enough to tip the driver heavily, which impressed him too.

But I was not so much impressed by my experience at a local market where I bought 5 BIDA (bunches) of my favorite  KOSHALA SAGA (A reddish green Saag). At home, my mom after removing a few good leaves from the surface, found those bunches filled with spoiled, rotten ones from inside. I don't mind paying 5 times more, but hate to be cheated by compromised with quality.

Often I have discovered, a person might be expecting to be paid, let's say Rs.500 for certain service. I am ready to pay Rs.1000 for the same. But that person won't open his or her mouth and speak up, as I open my wallet. When pressed upon, would grumble "APANA JAHA DEBE", or "whatever you give". They want me to be a psychic, a mind reader. When I finally  pay, either I end up impressing them or disappointing inadvertently. Tomorrow a trip to Puri awaits me..

Marriage Season in Odisha - India trip 2015

The marriage season in Odisha, which was at its peak when I arrived, is in its last throes. Marriages might be made in heaven but the dances take place on earth. One day all of a sudden my vehicle came to a complete halt as from nowhere arrived a BARAATI (bridegroom) procession. I prayed for the ensuing traffic jam to ameliorate, wishing the crowd to dissipate fast.

But my ordeal was not going to be over soon. Among the cacophony of the honking vehicles around me, I enviously watched the bikers sneaking their way though the labyrinth of vehicles. I had no such luxury but to bear the exteremely loud music played by the BAND BAJA BARAAT (Groom's procession) blaring from the loudspeakers a few feet from my ears. I plugged them using my fingertips and watched the accompanying BARAATIs (friends of the groom) dancing on the road.

Their dance, or rather it was more of a monkey jumping fiesta. than any kind of rhythmic twist to the tune. Many were stamping on each others feet, some apparently in an inebriated stage. A few fell on the ground, wiped the dust off their hand and body, then continued the jumping spree. The place was close to one of the KALYAN MANDAPS (marriage venue) and many well dressed girls gaped through the gate to take a glimpse of the approaching procession. Their presence acted as a catalyst to the dancers. Like a bull getting excited upon seeing a Red Flag, the BARAATI guys wriggled and jumped with more power and enthusiasm.

Couple of guys upon sighting the giggling girls started NAAGIN (Serpent) dance. One of then playing the role of Serpent rolled on the ground, face up, his both hands folded like a hissing Cobra. Another guy was swinging on top of him, biting one end of a long handkerchieIf and holding the stretched other end emulating a Snake Charmer, his handkerchief posing as his luring musical instrument. More the girls giggled, some with their mouths closed with palm more the guys jumped and rolled. (Those who are not familiar with it might mistake this NAAGIN dance involvin two guys as a gay courtship dance).

This continued for a while until the giggling of the girls subsided. A cop arrived on the  scene, as a person stepped out of the melee, walking towards him. I assume he is a true Gandhian, as I saw him surreptitiously pushing a few papers bearing Gandhi's head into the cop's underhand. As a token of  appreciation, the cop let the jamboree continue for some more time. Finally the ordeal ended, as the crowd and cop slowly melted away. The road was now clear for me to continue my journey.

RIP Sanjay Patnaik

I met this gem of a guy on Facebook.  Soon our interaction led to acquaintance and grew into friendship. He invited me several times to visit Jamaica.

This March, I got the opportunity to meet him in the tiny picturesque island. He left no stones unturned in his hospitality, driving around the lovely port city of Ocho Rios. He would never let me spend a penny.

After retirement he dreamt of going back to Puri, his hometown and build a resort, in the similar lines of the one he hosted me. It was not be in his destiny. Not long after, he got the dreaded C (cancer). I met a point to meet him at a local hospital last Wednesday, where he was struggling after multiple doses of chemo. I tried to motivate him to stay in best spirit, knowing that he is a great fighter. His hope filled empty eyes still hunts me.

Unfortunately, fortune was not on his side. When I got the news of him passing away last afternoon, something in me snapped. I am indebeted to you my dear friend, for your selfless hospitality and may be one day I will be able to pay it off. RIP my friend, in the Paradise which you belong to, and deservingly so.

Auto cracy in Bhubaneswar - India trip 2015

After my arrival in India, during my initial days in Delhi, the incessant honking and zigzag traffic was little irritating. But it is nothing compared to what I see in Bhubaneswar, where "Auto" cracy is at its worst. They want to outsmart and out run each other in the rat race of catching the next BHADAA, the Odia term meaning rental passengers.

A taste of autocracy I got other day when the driver had to slam his break as an Auto came right in front of the car from nowhere. A hundred feet ahead we stopped at a red light. As the vehicles stopped, some bikers and the autos came from behind, snaking their way, sneaking through, filling the narrow gaps. This recalcitrant auto stood next to me.

I rolled over the window to chastise this moron, KANA MARIBA KU PRABALA ICHHAA (have you got a tremendous  death wish) ? The guy had no remorse. He bent to spew red spit on the ground and grinned back to me to my chagrin  exposing his black betel stained teeth like the snarl of a rabid dog.

As he sped away, he spewed some venom at me. It was drowned by the high decibel traffic, but from his lip movement I knew he wasn't saying praiseworthy things about me. I promptly reciprocated with my lip movement of praiseworthy stuff for him as a thank you note, with my message conveyed, inaudible but effective.

There's hardly any designated Pedestrian or Zebras crossing in Bhubaneswar. You have to tip toe and sway your hips, waving and clenching hands like an eunuch towards the incoming traffic to cross the road. Road crossing is an art and one needs to be a trapeze artist to cross roads at crossroads of Bhubaneswar. More later...

Meet School mates - India trip 2015

Had a fun filled day with my friends from D M School at Amrapalli Resort. Located on the outskirts of Bhubaneswar, we had to skirt the incoming traffic on our own lane approaching us. The Bond movie "Living Dangerously" should have been shot on the roads of Bhubaneswar. Or a Road mafia movie called "Roads of Bhubaneswar", similar to the Coal mafia based movie " Gangs of Wassyrpur". Nothing more can relate this phrase from reel to the real life than riding on Bhubaneswar roads.

The place was nice and serene, with the resort and its restrooms clean and well maintained. It was nice to meet my classmates and friends from school days, some after more than 3 decades, thanks to Facebook and Whatsapp. Emotions flowed and fun flew around, assisted by mutual leg pulling relating to incidents from our school days. Teachers, as usual were the objects of adulation and butts of jokes, mostly the later.

Sun soon set on the fun, as the short winter day was shadowed by approaching darkness. Swarming of mosquitoes reminded us to call it a day, a day worth remembering. Thanks Ashok and Biswajit for your time and effort in organising, thanks Dave for the Champagne which made Ashok shake and sway to it, and thanks for all for participants for making the event a moment to cherish.

TU, TUME and APANA - India trip 2015

TU, TUME (Tum) and APANA (Aap), though all carry the same meaning, are three different ways of addressing here. The choice of words depends on the  the famiarity and strata in society of the person at the receiving end. It's common to address ones mother, siblings and friends (on basis of familiarity), or people of the lowest strata in society with TU. Next comes the next layer of address TUME or TUM is reserved for the more respectful uncles, spouces, boy-girl friends and people at the next level of strata. APANA or AAP is reserved for the best, the elderly folks, teachers and those at highest strata of society.

Sometimes a change in social status, in relationship or otherwise, changes the way of addressing. In most arranged marriages the couples address each other as TUME (TUM). In the case of marriages preceded by datings (dating in India may not be exactly the American way of dating) or called love marriages in local parlance (in most cases it's less love, more  self arranged), during the pre marital courtship the couples address themselves as TU (if classmates of close age) or TUME (more popular). But after marriage, the bride usually addresses the groom as TUME or TUM (our is still a male dominated society). It's not unusual for such couples to come down addressing with TU, when they fight or get down to the basic instincts, as TU is the base way of addressing.

I have seen the dilemma in addressing when some one's elder sibling gets married. A person, who for ever has addressed his elder brother as TU, finds it little odd to address his BHAUJA or BHAVI (brother's wife) as TUM. Eventually he or she adjusts (another ubiquitous word, we adjust a lot in our society).

In English language it's always you, you and only you. A two liner Odia limerick from our childhood goes as follows.

AGYAN APANA TUME TU,
TUMA MUHARE KUKURA MUTU

Respected base(you), better (you) and the best(you),
May a dog pee on the face of you.

Once upon a time, Bhubaneswar was filled with Cycle Rickshaws. Everybody from our generation has yelled HE RICKSHAW JIBU (O' Rickshaw will you go). Now it's replaced by HE AUTO JIBA or JIBE KI ? (O' Auto, will you go). A rickshaw puller was rarely called JIBA (better respected expression) and Auto driver is rarely called TU or JIBU (least respected expression). Either denizens have become more respectful, or the transformation from a Rickshaw puller to Auto driver has gone has earned them respect. More about Autos tomorrow....

Cold, Cough and Fever - India trip 2015

Managed to catch a fever. Got up this morning to sore throat, cough, body ache and a slight running temperature. Running around took its toll on my body. Hot and spicy food feel so soothingly titillating to my numbed taste bud. Common cold can be very irritating. Medical science which has grown leaps and bounds, is yet to discover a cure for it. Only it's duration can be minimized with plenty of fluids and rest.

So the laid back in me spent the major part of the day laying on my back in a supine position, a la a horizontal version of Sri Chaitanya Mahaprabhu. Took this opportunity to catch up with news back home in United States. CNN which hosted the last Republican Primary debate, was showing clips from it. Donald Trump still trumps the pack, with his recent proposal to temporarily ban Muslims entry into USA, has stuck a chord, supported by the majority of Republicans, though opposed by Democrats and independents. Jeb Bush still struggling in single digits. Democracy at its best, as it's a long road ahead for the Republicans to pick their nominee.

Thanks to BBC and CNN, I am sane. The local Odia channels, gave me more headaches than the cold virus. During the  Odia news the screen flashes in English BREAKING NEWS. They can very well transliterate it as BHANGA KHABARA (broken news), from the way the Odia anchors and newsreaders speak in needless accented Broken Odia. I have seen "Breaking  ews" like DURDANTA APARADHI CHAKULI GIRAF (Notorious criminal named CHAKULI has been arrested). And more, NAKALI GUTHKA COMPANY UPARE POLICE RA CHADHAU  (police raid on fake chewing tobacco company).

As if not enough, came across a few more terms or phrases.

CHUTIA BANEILA (Chutia Banaya) -  Made an ass of me.

MAHANGA PADILA  (Mehnga Pada) - Prove costly.

KANA KHECHUDI PAKUCHI  (Kya Khichdi Pakta hai) - What's cooking?

God save my mother tongue. Either it is enriching itself by liberally accepting the influx from other languages. Or, it's destined towards oblivion.

Trip to my Ancestral village II - India trip 2015

Goats on the ground and monkeys above, are the major nuisance for our villagers. Goat rearing is very popular these days, for their ever growing demand in the ever growing Bhubaneswar. They roam around, munching with impunity whatever comes on their way, entering and destroying the kitchen gardens of the hapless village folks.

If goats are pain at the bottom, monkeys are pain from the top. They come in droves, eat and destroy all fruits, especially the prized cash crops like coconuts, papayas and betel nuts. All the methods to drive them away, yelling, beating HADI BAJA (drums beaten by men from a scheduled caste) and bursting fire crackers only succeeded temporarily.

Yet goats are far easier to handle, as they are dispenible, destined towards slaughterhouse. It's no monkey business to handle the monkeys. Being the descendants of Lord Hanuman, no one dares to earn the wrath of our "Monkey God". So someone came with the creative ideas to outsource the killing of the head of the clan of simians to a group of Muslim hunters. The later managed to track and kill the monkey chieftain.

The villages were spared from their the menace for a while. Within a few days they returned, not the monkeys but the hunters filled with remorse. The hunters have now become the hunted. They narrated that ever since they killed the monkey, misfortunes one after another have struck them. A bout of diarrhoea attack killed few from their community. Many of them, Butchers by profession lamented in Urdu laced Odia "LAXMI CHHAADGEIS" (Laxmi, the Godess of wealth has left us).

Since they beat the monkey to death their meat business had taken a severe beating. They were convinced that Lord Hanuman's wrath had been bestowed upon them with Laxmi following the suit, leaving them. It was amusing to hear the local Muslims scared to death of Hanuman and talking about the subsequent loss of Laxmi. No more Monkey business for them. Loss of life and business trumps over religion. Slowly the monkeys kept coming back. No one in our vilage or its surrounding ever wanted to repeat the fiasco. Never say Never again " Mere Monkeys".

Trip to Ancestral village I - IndIa Trip 2015

It was the day of making a trip to my ancestral village near Puri. The drive on the 4 lane expressway was impressive, but not the drivers who could be seen coming from the opposite way, against the tide of the one way traffic. Unnecessary roadblocks by man made barriers set up by police and animals like gangs of cows and stray dogs, were strewn around.

The foggy afternoon painted the horizon in white like a broad brush on a blue canvas. The smiling white KASHATANDI (lanky flowers on sand with a white broomlike top) waved at us through the haze. We passed through golden yellow paddy fields, the harvested ones forming cylindrical crop circles. Drove past SUANDO, the native village of Gopabandhu Das, though the meandering pucca roads under archways of coconut groves, as the banana and palm trees swayed by the afternoon breeze.

After a long time got a glimpse of rural Odisha life. Curious women and urchins gaped at us. We encountered greenish village ponds every other miles. Children were jumping on to water, while ladies bathing struggled to cover themselves as our vehicle passed by. On the village outskirts, cows were strapped to tiny poles as a bull was inspecting them for insemination.

All roads to my village lead to the conclusion that communication technology has come a long way. I saw many Cyclists and bikers in GAMUCHA and LUNGI (loincloth), head tilted with a cell phone tucked between their chin and shoulder.

I was sad to learn the sad state of our village library, which has now become defunct.  Unlike the libraries in Alexandria in Egypt, Athens of Greece and Nalanda of Bihar, they were not destroyed by any outside invaders, but by the villagers themselves. All the books were stealthily stolen as neither the books and sometimes the borrowers themselves never returned. destruction of the famed libraries was seen as the harbinger of the demise of those civilizations. The decapitated village library doesn't augur well for its future...more later

(2nd and the last part of the trip to be continued tomorrow).

The Bull of Bhubaneswar - India trip 2015

Being the BAHANA (carrier) of Lord Shiva, the Hindu God "The Destroyer" is no Bullshit. This Bull is rather a hit in our locality, where the "City of Temples" is clustered with several abodes of the Lord, with names of SUKHMESWAR, KHARAKHIA BAIDYANATH and of course the better known LINGARAJ temple.

Our local Bull is a MBBS (MAHADEBANKA BARA BULA SANDHA) or the free roaming bull of Lord Mahadeb. He has figured out the importance of Mondays, the day of his Master, as the road to the Lord passes though him. So he passes though house to house, extending his conical head towards the grilled gates.

Residents come out, feed him with veggies, mostly his favorites Radish and Cabbage, which are now in season. Then they bow before him, uttering MAHADEB MUNDIA  (Salute to the Lord). The bull hardly cares, rather stays focused on chewing the offerings, still glancing for more. For additional offerings, he pushes the already chewed stuff to Blackburner (back of his throat) and then shoves in more. Seeing another extended hand from the nearby house, he moves next door.

After feeling filled up, our local Bull takes a nap in the middle of the lane, demarcated by Bullshit. The bikers circumvent him. The four wheelers resort to honking and if that couldn't break the bull's slumber, have to come out to shoo him away. Irritated he gets up, shakes himself, moves aside to let the vehicle go.

The only person who doesn't like him is the local Grocer. Though his business has gone Bullish, he leaves no stones unturned in protecting his vegetables from the giant bovine who loves to stealthily steal them. The hapless Grocer has to fold his Lungi and throw mugs of water to get rid of the bull, yelling Hey JA JA (go away). No wonder, Every bull has his (Mon)day.

Drizzly day in Bhubaneswar - India trip 2015

The weather today in Bhubaneswar was unusually warm for winter. Or may be not so unusual, rather it's the new normal. Reminds me of the winters in Bhubaneswar from my childhood. At dinner time, I would arrive wrapped in a shawl and pick a piece of hot cauliflower (only available for couple of months in winter) from the curry bowl, followed by blowing air with snorted lips to cool it down before munching. No sooner than I finish a couple, than the rest cauliflower stems would get cold. We could feel the pinch of winter. Now approaching mid December, old man winter is out of sight and soon will be out of mind.

The cloudy day progressed, interspersed with light drizzle. It didn't rain cats and dogs, but was enough to give the soil a brownish hue. Standing on our balcony inhaled the sweet smell of wafting from the dry ground drenched by fresh showers. It's perfume can beat the best of  French perfumes by miles.

Intermittent light drizzle continued through out the day, enough to make the ground wet and temporarily shut down the spread of dust. It was accompanied by an announced power shut down (electricity outage) between 8 AM to 5 PM. The reason can hadly be weather related. Though overcast and balmy, it was free from any strong wind or rain to cause a power outage for 9 hours. The authorities insist it's due to maintenance related works. My father told me that such power cuts are pretty common in our locality, they are doing repair works way too often for comfort.

A day of a weekend without power may be okay in winter time in the "Smart" city, but may not be so smart decision during the summer. It reminded me of my ordeal on a day in the summer of 2014, when mercury stood at a cool 45 degree  (115 F). On that day I rushed back home at noon for a shower to cool down. Before I could switch on the motor to fill up our overhead water the electricity went poof.

For 4 hour no power; no toilet no shower. Felt like a fish out of water, lying supine on hot bed getting barbecued. At 5 PM, still no sign of electricity as promised. Sprinkle some salt and pepper over me, I could have been a great grill. Another couple of hours I could have become a SUKHUA or dried fish, an Odia delicacy. Hopefully no more power cuts for the  rest of the day.

Thursdays in Bhubaneswar - India trip 2015

In Odisha each day of the week has its own food related significance. You chose to go vegetarian or be a non-veg in local parlance (In American English there is no term called non-vegetarian, either you are  vegetarian or a meat eater). Odias stay vegetarians, some even avoid Onion & Garlic, called TAMASHIK (titillating carnal desire) food on the following days.

MONDAY- Day of Lord Shiva, arguably obeyed by most Odias.
TUESDAY  - Day of Maa Mangala and Hanuman.
WEDNESDAY  - Budhei Osha. Very few practice this though. Most devour non-Veg food after a hiatus of two days.
THURSDAY  - Goddess Laxmi and Saint Sai Baba. Mostly women stay veggie than men on this day.
FRIDAY - Santoshima Brata. The devotees of the Goddess apart from avoiding non-Veg food avoid KHATTA (tangy) stuff like lemon, tomato, tamarind etc
SATURDAY - Lord Shani and Hanuman.
SUNDAY - Lord Surya. Not many follow, as Goat meat features on the menu at many homes during lunch.

Thursday is a day, when you will find very few people in Odisha doing monetary transaction. It's the day of Maha Laxmi, the Goddess of wealth. This Thursday, juxtaposed with the Odia festival of MANABASA was a special occasion, so sale of fish, meat and poultry was paltry.

So when I decided to visit the local branch of State Bank to update my father's passbook, I was not surprised to see a less than normal crowd. Not sure why can't the bank get rid of Passbook, which is redundant these days. With the availability of on line banking, a monthly statement sent at the customer's home address should suffice.

If Thursday is the preferred day for banking, visiting the Saint Sai Baba temple on this day is rather avoidable. I got a taste of it, when I visited the temple, not far from where I live. There were a long line starting from the gate, leading Inside the temple.

Inside there was a couple of horizontal cylinders of hollow steel which separated male and female devotees. Few young men were seen bending over the rails, religiously flirting with female devotees. The girls reciprocated with gigges, cherishing the attention from their solicitors from the enamours from other side of the fence. Their chit chat was suddenly drowned by high decibel from the banging of GHANTA (brass plates).

Some turned forward with folded hands, rest continued with their cross barrier flirting, their hands still folded lest they attract God's wrath. A few fell flat on their stomach, uttering PRABHU PRABHU (O' Lord, O' Lord) inside the heavily smoke filled arena which now felt stuffy enough for me to exit. Lesson learnt, if you want to pray in peace, visiting temples on special days are best avoidable.

Mosquito Menace in Bhubaneswar India trip 2015

In many profession you can afford to be 99.99% accurate, leaving 0.01% scope for error due to various unpreventable attributes. But you must be 100% accurate in the mission of mosquito eradication in your room if you want a sound sleep. No scope for error, failure is simply not an option.

I took a valiant attempt at cleansing my room of these obnoxious blood suckers. I burnt an entire coil of KACHHUA (Tortoise) brand repellent to smoke the mosquitoes out of their hideouts. Whatever I came across I mercilessly clapped  them to death in my own hands. Then I put an ALL OUT, another brand repellent. I was confident that I vanquished all of those parasites.

Or so I thought. As soon as I felt asleep came the annoying humming sound buzzing around my ear. I followed with the reflex action of trying to smash it, using one and occasionally both hands. Followed a phase of tranquility which gave me a false notion that I managed to kill it. But it proved to be elusive again coming back with more ferocity like a wounded tiger. The solitary mosquito continued his guerrilla warfare against me leaving me thoroughly battle fatigued.

At that point I wished I could raise a while flag, letting it suck a stomach full of my blood and just leave me alone to continue my slumber. We heard from our legendary epic Mahabharat, when Duryodhan ordered killing of all the brothers of wily Shakuni, all of them died saving Shakuni so that the survivor can take the revenge on a later day on Duryodhan. It was payback time for the mosquito. The surviving one got its revenge back managing to harass me all night long to the solace of the restless souls of its siblings whom I earlier either killed or banished. Like SHAKUNI the mosquito had the last laugh.

Those who live in high rise apartments are lucky, as mosquitoes are not known to fly above 50 feet. In 1970s and 80s Bhubaneswar, mosquitoes were hardly a menace. We used to make fun of our friends from Cuttack as that city was infamous for its KATAKI MASA (mosquitoes from Cuttack), who are rumored to lift away people for miles. It's now payback time for them to poke fun at us. Now Bhubaneswar can give the other twin a run for money or might even beat them as far as mosquito menace goes. Now the old fashioned mosquito net works just fine for me. Though not a big fan of sleeping inside it, it's far preferred  to a bug bitten, interrupted sleep.

Day I in Bhubaneswar - India trip 2015

For my Indigo flight from Delhi to Bhubaneswar, I was handed over a boarding card, with the check-in time of 3.45PM printed on it. It was almost 4 PM now, but no sign of anyone at the gate. No display in change of boarding time on the display area. I saw an airline staff tip toing on her high pointed heels, trying to balance herself on the marble floor. I showed her my boarding pass, asking about the flight timing. Swaying to and fro, without maintaining an eye contact, she threw me new time, as if she was doing some kind of MEHRBANI (huge favor) towards me. (The flight was delayed nevertheless beyond what she told me). Indigo is a private airlines, who self prides for its impeccable Customer Service.

Reaching home, I opened the faucet of the shower. Prrr.t..prr...t, it farted twice, before pouring cold water over me, giving me a stinging chill. It was foolish on my part to I underestimat the water temperature, though the weather here in Bhubaneswar is quite warm for December. During my growing up days, even in coldest of winters, pouring couple of mugs of water got rid of cold. No more. Long term bathing in warm water irespective of the season, has taken the toll on the elusive cold showers.

My night sleep was broken by sporadic KAWALIs (group music) from stray dogs, no sooner one side finished with a seqience of wooo..woof..woof, than the other side reciproactes with their version of wooo.. wooo...woof. The long arduous wait in darkness paved way to dawn. The eastern sky grew brighter, turning crimson red. By now the rays of the morning sun had chased the darkness away. The chirping of birds became louder, so also the sound of GHANTA ( sound from round brass plates when hit with a stick) from the temple nearby.

I went to the balcony to take a peek outside. Two mongrels from a  distance came running chasing each other, one trying to catch the tail of the other. The newspaper walla (guy) swung and threw the paper past our main gate with immaculate accuracy. A biker went past honking nonstop. It was needless on an empty road, but apparently as he kicks off on his bike, honking sound keeee.. kick kick...keeee.. he gets a kick.

Last time one fine morning, I saw a guy bending over our fence, stealthily plucking flowers from our yard. Oblivious of my presence he looked left, right and let out a loud boom, creating ripples. With enough sight and sound, a new day dawns, my first day in my home state. GOOD MORNING ODISHA, more later....

Flight from Delhi to Bhubaneswar - India trip 2015

When I travelled in year 2003, I paid more than Rs.20,000 for a round trip from Delhi to Bhubaneswar. Now, I am paying Rs.8800, a lot cheaper, taking into the inflation from the year 2000.

The best part of air travel during winter is the less turbulence due to lack of tropical thunderstorms. The turbulence though rarely damaging, the bumpy ride always scares the hell out of me. Yet I rarely fail to bump into some interesting folks on domestic flights in India.

Once when the flight landed at Bhubaneswar close to lunch time, I heard a guy from the front row shouting to his wife to keep the mutton (goat meat) curry ready for his lunch. I quizzed him "Sir, you must be hungry". "Addressing an unknown as Sir on first meet usually impresses, even flatters the person). He responded " Yes, I am. Been with Gujuratis in Bombay on a business trip till Sunday. So no luck with non-Veg food. Followed Monday and Tuesday,(vegetarian day for many Oriyas), so today I desperately want to break free with a typical Odia style home cooked mutton curry ". The hungry me rolled  swallowed a few sips of saliva as he finished talking.

Last time I was travelling alone, a guy next to me was conspicuously reading Economics Times. I asked him why he is travelling to Bhubaneswar. He said he is on a short trip to reach out into organic farming in Orissa which he envisions as a potential future money spinner.

During the course of our conversation the amateur farmer in me asked him certain aspects of farming, which I expected this gentleman with prospective farming interest might be aware of. Apparently he turned out to be a very novice on that front, sounding more of an investor on a hunt for big bucks and ready for the kill, not to nurture the nature. He sounded more like a soldier who had never set foot on the battle field.

Our conversation turned out to beq a damp squib. The message was as loud as the airplane roar and clear like the winter sky below. During winter, sunny and dry weather enabled me to have a nice view of the Eastern Ghat mountains and Mahanadi river minutes before the flight lands in Bhubaneswar. Close to Bhubaneswar, plane flies at a low altitude and the view of late afternoon winter sun baths hills and rivulets looked awesome. Just before the flight lands I had one of the rarest sights of my life, similar to Johny Walker Scotch made from the blend of the rarest of the rarest of the Whiskeys. That is the unique bird's eye view of the areas of Bhubaneswar I am familiar and grew with. How contrasting is the warms eye view of the sky from the ground to the bird's eye view from the top. It makes me understand the meaning of the phrase "Down To Earth". When it all seems you are on top of the world, in minutes you are back on the ground..so are the vagaries of life..How much and how high you fly you have to come down one day.

My day dreaming came to an end suddenly the announcement " Please keep your seat belt fastened and mobiles switched off until the plane comes to a full stop. Before the announcement came to a complete halt, I heard incessant clicks of opening up the seat belts and mobiles going up surrounding me likes the hands in a Baba Ramdev Yoga camp. Why can't we have patience to wait for another 5 minutes. Never mind, time to rush home. More later....

Delhi Dairy III- India trip 2015

A stubborn Jet lag can be a real pain in you know what. My body clock simply refuses to relinquish the US Time Zone. Feels miserable to get up at 2.30 in the morning, without being able to sleep further. Kishore Kumar's song from Rajesh Khanna's movie AAP KI KASAM - KARWATE BADALTE RAHE SAARI RAAT HUM (turning sides on bed whole night) never seemed more prophetic. Thanks to internet, Facebook and my addiction to blogging, I kept my self busy until the Muezzin from a nearby Mosque gave way to the first rays of the dawn.

After arrival, the incessant honking and zigzag traffic was a reverse cultural shock to me. It's no more, as I see a music and vibrancy in this honking and chaos. Reminds me of a joke. A person once went to an astrologer, who after seeing his chart said "You will be begging after two years". "What will happen after 2 years ?" asked the curious  and now somewhat concerned person. The astrologer responded "You will get used to it".

Now I can proudly proclaim of getting used to the chaotic, snarling traffic, a taste of the which I got today while going around the city. Saw quite a few clogging roadblocks, unevenness and bumps on road creating bottlenecks in the flow of traffic. Once near the AIIMS, the jerk from our car stumling on a pothole almost made my head hit its ceiling. Not sure why we can't build some decent roads, when we can send missions to mars. It ain't rocket science.

In Contrary, the expressway to Agra I traveled the day was as smooth as Hema Malini's cheeks (Once the cheeky politician Laloo Yadav promised to make the roads of Bihar smooth as the cheek of actress Hema Malini. But sections of the road I encounter today in the city-state of his buddy Kejriwal, resembles more the small pox pore filled chicks of actor Om Puri than the cheek of the dream girl of yesteryears). Also, I noticed that most cars here have either their side view mirrors torn off or completely bent. Not sure if it's done deliberately to prevent from getting chopped off, as barely inches separate the vehicles on road.

After getting a taste of the Delhi traffic, I also got a taste of the air pollution (both complement each other), where one has to literally see through the transluscent air. The newly acquired prosperity of the aspiring millions hasn't come without a price. Modern gadgets with multiplied demand for electricity, and the booming no of cars, burn a lot of fossil fuel. This is one area of pollution, our national capital can very well compete with the capital of our old neighbor whom we often compare with, Beijing. Good bye Delhi, hope I will see a lot cleaner Delhi next time.

Delhi Diary II - India trip 2015

Wah (Wow) TAJ !!!!!, 5 exclaimation rating for you. I was marvelled at the sight of this magnificent monument. No wonder, it has earned its way to the esteemed club called "Seven Wonders of the World". What you see is what you get, a bird on hand is better than two in the bush. I had seen pictues, documentaries, movies of the Taj Mahal, but nothing matches the sight of the real thing, the awesome spectacle of this white marble monument, glistening under the winter morning sun.

The ride to Agra on the expressway through NOIDA on our way to Taj Mahal was pleasantly fast, though in spite of the fairly light traffic, I saw many driving in the middle of the lane. A few ran across the road, safety be damned. We drove past mountains of apartments complexes on the both sides, floating in a sea of mist and smog. Soon the sun peeped through the curtain of haze, revealing vast stretches of collard greens and fluttering waves of yellow mustard fields under a cool morning breeze, all seem to be smiling and waving at us, akin to the hues of green and yellow Sikh turbans I saw the day before at the local mall.

Closer we got to our destination, the traffic started to crawl through the  labyrinths of narrow streets. We trudged ahead on the road filled potholes, amiably shared by homo sapiens and animals alike, Horse and camels driven carriages, non chalant buffaloes and goats, a mother monkey with her baby tucked to her back, finally managed to reach the gate of Taj. No sooner we got off from our car, than a bunch of irritating touts surrounded us, competing to sell their products and buy us a quicker passage to beat the long line.

Wish I brought my American passport with me. A ticket for a local costs 10 bucks, vis a vis 700 bucks for a foreigner. Though priced 70 times more, it buys you 70 times less time, as saw the line for the foreigners was a shoo in. Nothing is more precious, as time is money and worth every bit of it. Good friends and food is the luxury I have, but Time is the luxury I don't. It's the most independent entity on earth, never stops for anybody as everything is a function of time. So it doesn't hurt if money can buy you some precious time.

Behind the Taj, as sluggish Yamuna struggled to flow, looking more like a cesspool and a swimming pool for buffaloes, than a water body which can be called a river. As I enjoyed the caressing of cool air, the silght of a carcass floating on the putrid water gave  me a feeling of puke erupting into my mouth. I am sure Sah Jahan would have shifted the Taj Mahal to another location, if ever saw this polluted Yamuna.

On our way back had a scary encounter when barely a 100 feet ahead of our vehicle, the tyres of a van burst, making it spinning like a top. Luckily for all, the van swerved to the left of the road without overturning. as it screeched to a complete stop. Whew!!!

My tryst with gluttony continues, as I tasted GOSTH RA RA at lunch, a dish of slow cooked chunks of mutton, blended with a spicy gravy of grounded version of the meat. The fitting finale of a long, eventful day was the Dinner with my friend Vijendra Rawat. Thanks buddy to your big heart and hospitality. Nothing can beat the taste of the Stripped Spicy lamb and the MEETHA PAAN (sweetened betel) as an icing on the cake to end an eventful day. More later..

Delhi Diary I - India trip 2015

Good Morning India. Felt like uttering it loudly, looking down from the balcony of my friend's place, a la, Eddie Murphy in his movie COMING TO AMERICA. Coming from America, I wished to replicate the same. In that scene from the movie, the actor's wish at top of his voice, "Good Morning my neighbors", is returned by an equally prompt response " Hey, F...you". Eddie Murphy returns with a smile "F...you too".

If I say "Good Morning Doston (friends)", I might get "Shut up Bai**od". I can retort back, " S(h)ame to you Bai**od". It would have been a grand Welcome to Delhi, Punjabi style, where a sentence can start with Bai**od, interspersed with a few liberal dosages of Bai**od and ends with Bai**od. It's how the Dillwalle (Heartful) Dilliwalle (Delhites) welcome each other.

Bai**od" is not such a bad word in Delhi and Punjab  (in the Pakistani part of Punjab too). Apart from the usual meaning, it can stands for multiple euphemism, to describe a scene or situation. Bai**od KYA THAND HAI YAAR (my friend, it's so cold), Bai**od MEIN GIR JAUNGA Bai**od (I will fall down, spoken after sighting a pretty girl), Bai**od KYA MATCH THA (what a match it was). Friends hug each other, A GALE LAG JA OI Bai**od (get a hug, my friend). Same way "O' Calcutta" symbolizes Kolkata, "Jai Jagannath" denotes Odisha  "Oi Bai**od" defines Delhi.

I am flattered by the size of the food platters if front of me, matching the huge hearts of hospitality of my friends. While w(o)inking at them, my big selfish piggy heart says to devour them, but my mind cautions to go slow. Need to be careful about getting Delhi Belly, when your body clock says it's breakfast time, while you are served a sumptuous dinner.

At evening went on a stroll at the DLF Emporio Mall with my friends from REC, Chitta Sahoo and Alok Mohanty. Did some window shopping, peeked at a LEHNGA (women's wardrobe) inside the famous Tarun Tahliani fashion store, which had a cool price tag of Rs.2 lakh (200,000). Less than a 100 feet away from the mall, was standing a lanky beggar in loin cloth, shivering in nascent Delhi cold. Welcome to India, where contrasts of stinking affluence and poverty coexist.

Grabbed a Thumbs Up (in India I prefer it to Coke or Pepsi) to watch the hockey Semi final match between India and  Belgium, on a large screen in front of the mall. Weather was slightly chill, crispy, soothing for outdoors, except the ever pervading hazy smog of Delhi. Enjoyed every bit of it, as I don't get chance to see hockey so often. (In USA, hockey by default is played on ice). Sadly, but not unexpectedly, India lost the match. Hockey has revolutionized into a fsster game and synthetic turf doesn't favor the dribbling style of subcontinental hockey. The game has now tilted towards the Europeans. A lesson here - In the changing world of competitive sports or profession, the key world is Adapt or perish.

Arrival in Delhi- India trip 2015

On my flight Amsterdam to Delhi saw this movie DIL DHADAKNE DO (Let the heart beat). Loved this monologue delivered by Anil Kapoor - "Humans are basically pretentious. If others do that we call hypocrisy, if we do it we call it worldly wise." How true.

I was rudely woken from my slumber when the pilot announced "Welcome to Delhi IGI Airport. It's 12.30 AM in morning. Hazy 17 degree Centigrade (62 Fahrenheit) outside."  At the same time came abruptly the voice of an exalted teen sitting close to me exclaimed to his buddy, "OI UTTH, BAI**OD DILLI A GAYEE  "(Get up, Delhi has arrived). More than the pilot, I found the teen's welcome far enthusiast and more apt way of welcoming to Delhi.

The BAI**OD goes little too far in that context, but it's certainly an apt waI missed the haranguing by touts (Once no sooner I came out of IGI Airport in middle of night night than was treated like a hapless hare amid hounds baying for my blood. I was forced to do an about turn and beat a hasty retreat, only to come out at the break of dawn).

My next seat neighbor on this leg of journey was a Delhi based businessman who was returning after his Vacation in Vegas. Upon queried, I said I am from Bhubaneswar. "Where is it ?", he queried again. I told him "Heard of Jagannath Puri ?". "Oh yes, Jagannath Dham", he folded his hand for Namaste, touching the touch screen of the monitor in front of him. "One day I will visit the Lord", he promised. I thought only Americans lack general knowledge, never thought a Delhi guy who can afford a Vegas vacation, hardly knows Odisha. Glad he related Jagannath Puri to God, not some Punjabi BAI**CHOD.

The Terminal 3 at Delhi Airport is quite impressive. Immigration and Customs were shoo in. Restrooms (toilets) maintained nice and clean. No strong smell of ubiquitous phenol. But no sooner I came outside, encountered the ubiquitous chaos, crowd and incessant honking.

I missed the haranguing by touts. Once as soon as I came out of IGI Airport in middle of night night, I was treated like a hapless hare amid hounds baying for my blood. I was forced to do an about turn and beat a hasty retreat only to come out at the break of dawn. Things are much better these days. More later...

Flight from Atlanta to Delhi - India trip 2015

Travelling without family has its share of hazards, when you have a stranger sitting next to you. Last time I was travelling alone, had to to bear a unique mix of "Piarrhoea and Whiskey" wheezing its way into my nose, coming from a guy next to me, sleeling with his mouth wide open.

No wonder, those who forget history are always condemned to repeat it. Now this person next to me snores loud, with periodic sputters of exhale covering his straight moustache with droplets of flegm. The moustache bearing both magnitude and direction, reminded me of equipotential vectors I studied during Intermediate Physics, with a huge potential to piss off any passenger next to him. Turning my squeezed and raised nose to the other side, I glanced at him, followed by surreptitiously shouldering his drooping head away from me.

This continued intermittently until my cup of patience was full. I elbowed him with a "not me look" on my face. Startled, he gets up wiping off the frosty, dewy stuff from his moustache using his finger tip, picks his nose and touch the screen to pick his channels. Didn't know that touchscreens needed lubricants. I wished our Desi dude pinged the Air hostess for some tissue instead.

Reminded me of Tom Hanks from the movie FOREST GUMP - "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get". What I was getting was certainly not the box of chocolates I wished for. So made peace with myself, after gulping a stiff shot of Vodka and catching up with some sleep.

My soul solace was sitting next to the screen separating between economy and business class offered me occasional glimpse of business class service and derive a vicarious pleasure out of it.
So felt extremely relieved, kicked by a propelling tailwind the flight arrived almost an hour ahead of schedule at Schiphol International, Amsterdam. Time to stretch my legs, before I complete the next leg of my journey to Delhi.

Flight from Columbus to Atlanta - India trip 2015

First leg of the journey to India, between Columbus and Atlanta, has been accomplished. This flight of 82 air miles, is probably the shortest distance I have ever flown. Once the flight takes off, no sooner you finish chanting Laxman Sivaramakrishnan or Chatur Mahadevan Ramalingam 108 times, than you will be landing at the Atlanta Airport. The tiny flight, about a dozen feet wide, packed couple of dozens like sardine. No surprise here, this being the holiday season.

Reminded me of our ex-President Giani Zail Singh, once travelling on a plane above equator. His secretary flattered him - Sir, can you see the equator below ?  Zail Singh responded "Yes. I can see it and a car is slowly going on it". What he actually saw, was a lice walking on his long string of hair, which just happened to be right in front of his eyes. This flight flying so low, Giani Jail Singh would have seen numerous lice, in form of cars crawling on the interspersed Interstate highways.

It's interesting to watch flights taking off and landing in quick succession at Hatfield International, Atlanta, known as the busiest Airport in the world. This being the peak hours, every couple of minutes a flight lands or takes off. It's interesting to see flights line up one after another, their lights forming a string of pearls extending into the dark horizon, as they wait for their turns to land. The Air Traffic control must be doing an amazing job, as error is not an option.

I was reminded of travelling in our D M School bus, as it stops at Railway level crossings (those days the roads of Bhubaneswar were not clogged, no bypass for flyover was necessary). When the bus stops and as a Goods train passes. Now time to spend time counting flights landing and taking off every other minutes.

The icing on the cake and fitting finale to my trip is going to be the much awaited Silver Jubilee of our batch later this month, in REC (now NIT), Rourkela. I have been bestowed with the honor of editing the articles submitted by my batch mates for our Souvenir. Now going through those penned by my friends, some of whom in these 25 years have managed to do well post Managements from IIMs to reach their Zenith, some became Techie honchos in Silicon Valley carving out their niche, some went into Civil Services and so on.

But one thing they all have in common, they can write damn well. I was expecting some boring, bombastic articles. I was so wrong. After all these years, they're still down to earth, witty and Engineered towards fun. Feel proud and honored editing their work. Can't wait to meet them later this month in Rourkela. More later..

Preparation for the India trip 2015

Jet, set, go. Columbus ----> Atlanta -----> Amsterdam  ----> New Delhi ------> Bhubaneswar. Hours left before I leave and miles to go before I reach. This is the moment I look forward to every other year, an exciting time before I makemytrip to India. (not a typo, Makemytrip is the name of a popular travel website, which might very well find its way into the English lexicon).

 

It's going to be my 12th journey ever from Coke Land to my Motherland, India. As the D-Day approaches, excitement builds up. Can't focus on work as my mind is preoccupied about the trip. In life the feeling of apprehensive curiosity in anticipation of an event is often more pleasant than the event itself. My colleagues at work find it a bit odd, that we go to our home on vacation, when they travel away from home for the same.

 

Upon arriving in India, the initial days of jet lag and reverse cultural shock gives way to lots of attention from friends and relatives (an infrequent guest is treated more cordially than a regular one). Even if I try not to, I end up eating like a pig, enjoying the most the home cooked food prepared by my mom (nothing tastes better).

 

My other favorites are typical Odia sweets like CHHENA JHILLI, CHHENA PODA, PAHALA RASAGOLA, Cuttack Mixture, freshly baked Naans, numerous Street foods, AVADA from temple. Especially those stuff we don't get here, even if we get it rarely tastes the same.

 

Excitement would be an understatement, I am so thrilled. Unlike the dog days of Indian summer, this time heat won't put a spanner on my vacation. As the migratory birds fly South in on their perfunctory trips during the winter, NRIs flock homeland during the weather and holiday conducive month of December. I am keeping my fingers crossed, for a nuisance free trip. For almost 4 weeks, no work and full play. Dear Motherland, here I come.