Happy New Year 2018

The year 2017 paves way for the next teen year of the Millennium - stepping into the year 2018. We don't know what's ahead, what's in store for us. As the old man 2017 bends his spine, extending his hand to open the door to welcome New  Year, it's time for some introspection. 

A la getting rid off old cloths for the new ones, the soul moving from one body to another as famously extolled by Lord Krishna in BHAGWAT GITA and Hindu Scriptues, 2017 is reborn yet again at midnight tonight. The new year dawns as the cherubic smile of a newborn, as another number is added to its age in the form of a New Year.

But hardly anything ever changes. Life trudges ahead as just the same shit, different day with different color and texture. Hardly anything cataclysmic different happens, rather 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 AAE, EK RUT JAAE PHIR,
MOUSAM BADLENA, BADLE NASEEB.

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

This year came with a mixed bag of good, bad and ugly for me, with additional baggage of memories to roll into next year. Made new friends, revived old ones and lost a few near and dear ones once and for all. Yet the year comes with this stark reminder - life goes downhill from here, tasks become uphill and years are numbered before I go over the hill. 

To me, almost all the New Year wishes expressed over the years have been pleasant enough to makes them forgettable. Homo Sapiens inherent nature is to remember the unpleasant ones. I being no exception, 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. Stay blessed.

Salman Tiger ain't my Cuppa Tea

The other day my friends prodded me to watch Salman Khan's some "Tiger" movie playing at a local theater. I have reached a stage and an age with possible maturity to avoid watching the nonsensical theater - the fantasy fetish of a male RAW agent dancing with a female ISI agent.

I refused with my counter offer - "Even if you pay for my tickets and a full pack of ALEVE headache relieving pills in case they come handy, I am not going". They were least interested in taking my offer and went ahead without me.

Sanjeev Kumar in the iconic movie SHOLAY answered Amitabh and Dharmendra duo's querry about hiring them post a staged fight - TUM DONO KO YAHAN BULA KE KOI GALTI NAHI KI ( I have done no wrong by calling both of you here). I feel the same. By refusing to watch Salman as Tiger, MAINE KOI GALTI NAHI KI. It was a sensible thing for me to do.

I had my share of watching many stupid movies in life. One of them which comes to top of my mind is the Hindi movie LOHA (Iron) from 1980s. Amrish Puri is the main villain, the bad guy named DAKU (Bandit) SAITAAN (Devil) Singh, with an explosive Walrus moustache twicked upwards and a thin crop of hair bisecting his bald head. A 5 feet long double barrel gun strapped one side of his shoulder with a thick belt of bullets adoring his waist. He had more hair on his eyebrows than his head, cast with a thick lair of dark KAAJAL (Mascara) under his eyes.

I watched this movie in its entirety, in a bed bug infested theater in Rourkela along with my friends. Bed bugs can bite chunks of your ass off, which is apparent from the sight of viewers coming out of the theatre, scratching their private parts in public.

Those were teenage days when those were appropriate movies of the appropriate time. 1980s was the time when Amitabh was the One Man Bollowood movie industry. He was numero uno till no.10, with no number 11 on sight.

In one such movies the ageless star pushes his car, with an overweight and overaged Amrita Singh opposite him looking over. The song was CHAL CHAL MERE RAM PIARI (Walk on, oh walk on my John Doe), where the Mega star's car named RAM PIARI (the Indian version of the common name Johny) walks besides him, sometimes smiling and winking. This lively car
is apparently alive and kicking, obeys the order of his master who stands and dances along side to the tune of this song.

This movie was from an era when Amitabh, though at his declining phase, still called the shots. So much so that, producers like Manmohan Desai et all churned out one junk after another from him. The girls opposite to him were mostly discarded actresses from yester years, who had nothing to lose except flabs on their waist and everything to gain from standing next to the aging superstar.

There was another junk INSAANIYAT (Humaneness) churned out of the legendary actor's superstardom. Lowering expectations, I continued watching it with some degree of amusement. As expected, Amitabh stood taller, towering above both his co-actors Chunky Pandey and Sunny Deol.

The overshadowed duo in this typical Bollywood formula movie would duel it out to secure their own turf, until our Super hero Amitabh, the peacemaker arrives at the scene. Chunky comes dancing like a monkey, together with Sunny Deol start singing locking their arms around each other "TU MERA BHAI, MEIN TERA BHAI (you are my brother, I am your brother).

Their bromance (brotherly romance) continued. As the song progresses they wrapped arms around each other's waist and touching each other's cheek just short of kissing. Any westerner who would see this might mistake Chunky and Sunny as perfectly eligible for gay marriage.

Now my taste and choice is beyond watching these movies, attaining some degree of maturity in taste as I gallop towards 50, a la Swiss Cheese maturing  over age. Good luck to the viewers who cherish Salman's Tiger series movies. Please count me out, for Salman as Tiger ain't my Cuppa Tea. I would rather prefer to watch the Tiger in a sanctuary.

Beef about Cake

This holiday season reminds me of my childhood when a Christian family used to present us a nice home made fruit cake during Christmas. Those days good quality cake was a luxury in Odisha. Those available tasted more like sugar laced bread. We used to wait eagerly for the once in a year luxury to savor a bite of the soft, pound cake variety.

Only person who was not so excited was my grandmother, for she always had this feeling there could be GORU MANSA (beef) stuffed inside the cake, especially the dark colored KISMIS (Raisins) looked suspicious to her. A brahmin widow from Puri, her perception of Christians and Muslims were perennial beef eaters.

She warned me of my PAITA (sacred thread worn by Brahmins) going MARA (loss of sanctity) upon eating that cake upon which we need to do a penance of taking bath in cow dung laced water sprinkled with GANGAJAL (water from river Ganga), followed by multiple trips to the Puri Jagannath temple. I couldn't imagine doing all these post eating a slice of the cake.

Fortunately I enjoyed my cake without going through those rituals. Now I live in the land which happens to be the largest producer and consumer of the bovine meat. But I am yet to see a single cake that has beef as ingredient labeled on it. So the beef of the story is you can have your cake and eat it too without bothering to get beefed about beef. Enjoy your Christmas holidays and the Cakes.

A daughter is a daughter all life

Among many of us Indians the craze for a male child is always there. Whether we live inside or outside of India or in Moon or Mars, having a son is considered as a boon. A daughter is regarded by many as an unwelcome arrival, a culture we inherited since time immemorial.

Here goes my tentative algorithm (those who work in Information Technology should be familiar with the lingo). It best describes the desire for a male heir - a cherished progeny to carry the lineage to the next generation

PERFORM UNTIL GET SON
   IF DAUGHTER BORN
        CONTINUE PERFORMING
   ELSE
        SET GET SON TO TRUE
   END-IF
END-PERFORM

Among Americans the preference for a male child is there, though to a lesser extent in a more subtle way. The issue in America is not dowry or nagging in-laws or the craze for a son for passing one's linage to the nextgen, rather a desire to have a son to wrestle or play football with.

Or like one of my colleagues put it - A son can bring headaches home but if the issue involves a girl then it is some else's headache. A few years ago I was in a training class where the instructor during the perfunctory self introduction asked all to say a special thing about themself. One guy said "My specialty - I have 5 daughters all in the age range of 12-20." The whole room erupted with laughter.

I did not find this so funny, hence just chuckled a bit lest it would be construed as my foolishness of not understanding something. As the laughter subsided, the instructor asked "So, what is so special about it ?" Well, the 5 - daughter-dad shied, "Having 5 girls in that age range plus your wife, they are half a dozen and I am the only male holding the fort. With their periodic mood swings - they can drive any one crazy maan. But I'm still sane. That itself is so special". Again laughter reverberated across the room.

He continued further - "They just gang up against me maan, I am the lone ranger. They kinda getcha maan, I know it just makes y'all laugh but I am tellin' ya it ain't no laughi'n matter maan. My hair is grayi'n and BP is shooting up. Heart of heart, I always wished I had a son in the house to give me company". 

"Wow, wow", exclaimed many in the room with some ladies giggling with their palms clutching their cheeks uttering great, amazing, unbelievable, awesome. Some protesting - "Ooooo. No. You can't say that". (Americans are quite apt in communication skillls, using superlatives to drive home the message. An example is the common usage of the word great for even the silliest, trivial thing).

When asked how many children he had, the famous boxing legend Muhammad Ali once said "I have seven mistakes and one son". Ironically it came from the mouth of a person who fought his whole life against injustice and inequality".

Blessed are those who have daughters. For,

A daughters is daughter for life,
Son is a son until he gets a wife.

True, and absolutely true these days.

It ain't no shit story

North Korea is very much in the news these days. Apart from it conducting Nuclear and Missile tests, there was a story about its starving farmers starved of fertilizers being instructed by their government to use their faeces instead to boost the crop production. This has led to growing stomach related diseases in that impoverished nation which can be traced to the pathogens in food transmitted from human excreta used as manure.

It reminds me of a story narrated to me by Dipti Bhai, a close friend and my senior from REC, Rourkela. In his native village in Odisha used to live an old man. As many villages those days lacked modern toilets, the man dug up a section of his backyard to use it as his lavatory. The coarse rice, red CHUDA (parched rice), vegetable and SAAGA (green leafy veggies) eating man would squat over his self dug cylindrical hole to take his dump on regular basis, forming pyramids after pyramids barely inches below his bottom.

One fine morning he came up with this creative idea to recycle his output in a productive manner.  So he planted a few DESI ALU or KHAMBA ALU (A tubor, resembling Yam) inside it. The crop was never short of perennial supply of fresh nutrients emanating from his solid dump day in, day out - washed down, irrigated gently by streams Urea from his urine.

The result - A bumper yield of extra large spectra wide sized yams. But neither he, nor the nosey villagers who got the scent of the secret of his successful harvest would take them - for the saga of the success of the underground tubor never stayed underground in the neighborhood.

But that never deterred the old man from selling off his stock of the popular tubor which is used as fries, boiled in Dal (lentil soup) and curried with spices. It is also a major ingredient to the food cooked in temple, including the MAHAPRASAD (The great offering) of Puri Jagannath temple. 

He managed to haul them to the local HAAT (Weekly market) a few miles from his home where the gullible buyers had no clue of the source of these "Desi Alu". To the merchant's amusement they would heave paens of praise about the taste of the supersized veggie, goading him to bring more, more often. Never he imagined the goods from his crap will sell so good.

It is not known if the consumers of the lummox, brown tubor suffered any stomach related ailments. But what is known, the old man got stomach full of satisfaction, the same he got looking at the size of his dump after relieving himself inside the shit hole. This human shit is no bullshit.

America's support to Israel on Jerusalem

So much is made out of India voting against Israel and USA in UN General Assembly. It could at least have abstained. May be the mandarins of our foreign policy sitting in North Block still finds it difficult to shed off their Cold War and Non-alignment mindset.

But it is not the end of the world. These UN votes hardly mean anything. America has already vetoed in Security Council supporting Israel declaring Jerusalem as their Capital. The highly powerful Israeli Lobby AIPAC (America Israel Political Action Committee) bankrolled by the Jewish Billionaires has a big say in formulating pro-Israel foreign policy in Washington.

US has been a steadfast supporter of Israel since the inception of the state in 1948. Harry Truman, the then President of The United States was the first to recognize the Jewish state. Ever since America has given its unstinting support to Israel, in terms of Aids, Weapons and diplomatic support as and when needed.

In June, 1981 following the Israeli strike on the Iraqi Nuclear Reactor on the outskirts of Baghdad, US promptly vetoed any UN resolution against Israel. I still vividly remember this cartoon by R K Laxman on the front page of Times Of India, where the UN Secretary General says to the recalcitrant, mockingly grimacing Israeli PM Menacgem Begin - "The more you launch such an attack, you will be condemned more severely".

36 years down the road, not much has changed. United Nations, arguably the world's biggest, bloated bureaucracy which houses a bunch of entitlement seekers, famous for their efficiency and lack of accountability. A spineless organization, it is known more for failures than success on its Balance Sheet ever since its inception in 1945.

A sizable amount of its maintenance is born by the Americans Taxpayers. Now high time it is dissolved, or US kicks them out of its own soil. What a blatant waste of prime real estate properties in New York and Washington DC, which can be used for far better purpose.

The nations in United Nations, in contrary to the name suggests, are hardly United. In spite of tons of money poured into many poor nations (mostly American money), those nations still languish in poverty. Those who have succeeded in moving 10s of millions out of poverty (notably China and India), have done so by helping themselves and with some help from Private charitable agenies, rather than anything remotely from UN.

At least a year ago Saudi Arabia headed the UN council of Human Rights. Amongst its other members is China, another Champion of human rights violation, completing the league of distinguished gentlemen of the so called protectors of Human rights.

The Security Council is used as the personal fiefdom of its veto wielding members, to further their own selfish agenda. It has hardly achieved any world peace and stability, which was supposed to be the primary goal when the organization was formed 70 years ago.

Now Philippines not so long ago threatend to come out if UN, a trend would be set for more nations to come out of this behemoth global Babudom. Hopefully it is the harbinger of the demise of this monolithic structure, the sooner the better.

So, Why stick to an institute which after scores of years of existence, has far more failures than achievements to its credit. In my opinion completely getting rid of it, won't hurt anything. A world without UN will be more or less the same - sans billions of wasted dollars.

Why Modi won Gujarat 2017

Yes, Modi won Gujarat, not BJP. We are a parliamentary democracy in the name only - in reality our Elections are fought Presidential style. This is not something new. A la during the heydays of Indira Gandhi, there is no one now who is close to Narendra Modi in caliber and charisma.

First and foremost, Love it, or hate it -BJP is a cadre based party which is professionally managed, having members withinsatiable hunger for win, often by hook or crook. BJP started with back foot, with 20 plus years of incumbency and GST mess up hanging like albatross across its neck. But still it managed to win, albeit by a reduced margin. It's winner take all world in politics. The 2nd place party, however less may be its margin of loss, does not get to rule, rather seats in the opposition. BJP has taken a cue from the erstwhile Congress and mastered the art of winning.

On the other hand, Congress as a party still lives in 1980s. It talks of democracy but its leaders are coronated - a son following the mother at the highest level (Yes, so far it's the trend, son following a mother - Rajeev followed Indira, Rahul followed Sonia). Without infusion of fresh ideas, narratives, imagination and new blood, rot has sipped into the party which can't forever run by a person who thinks a superior king is destined to rule over inferior subjects.

Hindus constitute 85% of India's population but are divided along the lines of multiple castes and sub castes. BJP's strength is consolidation of the Hindu votes, the more it unites them, the better it performs. It' played to its strength, doing that. Congress's strength is minority votes, especially in states where they form a credible opposition to BJP. The more it can pull chunks of castes from the Hindu vote bank, it's better.

BJP as expected played to its strength, Congress did not. Rahul Gandhi's cardinal mistake was to play soft Hindutva card. One should play to one's own strengths, not opponent's. Do you think Modi wear a scull cap or visit Mosques and Churches will drive minorities in droves to vote for him ?

BJP was smart to grab Mani Aiyar's foot and mouth disease or any thing it could hang on to make the Congress party and Congressmen look nincompoop. All said and done - Gujarat
is a highly charged state in communal matters. The post Godhra riots in 2002 was a major one, but certainly not the first one. There were many riots before, especially one I remember from 1985 which happened after Rath Yatra (Car Festival) in Ahmedabad.

The then Congress government at both center and the state dilly dallied, hardly did anything to control it. In this context the spectre of Mian Ahmed Patel taking over Gujarat was the last thing for the voters wanted, tilting the decisive votes to the saffron party. BJP filled in the gap as the party which cares for Hindus above castes. Politics is matter of perception and BJP was able to connect this to the voters with its narrative, however flawed it may be.

Rahul Gandhi's cardinal mistake was to play soft Hindutva. One should play to one's own strengths, not opponent's. Don't think Modi wearing a scull cap or visiting Mosques and Churches will drive minorities in droves to vote for him.

A lesson for BJP and Modi -  It should shed off its complacency and keep working harder. For, a week is a long time in politics, a year and half to the 2019 Parliament election is eons away.

The great culinary delicacies of Odisha

Seven summers ago I was in Odisha, dutifully fulfilling the role of the MAMU (Maternal Uncle) on the occasion of BRATAGHARA (thread wearing) ceremony of my nephew. During the evening I was tasked at taking care of the guests, guiding them to the right menu location, ensuring they ate well and well taken care of.


A gentleman approached me - PANIYARI KOUTHI ACHHI (Where is Paniyari) ? As my mind was struggling to decipher the new lexicon in Odia dictionary, some one cleared the air. He means PANEER (A Thick variety of cottage cheese) spoken in thick Odia accent (some pronounce it as Paniree too).

Poor CHHENA (the traditional Odia loose, paste like loose chunks of cottage cheese) is fast losing its customer base to the Paniyari, a la an invasive pest thrives and takes over the host. Taste wise it is hardly close to our traditional CHHENA TARKARI (Cheese curry), yet due to our inferiority complex and fascination to ape anything foreign has made Paniyari taken a firm foothold on the state's capital.

Odisha has a great array of culinary delicacies for every occasion, so listing all of them is beyond the scope of this blog. During my childhood there used to be saying -

ARISA, KAKARA AHA KI MITHA
(Arisa resembes hard doughnuts and Kakara its softer version are so sweet).

These days those traditional PITHA (cake) items are seen more sold at  stores and less made in households.

The traditional Odia food is not just about sweet and delicious, being more water and less oil based, healthy too. The dishes like SANTULA, GHANTA (assorted vegetable curries) and DALMA (boiled soup like mix of lentil and veggies) are not only good for arteries, great for cleansing your colon - it can cure chronic constipation guaranteeing a bowel movement as clean as whistle.

The wide spectrum of Odia food goes above and beyond vegetarian base. MANSA KASA (Goat meat griddled in varieties of spices) is a must at most Sunday lunches, though Chicken is the new kid on the block. Endowed with long coastline, brackish water, criss crossing rivers, lakes and ponds contributes to its myriad dishes of fish, shrimp, prawn and crabs. Pandit Gopabandhu Das, a leading Odia freedom fighter and philanthropist has expressed his fetish for prawn -

HAIO CHUNGUDI KAHIN,
GHUNGUDI MARIBA KAHAKU KHAI ?
Roughly transliterated...

Hey, the prawn is not seen.
What'll make us snore in the afternoon ?

The KATAKA Mixture, a popular snack can beat any Haldiram snack by miles, but rarely available outside. It's CHHENA based sweets like RASAGOLA and CHHENA JHILLI (Sugary cheese balls), CHHENA PODA (Baked cheese cake) simply mouthwatering, melts in the mouth. I haven't encountered any sweet dish across the world which can beat these world beaters from my native state.

The eminent writer Khushwant Singh once wrote that the way the Sikhs are getting rid of their facial hair and turbans soon they would cease to be a separate identify, eventually melting with Hindus. Won't be surprised if the same fate awaits the Odias, their culture and traditions of which the food forms an integral part - facing extinction in the next quarter of century.

Turbulence in Air

Holiday travel season approaching, many will be travelling on vacation far and wide. I love these winter travels, as the air is still and crispy unlike summers, making the flights are less prone to turbulences - at least in the Northern hemisphere.

Turbulence in the air scares the hell out of me. Flying for more than two decades now it has not gone unnoticed to me that the number of such occurrences have gone up over the years, especially in recent times.

To vindicate my observation as per a report published in National Geographic magazine, because of climate change the extreme weather events that breed turbulence are likely to become more frequent and intense. That means air travel which is getting costlier and less customer friendly, is going to have the additional bonus of more bumpy rides. It's certainly less pleasing and more scary scenario.

A decade ago in July, 2007 at the peak of monsoon season moments before my flight landed at Bhubaneswar Airport, dark clouds started engulfing the plane. The Alliance Aircraft (a subsidiary of Air India) encountered severe turbulence as it was pelted with powerfully packed tropical air currents.

Unlike the violent winds outside, inside wafted in a calm and composed female voice - MAUSAM KHARAB HONE KE KARAN AAP KURSI KI PETI BANDH LELI(because of bad weather please fasten your seat belts). I did it immediately.

The plane shook vigorously, shaking my confidence to the hilt. Some slid down their window cover to take a peek outside. Turbulence can't be seen, can only be felt. High school Science says Air is a mixure of invisible gases. There is no debris or dust flying at 31000 feet to make it visible. I am sure they must have been disappointed

For a moment I thought the overhead baggage compartment will break open, spilling the bags on the hapless passengers. The shaky roller coaster ride which lasted a few minutes seemed like eternity.

It was enough for the agnostic in me to suddenly turn into a believer. I closed my eyes and started remembering all our 33 crore Gods and Goddesses, including the little Goddess under the Banyan tree near my home whom I had conveniently ignored for long.

Finally the ordeal was over as the flight touched the ground in the middle of pouring, torrential rain. Passengers rejoiced by whistling and clapping. Soon I could hear murmurs of HEY PRABHU (O Lord), JAI JAGANNATH from the passengers repeatedly touching their forehead with folded hands. As the flight came to complete halt, I was back to my normal self and my belief in agnosticism. The selfish me forgot again the plethora of Gods and Goddesses I remembered moments ago.

An United Airlines flight in February hit such rough air that a baby was thrown in air, fortunately not harmed. One passenger's head made a dent in the ceiling and few went to hospital. "Flight plans avoid known regions of severe turbulence, but these regions move, and it is difficult to predict exactly where the severe turbulence is going to be - perthe Stanford based NASA Center of Turbulence Research.

Help is on the way. Earlier this year one US airline debuted new turbulence detectors that use special radar to predict the levels and locations of turbulence in the flight path. It's a perennial ungoing battle between man and nature to be one step ahead.

Rasgoolla lost to Bengal

In Odia and Bengali there is a term called ALUDOSH which can be roughly transliterated as "The Potato Syndrome". Pronounced in different accent they have the same connotation in both languages. Overall it denotes idiosyncrasies or unusually irritatingly lascivious or lecherous behavior. 

Something close to it happened between the two neighboring states, as the politics of Rasgulla brought a kind of ALUDOSH from both sides to open.  It's sour grapes for Odias as Misti (Sweet) Rasgoolla (Cheese Balls dipped in sugary syrup) goes to Bengal as for years both the states claimed credit to the popular sweet. We couldn't take the battle beyond social media and lost it Bengal. Many Odias are sulking over their defeat, Bengalis rejoicing over their victory.

There is an age old saying in Africa "When two elephants make love or war it is the grass which suffers". It's invariably the hapless commoners who bear the brunt. This brewing fight between these neighboring states can be stopped by making them agree to a,sweetened deal -put Rasgoolla into each other's mouth to sooth their nerves.

Both states not only share a common border but similarities in language, food, culture and traditions. One solution to this can be their Chief Ministers, Pappu and Didi the most eligible bachelors from the states to tie the knot. 

In the era of RAJA (kings) and MAHARAJAs (emperors) marital alliances between heads of states often solved age old rivalries. Odias can demand tons of delicious Rasgoolla from across the border as KANYAA BHARA (gifts from bride's side) which the BARAJATRIs or BARAATIs (the groom's friends and relatives who often inebriated accompany the former in the marriage procession) can cherish. That will be a real sweet deal.

Obama campaigns in Virginia - 2017 Gubernatorial election

The state of Virginia goes to poll tomorrow to elect its Governor. Unlike most states, Virginia limits its Governor to only one term. That means once in 4 years, the incumbent Governor has to leave tge office and fresh elections will decide the new Governor.

Per the latest opinion poll the race is neck to neck. What makes this one off election unique - is its timing (exactl a  year after the last Presidential election will it will reflect Trump's popularly) and proximity to the power corriders of Washington DC.

Virginia used to be solidly Republican which has turned Blue of late. Democrats have left no stone unturned by pulling Obama campaign in the state. The ex-President is still charismatic and has a good support base of the highly populated Washington DC Suburbs of Northern Virginia.

As far as Hillary goes, who exactly a year ago was a step away from the top post in the world, has become a liability to the party. I have not heard her campaigning in Virginia, nor the Democratic candidate is inclined to invite a stale face lacking charisma. What a difference an year can make - turning one from an asset to a liability.

Golden days of Woolen

My son recently needed some woolen yarn for his school project. Not many stores carry them, so finally managed to locate those in Wal Mart. it left me wondering who ever uses them to knit sweaters in an age when mass  machine produced woollen garments rule the roost.

End of the month of KARTIKA (lunar month back home in India) is the harbinger of the short, cold season in Odisha. And it is the Fall (Autumn) time during my Childhood days, when women were seen knitting sweaters using a pair of sticks in an artistic way to weave magic out of bundles of wool. Mid afternoon, they would assemble in groups as gossips sweet and sour rule the air, often over hot PAKODAs (fritters) and Teas prepared by the host.

As they say in Odia, NANA BAHAGHARA RU NANI BAHAGHARA PATYANTA - everything happening under the Sun from father's marriage to sister's marriage was discussed with intermittent twitting sound of the knitting needles. ( Twitting should not be consfused with twitting as it was an era when internet and social media was strictly fantasy). If the topic is as hot as the UPURI (extra income through means of corruption) or a local affair between so and so 's son and daughter, the knitting stops temporarily as the ears of the ladies get elongated like an antenna to pick on the rumor mill. Instant verdict is delivered without the accused even having a chance to defend themselves.

Now a days made in China and Bangladesh garments flood the market, making knitting redundant, unless someone has taken it up as a hobby or a past time. The last hand knitted woolen garment I wore was gifted to me by my Mausi (aunt), until I turned I outgrew it. It was well made enough to withstand sands of time over  half a decade.

But as far as gossips go - nothing has changed. Only the platform has. Gossips gone high tech. Whats App and smart phones have made the iGossips and eGossips viral. Charles' law from High school Chemistry says:  the temperature of gas is directly proportional to the volume, the pressure remaining constant. Similarly, the knitting is replaced by weekend potluck parties, with gossips remaining constant. Extinct are those woolen days, a la the Woolly Mammoths of the pre-history.

Jalaram Baba Bhajan at local temple

An evening well spent at the local temple. Thanks to my friend Sanjay Patel and family for organizing and inviting us to a social gathering - A BRAJAN (Devotion song) session for Jalaram Baba, a well known Hindu Saint from the state of Gujarat.

Initially I couldn't make much out of those changings in Gujurati language, as my mind and thoughts started wandering, me wondering how long this session will continue. But slowly me and my mind settled down, as I could figure out meaning of some, as they were liberally laced with Sanskrit words. The singing and the beats were melodious enough to bring my flickle mind back to the venue. Music has no language, good music can touch your souls, more if they are catchy ones to catch your attention :

Bhang Piye Shivjee, Amrut Piye Raam

Jalaram Naam Niyo, Jalaram Naam,

Oh Oh re Mara Jalaram Baba

(Lord Shiva drinks cannabis paste water,

 Lord Raam drinks nectar,

 Take the name of Jalaram,

 Oh my God Jalaram).

Snakes who have poor eyesight but can sense movement. Similarly, I have poor understanding of Gujarati, but could sense it. There was the mention of Jagannath a few times in the lyrics of the Bhajans, which apart from the vegetable Parval (POTALA in Odia) links Odisha to Gujarat.

I am not a very religious person, consider myself an agnostic and forgotten when was the last time I visited a temple last. Sermons bore me to death - they better preached than practiced, more said than done. Bhajans can be boring, unless they're melodious and I understand them. The selfish in me only remembers God at the time of distress.

But the singer duo, especially the female one did a good job. They kept on singing one after another, seemed pretty seasoned and experienced. It was followed by some hot and sweet food Gujurati vegetarian food. Loved the freshly made steaming Khichdi (boiled rice with veggies with dolllops of ghee) which was perfectly soothing to my taste buds on a blistering cold evening.

Apparently, we were the only non-Gujju (a slang for Gujuratis) present there. It didn't escape my notice the admirable decorum and disJalaramcipline, as they formed a line with the volunteers serving them food. Contrast that to some of our NRO (Non Resident Odia) Bhais (bros) who have an inflated sense of entitlement and world champions in breaking lines (they do so elusively at Odia gatherings, but quietly fall in line if Americans are around). I wish they come to the next Bhajan gathering and get trained on mannerisms and hunger management.

Linking Aurangzeb to Naveen

There used to be a popular saying during the days of Mughal dynasty which ruled India during the medieval period of 1526 to 1750. "TAKHT YA TAKHTA", meaning "Crown or Coffin", it aptly described the fratricidal wars fought between the brothers for the prized Kingship which knew no Kinship. In the end one ended up with Crown, the rest rested in their graves.

The last powerful Mughal emperor Aurganzeb was no different. After killing his 3 brothers he captured the prized Peacock Throne and put his ailing father  Sahajahan to house arrest overlooking river Yamuna.

It is probably true that when Aurangzeb sent his father, his dad's favorite son and his own blood brother Dara Shikoh's head (actually served on a platter when Shah Jahan was dining), the old man fainted at the sight and his face crashed into the table, breaking his teeth.

But Sah Jahan, the old man who fainted at the sight of the ghastly, macabre sight of his son's severed head, at prime of his youth had no qualms about blinding and killing his brothers for securing his throne. He inhereting these traits from his father Jahangir, who blinded his rebellious son who wanted to usurp his father for the coveted crown. 

So why was Aurangzeb so cruel ? The question can be reversed. Why did Shah Jahan hated Aurangzeb so much? It is not easy to understand, but it is true. From a very young age, before he was an adult, Aurangzeb was sent out by his father on impossible missions, like reconquering their ancestral lands in the badlands (still is) of modern day Afghanistan, while his pampered eldest son Dara Shikoh was mollycoddled in court, apparently groomed as Sah Jahan's heir.

Unfortunately, for both father and his favored son Dara, this mistreatment of Aurangzeb backfired and produced a hardened and experienced warrior. While the suave, erudite Dara Sikoh sat with Pundits busy learning Sanskrit and translating Upanishad (a sacred Hindu text) to Persian, the younger Aurangzeb was mastering military strategies in dry and dusty Deccan. 

It was no surprise when the crunch time came, the battle tested 3rd son of Sah Jahan used his hard earned military skills and strategies against his elder brother. He defied the odds by making strategic military alliances with his other brothers, and then defeating his father's blue eyed boy Dara Sikoh in spite of the later having the backing of the Royal Mughal Army. Eventually Aurangzeb double crossed his other brothers, killed them and went on to rule Delhi for half a century. After long time the Mughal Dynasty produced an able warrior since Akbar (Jahangir was a hedonist and Sah Jahan an indolent). 

It explains why Aurangzeb trusted nobody. Childhood psychology is known to percolate deep into the later age - a person who can't trust his father can't be expected to trust others. Aurangzeb was no exception. Sah Jahan groveled over Dara's gruesome death for rest of his life, looking vicariously at the mammoth masterpiece called Taj Mahal he built on the banks of Yamuna river until he died.

Fast forward to three and a half century later, a similar parallel can be drawn. Like Aurangzeb, the current Chief Minister of Odisha is also known to be ruthless and trusts no one. This part of his personality can be attributed to his legendary father who was rumored to have a very low opinion of his youngest son, which contributed to the low self esteem of the son before the eyes of his father.

I would like to lift this episode from a well researched book by my friend Biswajit Mohanty. Sometime during the early 1990s when Biju Patnaik was in his last and final tenure as the Chief minister of Odisha, his Delhi based socialite son Naveen, a frugal visitor to the state suddenly dropped in with his British friend at the state capital. (Now it's other way round. Naveen, the Chief minister rarely ventures out of his state). 

The father avoided entertaining the duo at his home and instructed one of his ministers to house them at a local hotel. This is one of several instances of the Odia legend snubbing his son for reasons best know to him.

It is said, the son has paid back by not being a big fan and protagonist of his legendary father's ideas and vision, except using his name for political purposess. Yet, a la Aurangzeb who ruled the longest amongst the Mughals, the ignored son of Biju eventually had the last laugh by ruling the state for the longest tenure by any single individual the post independent Odisha has seen, with the possibility of lasting for quarter of a century. 

No wonder, History loves to repeat itself. Not much has changed - In the gory medieval days a severed head served on a platter was the harbinger of a long reign. In modern democracy days, the natural death of a father has paved the way for a long tenure of his distrustful son.

 

The beauty of the English language

Many from my generation studied 3 to 4 languages in school. I studied Odia, English, Hindi and Sanskrit. The last one, Sanskrit is not a language of the commoners, but is an ancient language known to be the origin of most Indian languages with quite bit of influence on the Dravidian languages which aren't sourced from Sanskrit.

There is a saying in Sanskrit - BINA AVYASE BISAM VIDYA, meaning "without practice the knowledge is poison". A language, skill or knowledge becomes useless when unused for a prolonged length of time.

It stood vindicated in my case, as no sooner I left High school, than I lost touch with Sanskrit. Till date I religiously read and follow Odia literature whenever I get a chance. My knowledge of Hindi is limited to watching Bollywood movies and talking to my Hindi speaking friends. I hardly read or write anything in Hindi but posses the ability to do so.  

Soon English took over the rest as the primary mode of reading, writing and communicating, especially outside my home. It is the unofficial official language of the globe, overpowering and overshadowing the rest. Originated in England, Pax Americana propelled it further, as the language grew leaps and bound with the growth of United States which adopted the language as its own. 

During World War II, a desperate Winston Churchill, the British Prime Minister who was incessantly battered by the Nazi onslaught tried to mollycoddle US to drag it into the war with his famous quip - " We are common people separated by a common language".

He wasn't far from the truth. If English survives today, it is because of these two nations across the Atlantic who controlled the world at different stages in history. But the secret sauce behind its success - English constantly upgraded itself by liberally adding vocabulary from other languages, which includes thousands of words of Indian origin, not to mention one from my native state of juggernaut (originated from Lord Jagannath). 

English started as the language of the rich in India, but continued enriching itself. Any product, system, organism or society needs continuous improvement and adaptability to sustain on the long run. Dinosaurs couldn't adapt and survive, but humans being intelligent animals could do so and still thriving. Same is applicable to the languages.

Been a long time I haven't come across any new word in Odia or Hindi. But English and Urdu are so different, who bear stark similarities. Both are flexible, don't have a script of their own (English uses Roman and Urdu used Arabic) and any stringent grammatical rules (For that matter American English hardly follow any grammar). 

Urdu is a nice blend of Hindi, Persian and Arabic, a smooth blend like blended Scotch Whiskey. The flexibility of both has contributed to their richness, robustness and longevity. And they're the ones destined to flourish as long as they adapt as survivor of the fittest.

Happy birthday Bapu - 2017

Albert Einstein once described him as - "It's hard a believe such a man in flesh and blood ever walked on the surface of earth". The world famous scientist wasn't far from truth, as the man he was referring to rightly earned his accolades. We are talking about non other than our BAPU (Father of the Nation), Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi, popularly known as MAHATMA (the famous soul) Gandhi.

Newton's 3rd Law says every action has an equal and opposite reaction. Same is applicable to human emotions. Every violent action would naturally follow with an equal or more violent reaction, often leading to a continuous, never ending cycle of revenge. But Mahatma Gandhi decided to fight violence in an exactly opposite manner, something different and out of box called "Non-violence".

Born in Gujarat to an upper middle class family, educated in England, Mohandas Gandhi first experimented his peaceful protests against the brutally racist Apartheid regime in South Africa. He subsequently applied the same against the British rule in India. 

Gandhiji (as he was popularly addressed as) experimented with different vices and virtues early in his life, prompting him to write "My Experiment with Truth". But sometimes his experiments went little too far. At an old age after his wife's death, his experiment of sleeping naked with his nubile niece to test his control over libido attracted some controversies. His opponents, notably the Muslim League made a big deal out of it. Gandhi finally discontinued this practice after some persuasion by an image conscious Congress party. What happened in dark, stayed in dark.

His method of protest being unique, immediately caught the eyes of the world at a time when electronic media was at its infancy. The world stood up and took notice, appalled by the sight of the DANDI March protesters brutally mowed down by the DANDA (stick) of British Police. The victims didn't show an iota of retaliation or remorse and went ahead with their protest, still taking the blows from police baton and falling injured one after one another, until they couldn't carry on any further. 

This incident was covered extensively by the western media which brought Gandhi and his unique mode of protest to the limelight. Gandhi was an idealist, whose idealism did not fail as he fell to an assassin's bullet. His ideology of non-violence was later replicated by Dr. Martin Luther King Junior half a world away in The United States to fight for the Civil Rights for the Black minorities. Dr. King, like his idol Gandhi was too assassinated, but both vindicated the efficacy of "Non-violence" as a mode of protest.

When India celebrated its independence, arguably brought to by his non-violence means, instead of celebrating, Gandhiji spent the day praying and fasting. He was steadfast in his pursuit for Hindu-Muslim unity, but India was partitioned amidst bloody violence on communal lines, opposite to what he stood for.

Post partition, Pakistan asked India to pay Rs.48 crore (480 million), a princely sum those days. India refused to oblige. Bapu wanted India to pay the money to younger brother Pakistan and went on fasting, forcing India to relent and pay the money to its western neighbor. Pakistan used that lump sum amount of money to buy arms and attack India.

After his death, his countrymen hardly retained his ideologies. India continued to be riddled with violence of all sorts, later in the form of terrorism. The current affairs of our nation may aptly described by these few lines lifted from the Odia song LE NABEENA from 1981, depicting the sad saga of the Mahatma. (Naveena here depicts the typical down to earth Odia guy, no relationship to any person bearing the same name).

LE NABEENA TIKE PACHHAKU ANA,
HATHE BAADI DHARI THIA BAPUJI NANA,
BAPUJI BUDHA RA AAKHI RE LUHA,
TA RAMA RAIJE AAJI YAMA RA BHAYA

( O' Nabeena, take a peek behind.
Stick in hand Old man Bapuji is standing,
The old man's eyes are filled with tears,
Yama, the God of death has filled
His Dream Land with fear).

Happy Birthday to Bapu, the Father of the nation. We may or may not agree with what you did or what you could have done, or whether your out of box experiment with non violence was an useful weapon. But you carved your niche to be the greatest amongst the greats who ever walked on the surface of earth.

10 die hard old habits die hard - II

(Continued from the part I of my last blog of 10 die hard old habits which have died).....

6. The 4 Cs of youth of those days, i.e. Cinema, Cigarette, Cycle and Curly hair hanging over ears were the classic tell - tale signs of soneone turning CHHATARA TOKA (Girl chasing vagabond) and BAZAARI (Free roaming loafer). Good boys were not supposed to watch movies, smoke, go on long bicycle rides and keep long hairs. As a 10 year old, I was once chastised by my grandpa for keeping long, wavy hair cascading like waterfall over my earlobes, an early sign of stepping into the world of CHHATARA. The long hair was promptly mowed down.

7. Chocolates or Candies were exclusively for kids. Elders eating chocolates were frowned upon being childlike. It has been described in the popular Akshay Mohanty Odia song attributed to his daughter,

MU KHAILE ALU CHAP,
TU KHAILU LOLLIPOP. Transliterated...

As I savor my Potato cutlet,
Lollipop is what you just ate.

An elderly relative used to be very fond of Cadburies Milk Chocolates and Five Star Bars, but too shy to express it in public. He would buy those from a local store, loudly proclaiming to take it for his nephew and neice, but in privacy will devour a good portion of those.

8. JANHA NAMUN (Chanda Mama), Indrajaal (Phantom, Mandrake, Bahadur) and Amar Chitra Katha (history and mythology) comics were very popular those days with kids, though Chanda Mama was read by all age groups. The favorite of the youth from that generation were cheap detective stories of DASYU (Bandit) Ranjan and Dipak series and tiny SATHI POCKET BOOK novels. Not sure how many of them exist and read by the current iGeneration.

9. Remember Wall posters and scribbles - BASANTA ROGA RA PRATHAMA KHABAR PAIN 5000 TANKA PURASKAR (Rs. 5000 reward for the first information on Small Pox). The Cholera and Small Pox shots were dreaded by many those days where a needle as thick as DAMPHANA (the Odia term for thick needles used to sew jute sacks) was stabbed to your hand or ass with great force. It would cause severe pain and fever for next few days. Don't think the present generation is so afraid of needles.

10. NUA BARSHA or The New Year's Day was celebrated on 1st January, not on the night of 31st December. As the clock chimed at midnight, most were in deep slumber, well cushioned and cuddled inside their comforters rather than dancing their way in Bacchanalian jamborees in a faraway hotel or nightclub. A family lunch or dinner would suffice to welcome the New Year.

Few years back, one fine New Years day in India, I was trying to cross the Puri bound road close to our house in Bhubaneswar. The abnormal traffic that day caught me offguard. I had to tip toe my way, swaying my hips, waving and clenching my fist like an eunuch at the approaching traffic of vehicles big and small, zeroing on, blaring their cacophonic horn in unison at me. That day I went above and beyond my normal hip swaying skills which would have made any danseuse proud and finally managed to cross the road.

Back home, I queried my father the reason behind such an unusual rush on an usual day. He said, it has become fashionable of late to do a JAGANNATH DARSHAN (take a peek at Lord) on New Year's Day at His abode in Puri. Like a dip in river Ganga (Ganges), they trust the Lord of Universe with his ever pervading look will purify them off their dirt like Aqua guard from any sin accumulated in the previous year and shower them with His blessings for the next. Good luck to them.

Sinha, Swami, Shatrughan and Shiv Sena

Sinha, Swami, Satrughan and Shiv Sena. All four who now talking in the same tune, critical of the current status of Indian economy are generalists (except Swami) and political opportunists. All have their axe to grind against current Modi government - wrong people trying to say the right thing. Let's look at each case on individual basis.

YASHWANT SINHA - He is generalist to the core, as clearing an Exam in 1950s doesn't make him a great economic professional (though his bureaucratic fraternity are self proclaimed Mr. Know Alls). Yashwant Sinha is doing exactly what an opportunist career Bureaucrat, and a turncoat who has swung like Pendulum from the Left (Socialist) to the Right (Swayamsevak) in his career.

As a bureaucrat he was a well ensconced Babu who licked the b**ls of the Bihar Chief Minister Karpoori Thakur and Chandra Sekhar, both legendary Socialists to climb the Bureaucratic ladder. Sensing VP Singh wave in 1989, he joined politics. Firmly in Chandra Sekhar's camp, he became the Finance Minister in 1991 in his protege's ministry which lasted only for 40 days.

After the Fall of Chandra Sekhar government he joined a resurgent BJP and became close to Advani. He again backstabbed Advani soon after 2005 when Advani praised Jinnah, only to patch with him later - a la, a typical Babu who like cockroach mastered the art of survival.

In 2013, Sinha was 80 and probably became too slow witted to figure out the Modi wave. He boycotted the Goa session of BJP where Modi was declared the Party's Prime Minister candidate. But the Bihari Babu, a master in the art of manipulation later patched up and managed to get a seat for his son and saw that his son became a minister.

Now at 84 and fag end of his career, Yashwant Sinha is talking bullshit to stay in the news. He is a mere generalist, with a politically laced point of view - far from being an expert on economy.

SUBRAMANIAN SWAMI - The only erudite person and economist of substance among the quartet. But his criticism is purely political. The sulking Swami has few Friends and more enemies as he backstabbed all through out his political career. Those who have a short memory - he was the main architect of the downfall of the BJP government in 1999. He is pissed at not getting the Finance ministry which he has been eying since ages. Frustration of not getting it grows with his age.

SATRUGHAN SINHA - A failed actor and a failed politician noted for his cheap histrionics. Does anyone cares for him ?

SHIV SHENA - It has become a toothless tiger after the death of Bal Thackeray whose PUTRA MOHA (Love for son) led to passing the baton to his useless son rather than the more charismatic nephew Raj. The party is more of an liability rather than an asset to BJP now. The cub Thackeray can only mew like a cat, can't roar. Now he tries to mew louder to stay relevant by questioning every decision by BJP - from Bullet train to Books on economics.

RIP Satyaswarup Mohanty

Every person has a right to live. It hurts utmost and a pall of gloom descends  when like a bolt from the blue we get the news of someone's passing away. And it hurts more, if that person happens to be young and known to you. Because, like every young man and woman, they too have a dream.

I don't know Satyaswarup Mohanty personally. Never saw him, never spoke to him. We hooked up on Facebook. He constantly complimented me on my writing. Soon our interactions increased and we turned into Facebook buddies.

He was a Right Of the Center person, sometimes aligned to my points of view, sometime not. Though an ardent supporter of Modi and BJP,  he was far from a ANDHA BHAKT (Blind devotee). We had our share of differences on occasions, but it was respectful within the realms of civility, never personal.

In fact, during my last trip to India this summer, he texted me with a desire to meet me. I was immensely flattered, but my limited time on hand, prioritization, a hectic schedule and non - cooperative, snail crawling Bhubaneswar traffic prevented me from doing so. 

However, on my "to do list" before my departure I wanted to make a courtesy call to him, but the selfish me kept on procrastinating and the call never materialized. Knowing the vagaries of life, if I were a Clairvoyant and had my ways, I sure would have met him.

Reminds me of this Hindi song.

ZINDAGI SAU BARAS KI SAHI,

ZINDAGI KA BHAROSA NAHI;

CHAAND CHHOOP JAE KAB KYA PATA,

CHANDNI KA BHAROSA NAHI.

Transliterated..

Life is to live for hundred years,

But destiny is unreliable forever ;

Never know when moon goes hiding,

For Moonlight is not worth relying.

When this morning I heard the news of his passing away due to chronic ailment, something snapped inside me. As I finish writing my obituary and regretting my inadvertent ignoring him, not being able to meet him one last time, I can feel the blurriness of eyelids. The haziness is due to the corner of my eyes moistened enough to take off my eye getting glasses. My reflex action used bare fingers as wipers to wipe the tears off.

Stay happy amongst Angels in heaven my dear friend, where you rightly belong.

The story of Dawood's wife secretly visiting India

I am reminded of a funny story from my home state. A starving jackal was lying on a large field, craving for food. He saw a Bull, happily grazing with it's huge ba*ls swinging like a low hanging fruit from its behind.

The hungry jackal wouldn't dare attack the Bull, as the giant bovines reaction can be unpredictable. Watching his forbidden fruit swinging vigorously like pendulum from behind, the Jackal thought its fall is imminent and patiently waited for his meal.

Soon it became noon, evening, followed by twilight. No sign of the Bull's ba**ls  falling off ! The mountain sized bovine moved away after finishing his meal. The frustrated jackal died from starvation.

The moral of this story in Odia :

"ANAAI ANAAI GALANI BELA

 SANDHA PE**A LAGI MALA SIALA".

Roughly transliterated...

"Forever Waiting for Bull's Ba*ls to Fall,

 The Jackal Died After All."

If media reports are to be believed, India's most wanted fugitive Dawood Ibrahim's wife reportedly visited India last year, incognito of course. It has been revealed by the Don's brother during his interrogation in Bombay.

May be inside my lifetime, unlike this ill fated Jackal, I will see a strong, assertive India capturing (I doubt) or killing of Dawood. Great expectation, but certainly not out of bounds. The son of a Mumbai Constable of police, now based in Pakistan supposedly runs an illicit empire of $7 Billion. Dawood has reportedly owns half of Bombay, has so much contacts across India - forget his wife, he can be an honorable guest of someone at helm in India and go back incongito.

A Nation or a Person, whose vision goes above and beyond the next quarter into the next quarter of century, succeeds in its mission. USA, Russia, China, Israel fall into that category. Remember, it took Americans nearly a decade to eliminate Bin Laden and Russians 9 years to punish Zia Ul Haq (rumor has been KGB planted a device in his plane to kill him). It took over a decade for Mossad to track down and spectacularly eliminate all the perpetrators of Black September terrorist group who massacred Israeli athletes in 1972, Munich Olympics.

Yet a sizable chunk of our security establishment are still stuck in Cold War era, lacking purpose, direction. They're mostly inefficient and often corrupt.

I recently read an interview with Vyacheslav Trubnikov, now SVR chief (Russian secret service post Soviet) from 1996-2000 given to an American journalist. He was born in Siberia and joined KGB in 1967.

Immediately he was sent to Calcutta, India under cover as a reporter. He said - "Every journalist in Calcutta those days was considered a spy". A KGB spy in India, in the middle of Commie paradise called Calcutta at the height of Cold War, was certainly not there to do social service with Mother Teresa. Soviet Union then was a nation friendly towards India, yet recruited spies in the house of a friend. But at the same time it supposedly trained India's secret service RAW a thing or two about the old school of spying.

RAW has its share of success, esoe in its neighborhood. It was still quite active under P V Narasimha Rao until mid 1990s and then faltered to keep upto the expectation. Hope it is getting back to track now under the current administration.

In that context, this Hungry Jackal in me is still waiting. Remember, I K Gujral withdrew RAW support networks from Pakistan, making us scratch our head and now starting our security from scratch. The present government has some catch up to do and I need to wait for that happen during my lifetime.

The hyocricy of the protest against Sunny Leone's Condom Ad

The nationwide uproar against the controversial Condom Ad by Indian actress cum model Sunny Leone simply reeks of hypocrisy. In fact more such ads are needed for safe sex and population control in a nation with extremely high number of sexually transmitted diseases, including the dreaded AIDS.

Our men are quite randy and women fecund. That makes Condom is the need of the hour, not condemn of its commercials. She is not advertising Tobacco which causes cancer, nor junk food which aren't heart healthy. 

We simply breed like rabbits - currently at 1.25 billion and still going strong, we are getting nowhere. Whatever economic progress we make is gobbled by this teeming, monstrous millions.

India's exploding human bomb is a major deterrent to its growth, yet hardly any politician talks about the stark necessity of controlling it. Most agonies our nation faces today can be very well be traced to this burgeoning POPULATION. 

Our politicians hardly bother about it, let alone have an agenda to curb this menace. Not long ago, a Hindutva protagonist advocated Hindus to have 4 children each as if we don't have enough. Tomorrow a Mullah or an Evangelist might match this rhetoric. As the old African proverb goes - if two elephants make love or war, it is the grass which suffers. It is India which suffers due to these battle of rhetorics.

It was never too late for China to address its population issue in the late 1970s. It is said that the Middle Kingdom's population would have been 1.75 billion now instead of the current 1.35 billion, had they not implemented the one child principle then. We are not a dictatorship like China who can ruthlessly impose any such agenda on its citizens.

 Only a conscious effort by the populace can bring down the growth. 

Interestingly, the only politician who seriously ever tried to control this epidemic menace was Sanjay Gandhi, the maverick son of Indira Gandhi.  (Another agenda of his was to keep our cities clean, free from dirty slums which were perennial eyesore). 

His grandfather Nehru supposedly said "Population is the strength of India" at a time when J R D Tata, a great visionary warned the former about it. CV Raman was more blunt and said " let's stop producing like pigs". Many including educated folks knowingly go into a Repeat - Until loop (in computer programming parlance) to procure a Male Heir to carry on their linage.

It is time to put a break on it. Like certain laws of Chemistry hold good under Normal Pressure and Temperature, India would have been far better off with a population of 600 millions (half of present) under normal conditions of Corruption and Lawlessness. 

Sad that in our chaotic democracy a few Netas, Mullahs and Mahants can only think parochially to achieve their political goals, rather than taking the Bull by the horn. Sunny Leone should be rewarded doing a social service, not stigmatized by the politicians - ideally it should be other way round.

The man who saved the world

In September, 1983  Stanislav Petrov, a Russian Military officer was sitting at his command center of the Soviet Air Defense Satellite monitoring system. He was suddenly startled as in front of him the alarming signals on the Computer grabbed his immediate attention. It  was several blips on the screen showing 5 Missiles on their way from their arch rival Superpower Unites States of America already on their path to hit the erstwhile USSR (Union of Soviet Republics as Soviet Union was known at that time).

Any person in his place would have immediately alerted the higher authorities. But not this man, who is widely credited for saving the world from a Nuclear war, probably a holocaust of unimaginable proportions. If he defied his conscience and informed his superiors, the Soviet Union would have got mad and responded in kind, resulting in MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction). Thankfully, common sense prevailed on the head of a calm and cool Stanislav Petrov as he resisted from doing so.

There was several reason for him to have trusted his computer - for there was palpable tension in the air, as this incident happened only a few days after a Civilian South Korean Airliner was shot down over Russian Airspace, resulting in the death of more than 200 innocent civilians, which included an American Congressman. (Soviet Union claimed that Airliner was on a spying mission, deviated from its path, hid from the Radar and didn't heed to warnings. US and NATO didn't think so).

Yet he knew by heart of heart that Americans are not suicidal to attack its then Superpower rival without expecting any retaliation. Secondly, even if USA does so, it will fire hundreds to ensure total annihilation of USSR rather than fire just five. Thirdly, he knew that the Russian Inter Continental Ballistic Missile tracking system was far from being accurate and foolproof.

And it was exactly as he thought. It took him 23 minutes to figure out that what he just saw was no more than a computer malfunction. But what if it wasn't a glitch and the missiles were real ? For it would have taken exactly 23 minuted then for the Nuclear tipped missiles from US to have reached the heart of Russia. Stanislav Petrov could have gone down the history as the man who dilly dallied and responsible for destroying the erstwhile Soviet Union.

Petrov recently died at the age of 77, his son announced his death today. His extraordinary story was kept secret under wraps by the Soviets, typically of secretive Communist Regimes, lest it will expose the ugly underbelly of a nation rapidly slipping from its Superpower status. The news trickled out soon after the dismantling of the Soviet Union in 1991.

This episode has been depicted by the great narrator Kevin Kostner (famous for doing so in JFK) in a documentary aptly titled "The Man Who Saved the World". It received several international awards. 

Yet Stanislav Petrov, the man who kept his cool under such adverse circumstances and later won award from his government for "Services to Fatherland", coolly faded into oblivion. He preferred to stay away from the media glare, until his death. RIP, The Man Who Saved The World. Without him, neither World nor We would not have seen the Internet, Facebook, iWhatever devices and much more.

Trump's dinner diplomacy with Dems

Donald Trump recently invited the Democratic Minority leaders Nancy Pelosi (House of Representatives) and Chuck Schumer (Senate) over for Supper. This is no Last Supper, rather the first of dinner diplomatic efforts to cut a deal over Trump's several pending legislative agendas.

This has left many hardcore Conservatives whining about the wining and dining by the President from their own party with the same folks they find alleric. A woman on Rush Limbaugh ( A hard core Conservative) show ascribed it as her PTSD (Pelosi - Trump - Schumer - Deal) moment.

Breaking bread with Democrats is a strict no no for the extreme Right wingers. Forget about any deal with Dems - they don't want to budge a bit on their hardcore Conservative agendas of Immigration and Economy of low taxes, any deal with the party is taboo to them.

Does Trump care ? Certainly not. It is not the Right wing fringe, but rather the moderate Swing voters from the Swing States have elected him to get things done in the swamp called Washington which has come to a screetching halt due to rabid bipartisanship.

As l said earlier, Trump is not a Conservative Republican. He was a Democrat before (so also Ronald Reagan who started his political career as a Democrat and famously said - I didn't leave Democratic party, the Democratic party left me). Trump is more like a Right of the Centre Democrat. Republicans didn't elect him in the last election. It is rather the Democrats of the states of Pennsylvania (last voted for a Republican President in 1988),  Michigan and Wisconsin (last voted GOP in 1984).

Even if the Republicans nominate a Donkey or a Dog, those 35% of the Republican base will always vote for their party's nominee (same goes with Democratic base as well). Trump knows it and has taken these voters for granted. Come election, using his great convincing skill Trump can cajole his base to vote for him - by instilling a fear in their mind about a Democratic comeback. Politics is a game of perception and Trump has mastered it to perfection. This Dinner, Deal and Dessert thing fits to his image of a dealmaker.

In the meantime, Hillary Clinton is going on a cross country tour to promote her new book. Democrats are now saying, "Oh, so now you will visit some Swing States". I smell a rat here. The woman, highly ambitious she is, is doing the groundwork for a third Presidential run in 2020. 

God forbid if that happens. If Dems nominate her for 2020 - Trump (or Mike Pence if Trump doesn't complete his first term) or a Donkey nominated by GOP got my vote.

P.S. : For the uninitiated GOP which is the acronym for Grand Old Party is another name for Republican party in USA. It is akin to the Congress Party back home, which can be termed as GOP of India.

Why I admire Kangana Raunat

Why I admire Bollywood actress Kangana Ranaut? It is more than she being an excellent actor. The reason I admire her, for she has taken the feudal, dynastic, hypocricy and nepotism laden Bull called Bollywood by horn. Her guts and raw courage puts her above the rest.

Most of these Mumbai based actors are slaves of the ever pervading, obnoxious Underworld. When the DADAs (Bosses) desire them to bend, they crawl. More than a decade ago, it took Preeti Zinta, a brave Rajput girl to speak out a thing or two against this mafia menace when our Macho, Muscled but MAICHIA (effeminate) heroes were ever ready to lick the balls of their BHAIs (Mafia Bosses).

Post independence, many actors and actresses came to Bombay from far and wide in order to try their luck in tinsel town, to carve a niche on their own. Many like Balraj Sahni, the Kapoors, Chetan & Dev Anand, Dillip Kumar came from Pakistan. Some gifted actors like Sanjeev Kumar arrived with modest means to hit the jackpot by sheer talent and hard work.

But in 1980s and 90s, many of them foresaw another jackpot in promoting their off springs. Dharmendra made sure his children from both wives delve into film industry. His son Sunny Deol was at best average, the other boy Bobby Deol  tried to be the both action and romantic hero and failed playing both. His two daughters born much later to his 2nd wife, a well known actress named Hema Malini had mostly forgettable careers.

Soon the star kids started regarding Bollywood as their BOPA ZAMIDARI (The Feudal adode of their Father). Many were simply spoilt brats, misogynists to core. They won't be on the stage today without the backing and blessings of their celebrity Godfathers (in some cases Godmothers and Godparents).

When asked who their favorite actors are, they take the names of their dad or mom (in some cases both) and / or many prominent Hollywood stars. (No wonder the name Bollywood has been cloned from Hollywood, it is a fetish in Bombay movie industry to ape anything and everything Hollywood). Rarely they adore anyone from their own fraternity - as they reek of jealousy and internecine rivalry.

Such insecure men constipated by tons of ego, unable to dump it, surreptitiously protect their turf - eventually making a mockery and ass of themselves. When Kangana Ranaut protested of their misdemeanors and misadventures, many including the likes of Hirthrik Roshan went berserk, venting out silly in front of the ever bitching media.

These effeminate heros can sleep with 100 girls to prove themselve as macho and boast about it. But if an actress sleeps around, she is branded a slut. The depth of our hypocrisy is difficult to fathom. Bollywood which loves to echo Hollywood, doesn't do the same as far as women lib goes.

There used to be a saying in my College - MUCHHE WOHI RAKHTE HAIN JIN KE APNI MARDANGI PER SHAQ HOTA HAI (Moustaches are kept by those who have doubts on their virility). Shaq or Shock, these AAMIR BAAP KE BIGDE HUE AULAADs (The spoilt brats of influential dads) badly needed to be taught a lesson.

I am glad, finally an woman of calibre, i.e. Kangana has busted the impregnable male bastion, manly enough to have the audacity to take on the recalcitrant eunuchs, exposing their ugly underbelly - their manhood or rather the lack of it. Hats Off to you girl for being the harbinger of much required change to status quo.