Back in Georgia - India trip 2018

Back in Georgia to a cool 75 (21degree centigrade) afternoon. It felt odd not to hear a single vehicle honking on my 100 miles (160 km) road trip from Atlanta to Columbus. Miss the din and bustle, crowd and kickee...kickkee..kickee...of bikes yonking their way through - the ubiquitous jerk on the road and the bumpy rides, the roads being too smooth for comfort to my back. A person who has driven on roads of Odisha, driving anywhere else in world is piece of cake.

Already miss the murmuring of mosquitoes and brutally clapping them to death, the yodelling of mongrels in the middle of night. The cool and crispy Fall (Autumn) air of Georgia felt refreshingly fresh after spending hours inhaling the breath and fart filled stale air emitted by hundreds of passengers inside the flight. 

The 14 hour long flight from Doha to Atlanta seemed eternal and tiring when you are packed like sardines inside the Cattle Class, better known as the better sounding Economy class. Above 41,000 feet in the sky the KUMAR PURNIMA Full moon looked a whole lot bigger and brighter in the pollution free air - the rabbit inside the moon looked eager to jump out into the window seat I took.

The US President Ronald Reagan was known to doze off during conferences he attended abroad as he couldn't get sleep inside long flights. I also share the similar trait of not able to go beyond sporadic cat naps on long haul flights. My first working day post vacation awaits me when late in afternoon my chin is destined to drool and hit the space bar of my desktop keyboard.

Still drooling over my India trip. No black coffee or aspirin can assuage this post vacation hangover, only time will heal it. It did not went in vain. Travelled miles to achieve several milestones meeting my parents, friends and relatives, connecting to old friends and meeting new ones, ate a lot of local food with fun filled moment.

Reminds me of Kamal Hasan from the movie PUSHPAK who while staying in a posh hotel could not sleep as he missed the sights and sounds of his locality, where his deep rooted roots lied. The pleasure of staying amongst your own is unparallel. A la one's own fart smells sweet, as one tends to falls in love with own millieu. Love it or hate it, amidst all these there is a unique flavor of incredible India which one does not find elsewhere.

Yet the feeling of homecoming back to America is unique too. In 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 many warriors like Pitamah himself, Drona, Ashosthama, Karna, Dushashana and more on his side. Pitamah Bhishma, the wise one replied back - "They all still have to face Arjun, 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 on the surface of earth, but America is still America - standing tall above the rest. 

India trip 2018 - time to bid adieu

Biju Patnaik Conference Hall, Biju Patnaik University, Biju Patnaik Airport, Biju Patnaik Chhaka (cross roads), numerous Government schemes under Biju Patnaik's name and now talk about renaming the Kalinga Stadium as Biju Patnaik Stadium. Why not rename Odisha as "Biju Kingdom" as the fitting finale !!!

My stay of little less than 3 weeks was filled with fun and many fun filled anecdotes. A lady who I used to address as APA (elder sister) now insists on being addressed as DIDI (as they address elder sister in Hindi). "APA, NA KADALI CHOPA (Banana peel), MOTE DIDI DAAKE (call me Didi)" - she retorted back as I addressed her as APA. I got the message loud and clear. Ekta Kapoor's serials are ckearly having their effect. 

Another elderly gentleman whom I have been addressing as MAUSA since time immemorial now insists on being addressed as Uncle instead ever since he switched his attire from Lungi to Shorts. No issues. But the habit of scratching his private parts in public hasn't ceased - be it in Lungi or in Shorts.

When I loaded some Airtel minutes to my local mobile (as cellphones are called here), I was asked to speak out my phone no. Speaking "96688" as nine - six-six-eight-eight" is often frowned upon and not properly understood. You need to pronounce 66 as "Double 6", 88 as "double 8" and so on. Being out of touch with the milieu for a while, it took me a while to figure this out.

Quoting my friend Kulamani Babu,  eminent writer R K Laxman sited this reason for him to stay back in India when he had the option to settle abroad - "Where on earth you will find so many wide varieties of characters to write about !!!" He wasn't far from the truth. No place under sun can match India in the richness of flora, fauna, chaos and characters to write about. Often chaos and disorder brings the fun and frolic out of life rather than orderly tidiness.

Last Saturday when I visited the Modern Book Depot bookstore, they ran out of copies of couple of books I was looking for. The owner took my number and called me twice to let me know about those books back in stock. A very prompt and pleasing response by the store owner. The signs of arrogance I saw in him in the 1980s is now passe. It yet reinforces my view that competition is always good for the consumers, monopoly being equally bad.

What's the similarities between a vacation, a consulting assignment and life ? All have a start date and an end date. Like all good things in life a vacation has to come to an end. Before vacation one is rejuvenated and filled with energy. Towards the end of the trip one is jaded, somewhat depressed. There is always an inherently internal wish you had a few more days to spent. Three, four or five weeks, however long you stay it is never enough.

In the wee hours of the trip it's always the endless cycle of last minute shopping, meeting friends and relatives, run errands, packing, weighing, repacking and re-weighing of luggages.  Now the time has arrived to bid adieu to my motherland. Good Bye India. See you later.

India trip 2018 - Day XIX

I concur with my friend JP Jagdev about the rise in the number of Puja Pandals in Bhubaneswar. In my honest opinion, it is just the reflection of rise in population of the city in recent years. However, a city of nascent immigrants it lacks the soul and spirit of Cuttack where the Puja celebration is centuries old - much part and parcel of the city's cultural ethos.

DASHAHARA and the day before were complete chaos on the roads of Bhubaneswar, especially near the Puja Pandals. People were spiritual as well in high spirits gripped by Puja fever. The silver lining amidst the chaotic traffic in Ravi Talkies CHHAKA (square) yesterday were a bunch of young boys and girls supplementing the traffic police in both crowd and traffic control. Hats off to these youngsters wearing "Student Traffic Controller" T-shirts, cajoling the recalcitrant traffic offenders to follow the rules.

I saw a middle aged man trying to push his way through the already clogged Ravi Talkies junction Pushing GALLUs (transliteration of Gallu Peliba in Odia, meaning stubbornly defending one's own mistake), yelling "AMA RASTA AME AGA JIBUNA - this is our road, we go first". I felt irritated by the behavior of a middle aged guy, who had no shame breaking rules in front of kids old enough to be his children trying to set him straight. 

The guy should be shown the ubiquitous commercial on TV where the Bollywood actor Akshay Kumar sarcastically telling a man breaking traffic rule - YEH TUMHARA BAAP KA RASTA NAHI (This is not your dad's road). I wouldn't have minded at all if the police standing nearby gave the pillion driver a taste of the stick he was holding.

There is Perennial shortage of changes everywhere. If you purchase an amount of Rs.212 and hand the shopkeeper a 500 rupee note (Bill), you will be most likely asked to give and additional Rs.12 so that the shopkeeper can return you Rs.300, easier to return using 100 and 200 denominations. They complain that everyone carries a lot more 500 rupees notes than lower denominations, causing a scarcity in the market. Only big retailers and hotels don't have this problem. 

I went to the "Modern Book Depot", one of the oldest book stores located in Master Canteen. Once upon a time it used to be the only store in the city which carried varieties of books. The Pinocchio shaped long nosed owner who never used to give us any discount due to lack of competition is still there. But competition from online outlets like Amazon and Flipcart, Kindles, coupled with declining reading habits has got better of him. 

The much mellowed down man revealed to me, he gets pleased if the number of customers a day reaches double figure. He complained - "EBE MU EKA EKA BASI MASA MARUCHI, Now a days I am killing mosquitoes sitting alone", euphemism for being idle due to lousy business. It is the way it is. Can't blame him as we live in changing times where technology can be a double edged showed - bringing in new business opportunities driving out the old. More later...

India trip 2018 - Day XVIII

The coconut trees in our village are now heavily pregnant with fruit. Gone are the days when BAURIs (a schedule caste) from our village used to steal all the coconuts in the middle of night. Even a tragic incident leading of a man being killed when an attempted robbery went horribly wrong, the theft of coconuts never went down.

The acute poverty of 1970s and 80s, the main cause behind the rampant theft is now passe, so also the stealing of coconuts. Not that poverty has entirely vanished, but not too bad enough to take the risk of climbing up a tall coconut tree to pluck the large sized fruits incognito in the middle of night. 

But stealing of flowers from our front yard in Bhubaneswar has gone from bad to worst. The crooks bend over our wall, use crooked stick to pull the plants, do a quick plucking of flowers and move on to the next door. It was worst on the morning of DASHAHARA as most of the flowers were gone by dawn. Stealing neighbor's flower seems to be more appealing than stealing neighbor's spouse.

In one of my earlier India trips, one fine morning I saw a guy who just bended over our fence, stealthily grabbing flowers from our yard. Oblivious of my presence he looked left, right and let out a loud booming fart, creating ripples behind his LUNGI (Loincloth). When I deliberately coughed couple of times to announce my presence, he moved away with "Not I" look on his face without any sign of embarrassment.

After speaking to folks in our village I could figure out the rock solid support for NABINEE BABU (the way the present Chief Minister is addressed in colloquial Odia). "Our granaries are full of rice, NABINEE SARAKARA (Government) has built nice roads for us" - they heaped paeans of praise, using NABINEE BABU's name interchangeably with government. 

Rice is the staple food and source of carbohydrate for most Odias, especially the poorer section of the society. Indira Avas has provided them house to shelter their head. They don't care if the GDP goes from 7.2 to 7.8, but they do care to vote. Those who care about GDP and are virulent critics of the current state government, rarely vote. Politics is a matter of perception and NABINEE Babu has done an excellent job at image management - successfully juxtaposing his smiling face to the newly found social security of the rural poor. Sorry opposition parties of Odisha - you got some work to do. More later....

India trip 2018 - Day XVII

On my way back to Bhubaneswar from our ancestral village I passed a spot on the roadside, memories of which I will carry to grave. It was during one of my trips years ago shortly after I arrived in Bhubaneswar, I was pulled to visit Jagannath Temple in Puri on a special occasion. 

Severely jet lagged and constipated, I had ate a late lunch of MAHAPRASAD (The great offering) inside the Jagannath temple. The meal was a high fiber diet  consisting of concentrated DAALI (lentil), BESARA & MAHURA (Temple curry of variety of mixed veggies) and SAAGA (Leafy greens). 

It was late afternoon when we drove back home. My constipated stomach started gurgling as the high fibre content had its effect, now ready to burst itself out like the Hirakud Dam which can't hold any longer after a heavy monsoon downpour. The floodgates were ready to open any moment but I was confident that with about 20 miles or so to go, I can hold on.

Soon discovered that I was at the wrong place at wrong time. Wrong place - every minute countdown to those twenty miles seemed eternal, each miles passing looked like an hour. If Einstein ever went through this he could have replaced his simple explanation of his Theory of  Relativity by - "Time stops when the urge to shit doesn't stop".

Wrong time - My watch procalimed it was 4.30 PM in afternoon, that would be early morning in America. My body clock not yet used to Indian time was still US mode and hardly helped me by adding fuel to food, further triggering the bowel movement which was in no mood to relent.

I instructed the driver of the vehicle to stop at a relatively secluded spot, grabbed his Red GAMUCHA (loin cloth) and ran behind one of the bushes. I ran so fast that I could have beaten Ussain Bolt to a seconds behind me. As a sqatted, I found couple of mosquitoes sitting happily on my particular body part where I dare not slap. 

The Chinese philosopher's saying - "When a Mosquito seats on your Balls then you consider peace as an option". It also reminded me of a t reminded me of my teenage days when I was hit by a cricket ball down under. So rather than swatting them away or clapping them to death, I let the mosquitoes feast on my private part in public. I suddenly discovered myself as the most tolerant person on earth.

Meanwhile I attracted the attention of a stray dog sleeping nearby who gaped at me with a look filled with surprise and suspicion, giving me a scare for a moment. The mongrel now stood up, extending the legs looked up and yawned "Yeeeeeooooo", shook itself of dirt, scratched it's ears using its hind legs. 

Thankfully he decided not to chase me. He turned in a different direction and strolled away. Otherwise, what a sight it would have been !!! Me running through the paddy fields, chased by the canine, with the GAMUCHA slowly slipping away from my waist. If caught on video, it would gone viral with a million pus hit in no time.

Moments later I was back in the car, a much relieved and relaxed person after relieving myself. Nature's call can take you back to nature - exposing our helplessness. How helpless are we in front of nature. An innocuous meal of simple, vegetarian temple food almost made me shit in my pants. Nature is the world's best leveller. More later...

India trip 2018 Day - XVI

Puja is in air. It comes with its unique flavor - in the smell of JHUNA POWDER (sweet smelling powder which emits perfumed smoke used during worship), the sound of music blaring from pandals and the sight of huge idols of Goddess Durga on pedestal. Puja always puts me on a Time Machine, propelling me back to my growing up days and certain related events forever etched in memory.

Once I brought some PRASAD (offering to deities) from Lord Jagannath temple, Puri for the priest at the local temple in United States. The priest, a Brahmin from Gujarat, was very pleased with what I got for him from Jagannath DHAM (abode).

We sat down chatting, as he asked me about my trip. I told him how much I cherish the fish and goat meat curry in Odisha. He was appalled and could not believe a Brahmin being a voracious eater of fish and a four legged animal. He asked me "AAP KAISE EK JEEV KO KHA SAKTE HAIN" - How could you eat an animal ?

I had no answer, but narrated to him my childhood experience when we used to religiously visit our ancestral village near Puri during Durga Puja vacation - the equivalence of Christmas break in US. The most awaited event would be the ASHTAMI (8th day) for the annual ritual of goat sacrifice. 

On that fateful day villagers would walk in droves to catch a glimpse of BODA HANA (Goat slaughter). The sacrificial BODA (a non-castrated male goat with a goatee and smelling horrible) destined for slaughter would be brought in and tied to a post. The priest would arrive chanting MANTRA (hymns) amidst the cacophony of the beating of GHANTA (large brass circular plates). A strongly built DHOBA (washerman) with twitched Walrus moustache would arrive on the scene, wiping off layers of sweat from his forehead. He would unleash a sharp sword glittering under the morning sun and with one massive blow detach the head of the goat from its body.

The goat's torso would meander a couple of feet before collapsing, with its still eyes still gaping at the crowd. The priest would collect its blood and offer it to the Goddess. Later the goat would be skinned and its meat divided equally among the villagers as PRASAD.

This whole episode which created an earthquake in our mind wasn't free from aftershocks. For the next few days all that glittered wasn't gold. It was that unforgettable glittering sword slashing through the goat's neck which gave me nightmares of the goat torso chasing me, the detached head hovering over, its eyes still open and staring at me. As it approached, I try to outrun him, but still unable to move as the apparition closed on me. I would be up in a flash sweating profusely. My sister sacrificed meat eating after watching one such goat sacrifice on the day ASHTAMI. 

Back to the future - the same aftershock came back to life, as the priest from Gujarat who was patiently hearing my narration almost fainted. He could not digest this scene happening in a Brahmin village where his counterparts had no issues digesting the scene and meat. I can vouch he was glad that I did not bring any PRASAD from my village. More later...

It was the day of Ashtami Puja (8th day worship) of Maa (Mother) Durga in our native village in Puri. We started early on a foggy morning which painted the  horizon white like a broad brush on a blue canvas. There was a nip in the air, as the sun broke through with its golden rays wiping off the fog as a wiper clears water droplets on the windshield of a car.

The drive on the 4 lane expressway towards Puri was impressive, but not the drivers who could be seen coming from the opposite direction in our lane. Unnecessary roadblocks by man made barriers set up by police and animals alike with gangs of cows, bulls and stray dogs strewn around were avoidable eye sores. Buildings & high rise apartments camouflaged under a misty morning gave way to green, lushy paddy fields surrounded by coconut plantations interspersed with tall palm trees. 

The smiling white KASHATANDI (lanky flowers on sand with a white broomlike top) waved at us through the mid morning haze. 

We travelled on a meandering Pucca (paved) road running parallel to a muddy BHARGABI which looked like a river of billion gallons of flowing Tea. Take a cup of water from the river, it can easily pass off as a good cup of tea with high cream content. We drove under huge archways of coconut groves, as banana and palm trees swayed and fluttered by the cool breeze. 

My reverie of watching canopies of Banyan, Ashwasta (Peepal), Neem, Debadaru, Mango, Jackfruits, Polanga, Bamboo trees hanging overhead on rural road was bluntly broken by the desperate honking by the person driving us to get pass through a maze of cattle, goats, sheeps and occasional pigs frequently coming in front of our vehicle from nowhere.

After a long time I got a glimpse of life in modern rural Odisha. Curious women peeped through their windows and the village urchins gaped at us. 

Soon we encountered greenish village ponds every other miles where Children were jumping on water while ladies bathing struggled to cover themselves as our vehicle passed by. The male bathers rubbed their backs and torso back and forth using bright red GAMUCHA (Mini loin cloth), still inside water as smartphones on the stone steps leading to water were blaring loud music. On the village outskirts, cows were strapped to tiny poles as a bull was inspecting them for insemination, confused for his pick as a male suitor in bovine SWAYAMBAR (An ancient practice in India when princesses were allowed to chose their groom).

All roads leading to my village lead to the conclusion that communication and technology has come a long way these days. I saw many cyclists and bikers in GAMUCHA and LUNGI, head tilted with a cell phone tucked between their chin and shoulder. The roads are now motorable and metallic, the edges of which provide a nice platform to squat and shit. Pigs with snorted lips hop around the edge, looking for their meal of faeces. I saw a guy relieving himself by road side with his smart phone on hand, his bottom barely an inch above a pyramid of shit. Incredible India - where smart phones are more than the number of toilets. 

We ate a sumptuous late lunch around 3 PM, very typical Puja lunch of Puri. The food of CHUNA MACHHA THUK THUKA (tiny fish curry), CHUNGUDI BESARA (locally sourced shrimp curry in mustard) cooked on wooden CHULA (burner) and served on banana leaves was heavenly bliss. On our way back home we crossed the Bhargabi river which since morning had transformed itself from flowing tea in the morning to meandering lava under a red setting sun. The sun looking bigger hid behind the trees and bushes, so also folks hid behind shrubs, some rubbing GUDAKHU (Red tobacco paste) inside mouth to trigger their bowel movement. 

We passed though hordes of cattle hurrying back as the cowherd frantically waved his bamboo stick to stay in a group - similar to the Airline crew playing martinate to cattle class passengers. At Sakhigopal we jumped on to the expressway to cruise our way back home. No more driving through narrow bazaars and buses stopping right in front of you with the lanky conductor hanging out of the door and shouting from top of his voice BHONSARA, BONSARA (for Bhubaneswar). More later...

India trip 2018 - Day XIV

There is some marked differences in some commonly used phrases in American and Indo-British English used here.

Indo-British : One to one meeting.

American : One on one meeting.

Indo-British : Going to office.

American :   Going to work.

Indo-British : Let's have lunch together.

American :  Let's do lunch together.

Indo-British : Are you Going to lunch with us ? 

American : Are you Coming to lunch with us ? 

There are also differences in the usage of certain words (phrases) in America and my native state of Odisha. One such word is "Nonsense". In US it means something which doesn't make sense or difficult to understand. But it Odisha "Nonsense" can be considered as a GAALI or rebuke, taken in a derogatory sense. Another one is the phrase "I don't care". It implies lack of inclination or disinterest or simply "it's non of my business". In Odisha saying "I don't care" can instantly brand you as a heartless person lacking empathy. Meanings can be lost in translation.

In the Webster's dictionary smart means "clever, witty, brainy" etc. In Bhubaneswar parlance a guy on a bike wearing shining shoes and chasing girls is considered a smart guy. The name "Smart city" tag given to Bhubaneswar speaks for itself.

Most here rarely eat dinner before 10 PM. 6 O'Clock in the evening is the time for CHA JALAKHIA (Tea and snacks) for most. Around 9.30 people slowly flock the restaurants in Bhubaneswar, peaking from 10 PM onwards. In US most finish dinner by 7 PM, though I eat mine in between 8 and 9 PM - a classic case of a DCBA (Desi Confused by America) walking the middle path.

I was further confused by the sound of dance and high decibel music emanating from the Sri Guru Math, a monastery of a Bengali Guru a stone's distance from our home. Surrounded by greenery, this religious abode attracts hundreds of devotees from Bengal. Curious about the devotional song accompanied by a group of DHOTI clad males gyrating their hips - swaying, toing and froing, circling around banging their GHANTA and GINI (musical instruments made from Brass), singing the Bengali Bhaki (devotional) song a portion of which I could grasp -

JASHODA JANANI DAE, 

BAL KRESHTO KHAE RE.

SONAR NUPUR BAJE,

HARI JENE JAE RE.

Roughly transliterated...

Mother Yashoda gives,

Kid Krishna to eat.

Golden anklet makes sounds,

Wherever God goes.

They went on and on until the SHESHA AARAT (the zenith of final chanting of prayer). The Prasad (offerings) of a mixure of fruits were distributed among the devotees and unlookers. The most pleased are the local fast food vendors who make some quick bucks selling peanuts, GUPCHUP (Golgappa or Panipuri) catering the bus loads of devotees coming mainly from Bengal. Only complain the locals have when they use loudspeakers on special occasions like Puja blaring cacophony, especially in the night leading to disturbed sleep - not to mention some of them being eyesores for relieving themselves in public. More later....

India trip 2018 - Day XIII

While UBERing inside the city today I saw Auto - cracy in Bhubaneswar. The three wheeled motorized rickswaw is everywhere and can come from nowhere and dangerously barge in from narrow lanes to main road without yielding to the incoming traffic. They can suddenly overtake and stop right in front of you to any extended hand indicating it to stop. The Autoricksaws want to outsmart and out run each other in the rat race of catching the next BHADAA, the Odia term for rental passengers.

Bhubaneswar made me conclude that no one breaks any traffic rule in the capital city - they make their own. In IT parlance, we use the term Deadlock to describe a situation when two processes try to access the same resource at the same time. In such a scenario, one waits for the other to complete its task until its turn arrives. Similarly we get a Deadlock situation at road intersections when two drivers are stuck, hoping for the other one to go first like "Lucknow KI DO NAWABON KI GAADI PEHLE AAP PEHLE AAP..." - as two vehicles carrying Royals of Lucknow, a place known for etiquette request each other to go first.

In Bhubaneswar, it is other way round. Everyone wants to go first at the other's expense. Letting the other go first would be considered too benevolent, outright stupidity - a pipe dream. If I ever get behind the wheels here, either I will hit someone or someone will hit me within a mile of my driving.

It turned out to be a hectic day for me. Met my school friends over breakfast and did lunch with my Engineering College friends. As my vehicle stopped at a traffic light near Ravindra Mandap, I saw the faces on bikes, inside the cars and autos suddenly turn in unison in the direction of a tall, lanky girl in dark glasses with a red scarf tied to her neck, standing below a tree at the corner of a crossroad. She was probably on a photo shoot as couple of guys were frantically clicking pictures of her from different angles using long snouted cameras protruding on tripods. It didn't go unnoticed to me that the most lascivious oglings wasn't from the youngsters around, rather from many gray haired and baldies no less than 60 years old gaping at her with eyes and mouth wide open.

There are huge billboards at all major intersections of the city announcing the World Cup Hockey tournament to be held couple of months from now, side by side with the ostentatious face of the Chief Minister of the state smiling at the passersbys. Can't recollect any international sporting event used for political promotion since 1936 Berlin Olympics which was used to promote Hitler and his Nazi ideology. 

The city planners are leaving no stones unturned to make this event a success. Part of the plan is to sterilize 1500 stray dogs ahead of it as they could be a major eyesore and nuisance when the state capital will be under international limelight this winter. 

Yet capturing and neutering thousands of stray dogs is an Herculean task given the limited time and resource available with the authorities. The pariah mongrel menace is endemic in the city which reports on an average 36 dog bites per day - not to mention innumerable vehicle accidents caused by them. This is the most humane way of tackling the stray canine population, thanks to the event it could turn into a blessing in disguise the city-gens ameliorating the stray dog menace. More later....

India trip 2018 - Day XII

More than half way through my India I have realized that time flies faster than the speed of light. A vacation week passes much faster than a work week, vindicating "The Theory of Relativity". Explaining his famous theory Einstein said "time flies slowly when you listen to a boring lecture, but it flies fast when you talk to a pretty girl". He was so correct.

Whenever and wherever I get a chance, I speak to every person from all echelons of the society I come across. While riding a car - OLA, UBER or otherwise I invariably take the passenger seat on the front so that I can talk to the driver. The common man doesn't care about GDP, Demonetization, GST or all kinds of sundry statistics. He cares more about price of gas, essential commodities and corruption in public. The first two has gone up and corruption has hardly come down. I have asked the common man on the street - sweepers, shopkeeper, intellectuals, educated ones, friends, villagers one common question looking into their eyes, "Are you better off now than you were 4 and half years ago?" The common answer from the common man so far is a resounding NO.

This evening I was standing in front of a BINA PIAJA RASUNA (Without Onion and Garlic) Vegetarian Roll Stall to buy for my parents who are vegetarians on Saturdays. A guy in a cheap Safari suit with dusty Chappal (sandals) suddenly barged in, ARRE MATE SUPOO JALDI DE (Give me some soup) - his burp smelled a mix of pyorrhea and cheap whisky. 

Undeterred, the stall guy rolled his dough, sprinkled some oil over it and flipped it. The impatient customer again yelled - HE SUPOO DE, NAHELE MUNCIPALTY KU KAHI TO DOKAN BAND KARIDEBI (Hey give me soup, otherwise I will tell the municipality to shut down your stall). The stall owner looked unperturbed, continued making rolls without batting an eyelid. Did not seem he took the threat seriously.

Today's weather was a trifle cooler - it felt a lot less humid. The smell of Puja was in the air as the retreating cyclone Titli sucked moisture bringing in the Durga Puja flavor. Durga Puja is arguably the most festive occasion in Odisha which runs into several days. I visited UTKALIKA , a store selling crafts and artifacts of Odisha located in the Market Building - Bhubaneswar's equivalence of Time Square. It was throbbing with people doing their last minute Puja marketing (local lingo for shopping). 

I walked a narrow lane connecting the main road from Rajmahal to Market Building. It was packed like sardines. A melee in front of a small store drew my attention. A woman was shouting on top of her voice - E LOKATA MO THU DASA LAKHYA NEI FEREINI. MU TA BEPARA BAND KARIDEBI (The man has taken a million rupees from me and hasn't returned back. I vow to close down his business). A crowd of curious unlookers was starting to build up, enjoying the drama and further constricting the narrow path. I snaked my way through them to emerge on the Main street of Market Building, gasping for fresh air.

Already exhausted with couple of threats to close down businesses, I stood for a while trying to figure out the shortest path algorithm to reach UTKALIKA with my hand firmly tucked inside my pocket holding on to the wallet - for I was fore warned earlier of pickpockets prying on unsuspecting Puja shoppers. I heard a girl on phone speaking in a soft but audible voice - "TU JANICHU NA, MO BOYFRIEND TA EBE BEWAFA HEI JAICHI (You know, my boyfriend has turned untrustworthy of late)". Good luck young lady on your "Bewafa Boyfriend" and thanks for enriching the Odia language by adding some news words to it. More later....

India trip 2018 - Day XI

I saw a huge Billboard at Master Canteen, a prime central location of the city close to the Railway station proudly advertising the grand opening (probably the first in the city) of a new Burger King joint at a local mall on Friday, the 12th October. Understandably so - as Friday is one of the 3 days other than Wednesday and Sunday when majority of Odias have no qualms consuming meat, fish and poultry. I was hardly excited by this grand opening, still sticking to my promise of not eating any Burger or Pizza during my stay in India. For me, A chicken egg roll is much preferred option to Burger King.

It was a day of mixed customer service experience. After making a purchase from the "Nimapada Sweets", a popular store in Bapuji Nagar I tendered the exact changes. The cashier did not like a slightly soiled 10 rupee note (A currency bill is called note here) and refused to take it. I am sure he was very aware of the profit he was making on a Rs.570 sell - a slightly soiled 10 rupee note wll hardly impact him. Though its sweets are of great quality, it privides lousy customer service.

The opposite happened during my visit to the oppositely located VENUS INN - a popular restaurant offering South Indian platters. As I was ordering a parcel (the local term for to go or carry out food), I was offered a seat and glass of water for the 15 minutes wait to pick up the order. They had no qualms about accepting that so called soiled 10 rupee note. A waiter opened the door for me as my both hands were full. Exemplary customer service by Venus Inn.

The heavy rain tapered off to a steady drizzle as I tried to cross the road from Nimapada sweets store to Venus Inn amidst a bunch of honking vehicles, swinging my hips and clasping my hands which would have made any eunuch proud. I could see a car approaching towards me through the stripes of rain painted gold by its headlight, looking like rays of fireworks emitting from sparkler on a Diwali night. 

I walked nonchalantly, thinking as a pedestrian I have the right of way and the car to stop. But apparently the car driver felt he had the right of way as it got perilously close and slammed its break hardly a feet away from me. Glad he did that - it was win win situation for both of us. I escaped unhurt and he from getting thrashed by the locals which he couldn't have avoided at such a busy intersection per the underlying mob rule - when a vehicle hits a pedestrian it is invariably the fault of the vehicle, if two vehicles are involved in a collision it is the fault of the bigger vehicle. Lucky day for both.

It rained crazily all night long, with natural fireworks of thunder and lightening. Sky was still gray in the morning. The street below was filled with leaves, broken branches and twigs from tress. I found my match in an old Bull in our locality - for he puts his bullshit on our street, I load my bullshit on Facebook. The poor old guy shared his space with couple of pariah dogs taking shelter under the mango tree protruding out above the wall near our gate. The animals shared the natural canopy, respecting each other's space with mutual trust and respect, occasionally shrugging off the excess water from their bodies and changing positions looking for drier spot. More later....

India trip 2018 - Day X

Define coincidence. On Thursday, 11th October at 6 AM IST (Indian Standard Time) Cyclone Titli was battering my home in India with heavy rains. At exactly the same time, my home in the other side of the world in US was getting pounded by incessant rains from Hurricane Michael. All schools are declared closed in both places for 11th October.

In US the hurricanes are named starting with A (for example Andrew), B (like Brad) and continues upto Z (Zack), though I don't remember any going that far. If a particular hurricane is devastating its name is never reused. For example - Hurricane Andrew in 1992 and Katrina in 2005 were catastrophic enough for their names not to be used again. I have no idea what's behind the nomenclature like Phailin, Baaz, Titli etc are given for the Cyclones on the other side of the world.

This Cyclone is named TITLI - means "Butterfly". It came floating like a butterfly over the Bay of Bengal only to sting like a bee. The splattering of wind driven rain on the wooden window all night reminded me of this lovely Odia song by Chitta Jena -

SARA RAATI BARASARE
BHIJI BHIJI MU GO,
KHOJUTHILI JAHA KETE DINA.

All night drenched in rain,
I was searching for many days in vain.

By mid morning there was water, water everywhere. I live in old Bhubaneswar, not so modern and well planned as the other side of the city. You would expect the old city to be water clogged and its so called modern, well planned counterpart free from any water logging. But it is other way round. A poor drainage system coupled with public unawareness, there was reports of many areas submerged under stagnant water.

Our locality in the old town hardly gets impacted by standing water, its centuries old archaic drainage system built by the Saivaite Kings apparently works fine. The Gajapati Kings built this piece of Engineering using his own money and any inefficiency and corruption by his builders would have been rewarded with MUNDA KAT DANDA (Head chopping punishment) - Not to mention there was no BDA then to sanction houses to be built on natural water disposal routes.

The weather started getting better after 6 O'Clock in the morning as the rain stopped and wind started winding up. I accompanied my friend Shubhranshu Babu for a walk inside the Forest Park. The floor was filled with broken twigs and leaves from the storm. There were patches of greenish yellow flowers sprinkled on the walking trail.

Even on a working day on a rainy morning the Park was crowded with walkers and a few joggers trying to outrun each other. The walking crowd consisted of mostly 4 feeters fitting perfectly to the local profile of highly disproportionate figures - slim hands and legs with protruding bellies, a few frantically scanning their smartphones  while huffing and puffing ahead, taking a break to text before resuming their walk.

Completing 5 rounds in the park helped me ameliorate the guilty pleasure of my gluttony. Forest park is a commendable place surrounded by tons of greenery supplying fresh oxygen. But if you are looking for more elbow space and privacy, it may not be the perfect place for you. More later....

India trip 2018 - Day IX

The drive on the Jungle Road towards Patia was different - being on the outskirts of the city it passed through green foliage on both sides of the road with lesser houses. Still lesser number of vehicles were plying on the road, small enough for me not to smell petrol on the air, nor could I see the air unlike in the heart of the city.

I came out of the vehicle to take a deep, lungful breath of fresh air which fluttered the coconut trees standing tall amongst long lines of vegetation on the both sides of the road. Mounds of red ant hills were surrounded by wild flowers of different hues. It felt very peaceful to escape from the din and buste of city - far from the madding crowd. 

Bicycles passed by with bamboo baskets tied behind them using black rubber tubes, their wheels almost touching the ground because of scant air pressure inside their tyres. A few irritants on bike approached us from the opposite side inside our lane. With cellphones well tucked under their head drooping sideways, they were epitomes of living dangerously.

Wednesday started with a gray sky and cool breeze filled with promise of rain as the outer bands of Cyclone Titli kept rolling in. It made gray, the color of gloom, turning to be the harbinger of joyful expectations in a city already swamped by non stop sultry heat for last few days. 

Then suddenly it started to rain - first came the small droplets as light drizzle, followed by larger ones in waves. It kept on raining on and off, accompanied by on and off power cuts. The scattered showers wasn't a heavy downpour, nor the wind close to devastating. Yet, the electricity kept on playing hide and seek throughout the entire day.

There is no sidewalk (pavement) on the road near our house. When I take a short walk, I always prefer to walk on the right hand side of the road, so that I can see the incoming vehicles and protect myself from any eventuality. Walking on the left side of the road is too risky as you have no idea about the vehicle behind you. On this raining morning when I went out to fetch some ALUCHAP (Mashed Potato cutlets), I had to be extra careful not to get a muddy shower flashed by the tyres of numerous vehicles honking and screeching, wading over tiny rivulets and cesspools of water. 

The stray dogs and bulls were quenching their thirst slurping from the puddles all over the place. One thing this cyclone has done to the city - it has cooled down the temperature considerably. It reminds me of last year when I, along with my family was waiting for a ride back home after fresh monsoon hours.  3 guys started oggling at Tanujaa like they hadn't seen a woman before. 

Distracted, one of them fell on a muddy poodle covering a pothole, while the other two got busy extricating their buddy from the mess. We had a hearty laugh at the fallen hero's expense. Rain definitely brings in its share of fun and joy. More later....

India trip 2018 - Day VIII

Thanks JP Jagdev and Srimanta Panda for a well spent couple of hours in the evening. At the end I requested JP to understand an OLA cab for me (transliteration of Odia phrase cab BUJHI DIA). It took them just couple of seconds to catch the humor. Not everyone are as smart as them. I have told this joke to others, but it usually takes them a little longer to get it.

OLA and UBER cab service is arguably the best things to happen to the city in the recent past. I was the 8th ride for the OLA driver at 9 PM and he said he will drive till midnight. A late immigrant to Bhubaneswar from Anugul, like many job seekers from the hinterland of Odisha he came to the capital city, his city of neon lights and opportunity, before landing up as a driver for UBERE (Uber pronounced in Odia accent). Then he shifted to OLA.

He shared his frustrations of handling occasional fastidious, recalcitrant passengers, last minute cancellation et all. He dreads trips to Cuttack, for its a challenge for him to drive to the labyrinth of lanes in the old city which prides itself on its 52 Bazaars and 53 Streets (BOUN BAZAAR, TEPAN GALI).

At a bank, the person in front of me was talking in Hindi with a girl inside the teller counter. Both of them, apparently pure bred Odias were conversing in PAKHALA KHIA HINDI (Hindi spoken after eating stomachful of water soaked rice, a popular Odia summer dish). Done with their chit chat, they took a break. The man was talking in pure, unadulterated Odia to someone over phone. The girl leaned over her side and started talking in Odia to her coworker. Could hardly make out what made two Odias, living in the heartland of Odisha made talk to each other in Hindi. Real nationalists !!!

Not to mention, Hindi accented Odia is a craze which is slowly turning from rampant to epidemic. I observe this in every visit - a la a person who sees you after a while can tell you if you have gone fatter, skimmer or taller. Emperor Ashok faced stiff resistance inside Kalinga before being able to conquere it. Ekta Kapoor, the producer of the popular Hindi TV soap operas did not face any such resistance. She was welcomed with open hand and culturally conquered Kalinga and infused Hindi and Punjabi culture into them.

The Plumbers, Electricians, Air Conditioning Mechanics thrive well in the city and make decent money due to the city's explosive growth. I could make it when I chatted with the electrician who came to fix the motor which got fried due to the fluctuating voltage. He has no complaints against money but whines that the dignity of labor hasn't quite matched up to his earnings, hoping to see that happen during his life time. More later....

India trip 2018 - Day VII

A Math question for today,

Boy - TO SILKY SILK ANTA DEKHI

          MO NAZAR LAKHI GALA.

Girl -  TO STRONG STRONG BODY DEKHI

           MO DIL FIDA HELA.

Calculate how many English, Hindi and Odia words are there in this so called Odia song loaded with tons of vulgarity. It is high time for the legendary Odia singer Akshay Mohanty to take a rebirth to save Odia music from adulteration, cataclysmic alteration and eventual extinction.

As this song was playing in the background, the barber at the local saloon put an inch long shaving cream on my cheek and lathered it. We NRIs (including me) give bombastic speeches about the low cost manual labor in India. At the same time we take the guilty pleasure of availing that, grabbing it at the first available opportunity. It was my turn to do that by visiting a saloon close to our house.

This barber shop was clean, improvised itself over the years, a wall mounted AC being its latest addition. The young man who knows me over years asked me while putting his blade inside his hand razor - AGYAN TRAWMPAW KEMITI ACHHI (How is Trump doing) ? I replied - "He is fine, I guess". 

As he mowed the first chunk of my facial hair and smeared the beared sprinkled lather on a piece of paper he informed me - "Do you know that Trawmpaw consults Narendra Modi before taking any important decision ?" I replied - "No. This is news to me. But where from did you get this piece of information" ? "AGYAN, WHATSAPPE RE DEKHITHILI - I saw this on the Whatsapp", he replied back. I didn't want to dishearten the BHAKT (devotee) in him for whom Whatsapp is gospel. Apparently the social media cell of political parties are doing heck of a job in brainwashing the commoners. Goebbel, the propaganda Man Friday of Hitler who successfully brainwashed the Germans with the false notion of Aryan Supremacy must be missing Facebook and Whatsapp.

Our tete a tete continued as the barber focused on giving me a clean shave, used his blade in surgical precision reaching out all the nooks and corners of my face which I can rarely reach. He continued weeding out the unwanted hairs off my face, gave me a nice massage, soothing my jaded nerves.

A guy suddenly slammed his bike in front of the store, toed its leg stand to park, barged in, grabbed a comb and brushed whatever hair available on top as he had mowed down his sideburns and hair above both sides of his ears with an ear ring on the left. He was ploughing his hair backwards standing in front of the mirror exposing his wrist tied with multiple multicolor threads whose color was fading. He started whistling from his lips snorted lke a pig to the song - "TORA SILKY SILKY ANTA DEKHI DIL FIDA HELA". He took a break, wiped the residual hairs off the comb, checked it by turning it over again and again mumbling something to the rhyme of the song in the backhround which sounded like "MAMA MYAON MYAON, MAMA MYAON MYAON". Placing the comb close to his mouth, he tried to vacuum it off by blowing air through his pouting lips. He resumed his combing operation and mumbling "MAMA MYAON MYAON".

Here are some samples of typical Saloon conversations - "KIRE KUNA (a common nick name) TA SHAALI BAHAGHARA RU PHERILA (Did Kuna return from the marriage of his sister-in-law) ?"  The guy reading a local newspaper got up, walked to the front door to spit out his betel stained saliva and replied - NA MA. SE E JAYE MEESSI KALLA KARINI. (He has not given me a miss call - a call on the cell phone which is destined to be missed but expected to be returned).

The barber once confided to me that those guys were not his customers, but free roamers needlessly hanging around. The reluctant hair dressers, not fan of these BALUNGAs (worthless weeds), had no desire to mess around with the local brats - simply tolerating them as a nuisance and unavoidable occupational hazard.

I thanked him for giving my face and cheek a clean slate. Adding my tip to the final payment it cost me less than one dollar. Can't complain, when I had a close shave for a tiny amount, as close and low it can get. More later...

India trip 2018 - Day VI

Having some time to spare during the day, I was watching a Test match cricket between India and the West Indies. It was completely one sided affair in favor of the host nation. It was sad to see the mighty Windies fallen to such a low over the years. Excactly 35 years ago the pace battery of the touring West Indian team battered the Indian batting attack to the pulp. I starkly remember in 1983 Raghuram Bhat, a player from Karnataka standing away from the stumps out of fear while facing the fiery Windies speedster Malcolm Marshall. Now it's other way round, India has mercilessly whipped the West Indians to submission in all the departments of the game.

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 (meat, fish and poultry eater). Most Odias stay vegetarians, some even avoid Onion & Garlic, called TAMASHIK (titillating carnal desire) food on the following days.

MONDAY - Day of Lord Shiva.
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 vegetarian than men on this day.
FRIDAY - Santoshima Brata. 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 respect the Sun God as Goat meat features on the menu at most Odia homes during lunch.

That leaves non Veg food on the plate for only Sunday, Wednesday and Friday. Friends and relatives crowd my schedule by inviting only on those days. I beg them to cook Bhata, Dalma and invite me on Mondays, Tuesday and Saturday as my stomach and schedule can handle so much. But they refuse to relent. Though I have absolutely no question about their hospitality, force feeding meat and fish need not be mandatory for a guest for someone who has time and scheduling constraints.

I saw a girl driving a Scooty, not wearing an helmet and talking with mobile on the left hand. Too dangerous ! Is it that important to put the life on the line to be online with this kind of unsafe driving ? Can't the call wait until the driving is done ?  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, the unsafe driving in Bhubaneswar. More later...

India trip 2018 - Day V

The stifling heat and humidity is the talk going around the town. I am still having fun going around, sampling the food but making sure to wash the food down with plenty of water. I feel it has less to do with the heat, more to do with the humidity. The higest temperature of Bhubaneswar hovers around 32 degree (90 degrees Fahrenheit) - which is about the same presently in my state of Georgia in US. But in terms of himidity, it is no where close. City-zens of Bhubaneswar earlier fed up with rainer than usual monsoon this year are now praying for a shower to bring down the heat.

I went to withdraw some cash from my account at the local branch of State Bank of India. The service has got much better these days. You need to pick up a numbered ticket at the counter and wait for your turn. My account was in a dormant status due to not being used for more than a year. So I was directed to another counter after filled out a form to re-activate my account. 

A guy suddenly barged in from no where hoding up a check, broke the line and stood in front of the lady at the counter - "Madam NAMASKAR, EI CHECK TA TIKE DEKHIBE. PEMENTE HABA (Greetings ma'am. Can you take a look at the check. A payment awaits)." The lady hardly impressed by the line breaking of the recalcitrant customer without acknowledging the Namaskar directed him to back of the line". Can't fathom why some folks lack civic sense and patience to wait for a few more minutes.

At night my friend Shubhranshu took me out to the local "Food Street", centrally located in Bhubaneswar behind Ram Mandir. A plethora of stores serving all kinds of fast foods are located next to each other. The crowd was relatively small today being Saturday, when many Odias eschew meat, fish and eggs lest they earn the wrath of arguably the most feared planet in their horoscope "Lord Shani".

I sampled on chicken cutlet, Bali prawn on stick, followed by a footlong chicken roll. A mongrel nearby stared at me, waiting for a few crumbs to fall off as manna dew. But it didn't happen as the greedy me devored everything, hardly leaving any scope for chunks of chicken to reach the ground, even inadvertently.

It reminded of a funny colloquial story. A starving jackal was lying on a large field, craving for food. He saw a Bull, happily grazing with it's huge b**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 was imminent and patiently waited for his meal.

Soon it became noon, evening, followed by twilight. No sign of the Bull's b**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".

Meaning...

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

 The Jackal Died After All."

Today it was the turn of the poor Doggie to be frustrated a la the hungry jackal. For it the bull's b**ls never fell off in form of in the form of chicken chunks. It forever remained elusive low hanging forbidden fruit for him. He moved on to the next person who kept munching on and shooed it way in a heartless manner - HEY JA JA ( Hey, go away). 

The doggie turned back and looked at me as the better guy who at least didn't shoo it away. This time his wish got fulfilled as I rolled the last chunk of the roll towards him. Wagging its tails, it toungued in that chunk in one attempt. More later....

India trip 2018 - Day IV

While scouring local Odia TV Channels, I saw a promotional video of an Odia movie SUNDARGARH RA SALMAN KHAN. A song in that movie goes as- "HEY CHHORI, TU BEAUTIFUL KANYA KUMARI". Nice to know words "Chhori and Beautiful" are new additions to Odia lexicon. I flipped to another Odia channel where a girl was explaining how to prepare an Odia dish in a very PHULEI (Attention seeking girl) accented Odia - DEKHANTU, EI LA JAWAB DISH, KHAILE SONE PE SUHAGA HEI JIBA. She continued further - EI MASALA TI ETHI "BELONG" KARENI. Disgusted, I switched the TV Off. 

However I learnt a few new Odia terms - La Jawab, Sone Pe Suhaga, Belong etc. Odia must have surpassed the English language in enriching itself by adapting words from other languages - even if Fakir Mohan Senapati and Pandit Nilakantha Das turning in their graves. God bless my mother tongue.

In the meantime some one tried to sell me a residential plot in the outskirts of Bhubaneswar, now marked as premium because it is located on road side. In US, the most coveted residential lots are those located on the cul de sac of the neighborhood with premiums attached to them. In Bhubaneswar, it is other way round. Closer they to the main road, more expensive are they. Two different worlds homes apart.

One of my small plesures of life was fulfilled today - peeing in open air under an open sky (In Odia as they say MUKTA AKASHA TALE), a privilege not so readily available in America. At peak of middle age a softened prostrate can't hold it much any longer. After I consumed couple of glasses of cocunut water, the opportunity to avail this much cherished guilty plessure arrived. I found a secluded location under the cover of darkness on the side of a highway. It can be termed as an eco friendly pee - away from residential area and far from the madding crowd.

Today when I pulled out my credit card to pay, the reluctance to accept it as form of payment was visibly stark from the expression on the face of the cashier. Bet he wasn't so ecstatic to see the plastic, even if the purchase amount was good enough to cover the 2% they need to pay as processing fee to the bank. The cashier gave me unique look - a blend of the feeling of losing a CHARENI (25 paisa coin) and chewing a bitter lemon. Last time I had a similar experience at a merchant as the man at the cash counter said - "SARE, CASH HABANI" (Sir, can't you pay by cash) ? "Sorry, I don't have cash, so please use my Mastercard" - I insisted back.

Reluctantly, he swiped my card. After a minute, he said "AGYAN, MESINI KAMA KARUNI - Card machine doesn't work". I told him to swipe again and leaned over for a closer look. Another guy, think his supervisor, snatched the card from his hand and chastised him, "KIRE MESINI CHALEI JANINU. MATE DE", Don't you know how to run the machine, lemme try". Now the MESINI (machine) worked miraculously and my card went through clean, like a hot knife through butter, resulting in the ejaculation of the receipt, coming out in a stuttering whir.

I have a feeling both of them were acting in unison, a la "Good Cop, Bad Cop". Why so much fuss, NATAKBAJI (histrionics) then ? My guess - One, it's typically the merchant greed, who would love to hold on to that 2% cut at most (transaction and settlement fee has come down a lot these days). Two, these transactions are recorded and accounted for. So, they can't do a Tax FANKI (avoidance), which could come back to haunt them later.

Online Railway and flight reservation in India has cut down the role of touts and middle men and the accompanied corruption. Similarly, more use of credit cards down the road will lead to cleaner, accountable transactions - Adding to national exchequer and substantially subtracting the Tax fraud. It will take time, but more use of plastics in the shop and less use of plastic bags when coming out of it is a step in the right direction. More later....

India trip 2018 - Day III

First night can be painful - the night with jet lag. A stubborn Jet lag can be a real pain in you know what. My body clock simply refuses to relinquish the US Time Zone as I woke up at 2.30 AM this morning. Jet lag for me now seems to get too stubborn to relent as I age. It feels miserable to get up so early in morning, without being able to sleep any further. Kishore Kumar's song from Rajesh Khanna's movie AAP KI KASAM - KARWATE BADALTE RAHE SAARI RAAT HUM (turning sides on bed for whole night) never sounded more prophetic. 

Goodnight Mosquito repellant had its effect, but if you think you are too small to make an impact try going to bed with a mosquito in the room. A couple of them still bothered me as I battled them in the darkness to clap them to death. Thanks to internet, Facebook and my addiction to blogging, I kept myself busy until the murmurung of mosquito gave way to the tom tomimg of GHANTA (brass plate) from a nearby MATH (monastery) sounded like music to me, more musical than the sporadic KAWALIs (group music) from stray dogs. No sooner the gang of musical mongrels on the Eastern end of the street finished with a seqience of wooo.. wooo..woof.. than their western side competitive cousins responded with their musical version of wooo.. wooo...woof. The Kawali sessions continued for the better part of the night with intermittent 10 - 15 minutes of break.

The long arduous wait in darkness paved way to dawn. The eastern sky grew brighter, turning crimson red as the light slowly drove away the darkness. By now the early rays of morning sun sprinkled the trees with a golden hue, giving their dust covered leaves a shining copper coating. The chirping of birds turned louder, so also the sound of GHANTA from the nearby Monastery - sounding the end of its morning session of prayer.

I went over to the balcony to take a peek at the outside world. A Bull was placidly chewing cud under a big mound of sand nearly. Couple of mongrels sleeping nearby noticed the tectonic shift in their surrounding as the giant bovine stood up suddenly, shrugging off sand from his body. The doggies shifted further off to a nearby semi-broken concrete culvert, apparently perceived by them as a more secured, safer location. 

One of the parish dogs tried to sniff his way near to a man plucking flowers leaning over the nearby fence only to be shooed away - HEY HEY JA JA (Hey, hey, go away). The doggie nonchalantly walked away. From distance approached the Newspaper walla (guy). He swung and threw the paper past our main gate with immaculate accuracy and moved on to the next house.

A jet lag can be an irritant, a nuisance especially for those plying between India and United States. The long journey can put one's body clock out of whack, which varies from individuals who experience little or no jet lag, to those who have to make a trip to the Doctor's office for medication when their jet lag stubbornly refuses to relent. Eventually most get over it. For me it lasts for 3 to 5 days, now more on the later side. 

Here are a few tips on how to minimize the jet lag. This is hardly scientific, rather based purely upon personal experience. Try not to sleep during the day. Keep yourself busy, sip some caffeine, especially late in the afternoon when your eyelids refuse to stay open. The more you sleep during the afternoon, longer it takes your body to adapt to the new clock. Also don't forget to drink plenty of water and go easy on food. Don't splurge on fried foods and alcohol when you still have a jet lag, it can cause havoc to your system. 

Last but the least, time is the best healer. Let your body clock take its own sweet time to adjust. If it's already a week since you have landed and the jet lag refuses to go, better see a doctor. More later...

Arrival in India trip 2018 - Day II

At IGI Airport in Delhi I breezed through immigration which was a shoo in for me. The Terminal 3 is quite impressive. Restrooms (toilets) maintained nice and clean. No strong smell of ubiquitous Phenyle and dark brown betel stains at each corner. Our International Airports can now be considered as world class. I saw a digital bill board proudly displaying Happy Gandhi Jayanti, followed by a visual of Chivas Regal Scotch. Ironically our Mahatma was never stood for consumerism, nor he extolled Chivas Regal.

In the year 1998,  no sooner I came out of IGI Airport in the middle of night night than I was treated like a hapless hlHare amid Hounds baying for my blood in form of haranguing touts. I was forced to do an about turn and beat a hasty retreat, only to come out at break of the dawn to be ragged again. It was not unusual then for hapless passengers to dish out a $20 note (Bill) to buy themselves out of harassment by Customs. Such things are now passe.

After checking in for my last leg of flight to Bhubaneswar, I settled down on a chair as the sun brightened the horizon, revealing the array of Aircrafts on the turmac, spraying them with Orange hue. The Roundtrip return fare between Delhi and Bhubaneswar cost me only Rs.4443. I remember paying at least Rs.21000 for the same in the 1990s, a stupendous amount then. How the affordability of airfare has changed in less than 2 decades !!!

The departure area of the Domestic Airport before boarding resembled our BADAMBADI Bus stand in Cuttack. I saw a guy surreptitiously scratching their private parts in public. When our eyes met he pretended to adjust his belts. The Air crew were goading passengers like cattle towards to board the flight (hats off to the person who coined cattle class for the economy class). 

Inside the flight a man sitting next to me was let out a lot of hot air - both literally and figuratively too. The silent, sneaky hot air from down below with a "Not I" look on his face was followed by some bombadistic hot air from his loud mouth. He boasted how he carries all his company's responsibility on his shoulders and visited all 75 states of India (never knew there were 75 states in India, even if you include the Union territories).

Groggy with jet lag, I dozed off with my head drooping sideward, as the Airhostess politely woke me up - "Veyzz (veg) or Non - Veyzz Sir ?" While munching the food I looked out through the window. The roaring big bird was flying low, whizzing past low lying clouds, enabling me to take a peek outside to get a Bird's eye view. The plane was flying high over snow white fleece of cloud looking like a vast cotton plantation or a big flock of sheep. As the plane lowered itself preparing for landing, the rivulets meandering through the gray undulating land down below formed a spectacular sight. The green waves of Eastern Ghats was taking shower of morning sunlight. River Mahanadi looked like a huge Anaconda taking a sunbath on golden sand.

Every other year I fly over Bhubaneswar, sadly I see more concrete and asphalt, less green foliage as an once asthetic city known for its salubrious weather slowly turns into an urban jungle. Way too many skyrises have become a growing environmental concerns - gonna to bite this city big time sooner or later.

How contrasting is the worms 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 - in no time you must descent from 39000 feet to ground zero. Airplane teaches us a lesson on life.

I was welcomed by a not too hot muggy Bhubaneswar weather. On my way home I savored the sights of the millieu where vehicles yonked their way through in a zigzag maze. As I stepped out of my vehicle I could feel beads of sweat swelling on my chin and forehead. A sudden burst of breeze felt good, vindicating the old law of Physics "Evaporation caused cooling".

Dog tired after a journey of 28 hours across 3 continents, I badly needed a shit, shave, shower and sleep. I turned the faucet on. Prrrt..Prrrt..It farted twice before emitting a thin stream of water which slowly got thicker. I could hear the tweeting spree by a sparrow which would have given Donald Trump run for money - "Tweetwoo... tweetwoo...tweetwoo..", without bothering about any character restrictions.

It gave way to coarse cawing of a crow on the branch of the nearby mango tree, interspersed with occasional spurts of bikes honking -"keee..kicky.....kicky..." and

wafting of street vendors - E KADALI KADALI (Banana, Banana), AMBAAAACHAARA LEMBAAACHAARA (Mango pickle, Lemon pickle). No sooner I had my lunch of rice with Ilisi ( Hilsa) fish curry cooked with Yougurt, than my eyelids refuse to stay open. More later...

Trip to India - Day I at Doha

After a long flight of 14 hours from Atlanta I reached Doha, Qatar. It was late afternoon, local time as the flight descended piercing through a hazy sky, the gulf next to the Airport looking like faded sky blue ink on a dusty sandpaper. 

Being peak school season, the flight was filled with good number of vacant seats along with mostly old couples and families with infants & toddlers - some of them cranky and cacophonous. I boarded the fligh the evening of October 2 in Atlanta and arrived in Doha close to evening of next day. In between the night went fast, so also the day. On the 3rd of October this year I saw the shortest duration of daylight - thanks to the diurnal rotation of mother earth from West to East. Flying West to East you lose time, you gain time flying other way round, as earth is round.

Four more hours before connecting to Delhi, I took time to walk around. Folks in Arabians in white cotton helmets with their female folks tagged along in black attire from top to bottom peeping through tiny slits cut below their foreheads - looking like Ku Klux Klan members in black.

A Virgin Airline flight was about to board and names of passengers not boarded were called. An Air hostess swung by, shouting at top of her voice - "ANY VIRGIN HERE", obviously looking for some missing Virgin Airline passengers. Couple of girls raised their hands. Everyone close by started looking at them, some with chuckles and half baked smiles. The shy girls retreated to their privacy by dropping their heads over their smartphones to hide their embarrassment, still peeing through their corner of their eyes. Non of them got up to board the flight. We humans are slaves of inadvertent reflex actions.

Through out the journey I watched folks drooling over their smartphones. All heads down like Ostrich, they were busy fingering over the glaring screens of their devices. I have seen this in America, not unusual and unexpected in a nation where individualism rules the roost. But I observed the same in Europe, Middle East, Singapore and India. Asian culture is more social and group oriented, where people enjoy a tete-a-tete, even with strangers. I saw many, including Airline crew busy dragging bag in one hand and texting on the other, clinging to their phones, baby sitting their devices.

Growing back days in India, we use to chat about anything and everything under sun, alluded to topics ranging from NANA BAHA GHARA RU, NANI BAHA GHAR PARYANTA (From Dad's marriage to Sister's marriage). Perhaps we have gone electronic doing eKhatti (chit chat) on social media.

In 1979, when I was hardly 10 year old, I accompanied my Uncle to a play in his Alma Mater Vani Bihar under Utkal University. It was a symbolic play which I could barely understand but still remember those lines 

OTA PARI JABA BHAI NAHI NAHI HOIRE,

JIBARE MANISHA OTA HEI JIBARE

PITHI RE KUJA, KI MANOHARA....

Roughly transliterated,

You will become a camel, uttering no no,

Humans will become camel as days go,

How wonderful to have humps on back !

Replace OTA (Camel) by OTA PAKHI (Ostrich) and KUJA (Hump) with Smartphones. The drama is now enacted in another era. The nondescript person who wrote this Odia Drama (play) in 1970s was so prophetic and way ahead of his time. More later...

Departure for India trip 2018

Jet, set and go. A long journey awaits me with the itinerary of Columbus --> Atlanta --> Doha--> Delhi ---> Bhubaneswar, spanning seven seas, thirteen rivers spread across multiple continents. Hours left before I leave and miles to go before I reach.

This is the moment I eagerly look forward to every other year, an exciting time before I make my trip to India. It is normally planned months ago with a lot of parameters factored into - getting time off from work, social, family or festive occasions, price of air tickets and of course the weather in India (which may not exactly salubrious now, but hopefully not be awfully bad either as SHARADIYA or Autumn like weather with clear, blue skies with crispy, still air - usually around the Durga Puja Holidays).

Apart from cricket, it is arguably the weather which unites India at this time of the year - it is sultry. This is the time a tired monsoon winds down and bids adieu to the most part of India, leaving behind a trail of moisture hanging in the air. Barring a handful of places on higher elevation, from Ahmedabad to Agartala,  Chandigarh to Chennai it is invariably muggy at this time of the year but nights are cool and bearable.

I am too excited and ready to take the heat. In life the feeling of apprehensive curiosity in anticipation of an event is much more pleasant than the event itself. It is going to be my 14th journey from Coke Land to my Motherland India in more than couple of decades of stay in US.

As the D-Day approaches, excitement builds up. Can't focus on work as mind is preoccupied about the trip and what lies ahead. My coworkers find it a bit odd that we visit our home on vacation, when they travel away from home for same. Yet there is so much fun homecoming when you are away from home.

Upon arriving in India, the initial days of jet lag and reverse cultural shock gives way to lot of attention from friends and relatives, a la an infrequent guest is treated more cordially than a regular one. Even if I try not to, I invariably eat like a pig, shit like a Bull and end up write a lot of bullshit as blogs. Time is short and finite, engagements are many - way too many things to do, so much food to sample.

Looking forward to challenge my sweet tooth, splurging on an array my favorite Odia sweets which includes but not limited to, CHHENA JHILLI, CHHENA PODA, PAHALA RASAGOLA. The other stuff I like are Cuttack Mixture, freshly baked Naans, numerous Street foods, AVADA from temple and much more which I don't get here. I have made a solemn promise to myself not to eat any Pizza, KFC, Subway, McDonalds (the last one I believe doesn't have an outlet yet in the smart city of Bhubaneswar). I firmly believe in - Be Roman in Rome, be Indian in India.

Excitement would be an understatement, I am so thrilled for a fun filled 3 weeks, no work and full play. Dear Motherland, here I come. Sandwiches, Burgers, Pizza and Pasta - please take a backseat.