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...