The misadventure of the American missionary in Andaman

Last week a 27 year old American was killed by a tribe as he set his foot on an isolated island, part of India's Andaman & Nicobars. The reclusive Sentinelese tribe who live there are known to be allergic towards outsiders. 

The local fishermen he supposedly bribed 25,000 ($350) in local currency to take him to the island last saw him walking towards the hostile inhabitants as they welcomed the intruder with a volley of arrows which got him killed. The last the fishermen saw him was lying in SARA SAJYA (Bed of arrows) a la Pitamah Bhishma of Mahabharat fame. 

The young man was a Christian missionary apparently on a conversion mission. The terrible misadventure cost him his life. It is another thing to debate over the veracity of these missionary activities. But can't but admire the risk they take, fully aware of their lives being at stake when they venture into these dangerous, often life threatening jaunts into arguably the most inhospitable spots of the world. 

There are frequent, multiple reports of preachers getting killed in Africa, Latin America and the theocratic Afghanistan - where it will be foolish go on a normal visit, forget trying to convert the hard core Jihadists who are more suicidal than the Christian missionaries.

During the mid 1990s in Calcutta, I saw a leper whose entire torso was covered in wound filled with pus. Flies swarmed around, feasting on it. I was too scared to stare, soon turned my head and back to this helpless guy. Engraved and entrenched in my memory, that abominable sight refuses to go away. I feel short of kudos for the likes of Mother Teresa who sheltered them and nurtured their wounds. 

They have their admirers and critics. I belong to the former category. The missionaries do have intention to convert, but they do some decent charity work. My cousin belonging to Indian Police Service was once posted as SP in a remote district of Chattisgarh. He narrated me his AANKHON DEKHA HAAL (First Hand Information) of a densely forested area which was under his supervision for maintaining the law and order.

Most part of that district was remote, inaccessible, evenly infested with Maoists and Mosquitoes who can carry you for miles. The administration is virtually non existence. Only folks who tread inside and tend to the tribals are Christian Missionaries. 

They provide them food, shelter, education and healthcare. They dare to go where our government spectacularly fails to do their job, i.e. provide the basic governance. If I am suffering from hunger and shivering from malaria, it may not take me long to prefer Jesus over Ram or Rahim if seduced by the persuasion of someone who helps me at that time. 

In contrast our Hindu zealots are mostly frauds, cheats and social media warriors who are chicken hearted and don't even have a fraction of guts these evangelicals possess. Champions of long sermons, they bicker amongst themselves and have an abysmal record of social service. Forget about being adventurous, rarely you will see a Sadhu (mendicant) serving poor and destitute, most of these charlatans can be seen well ensconced in their airconditoned abodes, surrounded by their female disciples (Usual disclaimers apply).

It is perhaps the soft aspect of Hinduism and lack of hard adventurism which enabled us to be ruled over by Muslims and Christians for more than thousand years. Not much have changed ever since. We are still by and large a soft nation. Though being over adventurous can backfire big time as was in this ill fated mission by the young American Evangelist, the spirit of human adventure will never die.

Prelude to the Hockey World Cup 2018 in Bhubaneswar

My memory of World Cup Hockey goes back to late 1981 when Bombay hosted the event. It was probably the last time a world cup hockey was held on a natural grass surface. In the epic final Pakistan team led by their legendary striker, a Kamal Hassan look alike with a strikingly similar name, the handsome striker Hassan Sardar on whom girls swooned over  took the lead for Pakistan with couple of brilliant field goals.

But the Germans (West Germany then) known to be gritty fighters whether in soccer or hockey, made a spectacular comeback with quick penalty corner goals by their powerful, hard hitting penalty corner specialist and captain Michael Peter. Pakistan finally won the final 5 goals to 3. There was no TV then in Bhubaneswar. I followed the tournament on Radio and from photos on glossy Sportstar magazine.

Since then the world of hockey has come a long way, so also the World Cup. Soon astro turf took over the hockey ground. German still maintains their edge as their Eurpoean style hockey suits the synthetic turf. Pakistan and India much before have lost their edge. Though India's slide was steadfast, Pakistan still maintained its class with players like Sahbaz Ahmed, Wasim Feroze, Tahir Zaman, Sohail Abbaz and won the World Cup in 1994, a bronze as late as in 2004 Olympics. But soon it slid into abyss and still struggling to catch up. Pakistan's arch rival India who has improved some sort of late has been consistently defeating it - earlier it was the other way round.

Hockey is not a mass sports unlike soccer and cricket. Even in nations like Australia, Germany, Holland, Belgium and Argentina - the current top 5 nations, hockey comes far behind Soccer in all except in Australia where comes next to Cricket and Aussies Rules Football. Empty stadiums in Frankfurt, Amsterdam, Sydney during World Cups and Champions Trophies tell the story. Even a major hockey game in Delhi or Mumbai, Lahore or Karachi hardly attracts any crowd, conspicuous by empty stands - unless it is an Indo-Pak encounter. 

This is where FIH, the International Hockey Federation came with this masterstroke of awarding the World Cups and Champions Trophies to 2nd tier cities like Bhubaneswar, who craving for some attention and in eagerness to showcase their potential can go an extra yard to ensure the success of the event as host. 

That's exactly what Bhubaneswar is doing now. It's citi- zens are now overwhelmed with a lot enthusiasm as an world cup of any kind being held on their soil. Tickets have been sold out as there has been reports of glitches in the selling website due to high demand. There is a Political angle to it as well. The government led by the ruling party has left no stones unturned to ensure its success, a nice showcase of its organizing ability a few months before the national and Assembly elections. 

Large hoardings and Billboard across the city at all major intersections advertise the upcoming Hockey tournament, side by side lies the ostentatious face of the Chief Minister of the state smiling at the passersbys. Not sure if the man has held a hockey stick in his life, but a smart political image makeover which certainly doesn't hurt when election is around the corner.

It's win win for all - the International Hockey Federation, the government, the party and of course the locals who are taking immense pride in an international event coming to their own city and state.

Team India though an improved lot, still falters and loses steam in the major tournaments, often at the right moment losing when a draw is needed or drawing when a win is necessary to advance into the knockout rounds. This has became a recurring habit and hope we take this opportunity of home advantage to come out of this infinite loop of losing streak.

Last time India won the Hockey World was in 1975 under the Captainship when many reading this blog may not have been born. Hopefully we break the logjam and win the cup in my home city after long hiatus of 43 years. Good luck Team India and Bhubaneswariyas making the cup a successful event.

Thanksgiving to my readers - 2018

It's Thanksgivings Day in America. Like every year this day I take the opportunity to thank all my friends on Facebook for taking the pain and patience to go through my posts. As far as possible I try to inform you, amuse you playing the role of a raconteur and occasionally irritate you. But I love you all. Your comments and likes good, bad and ugly keep me going.

It is always okay to agree to disagree on my views or rather troll me in a respectful way. If I am wrong please free to correct me, but not the freedom of my free thinking which I cherish the most.

Ever since I started writing blogs 7 years back, never in my wildest of dreams ever imagined coming this far. A decent number of kudos started trickling in from my few lines of scrolls starting sometime in 2011, which motivated me to pen more and more. I haven't stopped ever since. 

Compliments started to pour in - many from unknowns who admit of (some grudgingly) enjoying my writing. One went further "even if you write junk, I still make it a point to read it, don't know why. You have converted Bullshit into a form of Art." I took it as a great compliment. It's not easy to sell bull shit, unless you are Donald Trump.

I thrive to be a raconteur of human foibles. People love spicy stuff, be it food or writing. People may give a long speech about the Odia dish SANTULA (a boiled mix veg dish) or DALMA (a dish of boiled Dal and veggies) as great, healthy food. But in reality they cherish spicy chilli chicken or goat meat curry. I cater to the taste of my audience, unabashdly dishing out spice laced flavor to them.

I feel flattered when folks I barely know walk towards me to compliment on my writing. It also surprises me those never put a "like" or comment on my posts verbally admire me. A very pleasing experience to know a silent majority out there reading my post. Me too get a decent number kudos messages from fairer sex soliciting tips about writing which drives my wife nuts. Writing is an art. Never knew that art can attract so much attention until now, secretly wishing Facebook were there when I was young and single.

Last month in India a friend took me to his office on a working day. Chattering and mouse clicking of desktops came to halt. Heads went up as pens became silent. As my friend introduced me to his coworkers, adulations started to pour in - how they never missing my blog, never fail to share some with their children to improve their writing skills. I was pleasantly shocked by this rock star like heroic welcome, having done nothing heroic other than visiting them.

I get my fair share of brickbats and gauntlets too, for being occasionally blunt and extrovert - not afraid to speak out my mind and pokingly sarcastic at hypocrites. Not long ago, someone inboxed me, threatening me of thrashing upon my arrival at Bhubaneswar for a self deprecating joke alluding to Odias. I responded him back, a la some convict asking for last wish - "May I have my wish fulfilled before getting thrashed ?"

"What" ? He sounded confused. I went on - "Before beating me up, please spare  me 5 minutes of your time and a can of JADAA TELA (Castor oil). PITHI RE LAGEI KI ASIBI (I will smear a liberal dosage of it on my back) and you can thrash me to your heart's content". He didn't respond any further.

I am not a brave person, but the threat of being beaten by some lumpen element doesn't disturb my night's sleep. Also, not sure the urban legend of castor oil being prescribed as an antidote for thrashing and its efficacy. Does it relieve the pain from getting beaten ? Does it act as a lubricant making the marauding hands slip off from one's back ? Don't know.

Accolades or gauntlets, by no means it helps me going, filling me with a feeling of immense gratitude. I extend my wholehearted thanks to them. Many solicit advise about writing. My answer to them - there is no magic bullet. It's like any creative skill. If it's inside you, one day it gonna burst out. So just pen your thoughts and let it take its own shape.

Some even suggested me to chose writing as a career. It is a great creative outlet and escape from daily drudgery in life, accompanied by a sense of pleasure and fulfillment. I don't have an iota of doubt about it, so plan to keep penning my thoughts till I go over the hills.

But writing as a profession? I don't think it is a pragmatic path to chose at this stage of my life. There is an immense sense of satisfaction, but frankly no money in this line. No offence to their professions, even the PAANA and MADA DOKANIs (betel and liquor shop owners), petty DALAALs (brokers) make more money than writers these days. It is the reality of our time.

My current profession does not pay me a whole lot, but pays my bills - with the additional safety net of some post retirement benefits. A la the electrical Main switch of a house, it keeps the power turned on in my home. Everything else falls in place and would stop once the main Switch is switched off. So at most I will keep it as a hobby, with a book or collection of articles sometime down the road. 

After I have bored you to death with this long monologue, to those in USA, HAPPY THANKSGIVING turkey gobble day. To those Odisha, Happy CHHADAKHAI and KARTIKA PURNIMA. Stay safe and enjoy the day with your family and friends.

Bureaucrat Aparajita Sarangi joins politics

Usually I avoid writing about persons whom I personally don't know much about. But recently an extremely close friend of mine prodded me to pen a few lines about this lady bureaucrat, excited by the prospect of her joining politics and bringing some much needed changes to the state of Odisha - a state my heart belongs to, though I have been living thousands of miles away from it.

Frankly, I am no big fan of Babus. Many of them are great in academics and slug their way into Civil Services only to end up serving their political masters and become their pawns than contribute anything noteworty to their nation or state. Some become quite controversial and even outright corrupt, giving a bad name and reputation to their service and leaving a bad taste overall.

But some do a pretty good job in their job. As indicated by my friend, Aparajita Sarangi, an IAS officer from Odisha cadre belongs to the later category. She has just resigned from her services and joined BJP, a national political party and expected to contest from Odisha in the next elections. My friend has big hopes on her and managed to persuade the cynic in me to write about her, hoping that presence of more intellectuals in politics can make a major dent to public life in a more positive way.

Mrs. Sarangi is known as an efficient Officer who has carved her niche as the Collector of district Khurda and BMC Commissioner. My friends back home have a lot of positives to speak about her efficiency in executing massive projects on time. Her commendable job in streamlining the Department of Mass Education towards better efficiency has been much noted and published on media - social or otherwise. It is said, she has worked diligently towards the girl's education and women's right, striving hard for the betterment of the biggest minority of India, the fairer sex.

Looks like a horde of ex-bureaucrats are joining politics in Odisha just in time before the approaching election. Though not an unsual phenomenon across India, this is arguably the first time a good number of ex-Babus (a Babuani in case of Mrs. Sarangi) are jumping into the political bandwagon. Hope they do some good work, unlike their predecessors, the likes of Natwar Singh and Yashwant Sinha who don't have a great reputation behind them much to write about.

I am positive she will be different from her tribe and deliver in a state dominated by poor tribes whose habitat extends from North East to South western part of Odisha. Unlike the in and around the state Capital of Bhubaneswar where she has done a wonderful job, there is a lot to be done in rest of the state where the much neglected Odisha heartland resides. Good luck lady. 

16th Death Anniversary of Akshay Mohanty

Today is the 16th death Anniversary of legendary Odia singer Akshaya Mohanty, who passed away this day in November 2002. Like Kishore Kumar, he was a virtuoso, a multifaceted artistic talent.

Though more famous as a versatile singer, the lyricist in him penned many songs, from serious, romantic to comic ones. The music all rounder in him arguably stood him above his contemporaries from his generation, which included a field of gifted artistic talents in the state of Odisha.

KHOKA Bhai (his went by this alias), started singing in 1950s and was at his peak during 1970s. During that time he made the cardinal mistake of quitting his government job to fully focus on his musical career.

Unfortunately for him, he was from a state, better known as the graveyard of artistic persuits, a milieu those days which looked down up and harbored anathema towards anything but secured SARAKARI (government) jobs. He could have rubbed Clarified Butter on his moustache (NISARE GHIA MARI) and worked nonchalantly in his government job nonstop till 58, stil singing untill his death - completely assured by the safety net of Sarkari pension. But he took a risk to follow his first love, music and paid big time for his decision.

Khoka bhai sang many Odia hits, his records sold well. He was hugely popular and immensely admired, yet his going pro did not fetch the remuneration to compensate his ability. By mid 1980s he was not exactly in great economic shape. All admired his songs and music from going pro didn't provide a sustainable income. He took to alcohol (my brother-in -law who interacted with him extensively during the maestro's trip to Chicago in June, 2001 often found him drunk and staggering around. His reckless abuse of own health probably cut short his life and career, as he died only a year later).

Akshaya Mohanty visited America multiple times and enthralled the NROs (Non Resident Odias) with his nostalgic songs. My memory goes back to 1979 when visiting America was a big deal. The legendary singer, just back from America was quoted in the popular local daily SAMAJA, that even cats and dogs are better off in America. Soon came out a song composed and recorded by him, based on his American experience,

AMERICA RE PREMA HUE
BEECH ROAD UPARE,
AAU AMA CUTTACK RE PREMA HUE
BHAI RASTHA PACHHARE.

Transliterated....

 (Love in America
  is a road side show,
  In Cuttack love happens
  behind Rickshaw).

India has come a long way since 1979, now a trillion dollar economy chugging ahead. Visiting America is no big deal to publicize in newspapers. The young generation since have lifted their veil of shyness, long shifted their erotic advances to parks and pubs - even on BEECH (Middle of) road as hand pulled Rickshaws have given way to their Auto cousins.

Saluting the Maestro and wishing him a Happy Birthday, let me end my ode to him with this funny number, which he penned himself,

"PREMIKARA BARIADE BAIDHANKA
 AU BICHHUATA BANA...
DEKHIBAKU MANA CHHANA CHHANA
KUNDAAI KUNDAAI GALA PRANA"..

Roughly transliterated

" My beloved's home backyard
Has a jungle filled with Poison Ivy,
 In the eagerness to watch her stealthily,
 I had to scratch myself heavy."

RIP Khoka Bhai. I doubt our generation will ever see a virtuoso from Odisha like you, especially when Odia music is on death bed.