The cyclonic storm lashed out all morning. It led us to reschedule this evening's outing with friends. It's not just the rain which forced the cancelation, rather the thought of driving over mini swimming pools on pothole ridden roads on a dark, stormy night didn't sound exciting to most. Bhubaneswar received an estimated 8 inches of rain within last 24 hours, turning the city into a flotilla.
Rain has certainly cooled down the temperature - enough for me not to turn on the AC during last 24 hours. In fact, for the first time during my current stay I needed to pull on a thin blanket on top of me in the middle of night to keep myself warm and fuzzy.
There was a brief pause around 8 AM as lashing rains gave away to a steady drizzle. I took out my umbrella, walked towards a local tea stall who also serves BARA (Vada) and GHUGUNI (Cheakpea curry) located barely 100 feet from our house. There was a bit of crowd in front of his stall, customers eager to savor a breakfast of Bara and Ghuguni, a perfect start to a cool, rainy day.
After taking my order Bulu, the shopkeeper-cum-chef told me "AGYAN TIKE DERI HABA (there might be a little delay in service) as he carefully pushed around the wooden planks inside the burning clay oven to turn on the heat and turned over about couple of dozens of Baras slow fried on a huge, dark pan. The wood fueled Bara cooked on clay oven has a unique taste but taken with Ghuguni can fuel a lot of gas inside the stomach. Like food chain, we have a fuel chain too. We need fuel to cook and cooked food needs fuel to burn it inside the body.
TIKE DERI HABA (A little delay) - "little" delay can be anything between 5 to more than 30 minutes, little being a relative term here. The Bara was getting fried on medium flame (from my own experience as an amateur chef I can vouch that it's better to fry in medium to low flame for the best results, so that both surface and the interior are fried uniformly). Many on their way to work stop by at this stall for an express breakfast consisting of half a dozen Bara soaked in Ghuguni washed down with hot tea. No wonder many Odias suffer from chronic gastric issues (Bara - Ghuguni combo though tasty is notoriously gas producing).
A guy parked his Scooty and walked in to deliver his breaking news - a 3 storeyed building shrank by 3 feet in Dumduma area due to ongoing deluge. As Bulu the Chef moved around the Baras swirling and wobbling on the surface of boiling oil using his jumbo sized spatula, he uttered back excited - "SALA SABU GAON RU UTHI ASI KAHIBE AME BHONSARA RE RAHIBU. " - All those brothers of the sisters I have seduced (Sala means wife's brother, but in local lingo its usage suggests the speaker is the seducer of sister of whom so ever concerned) have come out of their villages with the desire to live in Bhubaneswar. "RAJADHANI PANI, TANKU ANUCHI TANI - the water of capital city is luring them into it").
Bulu continued further. These folks who are used to live in squalors of their native villages have no civic sense. They come and live in GOLAM NAGARI (Slave city, referred to the rapidly developing portion of the city by those natives who pride themselves as the original city-gens), live like POKA, JOKA (insects and leeaches) in illegally constructed buildings. SALE SABU CHIPI HEI MARANTU (Let those whose sisters I seduce get trampled in the collapsed building and perish).
The tea and snack stall owner Bulu made his point clear. He prides being the true blue blooded boy of Bhubaneswar, born in Kapileswar, one of the native villages constituting old town, the real Bhonsara. Like all original inhabitants he resents the presence of outsiders encroaching like cockroaches into his domain, turning Bhubaneswar into a city of immigrants. He is sad but feels helpless - for least he can do to change the course other than whine about it.
Bara was slowly turning a light brown from the spotless white dough made out of soaked grams (lentils). It will take a few more minutes before getting ready. So I thought of taking a walk to the SUKHMESWARA temple only couple of hundred feet away, one of several Saivite temples scattered around our locality. The rain mixed wind was blowing hard and fast enough to turn my tiny umbrella upside down if I am not careful enough. I waded through the maroon colored floodwater adorning the marooned road, carefully avoiding the bullshit all around. I saw a lot of plastics (called POLITHINI polythene here) and Styrofoam plates floating carried by fast moving stream into the drain. No wonder our drains get clogged too fast, too soon.
There were only two of us inside the temple which usually gets pretty busy even early on a Monday morning. The priest was mumbling his prayers in Sanskrit. The Siva Linga of the Lord was submerged in water. The head of the snake coiled around the idol was barely visible. I offered my prayers, left a few coins for the priest and started my way back to pick up my takeout order of Bara and Ghuguni. A drenched big gray bull dumped a fresh mound of shit only a few feet away from me. The bullshit quickly swept away melting away in the flowing stream, akin to the bullshit which I peddle on Facebook fades into oblivion.
I walked back to pick up my carry out order (the carry out or "to go" order is called PARSALA here, the way parcel is spoken in Onglish, Odia accented English). My order of eight pieces of hot Bara and Ghuguni costing me Rs.35 (50 cents) was ready for pickup. A family breakfast for 50 cents, fresh out of wooden clay oven - can't beat it. As he handed me over the packet Bulu said - "BHUBANESWAR RE AGYA AU RAHI HABANI - Bhubaneswar has become unlivable for us. It was deja vu for me. He is not the only one who complains about Bhubaneswar, but hardly any one leaves the city.
While walking back home and struggling to keep my umbrella straight, I could feel that one half of me is drenched while the other half is still dry - one feet in water and the other feet on drier ground. It fully describes my current state of affairs - I have one feet on my motherland India and the other feet on my adopted land of the United States. The tea stall owner Bulu has no such dilemma. More later..
The tea and snack stall owner Bulu made his point clear. He prides being the true blue blooded boy of Bhubaneswar, born in Kapileswar, one of the native villages constituting old town, the real Bhonsara. Like all original inhabitants he resents the presence of outsiders encroaching like cockroaches into his domain, turning Bhubaneswar into a city of immigrants. He is sad but feels helpless - for least he can do to change the course other than whine about it.
Bara was slowly turning a light brown from the spotless white dough made out of soaked grams (lentils). It will take a few more minutes before getting ready. So I thought of taking a walk to the SUKHMESWARA temple only couple of hundred feet away, one of several Saivite temples scattered around our locality. The rain mixed wind was blowing hard and fast enough to turn my tiny umbrella upside down if I am not careful enough. I waded through the maroon colored floodwater adorning the marooned road, carefully avoiding the bullshit all around. I saw a lot of plastics (called POLITHINI polythene here) and Styrofoam plates floating carried by fast moving stream into the drain. No wonder our drains get clogged too fast, too soon.
There were only two of us inside the temple which usually gets pretty busy even early on a Monday morning. The priest was mumbling his prayers in Sanskrit. The Siva Linga of the Lord was submerged in water. The head of the snake coiled around the idol was barely visible. I offered my prayers, left a few coins for the priest and started my way back to pick up my takeout order of Bara and Ghuguni. A drenched big gray bull dumped a fresh mound of shit only a few feet away from me. The bullshit quickly swept away melting away in the flowing stream, akin to the bullshit which I peddle on Facebook fades into oblivion.
I walked back to pick up my carry out order (the carry out or "to go" order is called PARSALA here, the way parcel is spoken in Onglish, Odia accented English). My order of eight pieces of hot Bara and Ghuguni costing me Rs.35 (50 cents) was ready for pickup. A family breakfast for 50 cents, fresh out of wooden clay oven - can't beat it. As he handed me over the packet Bulu said - "BHUBANESWAR RE AGYA AU RAHI HABANI - Bhubaneswar has become unlivable for us. It was deja vu for me. He is not the only one who complains about Bhubaneswar, but hardly any one leaves the city.
While walking back home and struggling to keep my umbrella straight, I could feel that one half of me is drenched while the other half is still dry - one feet in water and the other feet on drier ground. It fully describes my current state of affairs - I have one feet on my motherland India and the other feet on my adopted land of the United States. The tea stall owner Bulu has no such dilemma. More later..
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