Saturday, April 9, 2022

Loss of culture in name of beautification

 My home in Bhubaneswar is located in the Old Town area of the City where the residents take pride as the original inhabitants of the temple town. I lived in the same neighborhood for years until my education and job took me elsewhere. The place has a reputation of old temple culture that involves SANGA, BHANGA, SANGEETA and PANGATA (Friend, Cannabis paste, Music sessions and Sumptuous Meals), similar to its sister city of Puri famous for Lord Jagannath temple.

Those who live in Old Town wear their pride of original inhabitants close to their heart. The new capital built around it which saw gargantuan growth in later years is ascribed by them as "GALAAM NAGARI" (City of Servants). It isn't far from truth. The numerous government employees quartered in its multiple Units are called Public Servants known for their servitude. It is aptly displayed by the monstrous bureaucracy where starting from the Peon at the lowest echelon, at the highest level by the IAS officer to his minister boss, all acting in unison no less than servants to their supervisors. DALAALs (middlemen) too rule the roost in a feudal Babudom dominated society. So whoever coined the term GOLAAM NAGARI wasn't far from the truth.

During my trip to India last September one day it rained incessantly all night. There was a brief pause in the morning as lashing rains gave away to a steady drizzle. I took out my umbrella and walked towards a local tea stall which also serves BARA (Vada) and GHUGUNI (Cheakpea curry) barely 100 feet from our house. There was a smaller than usual crowd in front of the stall with customers eager to savor a breakfast of Bara dipped in Ghuguni with black salt, onion chunks and green chili on the side - perfect start to a 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 add fuel to the fire. He kept on turning the wooden shaft to turn on the heat and turned over about couple of dozens of Baras slow fried on a huge, dark pan. 

A little delay - a "little" can be anything between 5 to more than 30 minutes, little being a relative term. Bara needs to be fried on medium flame for the best results, so that both its surface and the interior is fried uniformly. Many on their way to work parked their motorbikes and bicycles by 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 as Bara and Ghuguni combo though tasty can be notoriously gas producing.

A guy parked his Scooty and walked in to deliver his Breaking News of the morning - A 3 storeyed building shrank by 3 feet in Dumduma area due to the ongoing deluge, now standing like the Leaning Tower of Pisa. 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 in excitement - "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 slang it's 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 dragging them here".

Bulu continued further. These folks who are used to living in squalors in their native villages have no civic sense. They come in droves to GOLAM NAGARI to 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 future prospect of Bhonsar doesn't look too good. You should see how they have destroyed our Lingaraj temple vicinity in the name of beautification. This is a glimpse of the classic old town culture of small talk giving big pleasure.

Bulu was correct. What I just portrayed is a typical Old Town GULLI KHATTI (light veined talk) discussion ridden laid back lifestyle. The area surrounding famous Lingaraj temple bustling with life where the shops, kiosks, carts, flower sellers along with Bulls, Pandas (temple priests) and visitors lived in peaceful coexistence had been cleared and relocated half a mile away. The place has been robbed off its heart and soul that defined the milieu of Old Town. 

A forlorn feeling engulfed me as I could smell the miasma of GOLAAM NAGARI now encroaching into the Old Town culture true to its self. Often chaos and disorder brings the fun and frolic out of life rather than orderly tidiness. The quintessential Old town was missing. Perestroika in name of embellishment seems to have altered its culture. I found no difference between Nayapalli and Old Town - the vivacity attached to it gone forever.

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