Happy Utkal Dibasa - 2023

 A scene from the Hindi movie ASHOKA still rings a bell. When Prince Ashok, the Scion of powerful Magadh Empire played by the popular actor Sah Rukh Khan strays into the territory of KALING (modern day Odisha), he is offered food by a native who says "KALING MEIN KOI BHUKHA NAHI RAHTA" (nobody ever goes hungry in Odisha).

History has depicted Kalinga as an I

independent, indomitable Republic of the time. A maritime superpower, rich and robust enough to challenge the powerful Maurya empire. Emperor Chandragupta Maurya and his son Bindusara, both spectacularly failed to conquer it. Bindusara's ambitious son Ashok managed to win a pyrrhic victory against Kalinga after lot of bloodshed on both sides. 

The marauding War Elephants of Kalinga, an integral part of the military in those days was regarded as the best in Indian subcontinent. In a Hindi tele series on Chanakya, when the princess of Magadh, the daughter of the powerful Mahapadmananda is kidnapped, the King mad in rage suspected Kalinga - "EK KALING HAI JO AISA KAR SAKTA HAI", "Only Kaling could dare to kidnap the daughter of the Magadh Emperor".

Kalinga was powerful enough to earn the respect of its powerful neighbor in North.

However CHANDASHOK (Ashok, the Cruel), their scion, won a pyrrhic victory over his old adversary who fought bravely till the end. The war was bloody enough to transform CHANDASHOK (Ashok, the Cruel) into DHARMASHOK (Ashok, the Pious). Ashok was moved by the sight of the women and children of Kalinga fighting till they breathed their last, leaving him forlorn and leaving violence forever. Couple of centuries later, KHARABELA, the emperor of Kalinga avenged the defeat by conquering and ransacking Magadh (modern day Bihar). 

From 11th to 15th century AD, the Gajapati (Lord of Elephants) Kings of Odisha built embarkments on rivers, created impressive architectural feats like the Sun Temple of Konark (Black Pagoda), defended aggression from enemies and built a great civilization. At one point of time the Kalinga empire extended from Ganges in North to Godavari in the south under King Kapilendra Dev.

But in the age sans contraceptives, the mighty King maintained both Queens and Kepts who kept on delivering broods of legitimate and illegitimate progenies. He laid the seeds for future fratricidal wars. His descendants involved themselves in internecine fatricidal wars and managed to sow the seeds of the demise of the great Kalinga empire.

This downfall probably accentuated with the advent of BHAKTI (devotional) movement and KIRTAN (devotional chant) culture introduced by Chaitanya Mahaprabhu, a mendicant of 15th century from GOUDA (the modern day Bengal), who arguably was the harbinger of the beginning of the end of the Odias as a martial race. Our last independent rulers Pratap Rudra Deb, Mukunda Dev and their army of generals soon considered themselves as the Gopis of Lord Krishna, forgetting their warrior skills.

The soldiers known for their bravery laid down their arms and started begging alms; singing BHAJANs and doing KIRTAN in chorus. (This trait continues, as the state still prides begging from center and abroad). Their KHANDAA (sword) was replaced by KENDARAA (mini violins). The fearless soldiers, who for centuries walked with their heads held higher, now held KENDARAA high above his head, similar to the one held by Sri Chaitnanya Mahaprabhu.

Odisha was soon be conquered by the Islamic invaders and the marauding Marathas who never believed in KIRTANs (Marathas though had their share of Bhakti movement of Tukaram and Eknath did not relinquish their martial traits). It yet vindicated that swords carry more weight and conquer more effectively than the violins. Traces of the martial trait was still visible in the form of the resistance offered by Buxi Jagabandhu, leader of the PAIKAs (a warring class), who fought bravely against the British during early 18th century.

Now, as they say in Odia - KARPUPRA UDIJAICHI, KANAA PADICHI (camphor gone, cloth remains). It means what remains to cherish is the little perfume of past glory lying ruined in the drifting sands of time. Let's hope we can get back some of the past glory in our lifetime. BANDE UTKAL JANANI (Hail Mother Odisha) and HAPPY UTKAL DIBASA to all.

Nostradamus Back again

Nostradamus is back again in the news cycle. If the noisy charters in the social media is to the believed, the 16th century bearded French Seer centuries ago correctly predicted the collapse of Silicon Valley Bank and the sundry ones. He also supportedly predicted the ongoing Ukraine War and also added that it would lead to the World War III.

The bearded Gothic Clairvoyant was known to have correctly predicted the rise of Napoleon, both the World Wars and even named Hitler as close as "Hister" nearly 500 years ago who will cross the Rhine River blitzkrieging through his opponents before finally destroying his country, killing millions and killing himself. One of his numerous predictions was about the rise of the New Land (as present day America was then referred then) as Superpower, with a Black President at the turn of the 21st century. He was laughed at then, as there were more Bisons than humans in America those days.

Nostradamus wrote all his predictions in an indecipherable cryptic form in his book aptly named "Centuries". Conspicuously, all his predictions are connected through dots only after an cataclysmic event occurs. Social media posts about his predictions go viral, translated from cryptic Gothic to sensible meanings by myriads of self proclaimed translators and honorable graduates from the Whatsapp University, a la a computer translating binary code into readable text. Almost all Nostradamus predictions appearing on social media platforms appear bogus to me. There are so many horrendus predictionus or simply "fakus newsus" in his name circulating around.

During my college days in REC (now NIT) Rourkela, a common question during Quiz competitions was to name this great psychic and clairvoyant from France - the answer to that was Nostradamus. Those days his name was unheard of, enough to be part of any quiz questionnaire, a trivia for the challenged minds. Not anymore. His name is way too common these days to be part of any trivia/quiz question.

After the 9/11 attack on the World Trade Center e-mails (there was no social media at that time) started circulating about Nostradamus's predictions - "At 45° (the latitude of New York) Big Birds (airplanes) will strike the heart of the most powerful nation". Regarding India he supposedly predicted the Queen (Indira Gandhi) who would rule India will be assassinated, followed by her son.

We Indians in general are cynical in nature. So lies spread faster than Corona virus. Nostradamus also said to have predicted the arrival of our Messiah Narendrous Modus (Narendra Modi), who will be chosen over the "Moronous Rahulus Gandhus (Rahul Gandhi)". Modus Operandus of Narendas Modus will take India to great length, breadth and heights of success, a superpower by 2024 - per his prediction. Well into 2023 when he couldn't even pass a Farm Bill and not a great number of achievements to boast about being a superpower by 2024 looks distantly impossibulus. Interestingly the French legend failed to see the rise of China as a superpower which is already happening.

However, the seer was silent on Odisha, probably outsourced the predictions to our own MAALIKA PANJI, the Odia version of "The Centuries". Not sure if there is print version of it or anybody has ever read it - it supposedly predicts "BAAISI PAHACHE KHELIBA MEENA (The legendary 22 steps leading to the Jagannath temple of Puri will be submerged in water with Fish playing on it). It was expected to happen during the tropical Cyclone Phailin, but our Lord Jagannath decided to take a Rain Check. Not sure if Nostradamus or Malika Panji predicted arrival of "Gullius Spreaders" on Facebuckus and Whatsap Alumnus on Whatsappus !

In mother nature's lap

 Nature's nature is to heal us. It's naturally designed to heal our mind, body and soul. You can try artificial means, but nothing beats the feeling of nature soothing you, same as nothing else can ever match the calm and comfort of a mother's hug. Same goes with mother nature.

Yesterday afternoon after doing some yard work, I was sweating profusely. I could literally feel our Odia DHAGA (Proverb) - "MUNDA JHALA TUNDA RE MAARI" (sweat from your head touches your mouth) - means "doing hard work". My feeling vindicated the popular Odia adage. After I was done cutting the grasses, bagging and putting them against the curb I stood under the Maple tree on my front yard, letting the burst of cool air caress me, drying my sweat. 

I stood there in the shadow of the fresh oxygen exhaling tree, could smell the freshness in the air. I have experienced before drying my sweat by facing wafts of cooler air conditioned air inside the comfort of home. But nothing feels more refreshing when you let your sweat dry under a tree. The law of Physics says "Evaporation causes cooling". We need to tag an addendum - the cooling effect due to the evaporation of sweat caused by nature's breeze is far more soothing than evaporation caused by AC. Mother nature's lap is so comforting.

While letting my lungs aerate with the fresh oxygen supply from the Maple tree, I stood there, watching the spotless blue sky with intermittent chunks of snow white clouds fleecing by. Loved watching the bees humming and chasing each other near the rose bushes, whizzing past the flowers sucking nectar. Thanks to their help in pollination I get a fruitful harvest from my backyard. 

Two squirrels kept chasing and out running each another, trying to catch each other's tails. Chirping little birds crisscross the sky as an array of Pelicans passed by, cawing PAON PAON. Far above in the sky two commercial jet liners crossed over, painting a thick white tailgating strip, forming a gargantuan X sign on the sky.

Nothing beats the pleasure of getting closer to nature. As another burst of soothing breeze caressed me, bringing in a lung full of fresh air, I found my memory tracing me back to this song from movie EK BAAR PHIR (1981) and murmuring..

YEH PAUDHI YEH PATTEN,

YEH PHOOLEN, YEH HAWAYEN.

DIL KO CHURAYE, MUJHKO LUBHAYE

HAI MAN KAHE MEIN JHOOMOON

MEIN GAOON.

The flora, these leaves

These flowers, the air.

It steals my heart, tempts me

My heart tells me to sway and sing.

Welcome to Spring in America's South, the Dixieland !!!

India trip March 2023 - Goodbye India

 Julius Caesar famously said - "Veni Vidi Vici", "I came, I saw, I conquered". Similarly, I came, I saw, I conquerered, not in Julius Caesar's way of extending his empire, but extending my trip to multitasking various things like running errands, taking care of stuff at home and tying some loose ends. That's apart from meeting friends and family, eating a lot of sweets in this short and sweet trip. 

One other things I noticed in this visit was conspicuously long lines (line is called queue here due to remnants of British English in America) in front of the liquor stores when I passed by them. They invariably have a standard name - "THIPI BAND MADA DOKANA" or "Sealed bottle liquor stores". Not sure why they write a prefix "THIPI BAND", why not simply "Lquor Store" ? Nevertheless it bears the testimony of the fact that consumption of liquor in Odisha in general and Bhubaneswar in particular has considerably gone up. My friends also tell me the same, though smoking is no more a fad. Part of it has to do with rise in awareness about smoking causing lung cancer and heart disease. Another part is the present generation movie actors don't endorse smoking unlike in our generation when from Amitabh Bachhan, Anil Kapoor to Rajnikanth championed on screen smoking, making youth of our generation emulate them. 

Not long ago a gentleman was in quest for a pious daughter-in-law who should be strictly vegetarian eating foods free from Onion and Garlic, the two vegetables considered as "TAMASIK" or titillating food. He found the right candidate (in Odisha a prospective bride or groom is called a candidate) - A pretty, educated girl, a strict vegetarian fitting the bill whose food didn't contain a single trace of onion or garlic. But there was an issue. It was not her food but her drink. A la before hiring an employer does a background check of the prospective employee, in arranged marriages in India a background check is done on the prospective bride or groom by the respective families, scrutiny is usually more on the bride side. After background check it was discovered that the girl was fond of alcohol. The gentleman was dissapointed. 

I told the gentleman - "I see nothing wrong here. Alcohol is purely vegetarian. They are made from grapes, wheat, rice, potato, rye, corn etc. I have not come across a single alcohol product made from onion or garlic, even they being part of any cocktail mix. Technically speaking alcohol is strictly vegetarian. Unless there is alcoholism and drunkenness involved, what's wrong with a girl getting occasionally tipsy ?" Not sure if the gentleman proceeded any further on the candid candidate. 

What's the similarities between a vacation, a consulting assignment, a job and life ? All have a start date and 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 that you had a few more days to spent. Three, four or five weeks in India, however long you stay is never enough. 

There are so many sights and sounds in India to write about. Eminent writer R K Laxman cited this reason for him staying in India when he had the opportunity to migrate and settle abroad being invited by multiple Universities in UK and US to teach creative writing - "Where on earth you will find so many variety of characters to write about !!!" He wasn't far from 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. India also has a huge range of wildlife. It's the only country in the world which is home to both tigers and lions (Africa though has lions, it doesn't have any tigers. Edgar Rice Burroughs, the creator of iconic jungle hero Tarzan made a glaring mistake of showing tigers in Africa. The reality is Africa has no tigers). 

On the day of departure I went to a local bank, arriving sharply at 10 AM when the bank opens. I was the first customer in line. The staff arrived one after another, did some Pooja (worship) of dieties at a corner burning incense sticks in front of them which filled the hall with sweet smell. It took few minutes for the computers to start and get online. Suddenly a guy came in front of me, cutting through the line. I politely told him to go back in Odia. He retorted back - "AGYA MORA URGENTE KAMA THILA, I had some urgent work". This time I responded in English - "I too have urgent work. Every one here has urgent work too".  The lady at the counter now raised her head and gave me a curious loom. My English words worked like magic. The guy immediately fell in line. 

In the wee hours of the trip it's always an endless cycle of last minute shopping, meeting friends and relatives, running errands, packing, weighing, repacking and re-weighing of luggages. Now the time has arrived to bid adieu to my motherland. The American poet Robert Frost famously wrote - "Miles to go before I sleep". For me it's going to be the same, Miles to go before I reach my home in USA and have a sound sleep as I can barely sleep inside flight. Goodbye India. See you soon.

India trip March 2023 - Bulu Bara Dokan

 There is a freeze warning in Columbus, Georgia where I live where the temperature is predicted to be 34°Fahrenheit. Here in Bhubaneswar it is 34°Centigrade. George Bernard Shaw was quoted in 1942 as saying, "England and America are two countries separated by the same language." Right now as I write Columbus and Bhubaneswar are two cities separated by the same temperature. 

The Bhubaneswar I grew up with has changed leaps and bounds over the years. It has also impacted the "Bulu Bara Dokan" (Shop) located barely 100 feet from my home. Due to inflation its prices has gone up from Rs.2 (2 cents) a piece to Rs.3 (4 cents) during the last decade, but to me it tastes better than a Rs.300 burger in some damn mall. Bulu has is special recipe which brings a unique taste out of his Bara. A la Coca-Cola he ensures his unique formula stays with him by never divulging it to anyone. His shop gets pretty crowded in the morning. So much so that, I pre-order an hour ago and walk down to pick my stuff wrapped in newspaper and put inside a plastic bag. The crowd outside his small kiosk vindicates his popularity. Odias love Bara. Many don't get a bowel movement if they don't eat Bara for breakfast. Though tasty and okay for occasional consumption, it is unhealthy and produces a lot of gas. No wonder many Odias suffer from gastrointestinal ailments.

People of all sorts cluster around Bulu's Bara Dokan (kiosk). Those from the upper middle class and the nouveau riche of our locality send their domestic help to procure their breakfast. 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. All sorts of topics are discussed here, from cold, bland ones like current weather conditions to hot and spicy gossips about some local girl eloping with a boy to "Pandian being the de facto CM", as hot and spicy as the simmering Bara dollops getting fried in hot oil.

A guy parked his Scooty and walked in to deliver his breaking news - a 3 storeyed building shrank by 3 feet in Dumduma area as another man sitting there reading a local newspaper read it out from page 3. As Bulu the Chef moved around the Baras swirling and wobbling on the surface of boiling oil using his jumbo sized spatula, he exclaimed in an excited voice - "SALAA SABU GAON RU UTHI ASI KAHIBE AME BHONSARA RE RAHIBU" - All those brothers of the sisters I have seduced (Salaa denotes wife's brother, but in local lingo its usage suggests the speaker is the seducer of the sister of whom so ever concerned) have come out of their villages with the desire to live in Bhonsar (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, ascribed 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 rusty, arrogant 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 light brown from the spotless white dough made out of soaked grams (lentils). It will take a few more minutes before getting ready. Bulu's unabashed character assassination of the new immigrants to Bhubaneswar continued unabated as my takeout order of Bara was almost ready. Soon the discussion shifted to a spicier topic on Newspaper - "SASU SAHITA JWAIN FERAAR" (Mother-in-law elopes with Son-in-law). "KI JUGA HELA KIYO (What the world has come to) - someone exclaimed while reading out the news. I looked outside the small kiosk as a big gray bull dumped a fresh mound of shit only a few feet away from me as I could overhear more bullshit discussions going on, akin to the bullshit which I peddle on Facebook on regular basis.

I picked up my carry out order (the carry out or "to go" order is called PARSALA here, the way parcel is spoken in Onglish, i.e., Odia accented English). My order of 10 pieces of hot Bara costing me Rs.30 (40 cents) was ready for pickup. A family breakfast for 40 cents, fresh out of wooden clay oven - you 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. I haven't, it still remains in my heart.

While walking back home and struggling to keep my mind straight, I could feel one feet on the muddy path on the road due to the leftover water because of the never ending roadworks, while the other feet on bone dry dust. It fully described 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..

India trip March 2023 - My tryst with close shave

 These are the first few lines of an Odia duet I heard at a Barber's Haircut Saloon. 

Boy - TO SEXY SEXY ANTA DEKHI

MO DIL FIDA HELA.

(Looking at your sexy waistline,

My heart is fine). 

Girl -  TO STRONG STRONG BODY DEKHI                   MO NAZAR LAKHI GALA.

(Looking at your strong body,

My eyes were fixated steady) 

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 the legendary Odia singers Akshay Mohanty, Chitta Jena, Prafulla Kar et all take rebirth to save Odia music from adulteration, annihilation, cataclysmic alteration and its eventual extinction. I requested the guy giving me haircut and shave to save me from any further torment by switching from this "Sexy Sexy" song to something less sensuous and more listenable. He dismissed me - "AGYAN AJI KALI SABU EIYA KU SUNUCHANTI (Sir, these days all folks listen to this). He made his point. 

This trip enabled me to play Holi in India after a hiatus of more than quarter of century. However it was a subdued Holi for me as I am not a very colorful person as I use color very frugally and hate to take long showers. Holi came and went, leaving its mark. Yet I can proudly boast that this year will be the year of my unique experience of celebrating Holi festival in India. 

Now it was my turn to experience another thing unique to India - getting a haircut in a saloon. Saloons here are not the just the spots for hair cut and shaving, it is a place of rendezvous, a watering hole, social gathering by itself. Before leaving for India my wife told me to have a haircut and dye my irreversible whitening of hair. But I procrastinated - "Why spend $20 for a haircut in USA when I can cut my hair and dye it in India for less than $3, tips included. It will save you some time. (My wife dyes my hair and does a great job at it)." I thought she would be pleased but she responded - "When you ever listen to me !" It was her nonchalant response to someone who had been religiously listening to her all these years. Nevertheless I didn't want to miss the experience of having my hair cut and dyed at the local saloon in our locality. 

We NRIs (Non Resident Indians) are world champion hypocrites who give bombastic speeches about the low cost manual labor in India. But when time comes, we take the guilty pleasure of taking full advantage of the low cost, grabbing it at the very first opportunity. It was my turn to do so today by visiting a Saloon, as a Barber's shop is called in local lingo located barely a mile from our house. 

This Barber shop aka Saloon was clean. Over the years it has improvised a lot - from a wooden Kiosk with fluttering electricity to a concrete room with a wall mounted AC unit blowing cool air being its latest addition. But I hardly noticed any changes in the profile of the folks gathered inside. After entering the Saloon I noticed a few guys, thinking they were ahead of me in line. So when the hair dresser signaled me to occupy a chair, it surprised me, putting me in a spot. Sensing my hesitancy he insisted - "SAARE, BASANTU (Sir, please take your seat). 

Soon I realized the reason of me being pulled ahead of the rest. Those guys ahead of me were not customers, but free roamers and freeloaders needlessly hanging around. The reluctant hair dresser is no fan of these guys whom he refers as BALUNGAs (worthless weeds) and wanted to avoid any PUNGA (not to mess around) with these local brats. He tolerated the unavoidable nuisance as an occupational hazard in his profession which he has to tolerate. This he had confided to me earlier. 

One of them was combing his hair backwards standing in front of the big mirror from time immemorial, whistling from the top his snorted piggy lips. He then took a break, wiped residual hairs off the comb, checked it again by turning it over. Not satisfied, placing it close to his mouth, he tried to vacuum it off by blowing hair through his pouting lips.  

He resumed his combing operation, ploughing his hair backwards, uttering in Odia - KIRE KUNA (a common Odia nick name) TA SHAALI BAHAGHARA RU PHERILA (Did Kuna return from 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 destined to be missed but expected to be returned at the earliest). The tete-a-tete continued as the barber focused on giving me a clean shave, used his blade in surgical precision reaching out to 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. I thanked him for giving me a clean slate. 

Adding my tip to the final payment it cost me little more than couple of dollars. It can't get any cheaper than that. Can't complain, when I had a close shave for a tiny amount, as close and low it can get. 

Barbers, Plumbers, Electricians, Mechanics et all thrive well in Bhubaneswar, making decent amount of money. There is always demand for them due to the city's explosive population growth. The dignity of labor hasn't quite matched up to their earnings in a feudal society of BABU and SAARE where manual labor is often frowned upon. But due to an upward demand curve and mobility, the dignity of labor is bound to grow as years progress. More later...

India trip 2023 - A visit to Cuttack Part II

 As we entered the highway the ride to Cuttack was pleasantly fast, though in spite of the fairly light traffic, I saw many driving in middle of the lane. A few ran across the road, safety be damned. Someone riding a Scooty suddenly entered from the right, right in front of us to make the driver of my vehicle deftly swerve to avoid a collision. Whew... 

It was a slightly cooler day. We drove past mountains of apartment complexes on both sides of the road, floating in a sea of mist and smog. It was a cloudy, hazy, dust laden morning. Soon the sun peeped through the curtain of haze, revealing vast stretches of barren land with interspersed trees swaying under a cool morning breeze, akin to the hues of brown and green turbans seen in a rally of Sikhs. The Coconut trees seem to be smiling and waving at us with their large branches. 

On the way I saw a lot of Auto showrooms, e.g. Ford, Toyota and Suzuki. As we got closer to the Cantonment road near Barabati Stadium, the traffic started to crawl through the labyrinths of narrow streets - very typical of the city of Cuttack. We trudged ahead on the road filled with potholes, amiably shared by homo sapiens and animals alike - numerous stray dogs, cows, buffaloes, goats, a mother monkey with her baby tucked to her back. I always whine about the Bhubaneswar traffic. But trust me, compared to Cuttack, the traffic in Bhubaneswar is a walk in the park. We passed by sluggish Kathajodi river which struggled to flow, looking more like a dirty cesspool and a swimming pool for buffaloes at a corner than a water body which can be called a river. From a distance I saw a washer woman was seen barging cloth on a stone on the river bank. 

I enjoyed the caressing of the dust filled cool air through the clogged Cuttack traffic with various street vendors, kiosks, food stalls on both sides of the road. 

Finally I managed to reach my destinstion of the government LAR & R (Land Acquisition Relief and Rehabilitation) Court-cum-Office, a walkable distance from the Barabati Stadium. This particular government office was bit different from the others, being newly constructed and devoid of any betel stains at wall corners. The Clerk downstairs wasn't available on his seat. He came back 15 minutes later and directed me to the Courtroom upstairs to get my case id. 

I went upstairs and requested another Clerk to get my case id from the computer. No sooner he started keying in my credentials to get the case id, than the judge arrived. Everyone in the Courtroom stood up in attention. The judge, the Presiding Officer from Odisha Judiciary Services requested all to seat down. The Computer Clerk told me to take a seat and wait until all the hearing in the court ended. I asked - "How long this proceedings will take" ? He replied - "It will take an hour to three, add an hour of lunch time in between". I requested - "It should take couple of minutes to pull out my case id. I have no business in these court proceedings. I have come a long way from Bhubaneswar. If you can just give it me what I need, I will be done and go back". The clerk said - "Saare Asi Galeni, the Sir has already arrived. I have to record the court proceedings. You can eat your lunch, come back and wait". 

I had no other option. After eating my lunch at "Golden Spoon", a restaurant near Barabati Stadium I was back to the Courtroom, sitting on last row near the whirring wall mounted AC, dozing through the boring court proceedings until it suddenly became interesting. A brother and sister were involved in a litigation over landed property. The sister came to the witness box and got emotional - "My brother was a gem, made of pure gold. My Bhauja (sister-in-law) is both "Dahani and Chiriguni" (Witch and Devil) rolled together. She has brainwashed him against me". In our society it's always the outersider to be blamed, especially the daughter-in-law who spoils the lily white brother. The audience murmered as the chagrin and conquerer mixed look on Bhauja's face sitting close by was apparent and visible. The judge shouted - "Order, order". 

Suddenly the Judge noticed me and asked me about my case. I started to explain myself in Odia while still being seated when the judge  interrupted me by retorting back - "You should stand up and speak in the court. That's our decorum". In English I replied - "I am sorry. I didn't mean any offense as I am new to all this. In fact, I have nothing to do with the court proceedings going on here, rather I am an inadvertent onlooker just waiting for my case id. I will leave this room as soon as I get it". The Judge got a little curious now. Giving me an "odd man out" look he said - "You don't seem from here. We are about to take a break, but you are free to meet me in my room". Not sure if it's going to get good, bad or ugly for me I followed him to his chamber. 

The Judge gave me a fair private hearing after offering me a seat and ordered afternoon tea. During our tate a tete-a-tete we discovered that we live 2 lanes apart in the same locality in Bhubaneswar. It was a huge coincidence and became a binding factor between us. Then he told me clearly - "You issue won't be fixed by just getting the case id. You will be forced to come time and again. There are a lot of paperwork to go with this process". Then he rang his bell. And orderly arrived promptly. The judge told the man to take my credentials, make photocopies of them and bring those to him to sign. He continued - "Tomorrow is the 2nd Saturday, a holiday in government offices. I want to finish this for you before the end of the day so that you don't have to come back again". 

As the clerk went ahead with my paperwork, the friendly judge asked me about life in America and the ubiquitous question asked to those from Indian origin living in USA - "I know my friends and relatives who went to the States (as USA is commonly addressed here) never came back. Are you going to follow their footsteps ?" Instantly came my reply - "There is a reason why NRIs are called Non Returning Indians". He laughed. 

Finally done with all papers signed, I entered the clerical chamber to take the final copy of the order. As I offered my thanks to the staff, one of them stepped forward - "Agyan Kama Ta Heigala. Tike Cha, Pani - Your work is done. How about some Tea and Water !" I got the hint and prompy obliged, unsure and without clue about the right amount of "Tea and Water". But from the look of satisfaction on their face it could be presumed that I sure "Teaed and Watered" them well. 

On my way back home from Cuttack we drove through Tishulia on the outskirts of Bhubaneswar, followed by Barang, Patia, Nandan Kanan - the later looked quite different from my childhood days. Patia used to be a snake infected area. During summer vacation of 1984 after our CBSE Board exam, I as part of a group of friends bicycled all the way to Nandan Kanan. On our jouney back home it was getting darker, so we pedaled as fast as we could we were scared of  Elephants and Leopards which galored that area. Now the place harbors swanky malls and expensive real estate. We live in changing times. More later...

India trip March 2023 - A visit to Cuttack Part I

 I love Cuttack though have been a frugal visitor to the Silver city. Never seen the two iconic institutes of the city - Ravenshaw College and the SCB Medical College as I never got the opportunity to visit both. Last time I was in Cuttack was in the year 2000. This was my first trip to Bhubaneswar's sibling city after a long hiatus of 23 years. Some pending works at the Government office of Land Acquisition Relief and Rehabilitation (LA R and R) Authority Court on Cantonment road near Barabati Stadium forced me to take the trip. 

Cuttack and Bhubaneswar form a Twin city - like twin siblings me from Bhubaneswar and my friends from Cuttack fight a lot among ourselves. During my growing up days Cuttack was the big brother, a happening city and Bhubaneswar its poorer twin. The later was regarded as a city of immigrants lacking a coherent culture of its own, termed by many as GOLAM NAGARI (The City of Slaves) ascribing to the salaried class slavish people serving their SARKAR (government) masters vis a vis the DILADAAR and BOBAAL (Broad hearted and fun loving) KATAKIAs (denizens of Cuttack). We used to poke fun at KATAKIs for their squalor like SAHI (localities) consisting of unplanned houses entwined by narrow lanes filled with stinky, squalid drains compared to us housed in swanky, planned quarters in the squicky clean city of Bhubaneswar. 

The denizens from Cuttack boast to be fun loving, considering the 5 or 6 Talkies (local parlance for movie theatres) they had, a decent by the standard of those days and far more than any other city in Odisha at that time. Prominent of them were Grand Cinema, Durga and Nishamani Talkies - the later which played only Hollywood movies. From the quality of mosquitoes (the famous KATAKI MASA is capable of lifting you for miles) to the movies the city sandwiched between the bank of giant Mahanadi river and its tributary Kathajodi river always had an edge over its newly built adjoining capital city. 

In contrast Bhubaneswar had only 3 movie theatres, two of them named Kalpana and Rabi ehich were within a mile from each other, equidistant from my house. Both were arguably the biggest hatcheries of CHHARA POKA (Bed bugs) who galore under the seats of the unsuspecting audience and can bite chunks off your ass. This was apparent from the scenes of the viewers coming out of the theatre scratching their private parts in public. 

We always use to tease my friends from Cuttack, they can beat us  BHUBANESWARIYAs (from Bhubaneswar) in two aspects  - MASA (Mosquitoes) and MIXTURE (a unique mixture blend of snack from Cuttack). Though critical of Cuttack of its fledgling infrastructure, its dirty drains, whenever the latest Hollywood blockbuster comes to Cuttack's Nishamani Hall, especially a movie of my favorite Brooke Shields, I lose no time to visit Cuttack to watch her movies. 

On my way to Cuttack the car passed the Ratnakar Bag before getting on to the highway. I couldn't recognize the area which I used to be familiar before. Ratnakar Bag on Tankapani Road used to be filled with fruit laden mango trees, not far from the BJB Flats where my father was quartered in. In summer of 1981, as a 12 year old one evening I was at a friend's house near Ratnakar Bag when a sudden thunderstorm put out the electricity for few hours. It was already dark when the rain stopped. On my way back home I had to walk through in darkness of the densely forested Ratnakar Bag which was rumored to house ghosts and people heard sound of metallic anklets (Ghoongroo). Glad I didn't hear anything except the croaking of frogs after fresh summer rain. 40 years later the same place is covered in jungle where concrete has replaced trees. This time I couldn't recognize anything or make any head and tail out of the locality I grew around. 

Suddenly my memory teleported me back to early 1990s to one of my rare trips to Cuttack.

Staying close to Dhenkanal those days I was accompanying a group of friends to attend a marriage ceremony inside the city. We were lost in the labyrinth of the lanes inside the city known for its BAUN BAZAARA, TEPANA GALI (52 bazaars and 53 narrow lanes) trying to find the Marriage MANDAP (venue).  

We asked a bystander for the direction to the venue. The inquisitive bystander quizzed us - "Where are you from ?" One among us enthusiastically responded - "from Dhenkanal". "Oh, that explains. Now I can see why you cannot find the direction", the local guy replied followed by chorus of laughter from all bystanders and to the chagrin of my friends from Dhenkanal who were not so amused. (Folks from Dhenkanal district of Odisha, satirically snubbed as DHENKU are believed to be naive and slow witted like their Sardarjee counterparts at the national level. Only solace, unlike Sardars they don't have the reputation of getting dangerously mad at noon). The second part of my Cuttack trip will follow. Till then...

India trip March 2023 - Mosquito menace in Bhubaneswar

 Home sweet home - Our home is full of sweets, some bought by me and the rest gifted to me by good samaritans, friends and relatives. My blood sweetened by all these "Mitha" attracts mosquitoes who apparently love sucking it using their straw like tentacles. Covid is not the only disease which created havoc here. Come rainy season in late summer, Dengue fever caused by mosquito bites is always lurking in ever corner. 

In many profession you can afford to be 99.99% accurate, leaving 0.01% scope for error due to various unpreventable factors and attributes. But you must be 100% accurate in the mission of mosquito eradication in your room if you want a sound sleep. No scope for error, failure is simply not an option. 

There are drains around our locality but these drains frequently get chocked. The water from the never ending construction works spills over the street creating stinky, dirty cesspools serving as a great breeding ground for the mosquitoes and source of sundry diseases like the dreaded Malaria and Dengue. Once rains create puddles of stagnant water the hitherto dormant mosquitoes rise from ashes like Sphinx announcing their arrival by murmuring around the back of earlobes. These bloodsucking parasites are particularly active during the early morning and twilight hours when one often spends slapping oneself to get rid of them. Akin to unwelcomed guests, one has to intermittently bear them. 

There is a canal close to our house which used to be filled with flowing water. I have seen Otters (called Pani Odha in Odia) inhabitating the canal during my childhood, chasing fishes to complete nature's food chain. Long dead and now covered with cess this canal lies dormant and has become the world's biggest mosquito hatchery. At twilight I have seen swarms of them spiraling out of the canal like mini tornadoes, spreading through neighborhood resembling Dracula baying for blood. 

Mosquitoes are highly resilient creatures. If they can survive the winters of Alaska and Minnesota, insecticides like DDT etc, they can survive anything. I took a valiant attempt at cleansing my room of these obnoxious blood suckers. I burnt an entire stick of KACHHUA (Tortoise) brand repellent to smoke the mosquitoes out of their hideouts at every nook and corners of my room. Whanever I came across some of them, I mercilessly clapped them to death in my own hands. Then I put an "ALL OUT", another brand mosquito repellent, confident that I had vanquished all of them. 

Or so I thought. No.sooner I felt asleep, than came the annoying humming sound buzzing around my ear. I followed with the reflex action of trying to squash it, using one and occasionally both hands. It was followed a phase of tranquility which gave me a false notion that I managed to kill it. But it proved to be elusive again as the mosquito came back with more ferocity like a wounded tiger. The solitary mosquito continued his guerrilla warfare against me leaving me thoroughly battle fatigued. 

At that point I wished I could raise a white flag, letting it suck a stomach full of my blood and just leave me alone to continue my slumber. We heard from our legendary epic Mahabharat, when Duryodhan ordered the killing of all brothers of his maternal uncle, the famous Shakuni, all of them died saving Shakuni so that the wily survivor can take the revenge on another day on the egotistical Duryodhan. Similarly it was payback time for the mosquito at my home. The surviving one got its revenge back managing to harass me all night long to the solace of the restless souls of its siblings whom I earlier either mercilessly killed or banished. Like SHAKUNI the mosquito had the last laugh. 

Those who live in high rise apartments are lucky, as mosquitoes are not known to fly above 50 feet. In 1970s and 1980s Bhubaneswar, mosquitoes were hardly a menace. We used to make fun of our friends from Cuttack as that city was infamous for its KATAKI MASA (mosquitoes from Cuttack), who are rumored to lift away people for miles. It's now payback time for them to poke fun at us. Now Bhubaneswar can give the other twin a run for money or might even beat them as far as mosquito menace goes. The old fashioned mosquito net works just fine for me. Though not a big fan of sleeping inside it, it's far preferred  to a bug bitten, interrupted sleep. More later..

India trip March 2023 - A stubborn Jet lag

My jet lag still persists. A stubborn Jet lag can be a real pain in you know what. My body clock simply refutes to relinquish the US Time Zone as I still get up between 3 to 4 O'clock every morning and my body refusing to sleep any further. 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. 

Thanks to internet and Facebook I could keep myself preoccupied for a while until the tom-tomimg of GHANTA (brass plate) from a nearby MATH (monastery) around 5 AM sounded like music to me, much more musical than the sporadic KAWALIs (group music) from stray dogs all night long. No sooner the gang of musical mongrels on the Eastern end of the street finished with a sequence 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 breakes of15-30 minutes.

The long arduous wait in dark paved way to dawn. The eastern sky grew brighter, turning crimson red as the light morning light slowly strived to drive 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 "MATH" (Monastery) - sounding the end of the morning session of prayer. Amidst the banging of GHANTA and GINI (musical instruments made from Brass), wafted in a Bengali Bhaki (devotional) song through the dust laden mango, jackfruit, coconut and betel nut trees. I could grasp the following stanza of the Bengali Bhakti Bhajan -

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 around.

I went over to the balcony to take a peek at the outside world. You must have heard about Sand mafia, Land mafia etc. Have you heard of Flower mafia ? They come at wee hours of the morning, steal flowers from the frontyard gardens and sell them off to the larger market segment. My senior citizen parents can hardly do anything to stop them.

Once a man leaned over our fence and pulled down a flower tree to surreptitiously steal low hanging flowers. When he saw me noticing, he pulled away and moved on to the next house. But not every one notices my Peeping Tom eyes. In one of my prior trips I saw someone stealing flowers looked left and right to make sure no one was noticing before letting out a bombadistic fart. Glad he didn't look up to make me miss something to write about.

A Bull was placidly chewing cud under a big mound of sand in front of house where the never ending Sewage laying work has been going on for time immemorial. Couple of mongrels sleeping nearby noticed the tectonic shift in their surrounding as the giant Bovine suddenly stood up, shrugging off sand from his body. The doggies shifted further off to a nearby semi-broken concrete culvert perceived by them as a more secured, safer location from the big bully Bull.

Two pariah dogs were indulged in a face off, their protruding mouths barely a feet from each other. The bigger, aggressive one about to prounce on the other like a dragon in fury. The smaller doggie in a defensive, crouching pose was snarling at its bigger opponent with its tails well tucked within the hind legs. The barking and snarling continued for a few minutes until they made a truce and went their separate way.

From a distance approached our local Newspaper walla (guy). He swung and threw the newspaper past our main gate with immaculate accuracy and moved on to the next house. One of the dogs tried to sniff his way near to a man walking holding milk packs only to be rudely shooed away - HEY HEY JA JA (Hey, hey, go away). The doggie nonchalantly walked away. 

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 a good 5 to 7 days, now more on the later side. As this is a very short trip, by the time the jet lag will be over I will be on my way back. More later...

India trip March 2023 - A walk to the temple

 Monday morning I went to "Sukhmeswar Temple", a stone's throw from our house. It is one of several dozens of temples in the Old Town area of Bhubaneswar, the heart and core of the city. The residents of Old Town are proud of being the original inhabitants of the city vis a vis the the rest beyond Ravi Talkies which they consider as Ghulam Nagari or the City of Slaves, ascribing to the Dalaals (brokers) and government servants who form the bulk of the population beyond Ravi Talkies.

Bhubaneswar is the abode of multiple Saivite temples where Lord Shiva is considered the Supreme God. Unlike the Avatars of Lord Vishnu, like Sri Ram, Sri Krishna or Lord Jagannath who are fastidious and require a lot of penance to be pleased, Lord Shiva, the most simple minded of the Trinity of Hindu Gods - Brahma, Vishnu and Maheswar is easily pleased by ardent call of a devotee. Same goes with Maa Durga, as like all mothers she can't resist the call of a child in peril and comes to her child, i.e. the ardent devotee's rescue. In a scene from the epic MAHABHARAT before the start of the battle of Kurukhetra Lord Krishna instructed Arjun to pray Maa Durga. Arjun asks - "Will She come" ? Sri Krishna replied - "If you simply call using your tongue she won't, but if you call her with your soul she will definitely respond".

That's probably why most of the Rakhyasa or Demons pray Lord Shiva to get his boon. Once they get the boon, they become rogue and it takes an Avatar of Vishnu or Maa Durga to kill them. Sri Krishna, Sri Ram or Lord Jagannath test their devotees well before granting them any kind of boon. If pleased the blessings of the Avatars of Vishnu is long and permanent. So being demonic in nature I took the short cut route for my boon from our local temple of Lord Shiva.

While Remembering all these I managed to reach the temple. Being a Monday morning the temple was busy with devotees making a beeline to enter into the narrow entrance of the temple, touching the feet of the Bull, the carrier of Lord Shiva lying near the entrance. While entering and coming out of the temple I rang the bell only to be reminded of this episode from one of my prior trips. Before walking to the temple I drank Tea, followed by Amul Lassi and couple of glasses of PAIDA (young coconut) water freshly plucked from one of the Coconut trees in our backyard. While on my way back from temple I realised my bladder was about to burst as I won't be able to hold on to it much longer. As there was still some distance to be covered (distance is a relative term and not just a number when you walk with controlling nature's call), I thought it would be prudent to open the valve midway.

Frantically looking for a spot with privacy, I found a suitable peeing spot by roadside. It was a dry spot near a wet wall, heavily stained by betel leaf saliva and more heavily stenched by rivulets of urine mixed with red saliva. Couple of guys joined me on both sides of me inspecting the site for a location. The guy on my right looked up into the sky while relieving himself. I turned my head to the left and smiled at the other. He reciprocated by smiling back at me, exposing his phalanx of 32 of his dark, betel stained teeth.

We all shook ourselves off the residual droplets, lifted and tightened our pants and bid each other an unspoken good bye. It is another feeling of the pleasure of relieving oneself under open, blue sky, something I rarely do these days. A la a doggie I managed to leave my scent behind, may be back one day to reuse the spot. It is the best way to recycle these wall urinals lurking around the smart city. No place to wash hands, I knew it will be a few minutes before I reach home to do so - sincerely wishing of not getting an opportunity to shake hands with someone. Feeling completely light and relieved, I started trudging my way back towards home.

Soon my wish was to be belied. On my way back, I saw a familiar face, a neighborhood Mausa (Uncle) rushing towards me - "HAIO KEBE FOREIGN RU ASILA. KETE DINA ACHHA" - "Hey when did you come from abroad (foreign in Odia is the term used here to denote a nation outside India, especially Western Countries). How long are you staying", extending his hands for a warm welcome handshake. I did a "Namaskar" to him, thinking there won't be a need for any handshake. But he insisted on shaking my hands. So, reluctantly I took my hand forward, squinting my nose, hesitantly extending my right towards him. The smiling person at the other side shook his hands enthusiastically for a few seconds. 

Post handshake, he rolled his hands over his lip and chins, making me squint and raise my nose further. Hope someone recorded this handshake moment, it could very well get million plus hits on YouTube a la the greatest handshakes in history - Chamberlain with Hitler, Nixon with Chairman Mao, Ronald Reagan vs Mikhail Gorbachev and so on. Glad I didn't meet any more Mr. Fortunates on my way to shake hands with. More later...

India trip March 2023 - Late night tryst with Bhubaneswar Airport

 I had my next tryst with the Bhubaneswar Airport on the same day of my arrival when I went to drop someone at 9.30 for a late night flight on Air Asia. Inauguration of Biju Patnaik's archaic airplane had finished by now and the traffic flow was much better as it was already past 9 O'clock in the night. On the VIP drop lane 1 arrived couple of swanky vehicles, the one in the front had the name "BJP General Secretary" and the party's lotus symbol proudly printed on it.

From the front vehicles whose back seat was covered by lily white towel came out a person looking like a politician talking to someone on phone with his right hand waving like a car wiper trying to make his point. He was followed by couple of burly guys with thick Walrus type moustache from the car following it. Their eyes were as red as their 1 inch thick, 2 inch long vertical strip of red Sindoor (Vermilion) on their forehead which stretched until the top of their nose in between their eyelids. Both had red color strings tied to their hands, on the other hand they were busy talking over phone. Couple of other guys unloaded the luggages and followed the politician rolling them on the ground. A stray dog who was taking a nap close by was disturbed by all this and quitely shifted to another corner under the next pillar, stretched its legs and yawned.

It was almost 10 PM at the Airport and I was frantically trying to book a cab on my phone to return back to home. I found it very hard to book a cab late in the night at Bhubaneswar Airport. After several cancelations as the driver information never came through on the screen, to my relief one UBER driver finally responsed.

When I boarded the Uber cab the apparently drunk driver suddenly burped creating a miasma of cheap Whisky and Pyorrhoea. I have encountered drunk cab drivers before. But imagine a lonely girl at Airport encountering an Uber driver in such a condition late in the night. I being a man, used to getting drunk and drunks in my 50 plus years inife took my chance with this guy as it was running late and being dog tired, I was running out of patience.

The driver suddenly asked me to pay Rs.40 upfront to pay at the gates while getting out of the Airport. Not sure if I was supposed to pay that here or my Uber fair included it, I asked the driver to pay the money from his pocket and I will add the amount to the final total. I always pay a hefty tip to cab drivers here, but this time I didn't as I was not sure if I was supposed to pay Rs.40 extra at the Airport gate from my pocket or not. If it's true, then I am good. If the Uber driver cheated me then he lost the tip which would have been more than Rs.40. I din't have anything to lose in this case, but didn't cherish getting cheated.

The Uber driver burped again as I turned my head to the other side. Sensing my discomfort he pulled out a ZARDA (scented tobacco) PAAN (Betel leaf) from his shirt pocket and popped it inside his mouth which kept the foul smell of cheap Whisky plus Pyorrhoea at bay, at least temporarily. No mood for a chit chat, I glanced outside of the left side passenger's seat window. Couple of stray dogs fighting over the food leftover  rolled by a fastfood street vendor adjacent to the road. The quarreling mongrels suddenly came to the front of the car. The Uber driver slammed the breaks and slowed down to avoid hitting the poor doggies. The canines snarled at each others until one of them with its tail well tucked behind hindlegs fled away.

My Uber journey resumed. The dust glittering under the street lights sprayed like sawdust over everything - trees, carts of the street vendors, the houses and the parked vehicles as we zigzaged past lanes after another. The pariah mongrels barked at us, some chased our car as the bulls and cows standing blocking the road gaped at us. Roadworks for laying down a new sewage system has made a mess of our locality with blocked roads with no clear directions for detour ahead.

The citizens of our Old Town area are cursing the authorities for the never ending work and causing innumerable pain for them. I had to direct the drunk driver to maneuver the detour roads, snaking through the narrow roads with vehicles parked on both sides. Though I am familiar to the area, it's still a challenge to recognize the places as every time I visit, the roads are shrinking with too many houses erupting on empty spots protruding into the roads, clogging and contesting the city. Luckily for me the Sunday night return trip wasn't too bad sans the company Pyorrhoea, Whisky and a drunk driver. More later.

India trip March 2023 - Arrival at Bhubaneswar

 I reached Bhubaneswar Airport on a warm, balmy morning. It took me a while for my pickup vehicle to reach the Airport as the Chief Minister of Odisha was inaugurating an airplane dedicated to late Biju Patnaik, a popular, maverick pilot turned politician who also happens to be the current CM's father. Unfortunately for me I was at the wrong place, wrong time on the wrong day. Today was Biju Patnaik's birthday and the place surrounding the airport was looking like Fort Knox with armed police around, blocking roads and controlling the traffic to the airport.

There are 3 lanes in front of the Bhubaneswar Airport, lane 1 devoted to the VIPs, lane 2 used by the lesser humans for regular airport drop offs and pick ups, lane 3 for the OLA, Uber vehicles booked via online. The whole place is swarmed with scums, touts and unscrupulous elements. The heavy vehicular traffic outside the Airport was moving at a snail's pace in a staggering, halting manner for whatever inauguration was going on. So not sure why some of them were not diverted to the VIP lane which was virtually empty. It would have alleviated the traffic clog, which could have easily been bypassed to the so called VIP lane for better flow of vehicles. We are probably the only country on earth still clinging to this sick VIP culture, Odisha being in the forefront of it.

On reaching home after a long journey of 30 hours spanning over 3 continents and 10 time zones, I badly needed a shit, shave, shower and sleep in my comfort zone of home. Closing in to midday, the stifling heat and humidity was already starting to take its toll on me, my first pee at home resembled thick mustard oil. Inside the bathroom I turned the faucet on to brush my teeth. Prrrt.. Prrrt.. it farted twice before emitting a thin stream of water which slowly got thicker.
The overhead shower wasn't working. So I put water inside a bucket and started pouring mugs after mugs on my head and torso. It was fun to take shower the old fashioned way after a long time. Through bathroom skylight I could hear the tweeting spree by a bird sitting on a nearby Mango tree "Tweetwoo... tweetwoo...tweetwoo..", with no restrictions allowing unlimited characters to tweet put by its social media counterpart.

No sooner I finished eating my typical Puri style home made lunch finished off with succulent mangoes than I lied down on bed tired after a long journey and jet lag, starting to doze off to the sound of the continuous whirring of the wall mounted AC. On the branch of the nearby mango tree I could hear the coarse cawing of a crow interrupting sweet flute tone of the Cuckoo. It was interspersed with occasional spurts of passing by bikes honking - -"keee..kicky.....kicky...keee.." and wafting  voices of street vendors - E JHADU NABA JHADU (Want to buy Broom), KAREI NABA KAREI (Want Utensils), E KADALI KADALI (Voices selling Bananas), AMBAAAACHAARA LEMBAAACHAARA (Mango pickle, Lemon pickle).

I could feel my eyelids refusing to stay open. Didn't realize when sleep overcame me when at twilight I could feel my mother's hand caressing me, waking me up - "Get up my son. Don't sleep any further. Save some sleep for tonight. You have lost weight. Aren't you eating enough these days". Her caressing hands on my forehead and chest felt so soothing, something I was longing for days and months. A mother's love is panacea for all ills. Though she equally loves all her children, she has a special affection for me being her only son and her first child when she was still in her teens. I was her only solace to cling onto in an extremely in-laws dominated family, which wasn't quite uncommon in that age of when the society was more patriarchal, consisting of nuclear families where a newly wed daughter-in-law has her own challenges. That era is gone, yet her feelings towards me hasn't wavered a bit.

All mothers are alike. Time and again she would ask me - "MO PUA (my son). You must be hungry. Have you eaten anything ?" though I have been munching all the time. A mother's love for her child is always pure like the water from the mouth of a mountain spring - perennially pristine, unequivocally soothing, unwavering and unflinching. In her voice laced with care and caution, she instructed me to sip my evening cup of hot tea before it gets cold. The black pepper tea boiled in ginger shugged off my jaded nerves. It was follwed by me overcome with a sudden desire to rush to the bathroom. It was 6 PM in India but 7.30 AM morning in America which expained the urge for a trip to toilet. I was reminded though currently in India, I left my biological clock back in USA. More later...

India trip March 2023 - Arrival at Delhi

 The eight hour ordeal inside the Air France 🇫🇷 flight ended as the aircraft started to descend over New Delhi. From the pilot's voice he seemed to be relieved as he announced first in French and then English - "Welcome to New Delhi's Indira Gandhi International Airport. It's 12.30 in morning, hazy, 21 degree C (70° Fahrenheit) outside. During one of my earlier trips just before landing at the Delhi Airport came abruptly the voice of an exalted teen sitting close to me exclaiming to his buddy next row, "OI UTTH, BAIN**OD DILLI A GAYEE" (Get up, So and So the sister slammer, Delhi has arrived). More than the pilot, I found the teen's welcome far more enthusiast and the most appropriate way of welcoming to Delhi. As "Jai Maharastra" goes with Mumbai, Oh' Calcutta to Kolkata, "Jay Jagannath" to Odisha, Behn**od (sister slammer) fits well to the Dilli milieu. 

It was a grand standing Welcome to Delhi, Punjabi style, where a sentence can start with Bain**od (occasionally sounds as Pain**od, interspersed with a few liberal dosages of Bai**od and ends with Bai**od. It is how the self proclaimed Dill walle (Big Hearted) Dilli walle (Delhites) often greet each other. Same goes in the Punjab province of Pakistan. When Sunil Gavaskar was batting in Lahore in 1978 in his first tour to the country, he was puzzled by some Pakistani players frequently uttering "Pain**od" which sounded like "Pant-Shirt" to  Sunil until his skipper Bishen Singh Bedi confirmed him what it meant, Punjabi style. 

Bai**od" is not such a bad word in Delhi and Punjab. Apart from usual meaning, it can stand for multiple euphemisms, to describe a scene or situation. "Bai**od KYA THAND HAI YAAR" (My friend, it's so cold), Bai**od MEIN GIR JAUNGA Bai**od (I will fall down, spoken after sighting a pretty girl), Bai**od KYA MATCH THA (what a game it was) ! Friends hug each other, Aa GALE LAG JA OI Bai**od (give me a hug, my dear friend, you the sister slammer).  

At the IGI Airport in Delhi I breezed through the immigration which was a shoo in for me, though the counters looked short handed, probably due to upcoming Holi festival - a big festival in North India. The Terminal 3 is quite impressive. Restrooms (toilets) were maintained nice and clean. No strong smell of ubiquitous Phenyle and dark brown betel stains at corners of walls. Our International Airports can now be considered truly world class. I saw a digital bill board proudly displaying Mahatma Gandhi's picture, followed by a visual of Chivas Regal Scotch. Ironically our Father of Nation was never a fan of consumerism, nor he extolled us to drink Chivas Regal. Many streets in big cities in India bustling with consumerism are named as M.G. Road, after a man who abhorred consumerism and extolled simple living. 

I remember that in the year 1998, a quarter century ago when I was a bit excited as I was coming to India to get married, no sooner I came out of the IGI Airport in the middle of night than I was treated like a hapless hare 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 like me to dish out a $20 note (Bill) to buy themselves out of harassment at the Customs department. Such things are long passe. 

After checking in for my last leg of flight to Bhubaneswar, I settled down on a reclining chair as the morning sun brightened on the horizon, revealing the array of Aircrafts on the turmac, spraying them with Orange hue. No sooner I reached the boarding gate for the Vistara flight to Bhubaneswar, than I could recognize the typical Odia crowd close by from their looks, language and mannerism. I just remembered in one of my prior trips, I was chit chatting with a guy sitting next to me. Before boarding the flight the gentleman excused himself and went to a corner letting out a loud fart and heaving a heavy shy of getting relieved of a burden of something stuck inside his abdomen. He returned back to his seat and found me trustworthy enough to request - "AGYAN ETE SAKALU GHARU BAHARI THILI. JHAADA SAFA HEI NATHILA. JOR RE JHAADA LAGI LANI. TIKE MO BAG TA DEKHANTU" (As I left home too early in morning, I couldn't get a clean bowel movement. Now got to visit the loo. Please look after my bag). For some one who was scared by his thunderous fart, it was difficult not to oblige his order. There should be a rule for passengers to evaluate the contents of their lower intestine before boarding the flight. 

Another time I saw a guy surreptitiously scratching their private parts in public, grimacing with an orgasmic pleasure of big sighs "Aah, Ooh" laced relief from the itch as the heat and humidity of India can cause real havoc down under. When our eyes met he pretended to adjust his belts with a "Not I" look on his face. 

The domestic terminal 1 was bit chaotic, especially around the security gates. There were lot of people taking the morning flight. The departure area of the Domestic Airport before boarding resemble our BADAMBADI Bus stand in Cuttack. The Airport Authorities and CISF were doing a decent job, however the public were hardly cooperative, some sudden stepping for screening even before the other person has finished. Social distancing - just forget it. 

The Airline crew were goading passengers like cattle towards to board the flight (hats off to the person who coined the name cattle class for economy class). Throughout 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 have observed the same in Europe, Middle East, Singapore and in 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 using the other, clinging to their phones and baby sitting their devices. 

Growing up back in the days in India, we use to chat about anything and everything under the sun, covering 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 e-Khatti (chit chat) on social media. In the year 1979, barely a 10 year old, I accompanied my Uncle to a play at his Alma Mater Vani Bihar of Utkal University, Bhubaneswar. It was a symbolic Odia play which I could hardly understand, but still remember those lines by an actor on stage. 

OTA PARI JIBA BHAI 

NAHI NAHI HOIRE,

JIBARE MANISHA SAB

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. We have become Ostriches burying our heads  inside our phones, the way an Ostrich buries its head inside sand. The same drama is now enacted in another era more than 40 years later. The nondescript person who wrote this Odia Drama (play) in 1970s was so prophetic and was certainly way ahead of his time. More later...

India trip March 2023 - On flight to Paris

 A glass of Red Wine, followed by a shot of Finlandia Vodka and watching Christopher Waltz as a Bounty hunter firing multiple shots in the new Western movie "Dead for a Dollar" preceded my arrival at the Charles De Gaulle International Airport in Paris, France. Got few hours to stretch my legs before I catch my connecting flight to Delhi, I decided to take a stroll around the glittering Duty Free Shops which enticed me to do some window shopping.

It suddenly propelled me on a Time Machine to a decade or so or back when I was at the Frankfurt Airport in Germany, similarly browsing the Duty Free Shops with my prying eyes. While busy inspecting the liquor racks a tall, pretty brunette inadvertently dropped a pouch on the floor right next to me. I picked it up and handed over to her. She nodded back at me with a sweet smile on her lips uttering "Danke Schoen" meaning "Thank You"; expressing her gratitude in German. I replied instantly - "Gutten Morgen Fraulein", mustering whatever little German I accumulated in my entire life with the apprehension that little knowledge can also be a dangerous thing. As a contingency plan at back of my head I stacked up German words like blitzkrieg, gotterdamerung, doppelganger, hansen, putten, Autobahn, BMW, Andrea Merkel, Berlin Wall, Brandenburg gate, Klinsmann (the German soccer player and coach of the US team).

She now laughed at my attempt to humor her and asked me - "From America ?". "Ja, Fraulin", I responded, now almost exhausted of my repertoire of words from my German dictionary. She apparently didn't mind my KHANDI (broken) German spoken by an Odia who quite apt at speaking "PAKHALA KHIA English - thick accented English spoken by Odias after eating a stomach full of water soaked rice" and matched every word of mine with her German accented English. After a few minutes of chit chat our tryst with destiny ended as she melted away in the labyrinth of perfume and liquor bottles.

Such chance encounters in life reminds me of a passage from our Hindu epic "BHAGVAT GITA" - two logs floating in the middle of a vast Ocean collide with each other only once to get separated forever never to meet ever again, lost in the vastness of the sea, as the Kishore Kumar song :

AATE JAATE KHOOBSURAT
AWARA SADKON PE
KABHI KABHI ITTEFAQ SE ;
ITNE ANJAAN LOG MIL JAATE HAIN
IN MEIN SE KUCHH LOG BHUL JAATE HAIN,
KUCHH YAAD REH JAATEIN HAI...

Roughly transliterated....

On these vagabond roads
Once in a while by chance
Many unknown faces we meet;
Some we forget
And some in our memory forever fit.

At Paris Airport I interacted with a few passengers who were returning to India after spending their Evenings in Paris. Not a bad time to savor the cool, salubrious climes of Europe as a getaway from the stifling heat and humidity of India. I was doing exactly the opposite, travelling on a vacation straight into India's heat & dust and excited to core. 

Now back to Paris Duty Free Shop, once when I was flying through it, I asked a Sales girl the price of a perfume I was buying for my wife. She responded to me in French where except the word "Monsieur" the rest sounded Greek and Latin to me. I replied back - "English please". She replied in feeble English. Same thing I encountered at the security gate and lavatory where folks were explaining something in French where people from all over the world connecting to their destinations across the globe assembled and I am sure not everyone understands French. However full credit goes to the French for taking pride in their language. We Odias perhaps are the only ones on earth who do not take pride in its mother tongue should learn a thing or two from the French.

Inside my Paris to Delhi flight I was sitted next to a Punjabi lady and her son. During our tete-a-tete she mentioned that she was from Boston and glad that her long journey ends at Delhi. I said - "I am not so fortunate. It will be at least a 7 hour arduous wait in the middle of night at the Delhi Airport before I catch the morning flight to Bhubaneswar". Now I could see surprise in her eyes - "Bhubaneswar ? Where is it ?" I replied - "It's the capital of the state of Odisha". "I am sorry, I have no idea where it is", she said. "Well, do you know Jagannath Puri ? ", I mentioned thinking the better known Lord Jagannath temple of Puri will at least ring a bell. 

The Punjabi lady's eyes sparkled a bit as she suddenly came with an answer - "I have a relative Jagannath Puri who lives in Greater Kailash, Delhi". I got my answer. Now it's late night in America while outside the flight the midday Sun was glittering over snow white clouds somewhere over the Black Sea. It was now time to doze off a bit before I land in Delhi. More later...

India trip March 2023 - At Atlanta Airport

 As I arrived at Atlanta Airport my excitement was accompanied by a bit of perturbation, not quite unusual at the beginning of a long journey spanning several continents. I expected both the Airport and the flight would be sparsely populated as this ain't the peak travel season considering the schools are already open. But I was wrong. We were on a packed flight to Paris, packed like sardines.

It's interesting to watch flights taking off and landing in quick succession at Hatfield International, Atlanta, the busiest Airport in the world. This being the peak hour, every couple of minutes an airliner lands or takes off. It has been raining here since yesterday. Flights lined up one after another in the gray cloudy sky, forming a string of hazy pearls extending into the horizon, as they waited for their turns to land. The Air Traffic controllers must be doing an amazing job. They are in a professional where error is not an option.

Remembered travelling in our DM School bus in Bhubaneswar when it stopped at Railway level crossings (those days the roads, the arteries of Bhubaneswar were not clogged yet, so no bypass m flyover was necessary over the Railway tracks). As goods train passed by I spent time counting the number of bogies. Now I don't have patience to watch flights landing and taking off every other minute, forget about counting them.

I am now reminded of an interesting episode during one of my earlier trips. A Virgin Airline flight was about to take off and names of passengers not boarded yet were called. An Air hostess swung by, shouting on 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 peeping through their corner of their eyes. Non of them got up to board the flight. We humans are slaves of inadvertent reflex actions.

The flight to Paris were filled with a good number families with infants & toddlers - some of them cranky and cacophonous. Though Covid pandemic is almost a passe, the corridors and toilets were regularly cleaned up and sprayed. The toilet doorknobs were cleaned often and a bottle of hand sanitizer was kept right outside it. Due to the diurnal rotation of mother earth, flying West to East you lose time. You see reduced amount of daylight. Again you gain time flying the other way round, as earth is round, vindicating the fact that what goes around comes around.

It was morning in Paris as the airplane descended on Charles DeGaulle Airport after 8 hour of flight under a crimson sky with sun looking like a poached egg with its sunny side up. Dominique Lapierre and Larry Collins might have wrote a different kind of "Is Paris Burning" by having a top view of the city burning under bright morning sun 🌞.

I was reminded of a joke on our ex-President Giani Zail Singh who was once travelling on a plane above the Equator. His secretary tried to flatter him - "Sir, can you see the equator below" ? Zail Singh responded "Yes. I can see the equator and a car is slowly going on it". What he actually saw was a lice walking on his long string of hair, which just happened to be hanging right in front of his eyes. This flight flying so low, Giani Jail Singh would have seen numerous lices, in form of cars crawling on the interspersed highways. 

As the flight descended piercing the silvery cumulus clouds, the lushly meadows started looking greener amidst highways crisscrossing each other. From top view the flyovers looked like a bunch of threads crumbled using bare hands and thrown on the ground in a haphazard way. 

Another 3 hour of wait at Paris and still 8 more hours of flight awaits me before I land in Delhi. And 8 more hours before I reach Bhubaneswar. Gosh, when can there be a direct flight to connect to Bhubaneswar from Eurasia ? I took some time to scan around using my poking eyes. Apart from Europeans, I could see a good number of Africans wearing long gowns. Saw a few 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 attire. Covid virus won't dare penetrate their impregnable visors. More later...

India trip March 2023 - Leaving Georgia

 Jet, set and go. Leaving today on a short trip to India which is going to be a long travel spanning across the seven seas, thirteen rivers spread across multiple continents. Only few hours left before I leave and miles to go before I reach my final destination of Bhubaneswar, Odisha in India 🇮🇳.

This journey is going to be unique, the shortest of the 16 trips I have made so far to India from Coke Land. I am flying at a time when summer is at the doorsteps in Odisha, my home back home. Though I am fully equipped with a paraphernalia of Covid masks, unlike last couple of my visits to India this time no RT-PCR test documents nor mandatory Covid tests. While standing close to the sea on a beach we bear the brunt of the wave when it hits us and relax a bit when we get some breathing time while waiting for the next wave to barge in. Similarly after withstanding series of Covid waves, never knowing when another one will hit, I am going to sneak in between them by making a short trip to my Motherland. It should work fine for me, as I am not planning to do a whole lot of traveling, restricting myself only to Bhubaneswar, the city I grew up with and like one's first love is always close to my heart.

Weather this time of the year may not exactly salubrious, but not too bad either, as lot of times you don't have much of a choice when you embark on a journey on a short notice.
Apart from cricket, arguably it's the weather which unites India at this time of the year. Barring a handful of places on higher altitude like Srinagar, Simla, Bangalore etc, from Ahmedabad to Agartala, Chandigarh to Chennai it is invariably neither too hot, nor too cold this time of the year.

Spring is in the air. Mango trees will be full of BAULA (flowers), a few might be sprouting tiny green fruits. This is the peak season for raw Jackfruit, one of my favorite vegetables available fresh and plentiful. We rarely buy it as most traditional home owners in Bhubaneswar have Jackfruit trees in their compound hanging like tummies of Sumo wrestlers from the tree trunks, producing enough to gift others. The canned Jackfruit imported from Thailand we get here in USA tastes no where closer to the freshly plucked ones in Bhubaneswar.

In life the feeling of apprehensive curiosity in anticipation of an event is much more pleasant than the event itself. Right now I am having the same feeling. It is going to be 17th journey from Coke Land to my Motherland India during more than quarter of a century my stay in USA 🇺🇸. People usually go out of there home on vacation. We Persons of Indian  origin go home on vacation. My friends in America find it a bit odd that we visit our homes on vacation, when they travel away from home for the 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 a lot of attention from friends and relatives, a la an infrequent guest is treated more cordially than a regular one. The shorter the trip, more attention you get. Even if I try not to, I invariably eat like a Pig whatever comes my way, shit like a Bull and end up writing a lot of bullshit blogs. Time is short and finite, engagements are many - way too many things to do, so much food to sample.

Looking forward to this short and sweet trip which will challenge my sweet tooth as I intend on splurging on an array of my favorite Odia sweets which includes but not limited to, CHHENA JHILLI, CHHENA PODA, PAHALA RASAGOLA, RABIDI all very typical of Odisha. The other stuff I love are Cuttack Mixture, freshly baked Naans, numerous Street foods, AVADA, the temple food and much more which I don't get here in the USA. I have made a solemn promise to myself not to touch any Pizza, KFC, Subway, visit Burger King or McDonalds. I found a 2 rupees freshly fried Street side Bara to a Rs.200 burger at a Mall. I don't have plans to visit any Mall in Bhubaneswar having seen the two biggest Malls in America - the Mall of Minneapolis and King of Prussia Mall in Philadelphia. I firmly believe in - Be Roman in Rome, eat Indian in India. Dear Motherland, here I come.