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..