Sidhant's tryst at the fish market

The summer months reminds me about my trips to India. As the schools get closed for summer vacation for a long stretch of time for more than a couple of months it is the most convenient time to take my son to visit the country of his parents origin.

This was one of such visits to India. The year was 2012. My son Sidhant was 7 years old at that time. This is a unique age, where one starts to see the world in his or her eyes, understands very few things about life, but as curious as a cat intrigued about the milieu with tons of questions in mind. You know a little but tend to be very inquisitive about what's happening around you. My son was no different.

One morning I took him to the local fish market in my hometown back home in Bhubaneswar during morning hours to get him a first hand exposure to an environment he is not familiar with. For a 7 years old, it was quite confusing and amusing moment as he gaped at the surroundings as people in pants, lungis (a loincloth worn around the waist, a very comfortable attire in a hot and humid climate and can easily be lifted for nature's call and other natural activities). A man clad in Lungi arrived on suddenly scratching his private parts in public (blame the hot and humid weather for that) he asked the fush vendor, "ARRE ROHI AJI KETE NEKHA - "Hey, what's the price of the Rohu fish today" ? 

After a short bargain a deal was cut, so also the fish was cut by the seller into eliptical chunks. (Unlike boneless fillets popular in the West, bony fish is always preferred by the middle class in India). My son was intensely watching the fish being being cut and cleaned up, until his attention was diverted to a lanky kid of his age with a lachrymose face who approached us with an extended hand, his tiny palm semi folded. The poor kid was extremely thin, malnourished, covered with dirt from tip to toe and dressed only with a torn soiled pant. His nose full of flegm, his other hand frantically trying to keep off flies swarming over his face. The hapless kid was begging.

Sidhant gave him a curious look, as if he was looking at an Alien from a distant galaxy. He had earlier seen homeless folks in America begging. They are usually clad in jeans, jackets, wearing Nike shoes, smoking Marlboros. Sometime a Budweiser beer can can be seen by their side, the guys standing at sidewalks or near stop lights - often with a Dog by side giving curious look around, which invariably increases the chance of getting a few bucks from a good samaritan. But this was far cry from what he saw before. This little boy is just a kid like him, of his own age.

He asked me why the kid was asking for money and why don't you give him something. No sooner than I grabbed whatever I had in my my pocket to spare for the poor kid my son repeated again "Why he is asking you for money ?" I said because he is poor. He asked "Why is he poor" ? Seven year is an interesting age for a kid, when he or she may not old enough to ask questions, but not mature enough to understand certain things with tons of curiosity flooding their head. I had no simple answer for his innocuous query.

As I was scratching the back my head to find some suitable answer for his simple mind to comprehend, his attention was diverted by a cat who was feasting with its eyes closed on the discarded fish bones, gills, tails and scales at a corner. My son asked "Wont the kitty cat's throat get chocked ?" He has seen cats at his friend's house feasting on organic boneless chunks of salmon lest their throat get chocked. It was surprising for him to see a cat gladly munching away fish bones and scales.

Sidhant had enough experience for the day. I was glad my fish was cut and ready. It was getting hot and muggy. No sooner than the fish seller handed me the plastic pouch, I swept off beads of sweat from my forehead as the tropical sun was peaking right over my head. It was high time to head back home.

Conjunctivitis - the Coronavirus of our time

After the scourge of Corona virus, lurking around for a while, a different kind of virus is back in Odisha, my home state back home in India. It is another kind of virus which used to go viral during our childhood days. Each one from my generation growing up in India must have gone through at least one bout of "AKHI DHARA ROGA" - the disease of Conjunctivitis. It's a malignant form of pink eye, very irritating and highly contagious. It was very much active during the 1970s and 80s. Now a days I din't see or hear a lot about it until now.

The disease is said to have originated from East Bengal, presently Bangladesh, hence aptly named "Jai Bangla (Hail Bengal), imported into West Bengal by the refugees from East Bengal during the Bangladesh war of liberation in 1971. As Odisha shares a common border with West Bengal, it didn't take long for the disease to walk into its neighborhood.

At peak of the epidemic, it wasn't uncommon to see folks wearing dark glasses in public, even in the middle of night. It not only gave comfort to the diseased eyes, it prevented others from making eye contact - strongly rumored that if you look into the infected red eyes of a person, the disease jumps into your eyes in a few seconds. Conjunctivitis isn't an airborne disease. Like common cold, it is passed through contact, especially if you touch or rub your eyes after coming in touch with an infected person.

When I entered into the hostel life in REC (Now NIT) Rourkela, the seniors flocked around us the freshers, the fresh read meat to them. They swarmed around us like ants feasting on a lump of sweet. One of the seniors was hounding me when a close childhood friend of mine who was my classmate from Bhubaneswar arrived on scene looking for me. He was wearing dark glasses. It attracted the Senior's attention who told me to caution my friend - "This guy is showing DADAGIRI (Big brother attitude) by wearing goggles (a common term for dark glasses). He is going to get a lot of thrashing". Least he knew that my friend had already contracted Conjunctivitis soon after arriving at hostel, the ideal place for any contagious disease to go viral. The seniors, champion at showing us NAALI AKHI (Red eyes) were now afraid of making eye contact.

Next day in our class our Engineering Chemistry teacher queried one of the guys wearing dark glasses - "You caught your eyes" ? It was transliteration of what is said in Odia -"TAMA AKHI DHARICHI" ? Back to hostel we had a hearty laugh at the teacher's expense in those torrid initial days in college amidst the ragging by haranguing seniors.

Soon I managed to catch my eyes. One fine morning when I woke up, I could barely open my eyelids. It apparently came from my roommate who inadvertently passed it to me. The infection lasted one full week. The most painful part was getting up in morning when your eyes refuse to open. Every morning I had to wash my eyes with warm water, put a few eye drops followed by wearing a pair of cheap dark glasses before I ventured out.

It was perhaps in my destiny to get infected, as a friend's curse for poking fun at him got better at me. Notorious for satires and cracking jokes, I spread the rumor that this was how my friend was introducing himself to our new classmates from various parts of the state - "MATE KEHI INTERCOURSE KALENI, SEITHI PAI MU NIJA KU NIJE INTERCOURSE KARUCHI" - "No one intercoursed me, so I am intercoursing myself". Poor guy inadvertently substituted the word "introduce" with "intercourse". He was the butt of jokes which it ran its full course as I kept on telling this joke to everyone in the hostel for the rest of his stay in REC, Rourkela. I had my tryst with Conjunctivitis as my friend had the last laugh by passing it to me. That was the only time I got that irritating infection and hope to never get again. 

Orientation at UGA, July 19, 2023

 Driving through the rolling hills of rural Georgia I had a midsummer day dream transported on a time machine to another era. I imaged myself in one of my previous lives back in the 18th Century kneeling down to propose to my tall, svelte dream girl standing tall on the gracian greens in her beautiful, flowing long flannel white dress with her brimmed hat protecting her pretty face from the peeping Sun. Karma endures, dream shall never die, it lives on for centuries and more to come.

The city of Athens in Georgia is located in a hilly terrain. The roads across this idyllic township run topsy turvy, like a sinusoidal curve we have studied in high school Physics. Unlike Columbus, Georgia the place where I live and is located on the flatlands of the Chattahoochee River Valley, most parts of the Northern Georgia are on a higher altitude due to their proximity to the Appalachian mountain range. The temperature is Northern Georgia is generally 3-5 degrees cooler thab Columbus. It explains why snowfall isn't so uncommon in Northern Georgia where in Columbus it is extremely rare.

A solo mosquito swarming around the face of the girl at the hotel front desk lobby reminded me about this funny incident at a hotel in Florida a few years ago. As the pretty receptionist handed over me the magnetic strip key to our room, I saw a mosquito surreptitiously sitting on her cheek. She smiled and asked me "Do you have any questions ?" I replied back "Yes, May I slap you ?" "What ?" She retorted back ! I pointed to the mosquito on her cheek. She instantly burst into laughter as her reflect action led to slap herself and blurt out - "Welcome to Florida. We call Mosquito, the National Bird of our State". Glad a la Mahatma Gandhi she didn't show her other cheek to the mosquito.

In Athens it is Dawgs, the mascot of the famous UGA (University of Georgia) College Football team can be seen allover - from the hotel lobby, banks, restaurants to the entrance of UGA, their Tate Students Center where they had their orientation, the ubiquitous Bulldog can be found everywhere. When my mother saw our neighbor's Bulldog for the first time in America she instantly judged it as one "ASUNDARA MUHA KUKURA" (An ugly faced Dog). But soon she ended up liking it. Though grumpy, growling and dwarf the Bulldog is a very cute Doggie. I love it.

Young students of various hue and diversity sprawled around the large, picturesque Campus. Their youthful exuberance was contagious. From the 5th floor of Tate Students Center you can see youngsters all over, under tall trees over slopy hills, with bag packs, gadgets with earphones stuck to their ears, girls hugging books and notes close to the chests walking and giggling. The campus culture is a whole world different from my Engineering College days. The similarly similarity I found, I was young, I too had a dream.

My son's orientation program reminds me of my counseling (as orientation was known back in those days in India) for admission to Engineering in REC (now NIT) Rourkela. It was done at UCE, Burla near Sambalpur for our batch who qualified in the joint entrance examination. I was with my father as mothers of that generation rarely accompanied their children to such occasions. A student of my dad took us around the campus and treated us a frugal lunch at their 2nd year student's hostel. Seniors were seen swarming around juniors salivating over fresh red meat to rag them.

UGA has a long history, established in 1785 when Georgia was one the first 10 states of the United States after they drove the British out of their country. But History didn't repeat exactly the same way in a different context. My father was only 44 when I entered into the Engineering College as people married much younger those days. I am a decade older now to what my father was during that time. Didn't see any one rag my son. His Orientation programs and activities at UGA were jam packed lives sardines in a can. There hardly any breathing time inside the campus. One major thing I noticed - not a single time I heard anyone mention about jobs, placement and campus interviews.

For the boys keeping beard is the norm in the dorm where my son is going to stay. It's a new style. For girls shorts have replaced Salwars in our time whatever few girls we had during our Engineering days. Those days there was a joke going around that God cursed all ugly girls to study Engineering. Not anymore. I saw a Sardar (Sikh) student wearing an orange turban. What's the similarity between a Sardar and Potato. Both are found everywhere in the world. Even Neil Armstrong saw a Sardar upon landing in moon.

Winston Churchill famously said - "England and America are common people separated by a common language". Now dad and son separated by a common campus separated by common subject" as my son as chosen Computer Science as his subject, same I did decades ago. Ciao UGA, see you again soon.

Drive to Athens Georgia - July 18, 2023

 It was time to make a trip to Athens, Georgia - a 3 hour journey to an idyllic, University town located on the Northeastern part of the state. We were traveling east with the hot, mid-July son stoking our back late in the afternoon. 

We drove through the up and down cascade of roads among the scenic undulating landscapes, looking at the vast greenery of agricultural lands, pastures where cows and horses grazed under an afternoon sun, the barbed fences separating them from the highway. A foal could be seen following the footsteps of its Mama, shadowing her, looking for shadow for comfort from the sun breathing fire from the sky. Looking at the vast meadow, the phrase "grass is greener on the other side of fence" now made a whole lot of sense to me. Tall Pines, Oaks, Mapples, Sweet Gum, Mimosa trees adored both sides of the road like a gigantic Canopy, bringing a coo, calm, soothing effect. 

The hot late summer afternoon sun was baking the undulating hills. A large number of cows from a distance they were looking like gargantuan brown mushrooms in the dusky haze, thanks to the smoke from the Canadian forest fire percolating into the deep South, as far as the state of Georgia. Miles of Cotton and Peanut plantations could be visible on both sides of the road, intesperced by Corn and Mustard fields. The lushly green of the fascinating summer foliage looked fatigued from the summer heat. 

The winding roads in sparsely populated rural Georgia during twilight hours can give you a feel of chill and darkness while inside a valley, a rare view of the rural Dixie land of the South part of America. Moments after we took a break to get soaked by the flooding golden rays of the setting sun under an azure sky. Felt like catching the crispiness of the air, yet didn't fail to catch a glimpse of the historic old houses with large front porches while meandering through the small towns filled with Churches as many as the fallen leaves on the ground from the nearby trees. The icing on the cake was the mirage of a big lake from a distance created by the reflection from the asphalt covered road. Didn't realize when I was murmuring this old Yesudas song... 

"IN BALKHATI RAHON PE

OONCHE NEECHE SADKON PE

YUHI KAHI MERI MANZEEL CHUPI HAI

MANZEELKO KO MEIN DHOODOON

MUJHE MANZEEL DHOODEN.." 

"On these paths fascinating

 Up and down roads swerving

Somewhere lies by destination

As I look for it

It looks for me". 

A dusky dusk welcomed us to the city of Athens bringing an end to the short 3 hour drive winding through long rural Georgia road. As we stepped out of the car the warm, dry breeze of a typical Georgia summer now at its peak felt like the air a hair dryer caressing us. More later...

Confirmation bias

 It was darkest before dawn when I started my morning walk. The line of pine trees ahead of me looked tall, dark and handsome, waiting as Knights-in-Shining-Armor for dreaming girls to lift them in their strong, loving, caring arms to the promised land. The mild early morning breeze made the tree branches sway happily, loved getting caressed by the mild early morning gentle breeze. They all looked like lummox giants waving their King Kong sized arms at me. 

All of a sudden I saw a familiar face striding towards me. He is some one I know - a person of Indian origin, a guy who has been living in our community for quite long time. He is a shy, quite man and bit of a loner, extremely reclusive by nature. There are many known faces I stumble upon during my walk. But this man was uniquely different, branded as a unsocial person by the Indian Community - a typical victim of psychological confirmation bias. 

It was slowly starting to get brighter, as the crimson sky painted the eastern horizon with its hue. The mild morning Sun was trying to force its way through the thick, fleecy cloud on the Eastern sky, same as a spectator tries to break through the crowd to take a peek at a celebrity. The near full moon on the grey Western sky seemed to be smiling mockingly at Sun's struggle. The poor, dimming street lights were looking at the sky, enjoying the spectacle of the celestial rivalry between sun and moon. 

Chirping little birds crisscrossed the sky. Far above them two commercial jet lines crossed each other painting the sky with a thick white strip, forming a gargantuan X sign on the early morning sky, as our lonely friend walked towards me and our paths crossed. I casually requested him - "May I join you for a walk if you don't mind". "Not at all", he agreed. I glanced into his eyes to gauge his sincerity and it looked genuine to me. 

We continued our tete-a-tete while taking our steps in unison, occasionally grasping for breath while climbing a steep slope. Couple of early morning commuters were trying to look through the dense, white, misty air with their bright headlights on, like a shy girl in an Indian arranged marriage looking through the curtains at her perspective beau. The blinking traffic red light near our Community entrance appeared like a large, bloodthirsty Vampire's eyes winking at us. The distance chimney of the house on the hillock resembled a castle in some faraway misty mountain. 

During the course of our conversation my friend slowly opened up and broached up the topic of the stigma of a solo lone ranger bestowed upon him no other than our own Desi community (as Indian Community in America is addressed as, often in a derogatory way). He chuckled - "I am pretty much aware of my well earned title. It is a reputation precedes me. Many call me selfish and even worse". I said - "You are free to lead your life and nothing wrong in being selfish as long as you don't hurt others. We have a proverb in Odia "KAALI GAI RA BHINNE GOTHA", which means, the black cow stays separate from the herd. I don't like herd mentality. It's up to you and perfectly fine if you stay solo". 

My walk-mate went on, "I have a Greek immigrant friend who told me exactly the same you just said". I said - "Greeks are known as the pioneers of logic since the era of Aristotle and Plato. They were way ahead of their time. Yet man is the most illogical being. Otherwise, the concept of God won't exist". "You are so witty and knowledgeable. I see it a lot of it in your writing", he said. Flattered and surprised, I blurted out - "My writing ? I never knew that you read my blogs". He replied - "I never miss your blogs and always look forward to the next one. But neither I click the "Like" button, nor put any comment on your post, as you know I am a very private individual". "That's perfectly OK", I said. "You have every right to your privacy. Our Desi siblings are bad at respecting others privacy and rarely respect boundaries. They often take us for granted and consider intrusion into others privacy as their birthright because we speak the same language. If you don't acquiesce to their whims and fancies, they will whine and do your character assassination behind you. I can very well relate to it". 

Continuing further I said - "We Desis are champions of branding people. In due course we add more spice and flavor to the image of a person to solidify the branding. Our folks extrapolate way too much. Lot of things we assume aren't true. You can dissect the word ASSUME as ASS + U + ME. It implies that when you assume, you are making an Ass of You and Me. Don't forget that a high degree of intellectual tends to make a person unsolicial." 

His face glowed in appreciation. The lamp post ahead of us was standing tall, lonely, still flooding the ground with neon light. The dawn was aggressively getting invaded by bright sunshine with the sun rays kissing the ground with its warm breath. I sang a stanza from a Kishore Kumar song "SITAREN BAHUT HAI AKASH PAR, BUS EK HI SITARA NAHI", which means "There are many stars in the sky but there is one which isn't a star". The moon is lonely, but stands out from the myriads of stars. I thought I made my point to my walk-mate as he smiled back at me. 

Some of the things we take for granted never happens. We extrapolate too much, jumping into conclusion too fast, too soon. The sound of an array of Pelicans cawing "Paon Paon", swinging across the morning sky didn't sound coarse to me anymore. The fading Stars were smiling as the moon was slowly drifting away. I bid good bye to the stars, the moon and my friend, ready for my workday.

Bus and the handkerchief

 Back in the days of early 1990s, I was travelling by bus in Odisha. No sooner it arrived at the stop and slowed down than some passengers jumped like monkeys while running adjacent to it and started throwing their handkerchief on the seats through the open windows.

Those who have traveled by bus in Odisha know this a classic way of reserving their seats before boarding, making a line before embarking the vehicle be damned. I waited for my turn and took my time to board. Once inside I saw some empty seats though many were still standing, reluctant to occupy those seats by the windows strewn with handkerchiefs.

I nonchalantly swished away one of those "Rumals" (handkerchief) from a cherished window seat and occupied it. After a few minutes here comes this guy leisurely strolling towards me munching a packet of peanuts (groundnuts), spilling the shells on the bus floor. He wasn't too pleased to see me occupying his much cherished side seat.

While he bent down to pick up his Rumal he started accusing me of stealing his seat which he painstakingly reserved for himself by throwing that piece of cloth. I told him pointing to a Scooter parked outside "So you think by throwing your handkerchief on this vehicle you can claim it as your own" - trying to drive my point. I could hear muffled laughter from the surrounding co-passengers.

But the punchline was yet to come. Another guy sitting behind followed me in his typical Odia in Berhampuri southen Odia accent "HA RE PUA, MO MAAIKINA MUNDARE RUMALU TA THOI KAHIBU TO MAIKINA TA MORA EKKA" - transliterated "Oh my son, you can put the handkerchief on my wife's head and claim my wife as your's only." Now the entire bus burst into laughter.

Couple of years ago Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos fulfilled his dream of travelling to space by taking his spaceflight on "New Shepherd" - the rocket ship made by his space company "Blue Origin". The flight was for 10 minutes which propelled him 60 miles above the earth into the space.

This baby step taken is certainly going to be the harbinger of many more such trips to space, making it more affordable to fly into the space as time flies.

A la Dr. Martin Luther King Jr who had a dream about Georgia, today I have this midsummer daydream. One day during my lifetime when the space bus would be parked I would be able to reserve a window seat by throwing a handkerchief. If the space bus is overloaded I won't mind standing inside it, paying half the price of ticket. From space I will expose the phalanx of my 32 teeth and do "HeeeHeeeHeee" and wave my hand to the mere mortals on earth.

Suicide in IIT Delhi

 Recently I read the news about suicide committed by a 20 year old student in one of our premier technical School IIT (Indian Institute of Technology), Delhi. This news, so devastating for the hapless parents calls for some introspection. The boy killed himself by hanging using a nylon rope.

Suicides are happening quite frequently in premier institutes in India. Now a days, many mediocre students churned out of innumerable coaching institutes manage to clear the entrance test. Once in, when left on their own they can't cope up with the aggressive curriculum and choose end their lives unable to face the failure and an over expectant milieu. This was confided by some professors of an IIT to a friend of mine who regularly visits his Alma mater whenever he makes a trip to India.

Every person has right to live. It hurts utmost when someone commits suicide. And it hurts more, if that person happens to be young. Like every man and woman of their age, they too have a dream, but unwisely decide to procrastinate their unfulfilled dream by killing themselves. 

When does a person decide to end his or her life ? It's not just because of the frustration with life, it's more due to their lack of care or concern for rest of the world, which includes their near and dear ones. If I feel suicidal for some reason, I may resist that thought for a moment, if I think of my family, if not me. Apparently they don't care about their loved one and decide to end their life at the spurt of the moment, never getting a second chance to regret it later.

Suicides in college campuses are not uncommon. Surging teenage hormone gone wild can create havoc in heart and mind, which can be due to failure in romance, academics or bullying by others. It reminds me of the iconic movie 3 IDIOTS where a student kills himself due to his frustration at his project being pooh poohed by the Principal of the College. The student Rancho played by the actor Aamir Khan complains about the mental stress the students undergo, leading to such avoidable tragedies. As the Principal gets defensive and refuses to take the blame, Aamir Khan replies - "I am rather blaming the entire system".

Aamir Khan speaks some hard truth in that movie. Students carry a lot of burden and expectations from their demanding parents and a cut throat competitive society. The simple equation Ambition - Achievement = Frustration holds good. Often they snap, as the lid of the pressure cooker comes off burning the face.

The greatest tragedy is silence of the silent majority, which is conspicuously deafening who turn a blind eye to the competition and peer pressure which is to be blamed. Can't resist repeating my often mentioned joke. A person once went to an astrologer, who after seeing his chart said " You will beg after two years". "What will happen after that ?" asked the person who now was somewhat concerned. The astrologer responded "You will get used to it". So the silent majority has got used to the chaotic system with a CHALTA HAI (let the status quo prevail) attitude. Don't be surprised if you hear news of more such suicides more frequently. 

Corruption reporting on media

 A recent news from Odisha didn't just raise my curiosity, it got my attention too - "ଯାଜପୁର ଜିଲ୍ଲାର ସୁକିନ୍ଦା ପୋଲିସ ଷ୍ଟେସନର ସବ୍ ଇନ୍ସପେକ୍ଟର ନିର୍ମଳ କୁମାର ସେନାପତି ୧୦ ହଜାର ଟଙ୍କା ଲାଞ୍ଚ ନେଲା ବେଳେ ଭିଜିଲାନ୍ସ ଦ୍ୱାରା ଗିରଫ". Transliterating the gist in Odia, "A police sub-inspector in Odisha was arrested by the Vigilance department when taking a bribe of Rs.10,000 (equivalent of $125)". It's high time they stop reporting bribes of these meager amounts. I find it ultimate hypocrisy in this getting reported on media, social or otherwise. A classic case of the Odia saying - "HAATHI GALI JAUCHI, PIMPUDI DHARA PADUCHI" (Elephant escapes while the Ant gets caught). The meaning is self explanatory.

We studied in Math and Physics during our school/college days that when a number tends to get infinitesimally small we ignore it considering it as equivalent to zero. And those who are familiar with corruption in India any bribery less than Rs.100,000 ($1250) is too small these days to get noticed and reported. The media should ignore them, rather focus on reporting the big fishes who invariably find a way to escape.

Regardless of what's reported on Odia media, I love reading Odia, my mother tongue. Whenever I visit my home state back home Odisha in India, I make it a point to grab a few books in Odia language, the most cherished ones being those by the eminent writer Manoj Das. Reading Odia script was never cumbersome for me,  even after living abroad for more than quarter of a century. In Sanskrit there is a saying "BINA ABHYASE BISHAM VIDYA" (without practice knowldege becomes poison). I was able to overcome whatever little bit of initial tardiness I had while reading from Odia script by sustaining my reading habit in my mother tongue. I can now boast of being equivalent of linguistically ambidextrous who can read both English and Odia at aplomb.

Living in the United States does not give me much option of getting Odia books from stores, so I have to restrict myself to reading Odia newspapers on the web and social media. I see sparks of brilliance in young and not so young minds who pen a whole lot of blogs, articles and short stories in Odia on social media - from short, crispy writings to long, gripping essays. Most of these creative Odia writers who have a passion for writing in Odia, a few themed around feminism. Not to mention I religiously try to catch vernacular Newspapers in Odia font. But I find a few newsworthy and most I wish I can drag and drop into my Trash/Recycle Bucket.

Can't stop mentioning certain eye catching news I often stumble upon on regular basis. Some are outrightly funny - "SARAPANCHA KU NISTUKA MADA" (The village head being thoroughly thrashed), "UTAKTA JANATA BHANDA BABAJI RA DAADHI KAATI DELE" (irate mob cut the beard of a fake Guru) and so on. "SASHU SAHITA JWAIN FERAR" (Mother-in-law eloped with son-in-law). And not so amusing pieces like "SAANA BHAI RA TANGIA CHOTA RE BADA BHAIRA MRUTYU" (Younger brother kills the elder one using an axe). The one which hurts me a lot, "JAUTUKA PAI BADHU NIRYATANA / HATYA" (Bride tortured or killed for Dowry). Such news mostly emanate from coastal Odisha districts which makes me believe that my coastal brethren are champion dowry harassers compared to their western Odisha cousins. 

On the same page I read "Bhubanesar RASTARE FERRARI AU BENTLY GAADI BHIDA (Ferrari and Bentlies crowd the Bhubaneswar roads) proclaiming the arrival of nouveau riche in once upon a sleepy township of salaried people. What fun is riding a Ferrari in the capital city of Odisha where a gnawing and crawling traffic can hardly make your vehicle go over 30 kmph (20 mph). If you are intrepid enough to exceed that speed limit, I will tersely remind you to remember your dependants and make the last payment of Life Insurance policy on timely manner for the risk of going above and beyond 20 miles per hour.

Many think this a symbol of Odisha's progress. In my view too much in the hands of too few is not a sign of upward economic mobility of the entire state. Number of Ferraris, Bentlies, iPhones etc has no doubt gone up. I dont mind it as long as the income used to purchase them are from legal sources.  Growing number of dowry deaths and economic inequality is not a sign of upward social mobility by any yardstic. 

Such contrasting news protrays a world of have and have nots in Odisha in particular and India in general. In this context a meager bribe taken by a Peon, Clerk or sub-inspector is too trivial these days to get noticed and reported by the media. They should rather focus their energy on catching bigger fishes.

A trip to Dentist's

Recently I had a trip to my Dentist's office. Though no big a deal, invariably a dental visit has a mental syndrome associated with it. Glad the trip went well. Sad, I still have to come out of the habit of touching and feeling the fillings coating 1001 times a day using my tongue tip.

During the fancy dress competition in our school a guy playing dentist would try to uproot his patient's tooth using a hammer and chisel. The scene was hilarious. That impression of a dentist lasted in my mind for a while as the childhood memories tend to linger long, shaping one's character. When I watch the scene from movie CASTAWAY where Tom Hanks takes off his aching tooth using a skating ⛸ shoe and a coconut, like deja vu I instantly remember this fancy dress competition.

The apprehension of visiting a dentist's probably has to do with my growing up days when dental hygiene was not given a priority. Flushing in between the teeth and professional dental cleaning was hardly heard of. When I had occasional dental pain my mother would give me some clove oil and it stopped it. I never saw a mouthwash until I was into my 20s. Brushing and KULUKUNCHA, the Odia word for rinsing the mouth post eating was the best dental care we used to do. A POKA KHIA DANTA, the Odia term for germ eaten worn out tooth warranted a visit to dentist. Fortunately for me, so far I have encountered only minor dental issues. 

Rather than fluoride coating most people had black coated teeth due to chewing of tobacco filled PAANs (betel), with the GUA (betel nuts) giving them first a red coating which over time turns into a brown crust. The accompanied tobacco gives the teeth a dark hue. The parents of a nubile girl who got into this bad habit of chewing ZARDA (a popular scented tobacco brand) PAAN received a marriage proposal for her. She was paraded in front of the Candidate (local lingo for a prospective groom) - a salient feature of the parody of the arranged marriages in India. 

She deliberately kept her teeth clenched while serving hot SINGADA (Samosa), Sweets and Sugary hot Tea to groom's family. But no sooner she opened her mouth, than the proposal was doomed as groom's mother opened her mouth with this snide remark - "JHIA TI RA RANGA JEMITI, DANTA BI SEMITI" (Like the girl's dark complexion, so goes her teeth). The point was well taken.

Many eventually score 32 all out (all 32 teeth gone) in their 2nd innings after their first innings of "32 all out" happens around 10 years of age old when all the milk tooth come out. But the 2nd innings can come way too early if you don't take any dental care. The tooth gone the second time is gone forever.

Back then there were a few dentists in Bhubaneswar, only one I knew was a man of Chinese origin who had a dental clinic in Bapuji Nagar. Folks would visit the dentists only if a toothache gives them sleepless nights. These days many dentists are doing flourishing business in Bhubaneswar. May their tribe thrive. A "32 all out" exposing the phalanx of white teeth is a far better sight than uneven tobacco stained blackened teeth.

It is said that in old paintings you will rarely find people smiling as they were reluctant to expose their teeth while sitting for the artist because of their bad teeth. Those days people didn't take care of dental hygiene and lost their teeth in their early days of life. Not anymore. Dental hygiene, dental care, wearing of braces etc has gone up, so also business of the dentists. We live in changed times.

The rise and fall of West Indies

 The eccentric genius English poet Percy Bysshe Shelley wrote his famous poem "Ode to the West Wind" not long before his tragic death. Today I write my Ode to the West Indies as another tragic struck with the team with a past glory being defeated by minnows Scotland. It was sad to see the sunset of the mighty Windies. The West Indies cricket team, the winner of the inagural limited over Cricket World Cup in 1975 followed by 1979 and being upset in the finals of 1983 version of by India, it failed to qualify for the World Cup to be held in the same it lost in 1983 later this year. It is sad saga of a conglomerate of Caribbean nations which dominated the Cricket fields in the 1970s and 1980s during our growing up days. Never in my wildest of dreams I thought of the might Windies relegated to this stage during my lifetime. It is akin to see Brazil not qualifying in a Football (Soccer) World Cup.

This slide didn't happen all of a sudden. West Windies has been in a constant stage of decline since middle of 1980s. Some blame it on the invasion of American television in the 1980s which brought NBA (Basketball league) and Baseball leagues from American soil closer to Carribeans homes which provided them with an alternate option. And it wasn't such a bad option when these American sports provided much more money than cricket closer to home. Soccer also started getting a foot step in the isles of West Indies. Interest in cricket suffered and thus began the downfall of the mighty Windies.

The rise of the West Windies as a cricket powerhouse commenced immediately after World War II, with its famous 3 Ws, Frank Worrell, Everton Weekes and Clyde Walcott building the foundation of a great Cricketing future by their anchoring roles. Soon came the legendary Wes Hall, who is arguably the pioneer of West Indies fast bowling, followed by the great All Rounder Garry Sobers.

By middle of 1970s, the West Indies were the team to beat, vindicated by winning the first ever Cricket World Cup held in 1975. Four years later, they again won in 1979, the pinnacle of their continuing success story - a team propelled by a rechargeable battery of fast bowler quartet, backed by a bunch of talented batsmen led by the indomitable Vivian Richards whom I consider as the best batsman of the era ahead of Sunil Gavaskar. Imran Khan admitted that Viv Richards was the best batsman he ever bowled against who could hook Imran's fastest of bouncers out of the roped.

There are several horror stories of the West Indian fast bowlers in an age sans helmet. Bishen Singh Bedi, India's captain declared its innings in 1976 in Kingston, Jamaica afraid that his lower order batsmen and prized spinners might get injured facing the fiery Michael Holding. In the summer of same year the same speedster pounded a brave Brian Close all over his body barely missing his helmetless head which could have caused the batsman grievous injury, even death. In 1985, Patrick Patterson made the life of the life of the visiting team's Mike Gatting a hell creating red spots over the later's body forcing the Englishman whine - "A day will come some one will get killed on the field".

This trend continued till mid 1980s, when the spirited West Indies side convincingly won many Test and One Day matches and series, both at home and abroad, similar to the Brazilians in soccer during the heydays of Pele. The only blotch was the Prudential World Cup held in 1983, when the much favored Windies apple cart was upset by the 40-1 outsiders India in the final. It was more of a fluke, as in the following winter, the visiting West Indians vanquished the Indians at the later's home in the 1983-84 series considered as the revenge series by the Windies against the Indians who snatched the Prudential World Cup trophy right under their nose.

Many Indian batsmen feared the fiery Malcolm Marshall who went through the Indian batting line up like a hot knife through butter. I remember an Indian spinner and low order batsman named Raghuram Bhatt scared to death of Marshall, slowly drifting away couple of feet from the wicket when bowler ran towards him. A few months later in the summer 84, making a whitewash of the English team in the test series in England, the West Indies yet vindicated their invincibility.

But a year later, in early 1985, the first sign of the vulnerability of the mighty Windies was visible in the Champions Cup held in Australia and won by India. Chasing a paltry score set by the newcomers Sri Lankans under a floodlit MCG in a league game, their batsmen Richie Richardson and Larry Gomes found themselves retired hurt, with the later coming out of the field with a bloody mouth and missing tooth from bouncers bowled by a rookie Rumesh Ratnayake - so much so that, Clive Lloyd at the other end called in for helmet. The West Indies eventually managed to eke out a win against the minnows and reached the Semi final, where they lost easily to Pakistan. For the first time in cricket history of limited over cricket, they failed to reach the final of a major tournament.

Interestingly, Pakistan had a hand in seeing the fall of the mighty Windies. Not because the Pakistanis were unbeatable those days - rather in next few years the Windies were seen either struggling or losing against them, more often than against any other team. The first was during the West Indies tour of Pakistan in 1986, when the hosts managed to draw their test series, a once in a blue moon event those days by any team against the Windies.

The next was the 1987 World Cup held in the Indian subcontinent. Pakistan defeated West Indies in a crucial game, when Abdul Qadir hit the famous last over 6 off the economic Courteney Walsh. It was now conspicuous, that the famous West Indies quartet of fast bowlers were now reduced to the duet of Ambrose and Walsh rather than a quartet. In another first time in history - West Indies failed to make to the semifinals of a World Cup.

It was Pakistan, again during their tour of Carribeans in 1988 exposed the myth of West Indian invincibility at home. In more than a decade the Carribeans looked struggling in their own backyard. Pakistan almost snatched a historic test series win, the 3 test series ending with a 1-1 draw, with the 3rd test the home team managing to hang on to a draw, with the touring Pakistanis almost snatching away a victory. It could have been a fitting finale to Imran's captaincy, who earlier fulfilled his dream of defeating India in India and England in England. A victory against West Indies in West Indies which would have been a feather on his cap, came close but was elusive. For the West Indians, it was harbinger of an era when they were no more viewed as invincible.

Soon the greats like Richards, Greenidge and Haynes retired one after another, their replacements could never replace them. The battery of fast bowlers slowly dissipated. By the advent of 1990s and with arrival of South Africa into the international arena, the Calypsos were no more the King of Cricket. They were just another team.

It is said that a win in a major tournament shruggs off the jades nerves of a team, inspiring them to prepare themselves for further success. Hope came alive a few years ago as West Indies won a T20 World Cup, their second. Some thought it would catapult the Carribeans back to the future of their glorious past.

With a few nations playing quality cricket now with Zimbabwe and Sri Lanka looking more like teams not worthy of a test playing nation status by virtue of their current performance, a resurgent Windies should have brought back some Calypso music into the glorious game of Cricket, replicating the halcyon days at their peak. But sad we are seeing the sunset of the mighty Windies. It again reminds me "Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal Wreck, boundless and bare...", from  Shelley's other iconic poem Ozymandias.

Our poor sense of humor

 A few days back I posted a humorous picture related to India's Prime Minister Modi. A few on my friend list who are  wonderful friends otherwise but ardent fans/followers/devotees of Modi got touchy and obviously didn't like it. But when I post a joke related to Rahul Gandhi or Kejriwal it elates them to no end. The same folks commend me, like my post and flood my comment box with ROFL memes if the joke or sarcasm is directed towards Rahul Gandhi. His detractors have a field day liking the satire with their "Likes" giving me thumbs up while his supporters fall conspicuously silent, a few thin skinned folks occasionally go berserk when the joke is directed to their "Mahaprabhu" (ultimate God).

In a healthy democracy we should not be hesitant of lampooning our political leaders, whoever he or she may be. I enjoy the caricature of Trump known for his idiosyncrasies and Biden for his bumblings on Saturday Night Live, a popular late night TV show in America which has a reputation of not sparing anyone. There is no harm in mocking politicians as they are thick skin breed. And we live in a democracy, not in Putin's Russia, Xi's China or Kim's Korea.

The political leaders worst mocked at in America were Bill Clinton post Monica Lewinsky scandal and Donald Trump as it is easier to make cartoons of flamboyant guys. Obama was least prone to caricature because of his cool demeanor. The great Indian cartoonist R.K.Laxman once said he found it most difficult to make caricature of Jawaharlal Nehru for later's cool demeanor. Both Modi and Rahul Gandhi are equally flamboyant to be easily poked fun at.

Unfortunately we have a poor sense of humor, not great at self depreciating humor and jokes directed to us. We laugh at others, but don't laugh at ourselves nor like to be laughed at as we take ourselves very seriously. That's because we carry tons of false ego and vanity - which prevents us from laughing at ourselves. We who eat a lot of spicy, stale food are world's champion farters but laugh at others who fart, rarely laughing at ourselves. Same goes with the jokes.

A point to be noted - the famous Sikh writer Khushwant Singh was a great teller of Sardarjee jokes. Such jokes were regular in his columns and he has compiled several Joke books too, mostly directed to his own community. The fearless Sardar never hesitated to speak his mind, nor lose an opportunity to make his own caricature and lamented that we as a nation lack the ability to laugh at ourselves. He didn't spare any one, not even himself. When SGPC, the Sikh religious body rebuked him for making fun at the expense of his fellow community the old Sardar responded to them - "Go to hell".

I don't mind cracking a joke at my own expense or my community of Odias. I am a Brahmin originally from the vicinity of Puri and have recounted lots of jokes about Puri Panda, the priests of Puri and my brahmin brethen from the nearby Sasana villages, many of whom are GODARA (posess elephant trunk legs) or KURUNDA (men with super size balls) due to fileria. I narrate those to friends often at my expense, making them roll with seizures of laughter (those who heard me can vouch for it).

During my Engineering days, a friend from Berhampur, a city from Southern part of Odisha used to crack jokes in his local dialect, often at the expense of himself, followed by volcanic erruption of laughter. Similarly the folks from the undivided district of Dhenkanal, also snubbed as DHENKUs are supposed to have wit as dim as the incandescent bulbs on a low voltage night. A Dhenku is supposed to be naive, slow witted. Only difference - unlike the Sardars, they are not known to run amock with madness at noon. It is another matter that Dhenkanal district has produced many brilliant minds who are far from being dumb or simpletons. 

It is not unusual to see litigations filed in courts against silly jokes on some plea or other. Should we file a petition or case against the producer of the movie "Chennai Express" for its Lungi dance song sequence and few other scenes, mocking at South Indians. Should we troll a Lungi (a loincloth worn around the waist which can easily taken off for convenience and multiple purposes) Mithun Chakraborty for his Bharat Natyam dance to the tune of Tamil accented "YUM KRISHNA AIYYAR YEMME (Hum Krishna Aiyar M.A.) in Amitabh's movie "AGNEEPATH" ? Should we ban the legendary Bengali actor Utpal Dutt for rolling his expanded pupil and snorting "Oodee Baba" ? As a nation, we should know how to laugh and enjoy jokes, rather than being laughed at for lacking a sense of humor.