The old widow's curse of leprosy

 Recently I came across a news about several cases of leprosy in America. Though a tropical disease more prevalent in South Asia, Central and Latin American countries, every year 200 odd cases are reported in USA, 80% of them from the state of Florida. Though completely curable, there is invariably a stigma tied to it as a leper is regarded as an untouchable. That's probably origin of the phrase "being treated leper".

During my childhood I was visiting my ancestral village near Puri during summer vacation. One hot afternoon when the village slept into siesta, my cousin and I stole some cucumbers from the neighborhood yard of a widow, who typical of a resident from the Brahmin dominated "SASAN" villages near Puri was quite vocal at delivering choicest of abuses in her mother tongue. Annoyed at the sight of missing cucumbers she started yelling at top of her voice cursing the cucumber thieves - "MO BADI RU JIE KASI KAKUDI KHAICHI SIE BADI RE JIBA, TAKU KUSTA ROGA HABA", "he who has stolen cucumbers from my yard is destined to die from Cholera, but not before getting infected with leprosy".

I didn't care much about Cholera as it was no longer a scourge since I was already vaccinated at school. The memory of getting the Cholera shot (injection) is unforgettable. By evening I had fever and could barely lift my arm. My grandma gave me "LUNA PODA SEKA" - gently sponging with a pad of heated salt wrapped in a piece of cloth applied to the vicinity of the visible tiny orifice mark left on my arm stuck by the thick needle. The pain subsided after couple of days. A piece of paper called "Inoculation Certificate" was all I got after bearing this agony.

Little I knew that this Certificate will come handy a few months down the road when I was on the road to Puri days before the famous Lord Jagannath RATH YATRA. On the outskirts of the city near Chandanpur, the bus was stopped by a battalion of health officials armed with syringes on hand and eagerly waiting for their targets. It was time to give cholera shots. I proudly brandished my inoculation certificate as they spared me.

Those who didn't have inoculation certificates meekly disembarked and lined up for the shots. A few who tried to flee were immediately chased down by the officials. Some escaped by wading over the paddy fields, melting away behind the coconut groves. Those not so lucky were grabbed by their collars and a DAMPHANA (the Odia term for thick needles used to sew jute sacks) sized needle was stabbed on their bottom with great force. They grimaced and screamed in pain, limping back to bus in full view of passengers peeping through the window, too stunned to laugh. I was watching the Wild Wild West enacted on the east coast of India. 

Though dismissive of the Cholera threat, the old woman's curse forever reminded me of leprosy. I lived in Calcutta during mid 1990s. One day I happened to see a leper near the Howrah Station whose almost entire torso was covered in wound, filled with pus. Flies swarmed around, murmuring and feasting on it. Too scared to stare, soon I turned my head and back to this helpless person. Still engraved in memory, that abominable sight refuses to go away. I feel short of kudos for the likes of Mother Teresa who shelter them and nurse their wound. 

Leprosy was very common in India before independence. Mahatma Gandhi and his team once took a PADAYATRA (March on foot) in Odisha. Midway through the journey came across a leper and donated his hand spun KHADADA (crude cotton cloth) to the destitute. No more a scourge, now a days this disease is perfectly curable with rounds of antibiotics treatments. 

Childhood memories die hard. Armadillo the scaled, ant eater animal prevalent in southern part of the United States are known to carry leprosy. I see lot of them around here snooping around in my yard, especially during night time. I always make it a point to stay away from them. As I pluck cucumbers from my backyard, somewhere in the back of my mind I am apprehensive that one day the "SASAN" Brahmin widow's curse might come true. She could have already taken rebirth as an Armadillo lurking just around the corner, bidding her time for vengeance.

My top 10 English movies

 My 10 best English movies. A tough choice to make amongst so many greats. 

1. FORREST GUMP - Tom Hanks playing the simple, hardworking Southerner American who never stops running since he threw his clutches to run away from getting bullied. Dejected for being naive and slow witted, trying hard to get his girlfriend's love - his innocuous "Why don't you love me Jenny" would moisten anyone's eyes. Jenny finally comes to him, but not for love but out of compulsion. 

2. GODFATHER - Vito Corleone played by Marlon Brando arrives as a child in New York when his family is wiped out by a mafia Don back home in Sicily. He takes the opportunity of the land of opportunity to build his underworld empire in "Big Apple", New York as his son Mike Corleone ruthlessly kills his rivals to consolidate father's empire. It's sequel GODFATHER II was great too which catapulted Robert De Niro to the limelight. 

3. GOOD, BAD AND UGLY - A movie watchable multiple times. It is Clint Eastwood all the way. Can't forget its epic whistling music during crucial scenes in the movie. One of the best monologues I have ever heard comes from this iconic Western classic - "If you want to shoot, shoot. Don't talk". 

4. SCENT OF A WOMAN - It was all the way the one man movie from iconic Al Pacino which earned him his 2nd Oscar in 1993 for this stellar performance. The way he blinks his eyes and walks with his walking stick makes you feel he is really blind, not acting. 

5. SIXTH SENSE - M Night Syamalan's first and probably the only masterpiece which grossed over $600 million worldwide. The scene of the little boy who could see dead people whizzing past him prevented many from visiting bathroom in the middle of night at that time, including me. In another scene in a cemetery, the boy says hi to an woman standing in the crowd. She smiles back at the boy only to vanish into the thin air the next moment. Simple yet profound but scaringly eerie - the trade mark of M Night Shyamalan, an American of Indian origin. 

6. SILENCE OF THE LAMBS - Dr. Lector, Hannibal the Cannibal can send chill down your spine. Jodi Foster as usual has done a stupendous role. Watching the movie can make you have the feel of a psycho just lurking beind you. The final scene is nail biting gripping. 

7. THE INSIDER - Denzel Washington, a New York cop tries to negotiate a Bank hold up by Clive Owen, where Jodi Foster plays a consultant appointed by the Bank owner with a Nazi past. In one scene Clive Owens says - After this is over, I will be sipping pina colada cocktail in a remore island, to which Denzel responds - "This is what I think. After this is over, you will be standing in the shower in New York jail in between two big guys Jamal and Joseph, the thing you will be sipping won't taste like pina colada". 

8. THE BRIDGE OVER RIVER KWAI - A historical drama from the year 1957 when a bunch of British POWs captured by the Japanese in Burma during the World War II were building a bridge over the river. I thought of ignoring the movie but couldn't get up after starting, sitting through the end. A must for those who like old classics. 

9. COLLATERAL - In this movie from 2004 Tom Cruize, playing the role of a ruthless contract killer, goes around killing people in LA and Jamie Fox is his cab driver. The later won the Best Supporting Actor for his role in that movie, gracefully playing the role of a cab driver who is scared but still keeping his nerve and trying to save himself from his cold blooded killer passenger. The talented Mark Ruffalo plays a cop. Tom Cruize kills his first victim who lands up on hapless Jamie Fox's cab. A baffled Jamie Fox asks Tom Cruize "Did you kill him ?", to which the later gave a nonchalant but techically correct answer "No. I just shot him. The bullet and the fall killed him". 

10. AIRPLANE - This farce of non stop nonsense will make you laugh till your stomach aches. Loved the way Leslie Nielson barges into cockpit to wish the best and his "Don't call me Shirley".

The Stockholm syndrome

 Exactly 50 years ago, on August 23, 1973 a group of people were taken hostages in a bank in Stockholm, Sweden by Jan Erik Olsxon high on drugs and holding a gun. The world has seen several hostage dramas before and after this event. But what makes this one different is the hostages developing an emotional bond with their captors giving birth to a new term "Stockholm syndrome". 

The whole hostage drama got wide television coverage. The entire Sweden was glued to TV round the clock. The audience were surprised when one of the girls taken hostage while talking to the authorities over phone started defending her captor. She had already developed a huge crush on her hostage taker who was a charismatic speaker and humored her by telling stories and playing Checkers. The drama ended on day six when police sprayed gas into the bank, forcing the culprit to surrender, freeing the hostages and ending the crisis. But the "Stockholm syndrome" never ended and still continues unabated in many places, many forms. 

I have seen some of my college mates idolizing those professors who harassed them to no end, going an extra yard to eulogizing them, both before and after their demise. I am a son of a professor and I have ultimate respect towards the professors and the teaching profession. But needless harassing of young minds isn't something to be eulogized. It's Okay to admire the good things about them, but to my surprise I have seen many victims of harassment needlessly going a long way harboring "Stockholm syndrome" towards them. The famous writer Khushwant Singh who didn't spare any one including himself once wrote - "A person doesn't become better after his or her death". 

Coming from a feudal society, I heard folks eulogizing Babus (bureaucrats), often smitten by them and the power they wield. It is not unusual to see victims at the receiving end of the Babus saying -"ARRE SE IAS OFFICER PEE KI BADEILA" (So and So IAS officer got drunk and beat some hapless folks). As if getting drunk and beating innocents by taking law into their own hands and advantage of their position is something praiseworthy. I know many who are forever stuck to their marriages with "Stockholm syndrome" in spite of being in an abusive relationship. 

We see lots of examples of the "Stockholm syndrome" in real life. Psychologically many of us tend to sympathize with our perpetrators. Part of it is due to our inferiority complex which makes us see them as stronger persons doing things which we aspire to do but can't due to various reasons - it could be lack of courage, the societal pressure etc etc. We get a vicarious pleasure by seeing our wishes replicated by someone else. What happens then is a perfect example of if you can't beat them, join them. 50 years since we are stuck with the "Stockholm syndrome" forever.

RIP Sushama Nani

 She was my father's younger sister. Sushama Nani, as we addressed her was a cherubic, affectionate lady not just towards her own, her love and compassion extended to all. It broke my heart when I came to know that she passed at the young age of 69 yesterday evening in India. She could have lived at least a decade more but for the terminal cancer which has been consuming her for last the few months.

I had many golden childhood memories associate her. Being the oldest kid in our family, I was the apple of everyone's eyes including Sushama Nani. Whenever she used to be at our home, every morning she would shower me, apply a liberal dosage of "Rashi Tela" (cold pressed black sesame oil) on my head as that oil was supposed to keep the hair healthy and head cool. Then she would put Kaajal (Kohl) under my eyes to keep my pair of eyes in good health and increase its sharpness, followed by putting a layer of Ponds talcolm powder on my face. Just before leaving for my elementary school she would put a little black dot slightly above my forehead to save me from the Evil Eyes (As we say in Odia Kahara Drusti Na Lagu, or in Hindi - Kisi Ki Nazar Na Lag Jae". Her unbridled love for me and my sisters was unfathomable.

I would come back home sad from the Elementary (primary) school, embarrassed and bit humiliated by my schoolmates poking fun at me for getting groomed like a girl. Sushama Nani would dismiss them - "They are just jealous of you. What they know of a Piusi's (father's sister) love ?" She was a glib talker who spoke extremely fluent Odia who could captivated the audience on any topic with her communication skills. She also had an artistic hand who once created a Taj Mahal using multicolored strings of wool, not to mention she knitted several woolen garments with her bare hands when winter months used to be around the corner.

I had a restless mind and would rarely take a nap during hot afternoons during my childhood days. She would narrate me several stories trying to make me sleep and would never get angry at her ever disobedient nephew. I used to remember a lot of hit songs from the contemporary Odia movies "Mana Akasha" and "Mamata" and entertainment her and her friends (she had many) with the popular Odia songs of the days - "Dekhi Se Bana Malli", "Re Bana Jharana" etc. I still remember a neighborhood girl of her age with whom she could never get along. Shushama Nani instructed me to sing this song from movie "Mana Akasha" in front of this neighborhood girl with the intention of irritating her -

"MANE MANE BHABU TU BHARI SUNDARA,
AEENA DEKHU TU HAZARE THARA.
TO RUPA KU KIE, PACHARE KI HAI...".

Roughly Transliterated,

"You think you are very pretty,
Thousands time you look at the mirror,
Who cares about your looks which is shitty".

After bombarded by the song several times the victim once asked me - "Who told you to sing this song" ? The innocent 7 year old me replied to her - "Sushama Nani told me to sing this song for you". Not to mention, our neighborhood girl of my Piusi's age was hardly amused, but couldn't tell anything about a child singing this song. Sushama Nani effectively passed on the message to her. The year was 1976. The next year she got married.

During our childhood days we used to spend long summer and Durga Puja vacations in our ancestral village near Puri. Almost every afternoon Sushama Nani cooked "Chuda Bhaja" (Parched rice fry), made Mudhi (puffed rice) blend laced with mustard oil with grated coconut which grew aplenty in our village thrown into the mixture. Occasionally she would instruct me to procured cheap mixture from the village stores or nearby Gabakund Haat (flea market) which would be procured to enhance the flavor of these home made afternoon snacks. Those were the days.

Couple of days ago when I got this sad message about her being almost near, I immefiately made a video call to my cousin's number in India where she lied on her death bed. The Piusi Nani whom I remembered as a young, energetic, bubbly lady was looking a pale shadow of herself. Something inside me snapped when I saw her as a living skeleton, giving a blank stare into the sky, looking towards heaven to where she rightly belonged to, ready to fly into the greener pastures of a promised land of another world, another life. My eyes mostined as I couldn't look any further. The eyeglasses started getting foggy as gravity pulled couple of drops of tears down on my cheek. But there was no talcolm powder on my cheeks to dry it off. A la the Rashi oil, it stayed stuck as a sweet, past memory. Rest in Peace, Sushama Nani amongst angels.

Independence Day 2023

 A history of thousands of years, a civilization counted amongst the oldest of the old. An enchanting land of sages, the cradle of Eastern mysticism from which emanated some of the major religions now spread over the world.

Hinduism, the oldest religion in universe, is the foremost among them. Buddhism is another one which originated from this land several years before Christ was born and subsequently spread south and far east, as far as China and Japan. So also Jainism, a religion which surfaced round the time of Gautam Buddha from the same exotic land and still in practice.

For centuries India was the El Dorado. Its tales of riches attracted travellers, traders and invaders from rest of the world. Columbus, the legendary Spanish explorer died a frustrated man, for he was not able to discover his dreamland called India - considered the land of milk and honey, the opportunity at that time. He had to be content with discovering a chain of Islands called "West Indies" which was his consolation prize for missing out India.

Eventually and unfortunately, India lost its freedom and wealth to myriads of invaders - from Alexander to Afghans, from Mughal to the British. Many occupiers from outside exploited India economically and politically, some looted, some stayed and ruled us until we met our tryst with destiny on 15th August,1947 when we finally gained our independence. That's India, my motherland.

Since we gained our freedom and became a Democratic Republic, we haven't done a whole lot of justice to our immense potential. Very few nations can boast of abundance in natural resources, lushy green fertile lands, a wide variety of flora and fauna (India is the only country which has both Tigers and Lions, Africa which has varieties of wildlife doesn't have tigers). It got a diverse biosphere and a strong, talented workforce of English educated middle class. India has been a caged tiger, who needs to be unleashed to go for the kill.

I am tempted to lift these few lines from a popular Odia song LE NAVEENA from the year 1981. (Naveena here depicts the typical down to earth Odia guy, no relation to any person bearing the same name).

LE NAVEENA TIKE PACHAKU ANA,
HATHE BADI DHARI THIA BAPUJI NANA,
BAPUJI BUDHA RA AAKHI RE LUHA,
TA RAMA JAIJE AAJI YAMA RA BHAYA.

Transliterated..

O Naveena, just look behind.
Holding the stick in hand,
The Bapuji man is standing.
The old man's eyes are filled with tears.
Yama, the God of Death;
has filled his Dreamland with fear.

Mahatma Gandhi, the Father of Nation often credited for bringing independence to us, dreamt a RAM RAJYA (Utopian State) of India. But unfortunately, his dream remained stillborn, though post independence, we had spells of ROME RAJYA (Romancing the indirect rule by a person of Roman origin). 

Lots of water has flown under Mahanadi bridge as we have come long way since 1981, now chugging ahead steadily, inching towards a $4 trillion GDP, moving tens of millions out of poverty.

Still a lot needs to be done, as multiple challenges lie ahead. Rocky are the roads, turbulent are the streams and miles to go before we sleep. And I am sure one day we will get there. HAPPY 77th BIRTHDAY to Motherland INDIA.

Samaduni song

 This Odia song "ALO SAMADUNI" from the late 1970s might ring a bell to many. SAMADUNI is the way the mother-in-laws in Odisha, i.e. the moms of the married couples address each other. They are supposed to be jocular to one another in a friendly way, but often notoriously known not to get along with one another. They taunt each other with one upmanship under the guise of friendly banters wrapped in a cloak of hypocrisy. This song from decades back aptly depicts it.

In this popular duet of the time each SAMADUNI tries to outsmart the other by proudly proclaiming how her counterpart is lucky enough to be her "co-mother-in-law".

One SAMADUNI boasts in from of the other - 

PUA MORA BADA OFFISARA,

MASAKU DARAMA PAANCHA HAZARA. 

"My son is a big officer,

 Earns 5,000 a month for sure". 

A salary of Rs.5000 ($60) per month was no doubt big money those days. A government official earning this  remuneration would make a champion son-in-law. She continues to sing - "MO PUARA UPURI KETE PRAKARA" (my son also has extra incomes of various kinds, an euphemism for under the table black money). Corruption wasn't in epidemic proportion those days, but still prevalent enough for the son's mom to boast about it. The desire for that extra buck called UPURI and a tendency to brag about it was obviously there. 

Fast forward to the mid point of the year 2023. The Officer in the song can be substituted for a person working in the private sector, an Entrepreneur or whoever making good bucks these days. But Government jobs have always been the dream job for many Indians in general and Odias in particular. The craze hasn't died down.

Recently saw a few posts on social media eulogizing several NIT, Rourkela Alumnis who qualified for Odisha Administration Services. During our time the NIT pass outs targeted Indian Civil Services and IES (Indian Engineering Services) but not OAS. Looks like we are living in changing times where in spite of the rise in entrepreneurship and globalization the lure for government jobs has gone up. There must be a reason behind it. 

Those days government was a monolithic, behemoth entity - the largest employer, encroaching every aspect of human life. Following the kicking out of Coca Cola and IBM by the legendary socialist George Fernandez in 1977, the assumption was that it is just a matter of time the all encroaching government will swallow the rest.

In government jobs, you can rub Ghee (clarified butter) on your moustache (NISA RE GHIA MARI in Odia, meaning with utmost confidence) and work till you retire with minimal accountability. Not a single SALA (means brother-in-law, but used in a derogatory sense as someone whose sister is up for public seduction) can touch you - not to mention there is always that UPURI or extra income lurking around the corner. 

Not to be outflanked or outsmarted, the other SAMADUNI, the girl's mom comes her impromptu, melodious response in that song :

JHIA MORA DAKTKARA, 

MASAKU DARAMA TINI HAZARA.

(My daughter is a doctor,

 Monthly 3000 is remuneration of her)

Her boasting continues - 

ALO SAMADUNI, 

SE TA PAISA NAUCHI CHHANI..

roughly transliterated 

"Oh my co-mom-in-law lady, 

She is minting money steady". 

No mention about how much UPURI or extra income contributed to her money minting.

Over the years, the combo of Congress and left leaning political parties had created and cemented a freebie culture, making people unaccountable, churning out an Army of KARMA KODHIA or KAAMCHOR (escapist from work). The current BJP led government at the center hasn't done anything tangible to the curb this menace beyond some perfunctory rhetorics. Come elections, every party throws freebies.

Government may be the choice of the most as career, it is also the carrier of social diseases of which people are symptomatic. Folks fondly call the government as MAI BAAP KA SARKAR (care like parents), providing support from cradle to grave. At least politicians are accountable every 5 years, but government officials have little or no accountability till they retire at the age of 60. It perhaps explains the sporadic news of long lines of applicants for Peon's post. Scattered agitations across the nation demanding to convert temporary government jobs into permanent ones aren't uncommon. 

Nothing is permanent in life, perhaps with the exception of the job security of the government jobs in India. No one on earth can guarantee a more guaranteed form of employment, a sense of entitlement, easy money and a few UPURI (extra money from top) as the icing on the cake, explaining why it's still a driving force. It is a pity that our NIT pass outs are opting for OAS jobs, restricting themselves to this remnant of British Raj and accentuating it. 

Our Puri Panda

 If hearsay from Odisha is to be believed the reported harassment by PANDAs (priests) in Sri Jagannath temple of Puri has gone down a lot due to the government stepping in to streamline the temple administration. Things are now far better organized. The surrounding of temple has been cleaned. The devotees as well as Pandas are expected to fall in line, otherwise the authorities will take stringent action against them. Modeled after the Tirupati temple in South India this action by the folks at the helm of affairs came late. Nevertheless better late than never.

Otherwise, harassment by Pandas used to be the norm not long ago, going on for a long period of time. The legendary Odia writer Pratibha Ray was once abused by the Pandas years back. I am sure, many were unfortunate to bear this ordeal while the inept and corrupt temple administration looked in other direction, rarely did anything worthwhile to curb this menace.

The famous BADA DANDA (Broadway) leading to Lord Jagannath temple used to be liberally strewn with bulls and beggars. (I have nothing against beggars who are needy, but many I saw begging in Puri were healthy enough to work, taking the devotees for a ride). It's sad that most of our sacred places of worship are abodes of charlatans and pickpockets. Chain snatching and sexual molestations are rampant, especially during the special occasions like annual Ratha Jatra. As population and devotees expand exponentially, the administration has its challenges to cope up with it.

A typical Puri Panda is pot bellied, mainly due to his intake of a carbohybrate rich diet primarily based on a heavy dosage of rice and CHUDA (parched rice) topped with a liberal dosage of GHEE (clarified butter), along with his evening BHANG (a paste of Cannabis locally popular) taken with KHEERA (sweetened condensed milk). He is a champion of delivering profanity with a high pitched voice, backed by a glib tongue and ready wit of concocting Odia idioms. 

Our Panda always boasts about the quantity of rice he gobbles up - "BHATA EMITI BADHA HEI THIBA JE BIRADI DEILE TA GODA BAJIBA" - the quantity of rice on your plate should be large and challenging enough for a cat to jump over it without its legs hitting the top of the rice mountain. No wonder you find so many pot bellied men surrounding Puri.

Very territorial, our Puri Panda's world hardly ventures beyond ATHARANALA (the outskirt of Puri which marks the begin or end of the city, depending on the way you are coming from). He is rumored to often travel miles to find a suitable SUJI MARKA BALI ( a bed of sand as fine as flour) to relieve himself and looking back at his mound of shit just delivered to take pride upon the size of his dump. The larger the size of the dump, more is his satisfaction.

My first memory of Pandas of Puri goes back to the late 1970s. While inside the temple which was barely crowded those days, I fondly remember a PANDA delivering a couplet poking fun at a local politician named "Harihar Bahinipati" -

"AMA HARIHARA BAHINIPATI;
CHHELI KI DEKHILE MUTI PAKANTI"

"Our Harihar Bahinipati;
Upon sighting a goat comes out his pee".

I have been lucky never to be harassed by Pandas, always preferring to maintain a safe distance from them. Eventually I ran out of luck. Few years back a PANDA mistook me as a Bengali (Tourists form Bengal form the bulk of the visitors to the temple town. I am sure if they decide to boycott Puri for a month its economy will collapse like a pack of cards). He started chasing me - DADA ESON ESON (Bro, come with me). I switched to Puri accent, "HAIYE AME PIRA BALI SAHI LOKA" (faking the Puri accent as I am a bit familiar with it, pretending as a local lad). 

The Panda, still not giving up - "HAU, MAHAPURU 10 TA TANKA DIA", "OK, master. Pay me 10 rupee in the name of God". I replied back, "Bhaina (my elder bro), I don't have a single penny in my pocket". As I moved on, I heard our frustrated Panda bad mouthing behind me -"KANGALA KAHASE AYAA" or "where from this impoverished bankrupt guy has come" ! (We Odias switch to Hindi when we get excited). It was quite a funny experience for me.

Happy birthday Kishore Kumar

 KISHORE KUMAR is arguably the most multifaceted talent Bollywood has ever produced. What wasn't he ? An actor, director, music director all blended together a la the finest of blended Scotch Whiskies. Oh, did I forget something ? He was too a singer, par excellence.

It is said that when he was in penury in 1968 and wanted to retire to his native Khandwa in Madhya Pradesh, another famous Music Director dad-son duo, SD and RD Burman who still had faith in Kishore persuaded him to sing in the movie ARADHANA. Rest we know is history, for he never looked back and ruled the male playback singer arena of Bollywood so much so that in next few years connoisseur singers like Mohd Rafi and Mukesh struggled to find songs. 

He had the audacity to defy the all powerful Sanjay Gandhi, the son of then Prime minister Indira Gandhi at the time of emergency by refusing to sing for him at a Congress rally. Kishore was promptly banned by the ever sycophant I&B minister V. C. Shukla in All India Radio, the soul source of entertainment for the Indian mass in the days when Black and White TV was only restricted to a few metros. 

But good sense prevailed and the film industry lobbied hard to get the ban lifted. When Kishore Kumar died in October, 1987 the teenage me scrambled two popular English newspapers available in Odisha that time, Times of India and The Telegraph for any tribute to this legendary singer. Couple of them caught my eyes and were apt enough to describe him "The eccentric genius " and "The last of the Originals". 

Eccentric he was, as he was known to play football in college wearing suit, tie and boot. When he was an actor once he came to the sets with half of his head and moustache shaven in order to drive his point of being paid only half the remuneration he was promised. He used to sleep in a bed surrounded by a pool of water, watching horror movies late into night. Per Yogita Bali, one of his many wives Kishore used to count and recount money all night long. Their marriage lasted barely a couple of years.

And Original he was, along with both Mukesh and Rafi, his contemporaries died before him in their early 50s. Kishore lived a little longer and died when he was 58. Non of the original troika lived long, died before touching 60 years of age. Probably vindicating the popular saying that "GANDHARVAS" (Fairies with musical abilities per Hindu Mythology) are reborn as geniuses in the field of art and music. But they leave early after living a short life making immense contribution and leaving their mark.

When his son Amit Kumar won an award for the best singer for his songs in movie LOVE STORY in 1981, rumors broke out that Kishore Kumar, the unquestionable King of Bollywood music at the time prevailed upon the judges influencing the award in this son's favor. When Amit Kumar told the same to his famous dad, Kishore Kumar retorted back

"BETA, KUCHH TO LOG KAHENGE, 

 LOGON KA KAAM HAI KEHNA.

 TUM SOOR MEIN GAATE HI REHNA".

(Son, people will always say something,

It's their job to talk about others.

Following the tune, you keep on singing).

One of Kishore's unfulfilled wishes was to produce an album of English songs, which could have been a fitting finale to a befitting career. But it was never to be as he suffered fatal cardiac arrest one fine fall morning of 1987. HAPPY 93rd BIRTHDAY to KISHORE KUMAR. I doubt we will ever see someone like you in our lifetime.

The Fashion of Bell bottom

 Does the bell bottom fad during our childhood days rings a bell ! I was too small to remember everything about it, but still the prevalent fashion of the time has registered in my memory from the 1970s when the Bell bottom trousers was the fad along with hippie hairstyle forming a wave on the ears.

I still faintly remember my Uncles in their 20s wearing elephant trunk like pants which would sweep the floor as they walk. The pant would narrow down towards the knees and suddenly open up towards the bottom like a funnel, with the feet barely visible. It however successfully hid ugly, ill shaped, fileria (seen in coastal Odisha) stricken legs. Every odd is a style, so was this.

The fashion probably came from the movies as you can clearly see the pattern from the lead actors and actresses wearing those bell bottom pants in the 1970s. My grandfather never liked those wearing bell bottom or keeping long hippie style hair. He branded them as CHHATARA (girl chasing vagabonds) and BAZAARIs (free roaming loafers wandering in a market). Cinema, Ciagarette, Cycle (bicycle) were common paraphernalia of a Chhatara or a Bazaari those days. Now bicycles are long pass and replaced by fancy motorcycles.

I remember my short height cousin wearing a bell bottom trouser. I used to poke fun at her - "Gettum (shorty), wearing Bell bottom". But what wasn't funny was the extra hardship faced by the women folks of the household manually washing the bell bottom pants which would frequently go dirty as the rounded bottom captured all dust like a vacuum cleaner. Remember, those day in India the washing machines were at infancy and still a dream of the majority.

I have heard many stories about excesses by police cutting off the bell bottom trousers of errand youngsters from knee downwards, taking advantage of their unbridled power during the Emergency period in India between 1975 - 1977. If police din't like you for some reason or had a grudge against you they forcibly cut down the hippie hair of the youngsters. Not sure how far are these true or they are simply hearsays. But what I was sure that the fashion of bell bottom bottomed out with the arrival of the 1980s. It was no more fashionable when we turned into teenagers. I missed the bell bottom fad by a whisker.