Happy new year 2024

 2023 paves way to year 2024 - a New Year we perpetually wish to be better than the previous one. The coming year is going to be unique, a leap year, with a date of February, 29 which comes once in every 4 years, enabling those born on this unique day the rare opportunity to celebrate their birthdays on the actual day. Also it is the year of the Olympics scheduled to be held in Paris in summer of 2024.

I am reminded of Morarjee Desai, who in year 1977 became India's Prime minister at the age of 84. When a reporter questioned him about his old age, the witty PM answered - "I am just 21", alluding to his date of birth. His birthday occured once every four years as he was a leap year child, born on February 29.

While stepping into the New Year of 2024, thousands of Nostadamus and Malika predictions from our ubiquitous Whatsapp University are circulating on social media. Yet we don't know for sure what lies ahead of us and what's in store for us next year in an age of unpredictability. No Nostadamus or Malika predicted Covid Pandemic 4 years ago as we stepped into 2020, something which came with cataclysmic events associated with it.

As the old man 2023 bends his spine to extend his hand to open the door to welcome the New Year, it is now time for some retrospection. The passing year 2023 will be forever be remembered for several reasons. The Coronavirus pandemic which was a scourge for past several years is now passe. Economic uncertainties and wars at hotspots of the world still continue. World Cup Cricket,  a once in 4 years sporting jamboree was held in India, a Sports considered as a religion in the host country and religiously followed. 

The game of Cricket is a great unifying factor in a nation of 1.4 billion. The English say "God save the Queen", the Americans say "God Bless America". I say 'God bless Cricket". Arguably our national passion, the game of Cricket, unites every Indian from Kashmir to Kanyakumari, Bengal to Baroda. When India plays Cricket, we feels ourselves as an Indian rather than a Punjabi, Tamil, Marathi or Odia.

A la getting rid off old cloths for the new ones and the soul moving from one body to another as famously extolled by Lord SriKrishna in  BHAGWAT GITA, our Hindu Scriptue, year 2024 will be reborn yet again at midnight tonight as the soul of 2023 passes away. The year dawns with the cherubic smile of a newborn, as another number is added to its age in the form of New Year. But hardly anything else ever changes with the arrival of the New Year. For me the mundane life trudges ahead as the same shit, different day - with different color and texture. Hardly anything worthwhile difference occurs, the status quo is maintained more or less.

The antonym of "Happy New Year" is "Unhappy Old Year". Year 2023 was pretty close to that for me due to various reasons. I lost a few close friends and relatives who passed away to a different realm. This year came and went with a mixed bag of good, bad and ugly, with additional baggage of  memories gently rolling into next year. Made new friends, revived old ones and lost a few near and dear ones once and for all. I may sound nihilist, yet the year comes with this stark reminder to me - life goes downhill from here, tasks become uphill and years are numbered before we go over the hill. 

I do not make any New Year's resolution. As usual I don't and can't keep them. Resolutions like promises are made to be broken. I simply roll over to the year ahead of me. We may forget history but we repeat it year after year, similar to this starting stanza of Kishore Kumar's song :

EK RUUT AYE, EK RUUT JAYE PHIR,
MOUSAM BADLENA, BADLE NASEEB.

"One season comes and another goes,
Seasons don't change, fate does". 

To me, almost all New Year wishes expressed over the years have been too pleasant to be forgettable. The Homo Sapien species has this inherent instinct to remember the unpleasant ones and I am no exception. I remember this one from 1st January, 1982. On the first New Year after his marriage to princess Diana, when the nosey British Paparazzi got a scent that her marriage with Prince Charles wasn't going too well, he wished them - "Have a Nasty New Year".

But I don't have to be nasty and negative. So let me repeat the forgettable wish, as I do not forget to do at the end of every year - HAVE A WONDERFUL NEW YEAR ahead and stay blessed.

Commercialization of Jagannath Culture

 We Odias have a connection to Lord Jagannath. Visit any Odia home, you will see a picture or idol of the Deity, mostly in the living room (in local lingo called drawing room) or in Puja (worship) room, sometimes in both. Sri Jagannath is universally considered as our "ARADHYA DEVATA or the most propitiated God. No auspicious occasion starts without taking His name. In all Hindu marriages in the state, the first invitation goes to Him. In a state where the people have a reputation of being mild and docile, who abhor religious bigotry, Lord Jagannath is uniquely close to the heart of all of us Odias, big or small, beggar or sorcerer, rich or poor, in home or abroad.

Lord Jagannath who always resides in the heart of Odias have helped their race for centuries. A legend which every Odia from my generation has grown up with has it - Jagannath, along with His elder brother Balabhadra, riding a black and white horse respectively has assisted King Purusottam Deb of Puri in defeating his opponent, the King of Kanchi. 

The word Jagannath is formed as the conjoint (SANDHI) of two words, JAGAT (Universe) + NATH (meaning Lord of the Universe) = Jagannath. He is also addressed by many other names - CHAKADOLA (Circular eyeballs), KAALIAA (for his Amber complexion), JAGABANDHU (Friend of Universe), PAITAPABAN and myriads of other names by his devotees. Sri Jagannath is considered as a form of Lord Vishnu. Inside the temple his soul resides in his idol made from DAARU (wood). He is invariably accosted by his elder brother Balabhadra and sister Subhadra on his side.

What is Jagannath culture ? To keep it simple - it is a way of life, our way of life. It denotes the wonderful culture and traditions of Odias and the great state of Odisha. Jagannath culture envisages devotion and respect for elders, love and affection for the younger, compassion for all. The Lord invokes us to do the right things and follow the path of righteousness and justice. It is as simple as that, need not be any more complex to comprehend or visualize.

In its realms the Jagannath culture sees God in every object, in its endless and infinite form. It is just not limited to any national or international boundary. As His name indicates, Jagannath belongs to the whole universe - He is not limited of any particular caste, creed, nation, community or person. Believers, atheists and agnostics alike agree on one thing, i.e, Lord Jagannath is our window to the world. It is our export which does not bring us any foreign exchange, but tons of gems in the form of goodwill and joy.

I have a personal connection to the famous Sri Jagannath temple of Puri, as my ancestral village is located few miles away from the temple city. Puri and its neighboring villages have a reputation of still preserving old temple culture that involves SANGA, BHANGA, SANGEETA and PANGATA (Friend, Cannabis paste, Music sessions and Sumptuous Meals), which simply defines their laid-back life as devotees. Devoted to the Lord, they hold him close to their heart ❤. 

Sri Jagannath is offered CHAPPAN BHOG (56 kinds of foods) as offerings, but the MAHAPRASAD (the great food offering) also colloquially known as ABHADA tops it all. It is cooked on huge earthen pots fueled by fire woods. No garlic, onions or vegetable of foreign origin - Potato, Tomato, Cauliflowers, Chillies, Cabbages, Papaya etc are ever used as ingredients. This is the favored meal of all religious occasions and post death rituals like DASAH (10th Day after death ceremony) and SHRADDHA (Annual Death Anniversary prayers). It has a unique appetizing smell and taste which is attributed to Lord's MAHIMA (miracle). Inside the temple there is a place named ANANDA BAZAAR (The Market of Happiness) where all devotees irrespective of caste, creed or class can seat and eat together. It is a profound aspect of our culture where all are considered equal in the abode of the Lord. 

Of late, stark commercialization of our Jagannath culture, at least a part of it had commenced. In this context, I am presenting the recent saga of a 35 year old girl Kamiya Jani, a well known YouTuber who was promoting the MAHAPRASAD of Sri Jagannath on her video Channel along with a powerful BJD leader on the Puri temple premises. But soon controversy broke out after a video the same girl earlier promoting Beef curry in one prior YouTube videos went viral. 

The girl has gone public denying eating beef. Regardless of her eating habits which I believe is purely someone's personal menu to choose from, what bothers many lovers of Jagannath temple and its culture, including me is the crass commercialization associated with it. Is MAHAPRASAD a commodity to be marketed by a food blogger or otherwise ? Does the Lord Himself needs advertising ? It is also said that the Lord saved himself from the marauding KALAPAHADA the JAVANA (the outcaste outsider), an euphemism for the Muslim General who desecrated the temple in the 16th century by temporarily escaping to nearby Khurda. So Sri Jagannath or His culture and legacy doesn't need the endorsement of sundry food bloggers for survival.

Years ago when I was inside the temple,  a Panda (priest) next to me, with his voice being slurry post consumption of a liberal dosage of Bhang (Cannabis paste) was heard praying - "HAIRE JAGA (his affectionate way of addressing Sri Jagannath). Rice costs Rs.50 per Kilogram, Daal costs Rs.100, Bhanga costs Rs.5 per serving. PELE**PUA (son of a bitch), how can we live ?" This is a glimpse of the classic Puri town culture of small talk giving big pleasure. Unwarranted commercialization of the milieu will take these innocence out of the local culture, as bee socks out the nectar from a flower or juice is sucked out from a piece of lemon.

Per my friends from Puri, these kind of GULLI - KHATTI (light discussion) ridden laid back lifestyle is vanishing. The area surrounding famous Jagannath temple bustling with life where the shops, kiosks, carts, flower sellers along with Bulls, Pandas (temple priests) and visitors lived in peaceful coexistence had been cleared and relocated. The place has been robbed off its heart and soul that defined the milieu of Puri.

Per my friends familiar with Puri and its vicinity the authorities are constructing a 100 plus meter Air Conditioning make shift path on the Badadanda linking to "Garuda Stambha (pillar)" located close to the main entrance of the temple. It is dividing the road and making life by of locals miserable, causing growing resentment amongst them.

It is a price to pay associated with the growth in the number of visitors along with population growth, to make the temple visit streamlined, cleaning the congestion surrounding it. Yet chaos and disorder brings the fun and frolic out of life rather than orderly tidiness. The quintessential soul of the town is missing. Perestroika in name of embellishment seems to have altered its culture. The vivacity attached to it  forever gone.

Merry Christmas 2023

Holiday season and Christmas reminds me of my childhood days, when back home in my home state of Odisha in India, Chistmas was popularly known as BADA DINA (The Big Day). I always wondered why we call it a big day, as the day being close to the Northern Solstice is one of the shortest in the Northern Hemisphere which includes India. I felt it should have been christened as BADA RATI (long night).

Eventually I found why. The festival of Christmas used to be a fun filled time for the British when they ruled India for couple of centuries. SAHIBs (Lords) and MEMSAHIBs (Ladies) as they were addressed obsequiously by the natives geared up several days before the occasion in preparation for a Merry Christmas. The Englishmen threw lavish parties, wined, dined and danced late into the night. 

Unlike us Indians who celebrate 13 festivals in 12 months, the British focused on one day of the year. They reserved December 25 of the year, the birthday of Lord Jesus, for their annual grand gala time. The locals described the Christmas day as a big day, a BADA DINA for their BILAYATI (English) rulers. Many Odias still use the lingo to describe the Christmas 🎄 day. It is also called BADAA DIN in Hindi, meaning the same.

Unlike West where it is cold at this time of year, Christmas comes at a cool time in Odisha. The time is close to New Year when schools and colleges are closed for holidays. The weather is salubrious, the ubiquitous scorching heat is absent, though it can get occasionally chilly when cold wave from north accompanied by gusty winds brings the sweaters and mufflers out. On balmy days it was time to play the game of Badminton🏸 in night. Women gave finishing touches to knitting woolen garments for their near and dear ones (Not sure if any one knits woolen garments these days in the era of ready -made clothings). 

Fresh winter vegetables were cheap and plentiful during this time. New Year Day was celebrated on the New Year, i.e, 1st of January, rather than on its eve. It was time to get warm and fuzzy. I used to wait for the Boxing Day Cricket test match invariably held at the MCG, Melbourne, Australia on December 26, a day after the Christmas. Before the days of live telecast, I used to catch those Boxing Day Cricket by tuning in to Radio Australia while clutching on to blanket to escape from the morning chill. Post live telecast days it was funny and titillating for the teenager in me to watch scantily clad tall women turning over in Aussie stadiums, sunbathing in the summer of the Southern Hemisphere.

A Christian family known to my family used to present us a nice home made fruit cake during the holiday season of Christmas at a time when good quality cake was a luxury in Odisha. Those available in a handful of stores tasted more like sugar laced bread than the real stuff. We used to wait eagerly for the once in a year luxury to savor a bite of the soft, pound cake.

One person in our house who was not so excited was my deeply suspicious grandmother. She always had this feeling there could be GORU MANSA (beef) stuffed inside the cake, especially the dark colored KISMIS (Raisins) which looked suspicious to her. A conservative Brahmin widow from Puri, she got this perception that Christians and Muslims were perennial beef eaters - so whatever they imbibe contained beef.

She warned me of my PAITA (sacred thread worn by Brahmins) going MARAA (loss of sanctity) upon eating that cake  for which I need to do penance by taking bath in cow dung laced water sprinkled with a liberal dosage of GANGAJAL (water from river Ganga), followed by multiple trips to the Puri Jagannath temple near my village for self cleansing. Going through this ordeal for just eating a piece of cake hardly sounded exciting.

Fortunately I could religiously have my cake and eat it too without going through these reclamation rituals. Now I live in a land which happens to be the largest producer and consumer of Bovine meat. Childhood memories are forever etched in our memory and die hard. The curious cat in me always takes a peek at the ingredients of all food items I purchase by doing an additional scan to ensure that beef isn't printed on the label.

Avoiding the stigma of eating beef is no piece of cake. But till date I haven't encountered a single cake that has beef as an ingredient. So the beef of the story is this Holiday season you can have your cake and eat it too. Enjoy the festivities and the Cakes and drink responsibly. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays.

The man who knew Infinity - Srinivasa Ramanujan

 The other day I saw the movie "THE MAN WHO KNEW INFINITY". It is based on life story of an Indian Mathematical genius - Srinivas Ramanujan, played by Dev Patel and the role of his mentor Professor Hardy played by non other than the connoisseur British actor Jeremy Irons.

Ramanujan, an extraordinarily brilliant mind, rather a Math genius was born in an orthodox Brahmin family in the South Indian state of Tamil Nadu. A child prodigy, he vindicated that geniuses are born, rarely made - solving complex mathematical problems which were unsolved for eons using his fingertips without any help. 

His early days were spent in abject poverty with little support or formal education. But he exceled in the subject of Mathematics and his work didn't go unnoticed for long. The man didn't live long either - for he died at an young age of 32. Can't fathom what he could have done if he lived a full life. His letters to Professor Hardy in Cambridge made the later wonder about the papers either as the works of a genuis or stolen by some fraud. 

The West is known for nurturing talents. Professor Hardy didn't want to see a genius continue as a clerk in Madras Port. The British realized Ramanujan's potential and offered him a seat at The Trinity College and later in Cambridge University in UK. Soon he boarded a ship to England, a decision not supported by his conservative Iyengar family for whom travelling across the seven seas was a taboo, which those days was tantamount to loss of caste, ultimately one's religion.

In a way, Ramanujan stole somebody's work. It was from some supernatural power. He admitted Goddess Namagiri coming to him in his dreams, providing solutions to complex theorems which was instantly crystallized in his memory. When awake, he felt the Goddess taking over his tongue - for at tip of his tongue lied solutions to complex numbers which he solved like simple equations, uttering the uniqueness about those numbers. It was something which was humanly impossible and can only be attributed to the hand of God - Goddess Namagiri in his case. Long before Diego Maradona mesmerized the English soccer team using his famous "Hand of God", Ramanujan impressed the British his his "Hand of Goddess".

He continued to amaze the Cambride Academics by solving the theory of Partitions and found the prime number closest to Infinity, for which he was billed as "The man who saw Infinity". Soon he was conferred with the coveted FRS (Fellow of Royal Society) - the youngest person to get it. Ramanujan was barely 30 years old at that time.

But fairy tales don't last long. Taking regular bath in the cold water of River Thames in London to fulfill his Brahmin rituals took its toll. He often fell sick and eventually contracted Tuberculosis - a dreaded, incurable disease of the time. A stickler to Brahmin traditions he refused to take modern medicine, aggravating his illness further. He was consumed by the dreaded consumption at the age of 32 - with the solace of breathing his last after coming back home to India.

Prof Hardy upon receiving the news of Ramanujan's dying stage rushed to the hospital and casualy told the later the cab number which brought him to his friend who was about to breathe his last. He thought it to be a mundane number. But Ramanujan, then on his death bed told him, "Wait a minute. What's the number again" ? The professor responded - 1729. Impromptu came the answer from the genius, "This is not an ordinary number. It's the smallest number which can be expressed as sum of 2 cubes in two different ways". 1729 = 8^3+9^3 = 12^3 +1^3. He didn't leave long after this incident.

We should be glad that he left India for England where his work was recognized and recorded for posterity. Otherwise, the man who was working as a Clerk in Madras Port before his voyage to London would have retired as a Head Clerk, lost in the labyrinth of Indian Babudom, incognito and unrecognized. He would have faced the fate of the proverbial "BANA MALLI" (the fragrance of the Jasmine Flower of the Forest stays inside there, forever unknown to the outsiders) - No body would ever have known him, no movie ever made on his name as the man who knew infinity. My tribute to the man on his 136th Birthday. He was born this day December 22 in the year 1887.

Controversial election of WFI's President

 The BJP Member of Parliament (MP) and Wrestling Federation of India (WFI) Chief Brij Bhushan Sharan Singh, a well known history-sheeter, muscleman and goon found himself earlier this year pinned down to the mat after several women wrestlers came out accusing him of sexual harassment. He is an influential MP from the State of UP from BJP, our "Sanskari" political party with a difference, which leaves no stone unturned preaching ethics and morality.

Now yesterday's election of Brij Bhushan Singh's aide Sanjay Singh to the post of Wrestling Federation of India has prompted Olympic medal winner Sakshi Malik to quit the sport. In a press conference, the champion wrestler put her shoe on the table to show her protest and later cried on camera. Reacting to Sanjay Singh's election to the body that controls wrestling in India, BJP MP Brij Bhushan assured there won't be any vendetta politics against wrestlers who accused him of sexual harassment or protest to demand his removal as the WFI chief.

The widespread protest held during last summer against the accused sexual molester had been brewing for a while and is supported by India’s top women wrestlers, including Vinesh Phogat and Sakshi Malik. Those agitating, sitting on "Dharna", many of them young girls who accused Brij Bhushan of molesting them had campaigned day and night in Delhi's "Jantar Mantar", facing the summer heat and heat from vested interests trying to silence their voice by threatening them.

It is astounding that the BJP led government at the center, party leaders and its supporters are conspicuously silent on this. Being a member of RSS and VHP he is probably a "Sanskari" (cultured) rapist. Mainstream media and the authorities slept for a while before social media picked up the cause, women organizations stepped in and the protest started gaining enough steam to get noticed. 

Ironically a campaign named "Beti Bachao Beti Padhao" (Save the daughter, Educate the Daughter) was inaugurated on January 22, 2015, by Prime Minister of India, Narendra Modi who is the undisputed leader of BJP. It also exposes the hypocrisy of the Bhakts (a term ascribed to the blind supporters of Modi, BJP and RSS) who lose no opportunity to proclaim BJP as a party which respects women and proudly boast about women's safety. This incident is a tight slap on their face. Their silence isn't golden, rather speaks volume. The vociferous Bhakts on social media now have their mouth sealed and gone into hibernation with their tails well tucked behind their hind legs. 

With due respect to them here is my message to Bhakts - you may think "Caesar's wife is above suspicion", but BJP is no lily white. It is just another political party. The party is now in power for quite some time at the center and several states. Power leads to corruption and absolute power corrupts absolutely. We are now just beginning to see the symptoms of a disease called power. 

BJP has its political compulsions. Brij Bhushan is a powerful "Bahubali" (Don) of the politically important state of UP which is the the state that supplies maximum number of MPs to the Parliament. The Bahubalis control a good chunk of votes in the badlands of the North India's cowbelt and no political party, BJP or otherwise, can afford to piss them off when the Election is just round the corner.

And to add some pun by a friend on social media espoused by some Bhakts -

"Women wrestlers are quite capable of thrashing Brij Bhushan if he had attempted to molest/ paw them, THEREFORE as per bhakt, since the female wrestlers did not thrash Brij Bhushan, so he is innocent ! 

God bless Bhakts.

Dawood's death

Recently there was a rumor of India's most wanted fugitive Dawood Ibrahim dying from poisoning in a hospital of Karachi, Pakistan. The stories surrounding his anticipated death is nothing new. In 2016 he supposedly died. He died a 2nd time in 2020. He must be muttering in his Karachi hidehouse- "If you can't kill me, rumor me". 

In late 1970s and early 1980s, the Pathan gang, followers who carried the legacy of the legendary smugglers Haji Mastan and Karim Lala were dominating Bombay underworld. Their rivals in both smuggling and police used a rookie Dawood, the son of a Muslim constable to checkmate the Pathan gang. Well, Dawood not only checkmated the gang, he managed to eliminate all one by one. 

Dawood knew that the Pathan gang members had serious weakness for women. So, he tracked them and eliminated at least one of them, named Alamzeb Khan, who was literally caught pants down with a prostitute. Another one killed by Dawood was a Pathan gang member Samad Khan, who famously proclaimed that he would bed all pretty Call Girls of Bombay before he died. Not sure how far he succeeded in achieving his mission, in 1984 he was gunned down soon after coming out of a Bombay flat after having sex with a girl for the last time in his life. 

When Dawood's enemies were baying for his blood and things become too hot for him in Bombay, he escaped to Dubai. Then ISI, Pakistan's intelligence agency caused the serial Bombay blast in 1993 using Dawood who by the time has grown too large for the boots of his handlers in India. He is living incognito in Pakistan ever since, rumors of his death not withstanding. 

The other day I was watching a dubbed Telugu movie where the popular actor Ram Charan was playing the role of a dedicated policeman in British era. Following the orders of his Gora officials, Ram Charan goes deep inside a hostile crowd of several hundred violent protesters. In spite of getting hit by the mob multiple times, he manages to drag the culprit out of the melee and brings him to the front of the British Officers. One of the Officers exclaimed - "That was simply outstanding. I am so impressed". But his compatriot, the other British Officer spoke on a cautionary note - "But am scared". He was worried that in case the table gets turned in future, such a person is capable of being a big pain in the British ass, which he eventually becomes. 

This might be the storyline from a movie. But like Dawood, we have several examples of monsters who once thought as useful idiots to serve a person or nation's purpose, went rogue, backfiring big time. Mishandling by the then Congress government in the 1980s catapulted Sant Bhindranwale, a Sikh with a flowing beard and aquiline nose from a small time preacher into a big time martyr. His speech in parts of Punjab, especially in the rural areas caught the imagination of the Sikh youth of the time. His simple slogan 'JO DARTA WOH SIKH NAHI AUR JO SIKH HAI WOH DARTA NAHI' (one who fears is not a Sikh, one who is a Sikh never fears) inspired many to take up gun and became terrorists.  

As Khushwant Singh mentioned in his autobiography, Giani Zail Singh, ex Home Minister and President of India famously described Bhindranwale as SADDE DANDA "our stick" to beat the Akalis with. Congress party wanted to use him as an useful idiot to settle score against opposition Akali Dal. Eventually the genie escaped from the bottle and the DANDA became a huge stick to cause pain to Congress and the nation's backside.   

Same goes with Osama Bin Laden who was trained by CIA to fight against the invading Soviet Army in Afghanistan. Bin Laden was an expert in firing shoulder fire missiles which led to the loss of several Russian Aircrafts. But no sooner the Russians beat a hasty retreat from Afghanistan, than Bin Laden turned his attention to the USA who was once his patron and benefactor, culminating in the terrible incident of 9/11. 

Examples are plenty of such examples and mentioning them is beyond the scope of this blog. I can think of a song for Dawood - "Abhi Na Jao Chhod Kar, Yeh Dil Abhi Bhara Nahi" (Don't leave us now, our heart is still unfulfilled). You have already died in 2016 from Heart attack, from Covid in 2020 and now died a victim of poisoning in 2023. You can die yet again in 2026 from Diabetics. Bhakts will give credit to Modi and Doval for feeding you with a lot of sweets and dying a natural death from sugar. 

Adjust and Saare

Adjust is a very commonly used word by commoners in my home state back home. A frequently used phrase one comes across - "TIKE ADJUST KARANTU" (in Odia) or "THODA ADJUCT KIJIYE" (HIndi), both meaning, "Please adjust a little bit". In many instances it simply means, please squeeze in more than 5 people in a seat made for 3 persons inside a car or any mode of public transport. Or a polite way of saying, "Bear the inconvenience".

The word adjust is ubiquitous and can fit to multiple scenarios. An NRI visiting India once went shopping for Toilet paper. The store was out of it. Said the furious NRI, "What kind of store you have, you don't carry a necessity item like Toilet Paper ?" "Sorry Sir" - the storekeeper responded politely. We don't have toilet paper but we have plenty of Sand papers. TIKE ADJUST KARANTU or THODA ADJUCT KIJIYE ("Please adjust a little bit)".

A request for "Adjust", can be preceded by the word SIR to expedite it. In the Southern part of US, one is often addressed as Sir as a matter of respect and gratitude, no matter what you are and what you do. It is considered as an integral part of Southern hospitality and mannerism in the Southern States of US. In Britain you need to go an extra mile for the same. You need to command respect to earn it. SIR is usually associated with the coveted Knighthood, reserved only for persons with extraordinary abilities - in Sports, Literature or Politics.

In India the word "Sir" is used too loosely. During my growing up days the word Sir was sparingly used only to address Teachers and high level officials who sipped "Teachers". Now a days, any dumb addresses the dumber as Sir, a perfect example is me addressed as Sir on multiple occasions in India without hardly doing anything noteworthy to deserve such an accolade. Often sugar coated, wrapped in obsequiousness and delivered with a bended spine posture, it often comes in form of "SIR Jee" as if just SIR is not enough. 

This is also invariably followed by the character assassination of the Sir behind his back. As soon as Sir steps away, the Sir turns into a "SALAA" - which means wife's brother but in a derogatory way it alludes "I am the seducer of your sister".

I met a friend who came late to a friendly gathering no long ago. His excuse - he had to drop his SAARE (The word Sir pronounced in Oriya accent) at the Airport. Fair enough. I sarcastically asked him "You have been dropping your SIRs at Airport since time immemorial. Is it not high time for you now to be a Sir ?" Nodding in approval were those who were around and had a hearty laugh. Hope his turn to be at the receiving end of the coveted Sir status, the ultimate dream of many arrives sooner than later. 

Christmas party years ago

We had a Christmas party today and another scheduled for coming week. Every holiday season the Christmas parties reminds me of one such party, long time back in the 1990s when I was a new arrival in America. It was my first Christmas party in USA. Alcohol, especially the locally popular Kentucky Bourbon Whiskey and Jack Daniel were flowing like Mahanadi in spate during monsoon or a flooded Chattahoochee river after heavy showers. New, shy and a bit unsure about myself to fit into the milieu I was sipping some Vodka, standing alone at a corner of the big banquet hall.

Sensing my loneliness three mountain sized coworkers, as big and burly as the local Appalachian mountain approached me with the intention of making me comfortable. They said Vodka is not sipped, rather tossed in at one go and gave me some demo by inviting me to join them to imbibe shots in unison. I got carried away by their attention and joined them liberally tossing down a few shots of Vodka repeating 1-2-3 go, 1-2-3 go several times. I could feel the fiery stuff going down my esophagus, clearing away any doubts I had about Biology when last time I studied the subject during High School.

It turned out to be a foolish decision on my part. Nothing happened to the big guys as they melted away inside the hall enjoying the party. Minutes passed by without anything happening to me while I munched some chicken nuggets and chunks of cheese on toothpicks. As absolute power can corrupt absolutely, Absolute Vodka can intoxicate absolutely. Alcohol shrugged off my jaded nerves. Moments later suddenly my legs started getting wobbly and head swirling like whirlpool. The sound of this song played by the DJ suddenly started wavering and dancing with the light.

"Where'd ya come from Cotton eye Joe
I have been married long time ago.
Where'd come and where'd ya go,
Where'd come and where'd ya go."

The flickering lights started floating around me amidst the tap dancing Cowboy hat wearing men and red dressed women. All of a sudden they started looking blurred to my elated, intoxicated eyelids. The sound of music got louder and louder, as I stumbled couple of times. But I was in sense and sensible enough to know where I was heading to. So I thought it judicious not to hang around anymore and make an ass out of myself. Rather it would be wise for me to head back to my apartment sooner than later.

On my return drive I rolled down the windows to let in the frigid Midwest air to keep me alert and awake. Luckily I encountered no cops. A DUI or Driving Under Influence of alcohol could have hampered my on going Green Card, i.e. the Permanent Resident status in US which was under process during that time (An advice to my friends not to drink and drive, especially if your Green Card processing is still on. A DUI at that juncture certainly won't help you).

No sooner I reached home than I crashed on bed, my shoes half hanging from my feet. It was 10 AM the next day when I woke up with a heavy head and parched throat, feeling my urine has dried up. Drank a full bottle of water to see my urine resembling mustard oiI. I spent the entire next day nursing my hangover. That experience was enough of a lesson for me to never get drunk and go overboard with alcohol. So far I have religiously adhered to it. Merry Christmas and Happy holidays. Enjoy the season responsibly.

82nd Anniversary of Pearl Harbor

 78 years ago on a bright sunny summer morning of August 6, 1945 a tiny US plane carrying a nuclear bomb of enormous power flew over the city of Hiroshima in Japan. The bolt from the blue sky came literally form of the pilot dropping the bomb, the first of its kind in the world, causing huge, permanent damage to the city. This bomb, an Atom bomb effectively put the final nail in World War II's coffin and Japan's war campaign in the Far East. Before Japan could recover from the bombing aftershock, it was followed by another one on another city of Nagasaki only 3 days later, on August 9. 

This bombing incident which happened that fine morning in August marked the close of the curtains of a chain of events which commenced following another bombing on a bright winter morning of December 7, 1941, exactly 82 years ago which forced America to enter into the World War II, a little late in the game after its Pearl Harbor Naval base in idyllic Hawaii came under attack by Japan on the wee hours. The swift devastating blitzkrieg by the Japanese fighter planes completely caught the Americans unaware.

The main architech of the attack, the Japanese Admiral Yamamoto was not so inclined to attack the Pearl Harbor Naval base fearing its consequences. Educated in Harvard, he had some idea of American capability and he knew the retaliation will be fierce and could lead to gotterdamerung. But drunk by success in Indo-China, the Japanese military junta headed by General Tojo vetoed the prudent Admiral's concerns and gave the go ahead order.

The calm, sunny morning in picturesque Pacific island of Hawaii was shattered when there were clear blips on the Radar announcing the approach of a string of airplanes on the horizon. It was promptly conveyed to the Headquarters who dismissed it with the now famous four words - "DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT", dismissing the fighter planes as routine flights which fly from California to Hawaii on regular basis.

The Japanese meticulously planned their mission. They were successful in fooling the Americans, cruising their Aircraft Career incognito for thousands of miles on endless Pacific Ocean, traveling only during the day to avoid getting detected by light in the night and choosing to launch the strike on a Sunday morning when the Sailors were expected to be resting after a late Saturday night party and the officers would be busy playing Sunday morning Golf. Perfect time to make the Americans look like foxes frozen by searchlight.

A la a swarm of killer bees moments later the Japanese bombers stung the Naval base, sinking one battle ship after another and taking thousands of young sailors only in their late teens and earning 20s who barely started their career in US Navy. It was the first attack on the American soil by a foreign power, completely catching it off guard. The entire American naval fleet at Pearl Harbor was destroyed.

The same evening President Roosevelt declared war against Japan, marking the opening of a new front and chapter in World War II. Admiral Yamamoto knew very well that there must be an element of surprise in the attack to destroy US's superior Battleships before they could recoup and launch any counter attack. But it was no surprise when the US's Pacific fleet tracked Yamamoto when the later was on a hopping flight between the islands and shot down his plane straight into the jungles of one of the uninhabited Islands in the endless Pacific.

Ironically, few years after Yamamoto's death, his prior concern belittled by his superiors was vindicated when the American G.I.s spectacularly fought back recapturing one Pacific island after another held by Japan. Their de facto leader, General Tojo anticipated an attack by US on the Japanese islands and was preparing for it. He didn't anticipate a nuclear attack. USA's surprise return gift to Pearl Harbor attack culminated in the dropping of "Little Boy", the new kid in the block in the form of an Atom Bomb on Japan, forcing the later to surrender unconditionally.

World has moved ahead since then, with nations like Pakistan and North Korea already possessing nuclear weapons. Many say the nuclear weapons serve as deterrent. There is some truth to it. I believe India and Pakistan would have fought a 4th war if both were not part of the Nuclear club. Yet, this day 82 years ago saw the addition of a new chapter in the history of a war, the extent of its impact still unknown.

Socrates - the maverick Brazilian Soccer star

The legend of Brazilian soccer, Socrates died this day, this month 12 years ago. He was unique of his kind, a rare multifaceted, contradictory and controversial talent. Apart from being a brilliant swift dribbler of the ball and a dangerous player to Brazil's opponents, he was also a qualified doctor, yet a smoker who loved to get soaked in alcohol, a rarity amongst sportsmen. Socrates was a maverick man, a player of caliber who happened to have captained a highly talented Brazilian World Cup squad in 1982 and a key player in 1986 - a team who should have won both the Cups but couldn't.

If you followed soccer in the 1980s, Socrates was the slim, bearded, bandana wearing, curly haired captain of the 1982 and 1986 Brazilian squad which was probably the best soccer team which never won the World Cup. 

Though eclipsed by the likes of his better known compatriots Pele, Zico, Romario, Ronaldo, Ronaldinho, Neymar et all from a nation who produces soccer players of class dime a dozen, this midfielder carved his niche with his swift, devastating counter attacks. A gifted midfielder Socrates could be of dangerous proposition to any opponent with his unpredictable moves catching opponents unguarded.

I remember him being the captain of 1982 Brazillian World Cup Soccer Team when as a 13 year old I started following international football seriously. The team was managed by the legendary chain smoking Tele Santana who believed that attack is the best method of defense. The star studded Brazilian team with the likes of Zico, Socrates, Falcao, Eder, Junior breezed into the quarters. The legendary Pele boasted "Playing like this we are going to win the Cup". And everyone thought so, similar to Indian cricket team was expected by most to win the just concluded Cricket World Cup held in India.

The Quarterfinals of the 1982 World Cup was in a league format with Argentina (with a promising 21 year old Maradona in their side), Brazil and Italy clubbed together in one group of death, with one team to qualify for the semifinals. In the all important match Brazil, the overwhelming favorite Samba team needed just a draw against a struggling Italy to qualify for semifinals. 

But Paolo Rossi crashed the Brazilian dream with a hat trick as Italy narrowly won the match 3-2. Italy eventually went on to win the Cup. Clearly the marauding Brazilians let their defense down while focusing too much on blitzkrieg and paid the price. Believing too much on attack, the Brazilians left loopholes in their defense for Rossi to capitalize.

In the1986 version of the Cup in Mexico city, famously known as "Maradona's hand of God" World Cup, Brazil was every one's favorite dream team. In the match against Poland, Socrates scored a philosophical goal, when he took the penalty shot looking aloof, pointing his fingers in one direction, putting the ball inside the net on the other side. He confused the goalkeeper with his guile, as the goalkeeper moved in the direction of Socrates's finger as the later netted the ball into the goal.

But in the crucial Quarterfinals against France, Socrates tried repeating the same, but it turned out to be a mistake repeated. This time the French goalie read him right, blocking the ball. It cost the Brazilians the match and the Cup. A world cup win, which would've been a fitting finale to a genius's marvelous career remained elusive.

Socrates continued to practice medicine after he retired from the game, a genius who was a world class soccer player as well as a medico, who later dabbled in politics. He wrote blogs and was often seen on TV panels to discuss soccer and politics.

He was 57 when he died of complication due to his long stint with alcoholism, on December 5, 2011. A tragic fallacy of human weakness - a doctor who succumbed to something he must have advised others not to do, whose ill effects he must been well aware of. RIP, the maverick genius.

The 4 state elections 2023

 The much awaited results of the just concluded state elections in India are out. As there already 367,588 analysts out there on the social media analyzing the results, I didn't want to be left behind, opting to become the 367,589th one. 

Congress won only one and BJP the rest of the major states. This election proved that it is no more BJP, it is unequivocally Modi's party now. Until he is alive this is a hard truth one has to live with, same as during Indira Gandhi's heydays when Congress and its hand symbol was synonymous with Indira Gandhi, not the party. At one point of time it was called Congress (I) or Indira Congress as she hijacked the party as her family fiefdom. BJP, still a Cadre based party, at least officially is not yet BJP (M), but de facto Modi's BJP. The results of the recently finished state elections, considered as prequel to India's national Parliamentary election next year, just vindicated the fact. 

A popular quip during the 1970s and 80s when the Congress Party was in power almost all over India, was the Congress Party will win as long as "ALLI and COOLIE" (Muslims and poor people) vote for the party. It wasn't far from truth. Both the minorities and majority poor stuck to Congress party as an infant clutches to mother's breast. Congress is currently ailing as ALLIs (Muslims) have long since moved to other parties, followed by COOLIES (poor folks) no longer votes for overwhelmingly vote for Congress. 

These days, BJP matched by its grass-root organization, money power coupled with its star campaigner Modi has successfully stolen the thunder from Congress. The election was supposed to be close in MP, Chhattisgarh and Rajasthan. But some last moment campaign by Prime Minister Modi contributed to a small but valuable voting gain of couple of percentage, large enough in Indian political context to swing the Election in the favor of BJP. Best example is Rajasthan where the vote share of BJP is 41% versus 39% secured by Congress. Those vital difference of 2% can be attributed to Modi's active rallies in the state. However, BJP is yet to expand its footsteps beyond the South of Bindhyas other than Karnataka. Congress won a consolation prize by winning Telengana. 

Politics is a matter of perception. BJP has mastered the art of event management with portraying its leader Modi as the man of the future. On the other hand, the Gandhi family is already past its sell by expiry date. India is a young country where more than 70% of its voters are born after 1984 when Indira Gandhi, the last Gandhi with politics in her blood died. The party can't run on inertia and just win elections by expecting BJP to lose. Unless a change in leadership is made at top and fresh blood is infused into the moribund leadership, the party is going to shrink further. And this is not good for democracy. Power is the best aphrodisiac. Power leads to corruption and absolute power can corrupt absolutely. Long term stay in power by a single party can very well sow seeds of dictatorship whose harvest may not be quite palatable.

Gloomy Sunday

 It feels gloomy when you wake up after taking siesta on a cold, cloudy Sunday afternoon following a long Thanksgiving holiday weekend with the spectre of the work week ahead. It feel gloomier when you remember an article from your childhood days, published under the section "True tales stranger than fictions" in a magazine in 1980s named MIRROR (now defunct).

One not so fine Sunday afternoon, a nondescript jilted European youth dumped by his beloved composed this fateful music in between the gloomy times between the two World Wars, aptly naming it - "GLOOMY SUNDAY". Whenever this ill fated song was played on Radio and hit the European Airwaves, it led to several fatal suicides across the continent ranging from Italy to Germany. Some jumped from bridges, some shot, hanged or poisoned by killing themselves blaming the music on their suicide notes.

The saga of suicides did not end there. The ill fated music took its toll, as the jilted composer was jolted by the news of his ex-girlfriend, the cause behind his composition committed suicide by consuming poison using a paper on which the song was written. The jilted lover, an already heartbroken guy, was totally devastated as he didn't want his ex-girlfriend to die.

The song had to be banned and the radio stations stopped playing it, never to be heard again. Thus ended the saga of Gloomy Sunday.

Finally a Song on a cold, cloudy  gloomy Sunday 

Yeh Facebook ki Duniya,
Yeh Like ki Duniya.
Yeh Share Ki Duniya,
Yeh Posting the Duniya.
Yeh Duniya Agar Mil Bhi Jaye To Kya hai...

(Based upon the famous song from Guru Dutt's PYASA, an actor known to make gloomy movies and committed suicide).

Bhopal Gas Tragedy

 Exactly 39 years ago, the killer waves of MIC (Methyl Iso-Cyanate), a highly toxic gas engulfed the skies of the sleepy township of Bhopal in the state of Madhya Pradesh in India. Many who were peacefully sleeping, would never wake up again, only to breath their last in the form of poisonous air. A leakage in the local Union Carbide plant killed thousands and maimed many when the Knight of Death visited that night.

This incident popularly known as the "Bhopal Gas Tragedy" had its consequences. The value of Union Carbide Chief in India, Warren Anderson from USA was so valuable that he was helped by the then Madhya Pradesh Chief Minister Arjun Singh who flew him out of the city on his way out of country. He couldn't have done this without the tacit approval of his all powerful boss in Delhi, Rajeev Gandhi who barely a month ago was made the Prime Minister of India on the aftermath of his mother's assassination. (Per Congress party culture, its regional leaders can't even go to toilet without the permission of their High Command, aka the Gandhi family at the helm of affairs. It's inconceivable that American CEO Warren Anderson was let go without the knowledge of PM Rajeev Gandhi).

We go an extra mile to transport an American who does felony in our own homeland miles away to his safety, but whine and protest vehemently when our diplomat is treated shabbily for breaking the law on American soil (ironically this incident happened in the month of December too a decade ago in the year 2013). We, the champion practitioners of hypocrisy and double standards, never lose opportunity to accuse Americans of the same.

39 years down the road the justice has been both delayed and denied. Anderson the Union Carbide Chief, died of natural death at his home in Long Island, New York not so long ago. He refused to meet any Indian reporter and hardly took ownership of the disaster nor offered any tangible benefits towards the families of dead and the injured. Those who survived the Bhopal gas tragedy had to go through a lifetime ordeal, many of whom became maim for rest of their lives were given compensation thrown at them in peanuts - a tardy too little, too late. 

Have we learned anything from history about industrial safety and bringing rich and mighty felons to justice ? Your guess is as good as mine.