Charles Dickens famous quip from his epic Novel "The Tell of Two Cities"- "It was the best of the time, it was the worst of the time" couldn't be more prophetic. It rings a bell when I look at the recent performance of  Pakistan's cricket team. Those from my generation have seen the best of the times of Pakistani cricket at its pinnacle in the 1980s and 1990s. Now we are seeing the worst of the times as the country's cricket has hit the rock bottom, with a series of losses at home from a whitewash by Bangladesh, followed by a humiliating defeat by visiting English team even after scoring 500 plus in the first innings.

It's famed fast bowling attack looks pedestal and batsmen inconsistent and at best average. 

Never before I saw Pakistan cricket in such a state of doldrum. Well, they have a reputation of dressing room infights and internal bickerings in open, often ending in fisticuffs. In 1981-82 about 8-9 cricketers, most of them senior players refusing to play under a rookie Captain 24 year old Javed Miandad. History repeated itself in 1993 when almost similar number of players refused to play under a young and arrogant Wasim Akram. But such skirmishes were more like flash in a pan, rarely impacted the performance of the team as a whole. 

They had the best of the times for decades seen by our generation who followed cricket from 1970s. It was the ebulient, charismatic leadership of Imran Khan which brought the best out of the Pakistani team as under his leadership the team managed to defeat England in England, India in India and win the coveted 50 overs World Cup in 1992. 

The current situation is worst of its time. The rot started when a series of Pakistani players were accused of match fixing, some even caught red handed on camera fixing matches with bookies. Being unpredictable was the quintessential sine qua non akways associated with the Pakistani team whose performance has a history of swinging like pendulum. One day they would play like a world campion, the next day they will look like club cricketers on steroids. But they have become very predictable these days. The once almost invincible at home Pakistani cricket team led by fast bowlers like Imran Khan & Sarfraz Nawaz, Wasim Abram and Waqar Younis who used to hunt in pairs, they have become immensely predictable these days by losing to pretty average if not ordinary sides. 

These days the extremely competitive modern sports talent isn't just enough. You need infrastructure, coaching and money to polish your skills and takent, taking it to the next level. Talent can get you only to certain extent. Professional teams like India and Australia have judiciously invested time and money with results showing on the ground. On the other hand, Pakistan still has a long way to catch up as far as professionalism goes. Unless they arrest their current state of decline and put their house in order they could very well end up like Zimbabwe and West Indies. Pakistan has earned a lot of bad Karma due to its flawed policies. Karma is a bitch, it bites hard.

Happy 90th Birthday Akshaya Mohanty

 If he were alive, the legendary Odia singer Akshaya Mohanty born this day in October, 1934, today he would be 90 year old today. Like Kishore Kumar, he was a virtuoso, a multifaceted artistic talent from Odisha. Though better known as a versatile singer, the lyricist in him penned many songs - from serious to romantic, from comic to tragic ones. The music all rounder in him arguably stood him above the rest of the contemporaries from his generation, which included a field of gifted artistic talents from the state of Odisha, the likes of Pranab Patnaik, Chitta Jena, Sikandar Alam, Prafulla Kar.

Khoka Bhai (he went by this alias), started singing in the 1950s and was at his peak during 1970s. During that time he made the cardinal mistake of quitting his cushy government job to fully focus on his musical career. Unfortunately for him, he belonged to a state better known as the graveyard of artistic pursuits.

The milieu those days when government was the main employment provider where Odias in general looked down upon and harbored anathema towards anything but secured SARAKARI (government) job. He could have rubbed Clarified Butter on his moustache (NISARE GHIA MARI) and worked nonchalantly in his job nonstop till he attained the age of 58, stil would have continued to sing untill his death, completely assured by the safety net of a "Sarkari" pensions. But he took a risk to follow his first love music and like most first loves in life it didn't materialize for him and remained stillborn, him paying a big price for quitting his government job.

Khoka bhai (his popular nickname) sang many Odia hits. His records sold well. He was hugely popular and immensely admired, yet his going professional in the field of music did not fetch him the remuneration to amply compensate for his ability. By mid 1980s he was not in good economic shape. Everyone admired his songs and music, but going pro didn't provide him a sustainable source of income. He took to alcohol and continued to abuse himself. My brother-in-law who interacted with him extensively during the maestro's trip to Chicago in June, 2001 often found him drunk, staggering and blabbering around. His reckless alcoholism probably cut short his life and career as he died a year later in the year 2002 at the age of 68.

After listening to Akshaya Mohanty's title song from movie "JAJABARA", Lata Mangeshkar suggested him to try his luck in Bollywood. But a laid back Akshaya Mohanty would never do that. He visited America multiple times and enthralled the NROs (Non Resident Odias) with his nostalgic songs. My memory goes back to the year 1979 when his trip to America was well covered in the local media in Odisha. Those days coming to America used to be a big deal. The legendary singer, post returning from his American trip quoted in the popular local Odia daily "SAMAJA" - "Even cats and dogs are better off in America than humans here in Odisha".

India has come a long way since 1979, now a 4 trillion dollar plus economy chugging ahead. Visiting America is no longer a big deal to get publicized in local newspapers. But those were the days. Soon came out a song composed and recorded by him based on his first hand American experience,

AMERICA RE PREMA HUE
BEECH ROAD UPARE,
AMA CUTTACK RE PREMA HUE
BHAI RIKSHAW PACHHARE.

Transliterated....

 (Love in America
  is a road side show,
  In Cuttack love happens
  behind Rickshaw).

The young generation in Odisha since have lifted their veil of shyness, enjoying their amorous aventures in middle of parks and pubs - even on BEECH (Middle of) roads as hand pulled Rickshaws have given way to their Autorickshaw cousins.

Saluting the Maestro and wishing him a Happy Birthday, let me end my ode to him with this funny number, penned by himself,

"PREMIKARA BARIADE BAIDHANKA
AU BICHHUATA BANA,
DEKHIBAKU MANA CHHANA CHHANA
KUNDAAI KUNDAAI GALA PRANA".

Roughly transliterated

"My beloved's home backyard
Has a jungle filled with Poison Ivy,
In the eagerness to watch her stealthily,
I had to scratch myself heavy."

Happy Birthday Amitabh

Today is the Birthday of Amitabh Bachhan, an icon in Hindi movie industry, popularly known as Bollywood (aptly named after Hollywood, the way we love to copycat). There is this dialogue from his movie "KAALIA" - "Hum Jahan Khade Hote Hain, Line Wohi Se Shuru Hoti Hai", meaning, "Wherever I stand the line starts from there". The movie from the year 1982, incidentally the time when Amitabh was the one man Bollywood industry, the unchallenged superstar. He was the no. 1 to no. 10 choice of the watchers of Hindi movies, the rest came way behind. So much so that the popular actresses of that time were scared to be his leading ladies in movies, lest they will be eclipsed by the actor standing tall above the rest. 

Amitabh started his movie career in the year 1969 in a forgettable movie "Saat Hindustani". He struggled for 4 more years and at one point decided to leave acting and become a "Boxwallah" until Zanzeer (1973) and Deewar (1974) delivered him two back to back hits putting him on a pedestal from which he never looked back. By 1980, he had already established himself as the Superstar of Bollywood. Once considered too tall and lanky to play the lead role as an actor, he proved all his detractors wrong. No wonder it is said that a good height always attracts the opposite sex. Those were the days, 6 feet 2 was considered being too tall and Jaya Bhadudi with a diminutive height of 4 feet 8 survived well in the industry (incidentally they were and still are married to each other). 

In year 1980 journalist and Writer Tavleen Singh once met Amitabh at her friend Sonia Gandhi's home in Delhi. As Amitabh was close to the Gandhi family, Tavleen requested Sonia if she could make Amitabh, already a superstar of the time agree for an interview. Amitabh was very warm and agreed. He told Tavleen - "Please talk to my Secretary in Bombay and get an appointment".

When the D-day arrived early that morning Tavleen arrived at Amitabh's home who was about to step out for an outdoor shooting session for movies "Naseeb" and "Do Aur Do Paanch". The previous warmth displayed a Sonia Gandhi's home had vanished as Amitabh barely talked and in a reserved tone told her to follow her as his wife Jaya gave Tavleen a cold stare while handing over the a tiffin career containing simple, vegetarian food. Amitabh was a frugal eater.

At the set Tavleen noted that Amitabh completely overshadowed his co-actors Hema Malini and the Kapoor brothers Sashi and Rishi. In terms of popularity he was way ahead of the rest, mobbed by his fans both on and off the set.

It was a long day. Finally after sunset when darkness set in, Amitabh found some time for interview and open up to Tavleen answering her questions on his way to another set for another shooting session. As mentioned by Tavleen after the interview she ended up with a crush on the tall, charismatic actor.

In late 1960s, days before getting into acting profession once Amitabh visited Mahmood, a comedian and a better known actor of the time along with his close buddy Rajiv Gandhi, the eldest son of Prime Minister Indira Gandhi who later went on to become India's Prime Minister. Not knowing Rajiv Gandhi, Mahmood told Amitabh - "You are too tall, lanky, devoid of a hero's look. Better try your hands playing the role of a bad guy". Then glancing at Rajiv Gandhi he said - "However, your friend is a handsome dude and got looks fit for a hero. He may try his luck in Bollywood". Fate had its own way. A decade later in 1979 Amitabh was the undisputed king and Superstar of Bollywood after the stupendous success of his movie  "MUQADDAR KA SIKANDAR" where he vanquished Vinod Khanna, his sole challenger at that time.

Prior to his first hit ZANZEER, Amitabh reportedly contemplated quitting movie career (Similar to Kishore Kumar who thought of retiring before the success of his songs from ARADHANA). The rest we know is history, as he established himself as the one man industry. So much so that, in the1980s he got away with mediocre performances in junk movies like MAHAAN, JADUGAR etc churned out one after another by the likes of Manmohan Desai and Prakash Mehra.

The saga of this talented Mega star (he was above and beyond a Superstar) is beyond the scope of this blog. Some, if not all of his movies impressed me enough to make them watchable even today, especially many of them laced with the golden voice of Kishore Kumar who was the playback singer of many of Bachchan's hit movies (its rumored both fell out with each other in 1984 after SHARABI. Kishore Kumar refused to sing for Amitabh after that when Shabir Kumar, not Kishore became his voice).

The other day I was watching one of his movies - NAMAK HARAM (Untruthful to Salt), a movie in which he acted along with the contemporary Superstar Rajesh Khanna. Though Rajesh Khanna hugged the limelight in that movie, Amitabh showed flashes of brilliance with his trademark angry young man acting using his baritone voice. Needless to say, he showed traits for a promising future. He not only became a superstar, but ended up being the Megastar, a record no one has broken since.

The movie has a strong undertone of Socialism, the fad during those days. Rajesh Khanna asks his friend Amitabh, who plays the role of son of a rich business tycoon, the price of "Chivas Regal", a brand of Scotch they were sharing together. It was Rs. 250 a bottle in 1973, a hefty amount these days - more than a MAZDOOR (worker's) salary. The price of a 60 ml shot of Chivas Regal costs twice as much these days in any decent hotel in India.

As the movie progresses, Amitabh is advised by his father not to trust his friend Rajesh Khanna, because the later is from the middle class. He warns his son - "Your friend belongs to the middle class. Folks from that class, though they vouch on their ideology and principles, can also be very ambitious and hence dangerously treacherous. Perennially looking for opportunity to move up, they can easily drop their pretense of ideology cloaked in hypocrisy to do anything to climb up the social ladder. Hence the middle class folks should never be trusted."

Very apt and prophetic statement. Upper class folks born with silver spoon in their mouth, mostly have a smooth sailing in their life. The barely ambitious lower class look forward their next meal. The middle class always have that feeling, "I would love to be there but I am not yet there, may be some day." 

They day dream about reaching the status of those "haves". Competition is cut throat and jealousy is the highest amongst the middle class. Some of them, are capable of doing anything and everything, by hook or crook for upward mobility. 

The burgeoning middle class in last few decades just strives hard to do that, a desire to get rich overnight at any cost. They are the ones who are pretty much mostly responsible for all corruption and scams we see these days.

The tall ambition of the middle class as described by the actor Om Shiv Puri in this movie is dwarfed the acting Lamboo (Tall) legend who delivered his classic closing monologe in the movie. Don't think I will see anyone close to Amitabh's stature during my lifetime. Happy 82nd Birthday to the legend. Hope more to come. 

Happy birthday Utkalamani

Today is the birthday of Gopabandhu Das, an Odia Patriot, freedom fighter, social worker, reformer and writer - all blended into one like finest of blended Scotch Whiskies. He is also fondly referred by the masses as UTKALAMANI or "The Jewel of Odisha", a title well earned. He was one of the first visionaries of modern Odisha, a pioneer of out of box thinking.

Gopabandhu Das was born on October 9, 1877, in the village of SUANDO in Puri district of Odisha, a walkable distance from my ancestral village. From his early childhood he was sharp in academics and like most went to Puri, the closest township from a cluster of neighborhood villages to do his higher studies.

Higher education enlightened him to fight social evils and dogmas. He fought against couple of scourges of the time, the diseases of Casteism and Cholera, one social and the other one pandemic in nature. Though a Brahmin he changed his last name from "Dash" from "Das" to protest against the rigid casteism prevelant at the time. He was in favor of woman empowerment, widow remarriage, mass education and was staunchly opposed to Child marriage, leaving no stone unturned in his efforts.

Hordes of people used to die in flood, followed by communicable diseases like Cholera (my grandfather has seen in his own eyes his entire family of 10 from his cousin's side in our village wiped out by cholera in matter of a week). Cholera patients were treated as pariah those days. Nobody would dare come closer to a Cholera patient, locally called as "BADI MADAA" (A Cholera corpse) fearing contamination as the dogs during the day and Jackals in night would feast on the abandoned corpses. It was Cholera not Condom which kept the population under control those days.

Gopabandhu and his friends, primarily Nilakantha Das's tryst with the lethal disease hardened their resolve to fight it. Encountering it from close quarters helped them overcome the fear of the disease. They did something unthinkable at that time - take the Cholera Bull by its horn. Getting close and taking care those infected with this marauding disease, from administering them medicines to doing their last rights, for no one would dare to touch a person cursed by "BAADI THAKURANI" (The Goddess of Cholera) - without ever bothering about getting contaminated. Little did they knew that Cholera was a water borne disease.

Gopabandhu used to travel to remotest of the places to supply relief materials and medicine to the impacted folks. He also foresaw the power of media and was the founder of a popular Odia Daily The SAMAJA (Society), which is still in print. In 1908 he formed the "Young Utkal Association" - an organization which strived for philanthropy and fighting the social evils of the time.

In 1924 Gopabandhu Das got out of jail where he was put by the British for protesting their occupation. He got a heroic welcome from public and was immediately received by P. C. Ray at the Provincial Congress Conference in Town Hall of Cuttack, where the later proudly made an announcement, declararing Gopabandhu Das as "UTKALA MANI" or The Jewel of Odisha. This title has stuck to him till this day.

Pandit Gopabandhu Das, was fond of fish. He has expressed his fetish for prawn which was plentiful those days -

"HAIO CHUNGUDI KAHIN,
GHUNGUDI MARIBA KAHAKU KHAI ?"

Transliterated...

"Hey, why the prawn is not seen in menu,
What'll make us snore in the afternoon ?"

Due to lack of refrigeration facilities as well as demand for export, freshly caught Tiger Prawns (Shrimps) caught from the Bay of Bengal coast were sold cheaply by the fishermen at dime a dozen before the heat and humidity of Puri spoiled them. Locals feasted on them until the arrival of storage facilities and demand for their export gradually made them a lucrative, luxurious and costly item for the locals.

Pandit Nilakantha Das, a close friend and confidante of Pandit Gopabandhu Das has devoted an entire chapter in his autobiography clearing the aura of "BHAKTIKA MITHYA" or devotional lies attributed to UTKALAMANI. Sri Lingaraj Mishra wrote this sometime in the 1950s without fact check, when a statue of Utkalamani was inagurated in Cuttack - "When Gopabandhu's only son was laying on death bed in 1904, he got the news about the devastating floods in Odisha. Bidding adieu to his son at his bedside, Gopabandhu said - "so many sons of my country are perishing. I have to serve them, even if I have to leave my son on his death bed", before proceeding to flood impacted areas. Then poet Radhamohan Gadanayak wrote a long poem eulogizing Gopabandhu on this.

No question about Utkalamani's unflinching commitment and dedication towards social service, but this was simply a devotional lie spread by his BHAKTs (devotees). Nilakantha Das kept the records straight on this by providing detailed facts with timelines. Lingaraj Mishra who wrote this popular anecdote didn't know Gopabandhu until 1921. Utkalamani was never involved in serving people in flood or draught affected areas until the year 1908 when he formed the "Young Utkal Association". It was good 4 years after 1904 when the claim of him abandoning his sick son to serve the calamity stricken people was made.

As per Pandit Nilakantha Das who knew Gopabandhu from close quarters - Utkalamani was not a stoic person, rather he had a soft, caring heart. Sri Nilakantha had seen in his own eyes, in presence of Late Sadashiv Mishra (a famed teacher in Puri Zilla School) the death of Gopabandhu's infant son in the arms of his wife in an era when infant mortality rate was very high. Needless to say, the parents were inconsolable. He was his only son and there was no flood during that time.

Another devotional lie was after his son's death and before the great flood of 1908 Gopabandhu became a saffron clad Sanyasi (yogi) roaming across nation. That was also nowhere close to truth. Had these facts were not disclosed by Sri Nilakantha Das, these urban legends would never have been debunked and turned to gospels.

Ironically the man who worked fearlessly amongst the Cholera patients shunned by the public, died of another waterborne disease - Typhoid. In 1928 Gopabandhu went to Calcutta to address a labor conference and likely contracted there the disease from which he could never recover. Apprehending his death, Utkalamani summoned Nilakantha Das and others close to him, instructing them to write his final will. "I am dictating my last will and testament", he said this as Dr. Radhanath Rath wrote it in front of teary eyed onlookers. After giving instructions to donate the Samaj printing press to "Bharat Sevak Samaj", he passed away.

Next day was the eve of the auspucious Sri GUNDICHA Rath Yatra. Gopabandhu's dead body was taken around Satyavadi, where he dedicated most of his life in the service to mankind. Droves of mourning people massed around the funeral pyre as his remains were consigned to flame. It was end of an era, a chapter in the history of Odisha came to close. That days was June 17, 1928.

Being independent minded, Pandit Gopabandhu fought against the contemporary British rule, advocating SWARAAJ or self rule. He was promptly arrested and put in jail. While is jail, he wrote in Odia BANDIRA ATMA KATHA (The autobiography of a Prisoner), a stanza from which I still remember. goes as follows.

MISU MORA DEHA E DESAI MATIRE,
DESA BASI CHALI JAANTU PITHIRE.
DESA RA SWARAJYA PATHE JETE GADA,
PURI JAU SETHI RE MORA MANSA HADA.

Roughly transliterated...

"Let my body blend in this county's track,
Let My country men walk on my back.
On the path of self rule lies potholes,
Let it get filled with my flesh, bones." 

Mortal man, whose immortal memories is going to inspire all for generations to come. My thousands salute to the free thinker and beacon of the future on his 147th Birthday.

Happy birthday Imran Khan

 As a cricket captain he desired to defeat England in England and India in India. He got both his wishes fulfilled. He announced his retirement from cricket as the much fancied Pakistani side of 1987 failed to win the World Cup being held in the Indian subcontinent, but returned back to cricket after being pursuaded by Zia-Ul-Haq to return back to play cricket again. He went on to win the Cricket World Cup Pakistan's captain in 1992 after motivating his team when all hopes was gone as his team was one game shy from elimination. He soon built a Cancer hospital in memory of his mother, first of its kind in a poverty stricken Pakistan. He is the well known Pakistan's ex-Cricketer Imran Khan. 

The ultimate alpha Male, Imran bedded a number of lasses, produced at least one known Bastard (from the six feet American celebrity girl Sita White. He first denied but admitted of fathering a girl child when US Court summoned him to do a paternity test). 

Sita White died young at a young age 43, suddenly collapsing before her Yoga class in Los Angeles. Imran was forced to take his daughter into his custody. A playboy of repute he rumored to have affairs with Rekha, Moon Moon Sen and notably Zeenat Aman whom he almost married but for the objection from his mother. He married multiple times which included Jemima Goldsmith, his first wife, a girl half his age and daughter of a super rich Jewish tycoon. 

When Imran  Khan joined politics, he was laughed off and expected not to replicate his success on the Cricket field in the murky world of politics. Yet he rose to became the Prime Minister - the ultimate dream of any politician of Indian subcontinent. But soon he realized that politics is a dirty game and ain't every one's cuppa tea. It is Allah, Army and America who rule the roost in Pakistan, but non of them are on his side at this moment. Eventually it was the all powerful Pakistani Army which put him behind jail. Happy 74th birthday Imran Khan.

Happy birthday Jimmy Carter

Jimmy Carter, the 39th President of the United States turned 100 today and the first ever President to reach that milestone. A Southern Democrat and a peanut farmer from the state of Georgia where I currently live, he became President in 1976 after defeating Gerald Ford at a time the country was coming out of the miasma of the famous Watergate scandal which led to the resignation of Ford's predecessor Richard Nixon. 

President Carter was a gentleman to core. But unfortunately he presided over a poor economy and the famous hostage crisis when the new government led by cleric Ayotollah Khomeini took American Embassy staff in Teheran hostages for 444 days. Both made him highly unpopular as he was up for reelection in 1980. Earlier same year he tried to salvage his rapidly plummeting popularity as the President of United States by launching a secret rescue attempt on Iranian soil. Unfortunately for him the rescue mission went horribly wrong due to bad weather and collision of two military aircrafts killing some American commandos in the process. 

Later that year a few days before the 1980 Presidential Elections when Carter was up for reelection, his Republican opponent Ronald Reagan, once a B-grade Hollywood actor asked the Americans a question - "Are you better off now than 4 years ago ? If so, you have your choice", he said winking at President Carter. His message was well taken as less than a week later Ronald Reagan won by a landslide. Poor Jimmy Carter ended up bring one time President. 

President Carter had his tryst with India as in 1978 he was the first President in more than a decade to visit India. It was during height of the Cold War when India was the bete noire of USA as it had firmly tilted towards the erstwhile Soviet Union. The visit went cold when the relationship between a Socialist India and a Capitalist America was at best frosty. The visiting US President told to his officials sitting next to him that he didn't get a good impression of India's Prime Minister Morarjee Desai, whom he found blabbering incoherently during their meeting. Desai who drank his own piss every morning and lived till 99, pissed off the Americans. It was an embarrassing diplomatic moment, as the microphone in front of Carter was not switched off and many could hear the conversation. Carter's visit was a milestone as not a single American President chose to visit India for 31 years except him between 1969 and 2000. 

After his Presidency Jimmy Carter didn't sit idle. He never retired, got involved in myriads of charity and humanitarian work all over the world and won the Nobel Prize for Peace. A fighter and survivor he scored a century. Happy Centenary birthday Mr. Carter.

How to catch a Bhakt

 I have nothing against BHAKTs (a very prolific, popular slang for the blind Right leaning devotees of Modi and BJP. The tag sticks to them as iron sticks to magnet). Like everyone else they have every rights to their unflinching BHAKTI (Diehard Devotion) for their MAHAPRABHU (Ultimate God). I have no issues with that. Their BHAKTI (devotion) is non of my business, until they get personal and start trolling me. 

Every Fall (Autumn) and Spring I get into the mode of cleansing of such BHAKTs from my Facebook friendlist and still continue this practice. I follow a very simple method of scouring and smoking them out of their holes. So far it has worked well for me and I have been quite successful in my mission of trapping & eliminating them. 

How to catch a Bhakt ? During my childhood days in our village near Puri, I have seen an occasion called "MAJENA" - An offering of Fish to our village Goddess, followed by a massive feasting on varieties of mouth watering dishes made out of fish - MACHHA BHAJA (Fried fish), BESARA (scrambled fish cooked in mustard paste), MACHHA KAALIA (fish Chunk curry), MACHHA MANJI (fish roe or egg) fries and so on. 

The fish is procured from our village pond. The fishermen would enter into this pond called GAAI GADIA (named after cows taking bath inside the pond), wade through it several times, toing and froing from one and to the other, deliberately muddying the water. The fishes who get agitated and start jumping around are caught first. The process is repeated until the target for the evening MAJENA session is met. 

I do the same on Facebook by deliberately posting something critical of Modi, BJP, RSS, sarcastic memes and cartoons poking fun at them, especially the superstitions peddled as phoney scientific theories simply to score cheap political goals. It riles some Bhakts to no end. A la fish they start jumping around with their asses on fire. They bite the bait, start bad mouthing me. I lose no time in giving them the option of unfriending me - to go ahead and make my day. If they prefer, I oblige them by reciprocating the same at my end. 

Last week I had to unfriend couple of guys from my Facebook friend list. The reason - although they wrote nothing against me but irritated me by their nonsense, parochial and outright moronic statements directed to my post and comments on my posts from some of my erudite friends. 

They later said sorry, but my prudence prompted me to get rid of them. If you keep snakes in your backyard expecting to bite only your neighbors, then you are living in a fool's paradise. One day they will turn their fangs on you. It is wiser to wipe them off from my friendliest rather than leave any such scope for future. 

I am also reminded of this story great folklore PANCHATANTRA (The Five Treatise), a series of meaningful short stories compiled by our ancient story teller Vishnu Sharma. A king kept a monkey as his pet. His favorite simian became too close to him as the King treated the animal as a friend. 

One fine afternoon the King was enjoying his siesta. A fly came from nowhere and sat on his nose. The monkey saw it. Not wanting to disturb the king and get rid of the nuisance fly, the monkey grabbed the unsheathed sword of the King and took a hard blow at the King's face. The fly managed to fly away, but the King was dead. The moral of the story - "MURKHA BANDHU THARU BUDDHIMAN SHATRU SHREYASKARA", an intelligent enemy is preferred to an idiot friend. This moral from hundred years ago still holds good. Lesson learnt, good riddance. 

So far this strategy has worked out well for me. I have already have my quota of fish and feel satiated for this year. Now I got to wait until the next MAJENA before I go on my next fishing expedition. Fall is just getting started, so also my cleansing. Elon Musk once said -“You don't lose friends. You lose undercover haters. Real friends can never be lost". He wasn't far from the truth.

Beethoven and sound of music

 Years back, while driving I caught the esoteric tune of Beethoven's all time classic Moonlight Sonata on one of the local FM channels. Neither I am a connoisseur of Western Classical music, nor it's my forte. This music was inscrutable to my dumb mind.

Yet I tried to comprehend it, after all it was a masterpiece from an all time maestro. Legend has it, the German composer Ludwig Van Beethoven had turned completely deaf by the time he composed his Moonlight Sonata. The thunderous applause he received from the esteemed Viennese audience fell into deaf's ear. 

In my case it was deafness of another kind. There is a popular Odia DHAGA (proverb) - "KAALA AGARE MULA CHOBEIBA", transliterated it means chewing Radish in front of the deaf. In other words, "talking rocket science to a layman". I could hardly make any head and tail out of it. My self learning effort was futile, akin to another Odia saying "SANDHA KU BHAGABAT PADHEIBA" (trying to teach Bible to Bull). My attempt at understanding Moonlight Sonata ended in a fiasco. The music was way beyond the comprehension of a tyro in me.

But from my own experience, I can vouch that Beethoven's music really had a very soothing effect. My newborn son used to stay awake for long, hardly sleeping and giving us sleepless nights. It was quite unlike of an infant who was expected to sleep longer whereas he slept no longer than taking some sporadic naps. As parents we were a worried lot. His pediatrician recommended a CD with some soothing music to play so that it will act as lullaby, ensuing calming effect which would lull him into sleep.

I observed that he would be still awake when one after another music played. But no sooner than the CD sequenced itself to a Beethoven's number he would sleep like a baby. A realization descended upon me that day that music can be felt, need not be understood. Centuries later Beethoven's music still had its effect on mere mortals. Mortal men, immortal melodies. This maestro was born this day of December 17, 1770.

These are the lines from a popular Hindi song from 1985 - "Pyar Kiya Nahi Jata, Ho Jata Hai", meaning "Love isn't created, Love happens on its own". We have its Bollywood version from the iconic movie "GUIDE" - Jab Matlab Se Pyar Hota Hai To Pyar Ka Koi Matlab Nahi Rehta (if there is a motive for love it's not love). Love is strongest when it is unreasonable. When you try to reason it, it is not love. Love is a feeling to be felt, a la music.

Same goes with poetry. Poetry isn't read through mind, it is read through heart. It's not understood, it is rather felt. A lot of things in life need to be felt, not comprehended. Music, love and poetry fall into that category. Beethoven just vindicated it.

Happy birthday Uncle Pai

 Today is the birthday of Uncle Pai of The AMAR CHITRA KATHA (Immortal Tells in Illustration) fame. Like many from my generation, I spent my entire childhood reading his comics, which contributed immensely to my knowledge and character. More importantly, he inculcated a reading habit in me which I carry till date.

Pictorial depiction of stories and events can enliven the mood and leave long imprints in mind, which gets captured in memory like a lasting photography. For more than a decade I poured over those comics, starting when it was priced at Rs.2 until the price soared to Rs.20 - its range reaching myriad subjects, which includes but not limited to History, Mythology and the Saga of Freedom Fighters who participated in India's freedom struggle.

The popularity of these comics could be judged from being the most sought after items during my school days. Most of my schoolmates would rarely buy them. They would borrow from me and never return them. Some was outright stealing.

To stop this I came up with this novel idea - I lent those to whom I suspected of stealing with one condition. When I handed the Comics to them, I requested them to forget about returning and better keep them. The message was well taken. Though it didn't entirely stop the menace, it alleviated my problem to a certain extent.

(Another popular stolen and burrowed-to-never-returned materials were the popular Weekly Magazines of Sportstar, Sportsworld and Sportsweek, especially during the peak cricket season. The chief target were the colored center spread sheets of popular cricketers those days - Gavaskar and Kapil Dev. Those magazines would soon get raped and soiled, with those cherished center spreads gone missing. In our school library there was virtually a riot to be the first person to tear and grab those).

Back to Amar Chitra Katha - There is this anecdote of a famous King whose three sons could never focus on learning as they showed little interest in academics. So he appointed several tutors to impart knowledge on his recalcitrant children. All of them failed, until stepped in Vishnu Sharma of PANCHATANTRA fame. To these spoiled brats, he recited his famous short stories. The characters were mostly Animals conveying a strong social messages, which are very apt even at this age. The Princes listened to them with rapt attention and were soon transformed into a wiser, learnt lot.

Uncle Pai was one of those rare kinds, the modern world Vishnu Sharma. As soil needs tilling and crop rotation to retain and enhance its fertility, human brain's fertility can be nurtured through good reading habits. Uncle Pai was a pioneer in his field who immensely contributed to the fertility of brains of young and old alike with his matchless story telling ability. RIP Sir, wherever you are and many happy returns of the day.

Speaking American

Sarah Palin, who was John McCain's running mate in 2008 US Presidential election called on immigrants in the United States to speak "American.” Years ago, a gentleman in US told me we don't speak English, rather we speak American. I politely disagreed with him, saying "whatever you might call it, however Americanized it may be, the language is still English". I love English, the language I mostly read and write these days though I haven't lost touch with my mother tongue, roots and heritage.

English, though originated from England spread world wide as most British colonies, including America. Many adopted it either as their mother tongue, the official language of communication or both. No wonder Winston Churchill, desperate to drag America into World War II when Nazi Germany's blitzkrieg was juggernautung through Europe, flattered the then US President Roosevelt, "We are common set of people, separated by a common language".

English is a rich language. Like Urdu it does not have a script of its own and has a loosely knit Grammer. It uses Roman script, same as Spanish, French, German etc. The richness of English comes from its flexibility. It not shy and very liberal at accepting words and phrases from other languages to enrich itself. This has been the secret sauce of survival of the language. Another reason for the spread and survival of it is English being spoken by British and United States, the two major powers over centuries. Its adaptability made it the language of the masses while the Brahminical rigidity of Sanskrit restricted it as an ornamental language.

In India, English is often used as the language of elite and the passport to success. Most job oriented education and official transactions take place in English. A person having good command over English commands respect in society. In Odisha many in the state of excitement, anger or inebriation switch to English from their mother tongue Odia to drive their point or score over their rivals, even it is "PAKHALA KHIA" Onglish (the typical Odia accented English which comes out of mouth after consuming a stomach full of water soaked rice). Whenever I go to India to my home state of Odisha, I am respected more if I speak English over Odia, and much more so if I switch to American English, uttering Pepsi as "Phepsi", School as "Skchule", OK as "Okhay" and use a liberal dosage of "Awesome", "Cool", "Bro" and so on.

The ubiquitous Hindi word "Yaar" is already there in the Oxford English dictionary. It means friend in Hinglish (Hindi-English). We also have our share of Binglish (Bengali-English), Tanglish (Tamilian English) and so on, all denoting different versions and accents of Indian English. We all are aware about thousands of words of Indian origin seeping into English dictionary. Bandh (strikes or protests in India) and Gherao (surround) are few of them, not to mention the famous word of Odia origin "Juggernaut" - which took birth when the British ruling India saw Lord Jagannath's chariot in Puri rolling over, chugging along its path. The meaning of the word is self explanatory.

Culturally same words or phrases can have different meanings. In Southern part of the United States "Thanks you good Sir" is used as a token of appreciation. Once I told this someone in India to be immediately rebuffed - "Am I a bad someway" ? In the 1990s when I was new to the United States I continued my inertia retained from India by asking a coworker - "What's your good name ?". She smiled back politely - "I don't have a bad name".

In America they care a lot to pronounce your name correctly. Thankfully, my first name isn't too difficult to pronounce unlike Krottapalli or KondaUddaraju. No one cares in India if you mispronounce someone's name. Similarly the phrase "don't care" means I simply don't care because it's non of my business. Nonsense means something which doesn't make sense. In Odisha if you say "don't care", you will be branded as a selfish, heartless person having no concern for other and nonsense is considered as a rebuke

American English is no different as it is bit different from other forms of English. During my initial days in the United States I uttered the words Lakh (means 100,000) and Crore (10 million) to the bewilderment of my American friends and colleagues who only know in multiples of thousands, millions, billions and trillions. The words Bandobast, Juggad (both meaning making the necessary arrangements) used in Indian context have already found their way into the Websters dictionary.

The phrase "chewing English" or "English Chobeiba" is another example of Onglish (Oriya-English). Every year new additions are made to Oxford dictionaries, so who knows one day "Chewing English" could be one of them ! I have chewed enough about English for now, unable to digest it, burping out my PAKHALA KHIA English. Have a good day or good night, wherever you are located at - for the Sun might have set over the English Empire, but not over the English language.

Jesse Owens - the American legend

 Today is the birthday of Jesse Owens, the American sports legend who carved his niche in history by being the first man to win 4 Gold Medals in an Athletics event of Olympics, a record which stayed unbroken for a long time to come. He is also remembered for another reason, for driving a nail on German Nazi Fuehrer Adolf Hitler's misplaced belief in Aryan supremacy theory.

88 summers ago the 1936 Olympics, world's greatest sporting event was eventful for few reasons. First, it was held in Berlin under Hitler's Germany, being overshadowed by the blatant use of the Sporting events for Nazi party's German supremacy propaganda. Second, it was also the first Olympics to be televised. Third, it also showcased the talent of Jesse Owens, the famous black athlete from the United States who seized the limelight, overcoming myriads of obstacles in an insecure, pressure cooker atmosphere to win 4 golds.

Jesse Owens was an American icon, a symbol of black power in the Sporting arena. Growing up in an era of racism in America, he battled poverty with a wonderful rags to riches successful life story. Hailing from a poor family in the post recession America, no one ever imagined him winning accolades in the land of "Hail Hitler", bringing a dent in the dictator's theory of Aryan supremacy.

Jesse Owens's talent was spotted during his tenure in the Ohio State University, where he created record in the 100 meter sprint event. Soon he was a shoo in for the American Olympics team, selected for the mega event across the Atlantic.

The preparation for Berlin Olympics started on a controversial note, with America almost boycotting the event due to the host's overtly anti-Semitic policies. Germany was desperate to see American athletes at home, for without the USA participatation the Olympics would be akin to a German Bratwurst sausage without salt and Sauerkraut without sugar. After a lot of lobbying by Hitler's Man Friday Goebbels the US Olympics Committee narrowly voted to send their team.

On arrival at the Olympic village in that eventful summer of 1936, Jesse Owens was appalled at the disgusting sight of anti Semitic graffitis all over the Olympic village proclaiming - "Dogs and Jews are not allowed". The fitting finale came in the form of 100 meters event, still a prized event in the Olympics which every one looks forward to. Jesse Owens was pitted against the local favorite Lutz Lung of Germany - the symbol of Hitler's Aryan racial supremacy.

Jesse not only won that race, he went on to win 200 meters, led 4x100 meter relay for an American gold and the long jump event, yet again defeating Lutz Lung in the later event. (Jesse and Lutz became friends and continued communicating with letters in an age sans email and Whatsapp, until Lung died fighting for Germany in North Africa during World War II).

Hitler was in the stadium, watching Jesse sprint his way to a stupendous win. Here is where historians differ in their accounts about what followed. The Fuehrer supposedly left the stadium in disgust as his myth of Aryan supremacy was shattered. But per Jesse Owens knowldege, Hitler acknowledged his victory by waving at him.

On the other hand, after coming back to America, during a felicitation dinner for the US Olympics team in New York, Jesse Owens along with other black athletes had to use the service elevator, whereas their white counterparts took the regular one. The humiliation didn't end there. It was customary for the Olympics medal winners to be invited to the White House. But Jesse's name was conspicuously missing from the names of the invitees. Roosevelt didn't want to be in news hosting, baking bread with a black man in White House, his picture of shaking hands with a black man getting published on the front of newspapers in an election year. Incidentally Roosevelt was a Democrat.

What happened to Jesse after that ? He continued earning money as appearance fee, running against race horses for the pleasure of spectators, until he became too old to do so. Yet his record of 4 fabulous Olympics Golds was a record which stood for almost half a century, never broken during his lifetime, only to be emulated by his compatriot Carl Lewis in Los Angeles Olympics of 1984, four years after Jesse's death in 1980. Happy Birthday Jesse Owens. You will remain a Sporting legend and will forever be remembered.

23rd Anniversary of 9/11

Today is the Anniversary of 9/11, when a prominent chapter was added to America's history on this day exactly 23 years ago on September 11, 2001. How time flies ! A child born on that day is no more a teenager. Feels just like yesterday when on a cool, late summer morning commute to my work at Toyota Motors in Kentucky where I was working as a consultant, the news of terrorist attack on the World Trade center was a bolt from the blue. That day is forever etched in my memory. 

Most at my workplace were stunned, but stayed calm and composed. Many were frantically trying to find Afghanistan on the world map and I remember helping a few in locating the beleaguered nation on the map which made the cardinal mistake of harboring Osama-Bin-Laden. No hysteria in public but it was not business as usual.

I had the habit of filling my car with gas at a local SHELL gas station which used to give 5% discount on Tuesdays and unfortunately that September 11th fell on a Tuesday. On my way back home when I went to fill up my gas tank, I encountered long line. There was hardly any car on the road. People were mostly indoor, glued to TV.

The aim of terrorists is to create terror and they really succeeded that day in scaring the hell out of Americans who were attacked on their Mainland for the first time in history (technically the first major attack on US soil took place at Pearl Harbor by the Japanese on 7th of December 1941. But it was in Hawaii, America's 50th State thousands miles away from mainland).

Contrast that to the indomitable spirit amongst Indians. Mumbai and many other cities in India have gone through several terror attacks. But within hours the life comes to normal. It's not about the number of people being killed, those many are killed in road accidents every day. The main goal of the terrorists is to create terror in the hearts and minds of the people. In that aspect they fail miserably in India, though it has more to do with the need for ROZI ROTI (daily bread) than any great bravery against odds or fighting spirit. Yet they still deserve the credit of defying the odds and getting back to normal life quicker than anywhere in the world.

More than 2 decades years down the road, hardly anything has changed. Though, touch wood, America has been able to prevent any major terror attack on its soil, terrorism across the globe still thrives. No nation on earth is fully immune to this disease which is spreading its tentacles far and wide like cancer, nor they're entirely blame free for letting this menace prevail due to their short sighted political goals.

Some one is a good terrorist as long as he is an useful idiot to serve one's own business, but becomes a bad terrorist if it hurts the state which sponsors them for creating terror in another country. Someone's terrorist is another one's Freedom Fighter. If not curbed, on long term terrorism is going to do irreparable damage to the mankind unless everyone close in to root out this evil. Remember, if you keep snakes in your backyard thinking that it will only bite only your neighbors then you are living in fool's paradise. One day that snake is going to bite you. The lessons learned from 9/11 should never be forgotten.

Dus NUMBARI - No 10

William Shakespeare famously said - "What's in a name ! You call Rose in some other name, it still smells the same." But there is something about numbers we can't ignore.

Not long ago I was watching an old Hindi movie DUS NUMBARI (Number 10). The leading actor, called "Hero" in Bollywood parlance, was wearing his trademark jersey with no.10 proudly painted on top.
This is not the kind of no. 10 Jersey worn by Maradona, Romario or Messi, the famous sports stars wear. It rather refers to the Number 10 file in the police stations in India, where the names and details of habitual criminals are registered.

In the same movie the actress Hema Malini while shopping asks for the price of DAAL (lentil) at a grocery store. At Rs.4 per kilogram those days, she finds it very expensive (the movie was from 1970s), and accuses the shopkeeper MILAWAT KE BAAD BHI ITNI MEHNGI (even after adulteration it is so expensive) ? The accused was involved in DO NUMBARI (No 2 deeds, ascribed to illegal activities in Indian subcontinent).

It instantly reminded me a stanza from a comic Odia song from the talented singer Akshay Mohanty : 

MASTARAM GIRIDHARI
PURUNA CHORA BEPARI;
BEPARA KARI SE CHANDAA;
TAKU MALOOM ANEKA DHANDAA.

Roughly transliterate...

Mr. Mastram Giridhar;
The nefarious old Black Marketeer.
Deep pocketed business made him bald;
Many hidden sleeves he has on his hand.

The store keeper whom Hema Malini suspected of adulteration perfectly fitted the bill of an unscrupulous trader - A bald man clad in LUNGI (Loincloth worn around waist which could be easily removed for urination, defecation or sex) and white short sleeved banyan. The front of his head has a few strings of isolated hairs hanging loosely from sides of his barren head, and a fewer left on the backside of his head. But he had plenty of hairs growing on both of his ears like weeds. It was the perfect image of a CHORA BEPARI (Black Marketer) of those days. Now a days frauds clean-shaven, wearing expensive clothes and suits.

Adulteration has been our way of life. There is a popular Odia idiom - KETE PANI MISICHI (how much water is mixed) to ascertain the degree of manipulation or adulteration made. It is best seen in gully cricket matches where at least 5% score is added by the scorer to the ultimate tally. Back then, it was a normal practice.

Like milk, a little bit of adulteration here and there in gully cricket score was not seen as a big deal, it won't hurt anything. I was aware about tiny black pebbles were bought from a special place near JATNI, a small city on the outskirts of Bhubaneswar. It was used as an the perfect mix for Rice and Daal. Grounded red brick granules were considered as the ideal mix for Chilli powder, dried Papaya seeds for Black pepper and so on. It probably explains why Gold is always 22 carats, never 100% pure.

Cheating in Indian subcontinent is also called CHAR SHO BISHI which simply denotes the number 420. The number comes from the section 420 of Indian Penal Code which deals with cheating.

The eminent writer Khushwant Singh's father Sardar Sobha Singh was a rich contractor in Delhi having plenty of cars at his disposal. He would visit Delhi Vehicle Registration office asking for CHANGA (eye catching) numbers to make his cars to make them distinguishable from others.

He was promptly given a number of 420 by a playful employee of the office. The poor rich Sardar (Sikh) drove the car around Delhi with SARDAR 420 engraved on the number plate on the car, until someone disclosed it to him that he had been taken for a ride. The fuming Sardar changed the number plate.

So names may or may not, but numbers have their significance, from no. 1 till no. 420. As the song from the movie DUS NUMBARI goes - DUNIYA EK NUMBERI, TO MEIN DUS NUMBARI (The world is no. 1, straightforward, but I am no. 10, Crooked).

Goodbye Sanu Mausi

 Very sad to hear about the sad demise of Sulochana Patnaik (Sanu Mausi). She passed away mid day yesterday in Florida where she moved in the year 2021 after a long stint in Canada, Philadelphia, Maryland. 

She has been very close to our family for a long time. In the year 1997, when I was a new comer to the United States she helped me settle down in Philadelphia. Sanu Mausi was the first person who discovered the flair in my writing. She was a School teacher in English subject and would on occasions during my childhood days give me assignments to write essays. She would throw random topics at me - marriage and other social occasions I attended, cricket matches I saw at the Barabati stadium, Cuttack and my annual summer vacation trips to our ancestral village near Puri. During the summer of 1978, I finished an assignment she gave me to translate from Odia to English. She was so impressed that she showed it to her school students as example. 

She would tell my father - "Sir, Babloo (my nickname) writes lucid, captivating English. You should nurtur his writing skills". She used to bring me tons of books and magazines to read. I remember in the summer of 1979 as a 10 year old finishing Indian cricketer Sunil Gavaskar's Autobiography "Sunny Days". She was very impressed and suggested my father to switch me from my Odia medium school to the English medium D.M. School. There was an entrance examination followed by an interview to get admission to the coveted institution, arguably the best English medium school at that time. I made it. She immensely contributed to my knowledge in both English and Odia during my formative years, for which I will forever stay indebted. 

Now a days when I as see compliments on my blogs, I remember her contributions in shaping my writing skills. I will still remember for the rest of my life. May she rest n peace. Om 🕉 Shanti !!!

Teacher's Day 2024

Today is TEACHER's Day, all other brands are prohibited. (Teachers is a popular brand of Scotch). Jokes apart, I salute to all my teachers who have made a huge difference in my life by contributing towards shaping my knowledge and character.

It is not just limited to my teachers in  school and college. My parents were my first teachers. Then came friends, relatives, acquaintances as teachers in various forms at different stages in my life. There is always something to learn from every human being, a prince or a pauper, a beggar or a sorcerer, an animal or an inanimate object. Life is the biggest teacher. 

A good movie can be a good teacher too. In the iconic movie 3 IDIOTs, on the Teacher's Day of 5 September, character Chatur Ramalingam goes on the stage to recite a Sanskrit Sloka (hymn) eulogizing the teachers of his college. 

He rotes the Sloka by memory, without understanding a single word of it, nor caring about its content, without realizing that the original speech was altered by a playful and witty Rancho (played by Aamir Khan). As Chatur on the stage was about to vomit the Sloka he rote from what Rancho wrote, the later told his friends to get ready to hear a sermon about the former's farting prowess. Chatur recites:

UTTAMAM GAD GADATA PADAM,
MADHYAM PADAM TUCHAK TUCHAK;
THUR THURIYA KANISTAM PADAM,
SUR SURIYA PRANA GHATAKAM.

Roughly transliterated...

"Loud farts are majestically thundering;
Medium farts come along stuttering,
Small Farts arrive whisteling & sirening;
The silent ones can be life threatening."

As the crowd goes berserk and poor Chatur gets kicked out of the stage, Racho's dark humor teached us another lesson in academics - Knowledge acquired through roting sans understanding may earn you a Degree, but will take you nowhere. My father always emphasized on understanding rather than roting.

Decades ago there was this incident, when a sub-collector in Sonepur district of Odisha did this cowardly, shameful act of kicking a hapless school teacher, abusing him as a poor MASTRA (the way the word master is often pronounced in Odia, a term mostly used in derogatory sense for teachers back home). 

I remember a cartoon related to the above incident which came out on the local vernacular Newspaper with the following caption, (rhyming with our famous Sloka "GURU BRAHMA GURU BISHNU... "

GURU DEENA GURU HEENA
GURU SAMANYA MASTARA;
KANDOOKA SAMAN GURU
TASME SRHEE GOITHA MARA
ITI UPA- COLLECTOR
JILLA NAMA SONAPUR.

Transliterating in the same rhyme form to keep the theme intact,

"Teacher is poor, Teacher is mere;
Teacher is just an ordinary Master.
Teacher is akin to a football;
To be kicked for sure.
Courtesy Sub-Collector,
From the district of Sonepur."

I have heard folks asking in Odia to their children "KIRE MASTRA AJI KANA PADHEILA" meaning "Hey, what did the master teach you today". The English transliteration may not sound so bad but the way it is delivered in the native language is not a sign of great adulation.

My take is simple - A society which does not respect its teachers, can never  prosper. Period. Great nations are made by great men. Great men (and women) are shaped by their teachers. HAPPY TEACHER'S DAY to all.

Uttam Kumar - the legend

Today, September 3, is the Bengali actor Uttam Kumar’s Birthday. Many girls confide that he is the only Bengali man they ever had a crush on and could have readily married him as women of that era swooned over him. The man had grace, style and a killer smile. It is said that talented artists are "Gandharvas" reborn who live for a small time, but leave early leaving their mark. He died early too, a week before the death of legendary singer Mohammed Rafi. Both were of the same age.

Uttam Kumar’s death at a young age of 53 brought Calcutta to standstill on July 24, 1980. The Bengali hero of all ages was a natural actor who won over generations with his charm and persistence. After getting symptoms of a heart attack he drove himself to a clinic in Calcutta where he was attended by a team of cardiologists. But he died the next day in spite of the best effort of the doctors to save him, stunning the entire state of Bengal and nation.

Sharing a small incident of his life which stands testimony of his polularity and his stature as "Mahanayak" or the mega Star by his fans. Sometime in May 1966, the famous director Satyajit Ray called Uttam Kumar - “Uttam, my movie 'Nayak' premieres tomorrow at Indira Cinema. I hope you will be there".

"But Manikda (the nickname of Satyajit Ray in movie industry), the press and public will be in attendance. Do you think I should go? There possibly will be pandemonium,” he replied.

“Uttam, don’t forget it is a Satyajit Ray film (movie is also widely called as film in India, especially in Odisha and Bengal, the two states bear a lot of resemblance in language and culture). Please be there,” - Satyajit Ray commanded. It wasn't easy to say no to Manikda, even for a man of superstar status. Uttam Kumar relented, though reluctantly.

The next day, the news of Uttam Kumar’s appearance at the cinema house spread like wildfire and all the hell broke loose. By late afternoon, roads leading to Bhowanipore in Calcutta had to be barricaded. Uttam's car (probably a Chevrolet Impala) was piloted through the bylanes. The theatre was shaking under the weight of uproarious chanting, ‘Guru, Guru’ (Uttam's nick name given by his fans) with demands to see the Star. 

The hall manager rushed to Ray. “Sir, if we don’t bring him up on stage there will be a serious law-and-order issue.” 

Minutes later, the lights came on and Uttam Kumar was seen standing on the platform in front of the screen. He raised his hand. The crowd fell silent, as if by the waving of a magic wand. “I request you to please be silent and watch the film. Don’t forget it is a Satyajit Ray film.”

This story, a piquant testimonial to two of Bengal’s foremost immortals, is probably apocryphal. But that takes nothing away from what this tale protrays, which testifies two stalwarts in 1966 – from Ray’s sway over his cast, the pliant theatre manager and finally the phenomenal stardom of Uttam Kumar. In some ways, this story encapsulates the fantasy that was Bengali cinema. But as is known, it is not Ray who colonised that cinema, either as fantasy or as commerce. It was Uttam Kumar, and the one and only Uttam Kumar. Happy Birthday to the Mahanayak who if alive would have been 97 today.

The Ides of August

 August, one of the longest months of the dog days of summer finally coming to an end. This month has been hot, humid, flooded with water and seen lots of political heat in the Indian subcontinent as well as the rest of the world. The nations of India and Pakistan who were partitioned celebrated their 75th birthday and 75 years of separation. The flashpoint of the disputed territory of Kashmir is still in the news. India's bette noire Pakistan as usual is embroiled in all sorts of controversies.

Its ex-Cricketer and ex-Prime Minister Imran Khan in jail and as the all powerful Army is still pulling the strings of the government. The otherwise confident Alpha male Prime minister who has guided his nation to many remarkable victories in cricket, bedded a number of lasses, fathered at least one known bastard in the United States, is behaving confused like a Fox facing headlight and running like a headless chicken. It is apparent from his blabbermouth churning out one nonsense after another on daily basis - the same way I churn out my blogs.

August has been a disturbing month for our Western frontier neighbor. Imran Khan's coronation as Prime Minister happened in this month and this month also saw with the 36th Anniversary of the death of another all powerful Army man and ex-President of Pakistan who once successfully persuaded the charismatic, cricket captain to reverse his decision to retire from cricket after the 1987 world cup. Imran's comeback resulted in him leading Pakistan to win the Cricket world cup only time in history in the 1992 version of the Cup. The President was General Zia Ul Haq. 

For Pakistan it would be the case of "The Ides Of August". It reminds me of one muggy day in August many monsoons ago when inside my hostel room in NIT (then REC), Rourkela BBC radio broke the Breaking News. It was the death of Pakistani President General Zia Ul Haq in a plane crash. I also remember many of us ragging our juniors by forcing them to dance to celebrate the death of India's bete noire Zia-Ul-Haq whom the Indians loved to hate. At the same time I heard from a friend from our counterpart REC Srinagar about the Muslim dominated College campus mourning the untimely death of the Pakistani leader. He said - "SAALE NAACH RAHE THE JAISE UNKA BAAP MAR GAYA", roughly transliterated - "Those guys whose sisters I seduce were mourning as if their dads died". (Sala means wife's brother but in this context it means I am the seducer of the sister of whomsoever at the receiving end).

Zia was a diminutive soldier and a shrewd strategist. His regime would shape the politics of the subcontinent for long time to come. He set the stepping stone to keep its rival India in check by getting his country nuclear and bleeding India in Kashmir and Punjab. He once reportedly said referring to his support to Sikh terrorism - "Keep the water boiling just enough to the right temperature, so that it doesn't spill over but simmers enough to give our enemy, aka India a hard time". Hard time he did gave to India - so much so that he emboldened the Pakistani secret service ISI enough to subsequently stage spectacular attacks after attacks inside India, successfully protraying India over time as a clueless weak state.

Born in India, educated in St. Stephens College, Delhi Zia migrated to Pakistan where he rose his way up in the Army. He was a frail man with a short height, but a master strategist. He was lucky to be recruited by the British Indian Army as Officers were is shortage towards the end of World War II. Promotions were hard to come by until fortune favored him after Bhutto became Prime Minister of Pakistan. Bhutto trusted Zia against the advices of his close confidants,  as he thought his diminutive Army Chief as harmless and malleable, as the later was always obsequious to the Prime minister. Bhutto promoted Zia making him the Army Chief superseding others.

Bhutto used to poke fun at Zia by calling him our "Monkey General" in front of the foreign dignitaries, alluding to the later's short stature and long protruding teeth. Zia would always respond with his inscrutable smile. But these innocuous teeth would later become fangs with a vengeance, delivering a venomous bite to Bhutto as the "monkey general" had his last laugh by dislodging the PM in a military coup and hanging him in less than couple of years of ascending power. It is said he ordered Bhutto's genitals to be checked post hanging to ensure that the ex Prime Minister wasn't a closeted Hindu, a prevalent rumor in Pakistan.

It's said that Zia was a champion conversationalist. He would call his contemporary Indian Prime minister Morarjee Desai and flatter him by asking the formers view on benefits of drinking urine (Desai used to drink his own urine first thing in morning). Soon our first PM from Gujarat was conferred "Nishan-e- Pakistan", their highest civilian award. God knows what transpired between them but I am sure the cunning Zia didn't give Pakistan's highest award to the Prime Minister of their sworn enemy country for the Desai's sermon on Urine therapy.

An alumni of St. Stephens College Delhi,  he once invited a delegation of its ex-students, fed them well and gave them free luxury rides across the scenic and historic sites of Pakistan. The entire team, a member of which was K Natwar Singh would heap paeans of praise about Zia's hospitality. At the same time he pushed terrorists into Punjab and Kashmir. This Pakistani general proved himself a master Jekyll and Hyde personality.

Pakistan is a nation where Allah, Army and America rule. General was a staunch Mullah who permanently veered Pakistan towards fundamentalism. In the movie CHARLIE WILSON's WAR based on the Soviets involvement in Afghanistan actor Tom Hanks who plays the role of the Texan Congressman arrives in Pakistan and immediately proceeds to meet Zia. After meeting he asks for "Bourbon on the Rocks", eager to unwind a long travel from United States. 

He was bluntly told that alcohol is not served in the Presidential Palace and he has to shift to a hotel or American Embassy which is usually stuffed with alcohol to have his desire fulfilled. In another scene when the Congressman asks Zia (played by Om Puri) if any legislative approval is needed to supply weapons to the Mujahideens Zia retorted back - "I am the Constitution and my words are Law". He sure was. Had he survived assassination he could have hung all of Pakistan military's top brass if he suspected them of involvement.

He allowed Pakistan as a conduit for the Americans to supply shoulder fired missiles (ironically one of the experts in firing them was Osama Bin Laden). Those weapons each costing $50,000 brought down Soviet military aircrafts which cost millions. The financial loss was devastating for the Soviets already toiling under a bad drought and down spiraling economy. The mighty USSR was brought to its knees so much so that during Breznev's funeral they approached Zia for a face saver exit. But the shrewd Zia knew on which side the the wind was blowing and kept quite.  Rest we know is history.

Nothing lasts forever. The all powerful Zia's more than a decade of power came to an abrupt end as he died in a mysterious plane crash. It's rumored that KGB took him out as a revenge on him for openly siding with America in their Afghanistan imbroglio, bringing the Soviets to their knees. The truth only Allah knows. Imran should learn something from the Ides of August as he steers through these turbulent times - his nation facing bankruptcy and hardly anyone in the world interested to dance to his tune.

Happy birthday Dhyan Chand

 Since 2012, National Sports Day is celebrated on August 29 every year to commemorate the birthday of Major Dhyan Chand, the Hockey Legend from India. Born in year 1905, Dhyan Singh was called 'Chand' (moon) because during his youth he practiced hockey under the moonlight as he had a day job in the Indian Army. This name stuck to him as he came to be known as Dhyan (Chand) or moon.

He represented India in many Olympics and won laurels as part of the Gold medal winning India team until Pakistan just partitioned from India broke the monopoly in 1960 Olympics when after decades India lost the Olympics gold medal to Pakistan. A good number of players stayed in Pakistan along with Lahore, the hockey capital of the world at that time. India came back to win the Hockey Gold at Tokyo 1964, but it has been a steady downslide ever since it until India won back to back bronze medals in Olympics in Tokyo 2021 and Paris 2024, harbinger of it being back in the game.

Dhyan Chand's wizardry in Field Hockey was noticed and widely acclaimed so much that his stick was once searched for glue or magnet because when he dribbled past it seemed as if the ball was stuck to his hockey stick like glue as he juggernauted his way towards the opposition's goalpost.

In the famous final of the 1936 Berlin Olympics where Hitler showcased it to advertise Nazi Supremacy, in front of a full crowd and Fuhrer. India rolled over the favorite home team Germany 8 goals to 1. Hitler was watching the game from the podium. He soon sought an audience with Dhyan Chand, a rare gesture by the charismatic German head of state to a foreign athlete. Impressed by Dhyan Chand's impressive stick work, Hitler instantly offered him German Citizenship and a position of Colonel in Deutschland Army. Dhyan Chand politely declined.

Soon India got its independence from Britain. After retiring from military at the age of 51, he worked for development of Hockey amidst heavy paucity of funds. He suffered a lot, but nobody helped him. The man who mesmerized Hitler by leading from the front to smash German team in finals of 1936 Berlin Olympics and smashed the Fuhrer's ego of Aryan Supremacy, died unsung from liver cancer in the general ward of a nondescript Hospital.

Dhyan Chand's son Ashok Kumar represented India in Hockey in 1970s. But he was hardly a replica of his famous father. His biography tells us why a few people dare to take up sports as a career in India. It also explains the reason of the poor show by Indian athletes in Olympics and elsewhere. Happy birthday to the legend. You remind us that we have achievers beyond cricket.

Happy birthday Mother Teresa

 I lived in the city of Calcutta in the mid 1990s. One day I happened to see a leper whose almost entire torso was covered in wounds filled with yellowish-white pus oozing out of them. Flies swarmed around, feasting on it.

I was too scared to stare, soon turned my head and back to this helpless guy. Engraved in memory, that abominable sight still refuses to go away. I feel short of kudos for those who shelter them and nurse their wound. MOTHER TERESA was one such person.

She has admirers and critics. I belong to the former category. In this age of 24×7 media, social or otherwise, it's imperative for the folks at the helm of affairs, to be judicious in what they say. We are a free country. There is no harm in being a critic of Mother Teresa or anyone else for that matter. Our Constitution does allow its citizenry to freely practice their religion. If she or anyone else tried to convert within the parameters of law, nothing prevents them to do so.

Christian missionaries do convert but they do some good charity work. My cousin was once the SP, Police in a remote district of Chattisgarh. He narrated me his AANKHON DEKHA HAAL (First Hand Information) of a densely forested area which was under his supervision to maintain the Law and Order.

Most part of that district was remote and totally inaccessible, evenly infested with Maoists and Mosquitoes who can carry you for miles. The administration is virtually non existence. Only folks who treaded inside and tend to the tribals were the Christian Missionaries. They provide them food, shelter, education and healthcare. They do where our government spectacularly fails to do - to provide the basic necessities and governance.

If I am suffering from hunger and shivering from malaria, it may not take me long to prefer Jesus over Ram or Rahim if the need arises. We have a saying in Sanskrit, BUBHUKHITAM KIM NAKAROTI PAPAM (Why a hungry mouth will not commit a crime). In 1970s an Airliner carrying an Uruguay Rugby team crash landed on the Andes mountains. Without food for many days some players turned cannibals, did not think twice before eating the flesh of their dead fellow mates and attempting to kill live ones.

Compared to that changing the religion could be a walk in the park, if we step into their shoes. If the missionaries take the gullible tribals for a ride, the fault lies in the system. They just take advantage of a failed system. As long as poverty and hunger remains, Jesus could triumph over Ram and Rahim under right condition.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY (August 26) to Mother Teresa. The sick and destitute whom you whole heartedly served and the whole world forever will be indebted to you.

College elections in Odisha

 College elections in Odisha which was stopped from 2018 is going to start from next year. Not sure why it was banned in the first place, and not sure why it was brought back. 

I studied in BJB college in Bhubaneswar for couple of years from 1984 to 1986, where elections were highly farcical with a lot of political undertone. My father who taught Physics there was the Adviser to the College Union. I never participated in any Election - Vilection, nor there was much violence those days to remember and write home about. The aspirants for different positions of student's Union would push their candidature through cards into the hands of the prospective voters - aptly called "Pushing cards". 

The girls standing in clusters around  the SANATAN CHAT stall would get the scented versions of the pushing cards exclusively reserved for them, scent coming out of some cheap perfumes strewn over the card. The less fortunate ones, the boys had to be contented with plain, rugged pushing cards. 

The day of reckoning comes to a climax on the "Why I stand" meeting when the contestants are supposed to go at length explaining their candidature at large on the stage. This meet is invariably more histrionics and of less substance. Whatever of little substance is has gets lost in the cacophony. Post election the promises made by the candidates were rarely kept, yet this annual farce continued year after year as precious days of Academics were ruined. 

The icing on the cake in that meeting used to be the much awaited arrival of the candidates for the position of Dramatic Secretary on the stage. They tried their best to outsmart each other by singing loudly, jumping to the tunes of the latest Bollywood hits and telling bawdy, semi vulgar jokes.  

The more the giggling of the girls in audience more enthusiastic are those on the stage, their presence enticing the hopeful Dramatic Secretaries to swing their hips in a more dramatic ways. Once a candidate tore off his pants on stage while dancing to a Jeetendra - Sridevi number exposing his DORA, a popular underwear of that time.  

He continued to dance until the muffled laughter from girls in the audience with their face covered in palm gave away to cat calls from the boys. It made him realize that something was wrong. After discovering his plight he took out his handkerchief (a must carry for youth of that time), covered his exposed area and ran towards backstage. 

Rowdiness or goondaism was frugal, limited to only verbal threats. Bullets or bombs were strictly fantasy. If someone threatens you then taking the name of so and so from BADAGADA, a village in outskirts of Bhubaneswar was enough to assure your safety. (Though brawny, the residents of the village were known to be naive, slow witted and their heads were rumored to be stuffed with cowdung). 

Apparently things started to get worse and no wonder a incident of bombing was reported not long ago in BJB College. In my opinion these needless elections should have been stopped all together long back. It hardly helps, rather hurts the image of these colleges - with a lot of precious time getting wasted. In REC (Now NIT) Rourkela where I did my Engineering, there was no such Students Union or Elections associated with it. There was only a cultural Secretary from the 3rd year who used to organize cultural and fun fests. There were some Elections for rudimentary positions in the hostels but not elections supported by political party of any kind. In that context not sure what the present government of Odisha is smoking to bring back these totally avoidable College Union Elections. 

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 Olsson - 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 phrase "Stockholm Syndrome".

The whole hostage drama got wide television coverage. The entire Sweden was glued to the 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 for teaching profession. But needless harassing of young minds isn't something to be eulogized. It's Okay to admire the good things about our teachers, 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 SEY 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 taking 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. Once a girl confided to me about her abusive relationship. When I questioned her compulsion of clinging to her abusive husband and being stuck to a toxic relationship, her response was reminding me the title of a Hindi song -
"BHALA HAI BURA HAI, JAISE BHI HAI.
MERA PATI MERA DEVTA HAI".

Roughly transliterated,

"Good, Bad or Ugly, Wherever he stands.
After all, he is my husband".

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.

The rape of the lady doctor in Calcutta

It is summer of discontentment in India. Close to the heels of bad news from Olympics front regarding an woman wrestler who accussed the Wrestling Federation Chief of rape and molestation, comes another bad news of the ghastly rape and murder of a young lady doctor in the Eastern Indian city of Calcutta. The news is as shocking as the Nirbhaya rape case which incidentally happened winters ago in nation's capital Delhi, followed by the rape and murder of a lady doctor in Hyderabad. Drawing a parallel, a la the Nirbhaya and Hyderabad rape case was fast tracked and perpetrators were swiftly punished, the culprits in this case should be quickly apprehended and rewarded with nothing sort of death penalty.

The debate over Capital Punishment and the state taking law into own hands in a civilized society is probably as old as the civilization itself. I have seen many squabble over the efficacy of death sentence as a deterrent to crime. In this respect the contrast of opinion between males and females is conspicuous. 

Men are certainly anguished by this heinous act of rape and murder, but the outpouring outrage from the women is quite understandable as the fairer sex can relate more to the agony the poor victim would have gone through. It probably explains why more number of males than females question the righteousness of the death penalty, especially in case of rape. Personally I would love to see the rapists hung by their neck till they shiver, quiver and lay still, cold as revenge is best served cold.

Reminds me of this monologue delivered by actor Anupam Kher playing a bad cop in 1991 movie HUM - "YEH KHOON BHI BADI AJEEB SI CHEEZ HAI. APNO KA NIKALTA HAI TO DARD HOTA HAI. LEKIN DOOSRON KE NIKLE TOH MAZAA AATA HAI (Blood is a weird thing. It hurts a lot if it is your own. If it comes from others, watching it is fun). For some idiots on Facebook it sounds fun. Nevertheless, I have already reported few tasteless remarks on the poor girl to Facebook.

Before passing some judgment let's take a pause, contemplate by stepping into the shoes of the victim's family, be it Nirbhaya's (the woman raped in Delhi) or the medico girl in this case. It would be easy for me to preach eye for an eye is wrong, the state has no right to kill an individual, blah blah. But would I be talking at the same breath if I can relate the victim to one of my near and dear one ? Hell no.

In America death penalty is a state subject, most conservative states have it, most liberal states don't. The nation is evenly divided on the issue. Here the family of the victim is allowed to watch the execution of the perpetrator. They perhaps do it for a reason. 

Dastardly act often provokes dastardly response. It may not be humane, but it is human. I have no illusions of being a superhuman. Normally I won't hurt a fly, let alone watch someone die. When I see one of our backyard feral cats get hurt, it hurts me a lot. Yet God forbid, if one day I am invited to such an event, I will unabashedly take the front row, taking the sadistic pleasure of watching the turbulent last moments of the convict.

No wonder in movies nobody sheds a tear when the bad guy falls. Hope one fine morning (not sure why hangings are done in the morning), these rapists will be hung until death from the hangman's noose.

Hang in there. Before I go, I can't but mention this sonnet from the Hollywood Western Classic - "3.10 TO YUMA ", based in 19th Century US. Electric Chair wasn't invented yet. Hanging in Public was the preferred mode of execution in America's Wild Wild West. A hangman taunts the convict before taking him to the gallows :

"They will hang me in the morning,

They will hang me before the dawn.

They will hang me in the morning,

I will never see the Sun".

I can attribute the same sonnet to these convicts. Don't RIP girl, until those who harmed you never see the sun as they walk to be garlanded by the hangman's noose. Hope that day is not too long away.