Walked into our neighborhood grocery store earlier this morning to buy milk packets. The owner of the store who is known to me for more than three decades was excited to see me. He welcomed me asking the standard question I get from all during my India visits - "When did you come and how long you will be here". After the pleasantries were over, he told me - "TRAWMPAW AU BAIDEN BHITARE PUNI KANA LADHEI HABA ! TRAWMPAW AMA DESA PAI BHALA THILA. Pakistan KU SABAD KARI DEITHILA. NA KANA APANA KAHUCHANTI (It seems Biden and Trump are going to fight again. Trump was good for India who taught Pakistan a lesson. What do you say) ? I said - "APANA TA SABU JANICHANTI. MU ADHIKA KANA KAHIBI" (You are Mr. Know All. What more can I say) ? From his body language I could decipher that he took my response as a huge compliment.
Foreign policy and economics experts mushroom in every tea stall, grocery store and betel shop kiosk, often metamorphosing into their domain of expertise in these fields, especially on social media. The next question followed - "AMERICA LOKANKA AYODHYA MANDIRA UPARE MATAA-MATA KANA (What's the opinion of the Americans about Ayodhya) ? My short answer was "They don't know, don't care".
The marriage season in Odisha came to its peak as soon as I arrived in Bhubaneswar. Marriages might be made in heaven but dances take place on earth - once during the marriage, then couples dance to the tune of each other post marriage, especially husband to his wife's tune. One day all of a sudden my vehicle came to a complete halt as from nowhere arrived a BARAJATRI/BARAATI (bridegroom side) procession barging in right front of me. I prayed for the ensuing traffic jam to ameliorate, wishing the crowd to dissipitate fast.
But my ordeal was not going to be over anytime soon. Among the cacophony of the honking vehicles around, I enviously watched the bikers sneaking their way though the labyrinth of vehicles. I had no such luxury but to bear the exteremely loud music played by the BAND BAJA BARAAT (Band party of the Groom's procession) blaring from the loudspeakers mounted on top of truck a few feet from my ears, playing the song :
DIL TUJH PE A GAYAA,
KYA NASHA CHHAA GAYAA,
HE HE HE...
Roughly transliterated,
My heart has fallen for you,
How intoxication has spread around !
Hey hey hey...
I plugged my both ears using my fingertips but kept my eyes wide one and watched the accompanying BARAATIs (friends of groom) dancing on the road.
Their dance was more like a monkey jumping fiesta than any kind of rhythmic twist to the tune of the music. Many were stamping on each others feet, some apparently in an inebriated stage. A few fell on the ground, wiped the dust off their hand and body, then continued the jumping spree. Among the dancers were few fat ladies gyrating their sweaty torso with waves of fat on waist below their Saree clearly visible.
The place was close to one of the KALYAN MANDAPS (marriage venue) nearby. Many well dressed girls gaped through the gate to take a glimpse of approaching procession. Their presence acted as a catalyst to the dancers. Like a bull getting excited upon seeing a Red Flag, the BARAATI guys wriggled and jumped with more power and enthusiasm. Couple of guys upon sighting the giggling girls started NAAGIN (Serpent) dance. One of then playing the role of Serpent rolled on the ground, face up, his both hands folded like a hissing Cobra. Another guy was swinging on top of him, biting one end of a long handkerchieIf and holding the stretched other end emulating a Snake Charmer, his handkerchief posing as his luring musical instrument. More the girls giggled, some with their mouths closed with palm more the guys jumped and rolled. (Those who are not familiar with it might mistake this NAAGIN dance involving two guys as a gay courtship dance).
This continued for a while until the giggling of the girls subsided. A cop arrived on scene, trying to regulate the crowd and snarling traffic which had come to a screeching stop. A guy stepped out of the melee, walking towards him. I assume he is a true Gandhian, as I saw him surreptitiously pushing a few greenish papers bearing Gandhi's head into the cop's underhand. As a token of appreciation, the cop let the jamboree continue for some more time. Finally the ordeal ended, as the crowd and cop slowly melted away. The road was now clear for me to continue my journey through the road and rest of my vacation. More later...
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