Happy Women's Day

 There is a song from Amitabh Bachchan's blockbuster movie "KHUDDAR" released in the year 1982 where the tall actor who was the unquestioned Superstar, the King and the one man Bollywood industry sings onscreen Kishore Kumar's song -

"MAA KA PYAAR, BEHAN KYA PYAAR,
KABHI KABHI DULHAN KYA PYAR,
TERE PYAAR KA RANG HAZAAR".

Roughly transliterated...

"Mother's love, Sister's love,
Sometimes the love of the beloved,
Their love comes in thousand colors".

March 8 being the women's day reminded me of this song from my teenage years. The love of mother and sister is in its purest form, precious and unadulterated, like the clear Spring water bubbling out of the top of a glacial mountain. It is perennially pristine, unequivocally soothing, unwavering and unflinching. When I went to India, my mother's hug and caressing hands felt so soothing, something I long for days, months and sometimes years. Mother's love is panacea to all ills plaguing mind and body, heart and soul. Unfortunately she is no more and I am yet to get over the loss and probably never will.

The love of the beloved comes next, with the disclaimer of "Kabhi Kabhi" (sometimes) tied to it. It reminds me of another Bollywood movie titled "DULHAN WOHI JO PIYA MAN BHAYE" - "Beloved is the one who keeps her Lover happy". In my opinion, it applies other way round too. It is also the duty of a lover to keep his beloved happy, the men to keep their women happy, but our misogynistic society rarely mentions about it. (Bollywood is still misogynistic institution, filled with nepotism and hypocrisy. Otherwise how could be a silly movie like "Animal" released last December where a woman asks a man to lick his shoes be a big hit making millions) ?

But unfortunately with the progress of time, in an age when thoughts can fly in twinkle of an eye in the age of Artificial Intelligence (AI), the world has turned any less misogynistic. Women are still belittled, harassed, persecuted, suffer from inequality and often treated as sex objects. There are plenty of stories of battered women, not from slums but from the so called elitist families. Discussing it here is beyond the scope of this blog. But I can say with confidence that I personally know many Indians and folks of Indian origin here in America boasting openly about treating their women as doormats, humiliated their wives in public like drop of a hat to prove their masculinity.

I am now reminded of the Hindi saying - "MUCHHE WOHI RAKHTE HAIN JIN KE APNI MARDANGI PAR SHAQ HOTI HAI". Roughly transliterated it means - "Those who keep Moustache are those who got doubts on their masculinity". Similarly, those who needlessly boss over their women have an inferiority complex about their masculinity. I remember a scene from movie "ARJUN PUNDIT" where actor Sunny Deol slaps actress Juhi Chawla. An angry and humiliated Juhi retorts back - "AGLI BAAR IS HAATH KISI MARD PE UTHANA (next time you better try hitting a man using this hand of yours). I consider it isn't masculinity, rather a cowardly, despicable act to physically hit a woman universally considered as the weaker sex.

One guy, who doesn't live very far off from me well known for conquering whores once bragged in front of me that women should be treated as slaves and physically beaten, then quoting an Odia proverb to drive his convoluted logic -

"NAARI, GADHA, BHRUTYA AAU  DHOLA,
TANKU JETE BADEIBA SETE BHALA".

Roughly translated

 "Women, Donkey, Servants and Drum,
The more you beat, the better they Perform". 

It made me feel sick to my stomach. I told that guy impromptu, directly on his face in no uncertain terms, LOUD and CLEAR, that I COMPLETELY DISAGREED with him and believe that beating women, animals or servants is not only utterly disgraceful, it is a cowardice, despicable act and the ultimate form of indecency. 

The fairer sex is no more the weaker sex. Things are changing of late, though not as fast we would desire. Still facing hurdles in their life, women have come a long way, matching mano to womano. They have succeeded, equalled and even bettered men in myriads fields. We still have some catch up to do and miles to go before achieving the gender equality. On the occasion of Women's Day I salute to all women who have made a significant difference to my life, contributing to it, shaping my knowledge and character, shaped my life, like a potter shaping pottery out of clay. Happy Women's Day to all.

Is Trump Putin's Agent Orange

There is accusation of US President Donald Trump being a Russian Secret Service KGB Agent codenamed "Kasnov" since 1987. He was supposedly involved in money laundering using Russian mafia to protect his floundering, bankruptcy driven business empire. The Russian Dictator Vladimir Putin probably got something BIG on Trump, enough to blackmail him and end his Presidency. The Comedian Bill Maher says Trump is Putin's "Agent Orange". Normally I would dismiss this talk as conspiracy theory and calumny raised by Trump's opponents, unless I could see the following telltale signs :

1. Trump who bullies every person has so far been conspicuously soft on Putin. He hasn't spoken a harsh word about the Russian Dictator, though he used the word Dictator against a democratic elected President Zelensky of Ukraine. That perplexes me. 

2. I am all for world peace and would like this Russian- Ukraine war of three years which has led to loss of life, money, property to stop right now. If Trump is doing this for World peace it's fine. But if he is doing this at the behest of Putin who is blackmailing him, it is not only dangerous, it's roblematic. What baffles me is Trump's peace plan which is totally skewed in favor of Russia. In any peace talk both parties need to make concession. It takes two to tango, two hands to clap. But Trump (and his hand pick lackeys in his government) want ONLY Ukraine to make all kinds concession and haven't spelt out yet on the Russian, aka Putin's side of bargain. Incorrigible isn't it ! 

3. We have seen the televised bashing of Zelensky by Trump and his obsequious VP. Would Trump ever behave with Putin 10% of the manner ? I doubt. During Trump's first term in one of his meetings with Putin the body language of a timid Trump before the Russian Dictator was a contrast to his bullying style of diplomacy. That makes me think Trump, once ascribed by Joe Biden as "Putin's puppy" is hiding something. 

Ronald Reagan famously described Russia as "the Evil Empire". He must be turning in his grave as the original Conservatives have turned to Trump, a man whom I believe can sell himself for a price. Hopefully he doesn't give Putin Alaska as gift. 

Unlike many who think in the lines of "My Fraand Dolaand", the geopolitical game is played cut throat where there is no permanent friends or enemy, where only permanent interest thrives. Not surprising under Trump, blackmailed or otherwise, USA and Russia are getting closer similar to what once USA and UK were, a relationship whom Churchill famously described as "Common people speaking common language". Regardless, this unusual, one sided crush of Trump on Putin is "Sochnevali Baat Hai" or "Something to think about".

Forty years of quality telecast

 The live telecast of ongoing Champions Trophy tournament brings back memories from down the lane, transporting me on a time machine back to this day exactly 40 years ago, to March 1 of the year 1985. Those were the days when TV was new to Bhubaneswar. I could barely sleep the night before excited to watch the first ever live telecast from Australia of a match between India and the home team playing Benson and Hedges World Series in Australia. 

When at sharp 5 AM I switched on to Doordarshan, the only Channel available on TV at that time, I heard the clear voice of the long nosed Richie Benaud with his typical cap wearing style hair on Channel 9 from the land Down Under (as Australia is known). Richie's typical Aussie accented punch lines "gid dye (good day) mite (mate) from MCG",  "in the air but saif (safe)", what a keitch (catch)" still reverbates in my mind and refuses to escape my memory. It was so genuinely Australian, like Kookaburra to Kangaroos. 

India was playing with host Australia in a crucial group league match in the series involving all test playing nations of that time. It was a do or die game for Australia as India was just starting to peak after defeating earlier its traditional opponent Pakistan and England. With blurry eyes minutes after the start, I watched Indian bowlers storming into the Aussies batting up. Before they realized they were reduced to 17 for 4 (oops 4 for 17 as they call it there). Kapil Dev and Jackie (as medium pacer Roger Binny was called by his teammates for his Jackfruit shaped round bottom) were in demolition mode. Australia could never recover from the shaky start and was all out for 160 odd runs. India easily won the game, knocking the home team out from the tournament. Alan Border, then Captain of Australia blamed the defeat on their team getting tired due to playing way too much cricket. The Aussie press howled sarcastically - "if we don't play too much we won't lose too often". India went on to win the tournament with Ravi Sastri gifted an Audi car being the Champion of the Champions. 

More than India's victory what stuck me was the excellent quality of the coverage and telecast of the match with the lucid voice of Richie Benaud (along with ziraffe sized Tony Greig who died years ago) as icing on cake. For the first time I saw the telecast from each ends of stumps, showing the front view of the batsman facing the ball as well as cameras on all ends of the field. Such excellent clarity of vision was conspicuous on our Konark TV (a popular government controlled local brand of that time which soon became defunct). The replays were shown like flipping pages on a glossy magazine. It was magical for us audience in India not accustomed to such quality telecast, not to mention the titillating moment to the early teen in me to view the summer milieu of scantily clad girls from the land down under wearing bare minimum and taking sunbath in the stadium, beamed live to the conservative middle class living rooms in Bhubaneswar. It was like a breath of fresh air. 

So far, I had mostly seen on the Doordarshan (only TV channel available) the so called slow motion replays during cricket telecast with unwelcome stoppages at the crucial moment of the game being quite common, with a drab message "RUKAWAT KE LIYE KHED HAI" or (Sorry for the interruption) message flashing on the screen. Too many grains, unwarranted ghost like pictures. Camera hardly followed or captured the movement of the ball. Indian Commentators suffered from verbal diarrhea. After a boundary, six or wicket would come a banner on TV proudly proclaiming ACTION REPLAY like a trailer announcing the release of a movie. Then would come the hazy replay in slow motion. Even the telecast from Pakistan was much better, which could be attributed to them possessing American telecast equipment those days. 

Often by the time the replay would finish, one more delivery would be over and you would miss a 4, 6 or a wicket. As a welcome change, the telecast and the voice of Richie Benaud was both mesmerizing and welcome respite from the past. That telecast from exactly 40 years ago brought the frog in me out of the well. Cricket telecast and Channel 9 have come a long way ever since, so also India and the quality of cricket telecast these days all over the world. 

Tea, Coffee or Pee

 This year 2025 is not a leap year. Once every 4 years, February being a leap year comes with an extra day of 29th attached to the fag end of it. Last year 2024 was no exception. Leap year calculation follows a complex logic. For being a leap year, it has to be evenly divided by 4 or 400. But if a year is evenly divided by 100, but not 400, it is not a Leap Year. Hence, year 2000 was a leap year. Year 1900 wasn't a leap year, 2100 isn't going to be one either. But year 2400 is going to be.

As per the Roman Calendar the month of February had initially 30 days. This poor month was chopped off couple of days. Julius Caesar after whom the month of July was named took a day out of February added it to July making the later a month of 31days. Same was done to the month of August by Emperor Augustus who snatched away another day from February and added it to August, the month named after him making it 31 days. So February was left with 28 days, making it a short month. Thanks to the Leap Year, every 4 years February enjoys an extra day as a consolation prize.

As we step into the last day in February, it reminds me about Morarjee Desai who in the year 1977 became India's Prime minister at the age of 84. When a reporter questioned him about his age, the witty PM said - "I am just 21 year old young man", alluding to his date of birth - his birthday occuring once every four years as he was a leap year child, born on 29th of February.

During his stint as Prime Minister of India, it was often heard in the power corriders of Delhi - When you visit the Prime minister's office you will be offered Coffee, Tea or Pee, alluding to Desai's habit of drinking his own pee first thing in the morning, which supposedly kept diseases away. Not sure if any of his visitors was offered to pee (as drinking is pronounced in Odia and Hindi) the Prime Minister's pee for better health.

But he had his share of escapades related to this early morning urine therapy, which was earlier reported in a leading Indian magazine. Once during his tenure as Prime Minister he visited Paris where he was invited to dinner by an official. After the esteemed guest left, the host's wife who had what we call in Odia "Suchibai" or excessive cleanliness tendency reportedly instructed her husband to throw away all the utensils used by Morarjee Desai rather than send it to the dishwasher. Imagine the plight of those sitting close to him, who were aware about his pee therapy ! How about a Good Morning kiss dear after a glass of pee !!! 

Desai lived until the ripe age of 99. Many attribute his longevity to his Urine Therapy. A strict vegetarian and self proclaimed Gandhian from Gujarat, he also shunned alcohol. His faddism prompted him to impose prohibition in the state of Maharastra when he was the Chief Minister of the state. It failed there, as prohibition has failed in Gujarat, other states and everywhere in world. Our politicians espouse Mahatma Gandhi's name for political purposes, but hardly practise any of what Bapu stood for, including non-violence. The champion hypocrites, most Indian politicians drink alcohol while in public they advocate  puritanism.

Morarjee Desai had his share of controversies surrounding him. His son Kanti Desai was accused of smuggling while travelling abroad accompanying his father during his tenure as Prime Minister. The allegation was never proved. He said that Indira Gandhi did not spank her son Sanjay during childhood, making the later a spoilt brat. Yet Morarjee was accused of turning blind eyes to his son's illegal activities. Talk about double standards.

Desai's partisan behavior can be best explained by the episodes from our epic MAHABHARAT. The PUTRAMOH (attachment to son) of King Dhritarastra made him turn a blind eye to the activities of his son Duryodhan. The same was apparent in Guru Dronacharya. No sooner the legendary teacher-figter-archer was mischievously told the half truth about Ashosthama's death (elephant bearing the same name as his son) than he lost his zeal to fight and leading the Kaurava Army and stepped down. Dhrustadyumna finished the rest.

Guru Dronacharya also refused to take warrior Karna as his disciple - telling the his Charioteer dad in front of Karna that he only teaches children of Kings and KHYATRIYAs (Warriors). Seeing Drona teaching his son Ashwasthama Karna asked the Guru - "Who is this boy" ? "My child Aswasthama"- replied Dronacharya. "He is neither a Khatriya nor a Prince" - was Karna's punchline as he exposed the Brahmin's hypocrisy. Drona never liked Karna, though they fought in the same camp.

Turning a blind eye to son wasn't the only shortcoming Desai had. Though he  remained a fit person all his life, many attribute certain fiascos made by him to his old age senility. Couple of things I remember vindicated that. One, he was accused of divulging some of our national secrets to General Zia, the military dictator of Pakistan, when the later would call him and flatter him by asking about the benefits of drinking urine. No sane, but senile person at the helm of affairs of a country would divulge nation's secret service assets to the leader of a hostile neighbor. No wonder Desai was conferred with "Nishan-e-Pakistan", the highest civilian award of Pakistan.

Two, when Jimmy Carter visited India in 1978, the US President told to his official sitting next to him that he didn't get a good impression of Desai, whom he found blabbering incoherently during their meeting. The man who drank his own piss, 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. 

Yet Mr. Desai will go down in history in creating history in many counts. He was the first person not from Congress party and not from the politically vital state of UP to be the Prime Minister of India. He was also the first person from the state of Gujarat to be the PM, not to mention the first person outside of the Gandhi clan to remain in power for a sizable duration of time (2 and 1/2 years). 

During his time the nation was relatively calm with no crisis in Punjab, Assam and Kashmir where terrorism raised its ugly head soon after Indira Gandhi regained power in 1980. The man left his mark in Indian politics in spite of being accused by the controversial American Author Seymour Hersh as a "Paid CIA Agent". He was riled to no end, threatening to file a defamation case against the writer in United States. It didn't happen, as he passed away not long the American made this revelation in his book. When I encounter a leap year, it is Morarjee Desai who comes to my mind, for he was born on February 29, which can only happen in a leap year.

RIP Uttam Mohanty

He was a prominent actor who delivered several hits to the Odia movie goers of our generation. Ever since the man from the small, nondescript North Odisha township of Baripada made it big with his first hit in the 1977 Odia movie Abhiman, he never looked back. Uttam Mohanty, arguably the first ever Odia superstar of Ollywood Industry died earlier today at a young age of 66.

I remember watching his first movie "Abhiman" inside a cold, dingy theater named "Ravi Talkies" on a winter night in 1977 hardly a mile from BJB Flats where we lived in Bhubaneswar. Barely 9 year old then I mostly slept through this black and white movie. But I still remember a beautiful song by the leading Odia singer of the time Akshay Mohanty "BHASA MEGHA MUJE BHASI JAE DURE" from that movie. When our family returned home that night after the evening show clinging to each other packed in a cycle rickshaw like sardines, the Ravi talkies Chhaka (Chowk) and Lewis Road now bustling with traffic looked like dark and dingy streets of a Ghost town. Now it could take you 10-15 minutes to cross the same junction with current traffic on a lucky day.

Those were the days. After Abhiman, Uttam Mohanty continued to produce hits, several of them first with actress Maheswata Ray as his opposite, followed by Aparajita whom he later married. This was when his contemporary challenger, the tall, handsome, smiling actor, the Rajesh Khanna of Odia movies Sriram Panda's life suddenly took a spiritual turn as he turned into some kind of a Baba (Mendicant). The other contender Prashant Nanda getting older with his rapidly receding hair and growing paunch slowly became misfit to be a hero when that generation preferred fitter, younger looking lads.

In these changing time the long nosed, backbrush hair styled Uttam Mohanty fitted perfectly to the expectation of the audience in a milieu whose preference shifted to angry young man image. Soon he became the darling of the masses, catapulted into superstardom of Ollywood, as Odia Film Industry is commonly known as. The popular couple of Uttam and Aparajita in reel and real life had a son named Babusan, presently an actor who was in news not long ago with controversies surrounding his extra marital affair with another actress.

It is rumored that Uttam Mohanty's wayward lifestyle and his alcohol ways led him to lead a reckless life which probably was the cause to his early demise. 66 is too young an age to go. As Rajesh Khanna has said in the movie Anand - "ZINDAGI BADI HONI CHAHIYE, LAMBI NAHI" (The life has to be lived big, not long). The man certainly carved in niche in Odia cinema leaving his indelible mark. May he RIP. Om 🕉 Shanti.

The unfortunate incident in KIIT

 Love it or hate it, social media is a great leveler. Gone are those days when high placed authorities with contacts use to manhandle folks in public and get away with impunity. Nowadays such a person will think hundred times before enacting misuse of power in public - lest some one records it on smartphone and takes it to the next level by making it viral. Beware, now anyone with a smartphone on hand is a citizen reporter. Now we have a classic case of manhandling or you can say woman - handling video surfacing on social media related to sad demise of a Nepali girl in the Republic of KIIT (not an overstatement) in the Patia area of Bhubaneswar. 

Every person has the right to live. It hurts utmost when someone commits suicide. And it hurts more, if that person happens to be young. Like every boy or girl of their age, they too have a dream, but unwisely decide to procrastinate their unfulfilled dream by killing themselves. When does a person decide to end his or her life ? It is not just because of the frustration with life, it's more due to their lack of care or concern for rest of the world, which includes their near and dear ones. If I ever feel suicidal for some reason, I may resist that thought for a moment, if I think about my family, if not me. Apparently they don't care about their loved ones and decide to end their life at spurt of the moment, never getting a second chance to regret it.

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

Now the King of Republic of KIIT, his henchmen and women are not only in a defensive mode, they have completely mishandled this issue. Well, mishandling would be an understatement, they have royally screwed up, caught with their pants or panties down. It takes me back down the memory lane to April, 1988 during my REC (Now in NIT) days. One fine morning there was some skirmishes between students in front of our hostel. A professor nicknamed DADA for his habit of bullying students perpetuated by a servile and kowtowing staff, was known to act more like a Sadak Chhap (street) goon than academic those days.

Our Dada suddenly barged into the hostel to take the situation into control. He was greeted with a volley of expletives by the students, provoking him by alleging him of having not so healthy relationship with his mother and sister. It was akin to showing a red flag to the Bull. The loud mouthed professor got mad and went around the hostel corridor, returning the compliments by immensely praising the mothers and sisters of the students. Standing barely 20 feet away I could clearly hear him - "Kaun MC Mujhe MC Bola. Arre Mein kiski Maa ko Ch**a Hoon. (Which MF told me I am a MF. Tell me whose mother I fcuked." If there were smartphones those days a student could have easily recorded the professor's act and put it live on the YouTube. That would have been sufficient to turn our DADA into a KHUDI (Feminine Dada) irreversibly from that day, defanging him forever. Now a professor will think a dozen times before doing such utterance in public.

Fast forward to present. The video of the goon looking fat bimbos of KIIT Republic badmouthing their Nepali students with condescending remarks has gone viral, even getting the notice of Prime Minister of Nepal, all thanks to the social media. Stories galore of goons of the infamous institute (many say the KIIT Adminstrative staffs are goons and/or pimps) who tried to burn the girl's Dupatta, a rope and erase her laptop and destroy her mobile, like a criminal tries to destroy evidences from the crime scene, scrambling to cover up the screw up of enormous magnitude.

Regardless the fiasco which is currently the hot news in my home state back home, Social media has become the real game changer, a double edged sword. Love it or hate it, better learn to live with it - for it is real and going to stick around. It may not have stopped all nuisance makers go scott free, certainly has acted as a huge deterrent.

Shivaji the great Maratha warrior

 On the birthday of Chhatrapati Shivaji let me present you a fascinating story about the life and time of the great Maratha warrior. It's a rare success story of a Hindu Chiftain who built the Maratha empire of his own and was christened as CHHATRAPATI (Emperor) in an age when Muslim rulers dominated most of India. Showing uncanny guile and leadership, he was one of few Hindu Kings in a thousand year span who successfully survived the onslaught of his enemies, including Badshah of Bijapur and Nizam of Hyderabad surrounding him, not to mention the mighty Mughals under Aurangzeb in North.

Shivaji was tactical in his approach and a master strategist. He was prudent enough to use these three elements - "Flattery, Bravery and Bribery" to win over his rivals, as and when needed. He was not a foolhardy like the Rajputs, who though brave lacked guile and strategy, perennially facing defeat. Shivaji was unmatched, for he used bravery along with classic guerilla warfare tactics, pre-emptive strikes - explosive combination for success. 

He attacked Shayast Khan, the Mughal General inside the later's own den in the middle of night. The burly Mughal was lucky, as he barely escaped alive with a few fingers chopped off by non other than Shivaji himself. After almost killing Shayast Khan he planned his escape well in advance, letting loose Bullock carts carrying flames he brought along with him. As the faltering Mughals took time to recuperate, they ended up chasing the Bullock carts only to find that they have been duped and misled by Shivaji, giving him and his band of merry men precious enough time to to escape in darkness.

But non of his several escape escapades matched his breaking free from his house arrest by the Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb in Agra. Shivaji was invited to The Emperor's birthday-cum-coronation ceremony. The Mughal Emperor was sitting on his peacock throne when the Maratha King along with his young son Sambhaji arrived at the Diwan-e-Khas (The gathering of the Elites). Badshah Aurangzeb was fanned by his attendants who sprayed cool mist around him on a hot day in mid May, right in the middle of North Indian summer.

It was the only occasion they ever met. The day was very special for Aurangzeb - his birthday and the day of coronation to the crown which he had earned by successfully eliminating his own blood brothers. Though there were many eminent personalities present at Court to grace the occasion, Aurangzeb's Cobra like piercing eyes (as described by Shivaji himself) were prying on the Maratha icon laced with suspicion and apprehension at the man he named as "MOUNTAIN RAT". He knew about Shivaji from the days when his father sent him to Deccan to deal with him. The man who had frustrated him time and again, had a history of making spectacular escapes when surrounded with all escape routes closed only to resurface again earning this sobriquet. Now same man was standing right in front of him, so his look was fixated on Shivaji.

Ignored and feeling humiliated being made to seat behind those whom he once defeated, Shivaji lost his cool on that hot summer day in the Mughal capital city of Agra. Exhibiting flaired temper he protested his humiliation at top of his voice. Shivaji's protest in front of Aurangzeb was tantamount to sacrilege, never heard of in the history of Mughal rule. The standard protocol in front of a Mughal Emperor was to keep the head down, speak softly with handkerchief on face, that too only when asked to do so, never out of turn. A person in front of the Emperor was not supposed to return back showing his back to the "Badshah" - he must bend and walk backwards until out of sight of the Alamgir (the Lord of the World). But what Shivaji Raje did was unthinkable. He turned his back to Aurangzeb and went out of the Durbar (Gathering of the Elites) in haste. 

By this act of defiance Shivaji blatantly broke every protocol of the Mughal book of etiquette in front of "Jahapanah" (Emperor) considered a sacrilege. The Scion of Mughal Empire, Aurangzeb the ruthless, observed this, but didn't show his reaction in public. He sent his faithfuls, one of his trusted Hindu Rajput lieutenants to pacify Shivaji and bring him back to his court. But to his chagrin the Maratha Chieftain refused to oblige. This became the much talked about incident on a day the third son of Sah Jahan after ruthlessly killing all his brothers waited for six long for his imprisoned father to die to ascend the throne. Aurangzeb asked those present around him about their opinion on how to deal with Shivaji. The fact that a Hindu provincial Chief misbehaved and refused Aurangzeb didn't go well with his queens and the courtiers. All opined in unison that Shivaji should be severely punished.

It was a long day. A tired Aurangzeb was seen twitching his moustache using his left hand as he scrolled a string of pearl beads which he religiously carried with him chanting "Bismillah Rahim" (O God, the Benevolent, the Merciful). He announced to the Court - "Allah has given us this beautiful gift called sleep". Saying this he called it a day, needing some rest. The very next morning, Shivaji was put under house arrest in Agra on Emperor's order.

Kingship is better than kinship. Aurangzeb had no qualms about killing his own brothers. Though the de facto Emperor, he couldn't be crowned until Sah Jahan was dead. So Aurangzeb had no patience to wait any longer as the old man was still alive in the Agra fort more than 6 years after he sent his brothers to heaven. It was rumored that he poisoned his father as the old man Shah Jahan took too long to die. Shivaji expected no mercy from such a man. In fact the day Shivaji escaped, Aurangzeb had plans to send him to a Haveli and kill him there.

Many were surprised by Shivaji's cool, nonchalant behavior even if he was imprisoned by no other than the ruthless Aurangzeb. But the wily Maratha was not sitting idle. He was silently plotting his next move. Successfully feigning illness, he ordered crates of sweets to be sent out to the mendicants of Agra as gift as a charity in leau of blessings for his early recovery from the illness he feigned. This continued every day and night.

One night he changed his dress with one of his trusted attendants, shaved off his well trimmed beard and moustache, put his son in one of the sweet crates and carried it disguised as one of the bearers on his way out. Next morning the attendant sent out a message to the guard that Shivaji Raje had trouble sleeping last night and catching up with his missed sleep, hence he shouldn't be disturbed. It was well past noon when the guards got suspicious only to find that Shivaji had already made his escape the previous night.

Aurangzeb was immersed in his royal duties when he got the news of Shivaji's escape. He was furious and aghast that the "Mountain Rat" didn't escape from one of his forts in Marathwada area, but right under his nose in the capital city of Agra - the seat of Mughal Supremacy. A la a man possessed, the ruthless yet religious man, he threw his string of pearl beads to the ground. As the courtiers were shivering, speculating the next head to roll, the infuriated Emporer ordered them out. As he often did at  times of crisis, alone he knelt down praying facing West towards Mecca -" Ya Allah, what just happened. The infidel has escaped right under my nose" !

Meanwhile in the outskirts of Agra, the fastest horses of the Maratha cavalry fanned by six of Shivaji's most trusted lieutenants, all burly, strapping six feeters were waiting for their diminutive Raje to take him towards safety. (Shivaji was a short height man). He was smart enough not to immediately ride the horse out of Agra as he expected tight scrutiny on the surrounding roads. He waited few days for things to cool down a bit, took a circuitous route North-East towards Mathura and Kashi, as he knew that surveillance would be tight Southbound to Deccan which he needed to cross before getting into his familiar territory of Marathwada region. His small but devoted entourage travelled in night, resting in dense forests during the day to avoid undue suspicion. 

Shivaji was disguised as a mendicant. He still had days to reach his Fort, but sent out instructions to his folks to fire cannon from the Fort to keep his pursuants at tenterhooks. The news of the celebratory cannons shots reached the Mughals which they construed as Shivaji's safe arrival at his fort, thus lessening the intensity of search. Shivaji outsmarted them yet again, but this time no other than Aurangzeb, the Emperor of India who fumed for a long time on the aftermath of Shivaji's Houdini act.

A great lesson for those who love history, that a battle isn't won by strength or number of soldiers alone, not by emotions but by using shrewd strategies and smart moves. Shivaji had the acumen to read it well and it was his secret sauce for survival and success. But sadly the man who made some of the incredible escapes in history couldn't escape communicable diseases and died in 1680 when he was only 50 years old, succumbing to Typhoid as per the symptoms recorded by the historians, a water born disease he contracted during the marriage ceremony of his second son Rajaram. He never recovered from it.

Wish the man who frustrated Aurangzeb to no end lived longer. The Mughal King who was at least a decade older than Shivaji, lived much longer, at least more than a quarter century after Shivaji's death and died in 1707. He was the harbinger of the end of Mughal empire. It was followed by  rise of the Marathas and then the British who were still trading in India but watching the political developments with great interest. Shivaji once said about the British - "The Englishmen aren't mere traders. They are very shrewd and can steal from right under your nose without you even knowing it". He was so prophetic.

Change of habits after coming to the United States

 Here is a list of my change in habits after coming to the United States. I am sure most of my contemporary NRIs are on same boat.

1. It has been a long time I have taken a shower in cold water. During my growing up days back in India, I used to take bath in normal tap water stored in tanks, even during the coldest of winters in Rourkela, Odisha where the temperature dips to single digit (in centigrade) during winters. I can't do that now. Read that the prisoners in the famous Alcatraz Island are given shower in warm water jets, so that they can't escape swimming in the cold waters off the San Francisco bay. They have a point.

2. Putting ice in drinking water. Water in Room temperature tastes so bland, iced water tastes so crispy and fresh ! Bad habit.

3. Washing hands after peeing. Never did that when I was India and didn't regret shaking hands with others after shaking  the residue off immediately after peeing. I have watched some of them with trepidation when they rolled their hand over their chin and nose after shaking hands with me just after I took a leak. Converted many tree trunks and walls as urinals, not anymore.

4. Catching up with the Hollywood movies I missed earlier and became extremely selective on Bollywood ones, the later lacking ingenuity as years progress. No wonder a junk movie like Pathaan has become a blockbuster.

5. At work, Coffee has taken over Tea. Never liked the tea made out of tea bags. Love the brewed Tea which is restricted to home and developed a taste over cold, sweet tea - a specialty in the Dixie land of the Southern United States.

6. No more looking for News inside the Newspapers. I scan them for Coupons and Sale items in my neighborhood stores. Mostly get news from the Internet and Social media these days, followed by TV.

7. While stepping in or stepping out of doors or Elevators (called Lifts in India), I let the other person go first. Never cared to do that before, no one cared for me either. Rarely I get a thank you when I do the same back in India.

8. Never had the feeling of driving a car with steering wheel on the right hand side of the vehicle, as I never drove a 4 - wheeler in India. Now I won't dare. Used to lane driving, if I drive in Bhubaneswar, you can bet that either I will either hit some one or some one will hit me within a mile of me driving.

9. Developed gardening and blogging as hobby. Never thought in my wildest of my dreams I will cultivate these hobbies, but now I am addicted to those.

And few old habits die hard.

1. My flashback to days in India. Unless I am using a restroom (toilet) outside my home, old fashion flashing off cold water to wash my bottom feels soothing. The softest of toilet papers is to Subways Sandwitch, as a Mug of Cold water is to hot chilli chicken.

2. Never could develop a passion for American Sports - Football, Baseball and Basketball. Still love Cricket, Soccer and Field Hockey (Hockey in US defaults to Ice Hockey which I find fast, furious and boring).

3. Wasn't able to develope a taste in English music. When the rockstar "Prince" died I got curious and asked others - "Prince, who" ? I googled about Rihanna when she twitted something controversial sometime back. Still stuck in the old Hindi music of Kishore Kumar, Mohd Rafi, Mukesh, Lata, Asha, Akshay Mohanty, Pranab Patnaik, Chitta Jena era whom I find soothing to my soul and don't mind.

Valentine's day and culture Vultures

 An old man was walking by a park in Delhi on Valentine's day. He saw several couples in different stages of undressing and varied degree of compromising positions. Reluctantly he walked towards a smooching duo and asked, "BETA, YEH KYA AAP KI SANSKRITI HAI" - "Son, is this your culture" ? He got this answer, "UNCLE. YEH POOJA HAI. SANSKRITI USS PED KE PEECHE HAI" - "Uncle. This is Pooja. Sanskriti is behind the other tree".

Come Valentine's Day, many couples get private in public places. It's also busy time for our self proclaimed culture custodians. Few years back I saw a picture of Bajrang Dal activists chasing away young love birds from a Park in Cuttack, Odisha on that fateful day of February 14. Not so long ago Hindu Mahasabha had given a well published call to disrupt Valentine's day.

Whether youngsters in India should or not celebrate Valentine's day is something we can agree to disagree. But as free citizens in a democracy, the Constitution has guaranteed them the Right for Peaceful Assembly. It is for their Parents/Guardians or Police to act if they pass the threshold of obscenity or immorality. But NOT you, the Bajrang Dalis or Hindu Mahasabha folks. We are not a theocratic Saudi Arabia or Iran, nor a Banana Republic, where as the moral police you have the authority to take laws into your own hands. And put it in simple terms - "Who the fcuk are you to be self proclaimed custodians of law" !

Sorry, guys. I have to disagree with your Modus Operandi. It's a well known fact that most of you are Anarchists and no custodian of culture, rather plain thugs. You have a vested interest in using such occasions to stay in limelight, some of you with the intention of getting a slice of the pie, e.g., indulging in extortion in form of touching, molesting and/or extracting money.

We don't need private militias to be our moral guides. Our civilization has survived many onslaughts for thousands of years - from marauding invaders to being ruled by occupying foreigners. It simply doesn't need any unsolicited protection from a bunch of ragtag, rowdy ruffians. Our heritage as I know is robust enough to survive yet many more years, without an iota of assistance from scums in the guise of "Culture Vultures" of your kinds.

If you really want to help our society we have a long list of dirty laundries to clean. Better get your act together. Don't waste your time and energy clearing Parks on Valentine's Days. Love or love making is purely a personal affair between two consenting adults. It's non of the business of Bajrang Dal, Hindu Mahasabha or Khap Panchayat to be in the business of personal love. Get a better sense of the civic sense, be the hallmark of a civilized society.

RIP Dr.Ramesh Raichoudhury

Cardiothoracic Surgeon and a founder of the Kalinga Hospital in Bhubaneswar, Dr. Ramesh Chandra Raichoudhury from New York, USA passed away yesterday. My family knew him personally, especially my father and my sister who were close to their family. He lived in Long Island where my sister attended one of his son's marriage. A thorough gentleman with unparalleled love for Odisha, with a laser focused drive to do something for his home state back home, he helped in establishing Kalinga Hospital in Bhubaneswar in the 1990s. 

Ramesh Mausa did coronary bypass surgery on my father's ailing heart at the Kalinga Hospital in the year 2000. I have met him couple of times in Bhubaneswar while accompanying my father. He was a very amicable, down to earth person. No ego, no aura of aggrandizement around him. A man of strong work ethics and a professional will to build a world class Hospital in Odisha, he finally saw his dream come true, ending up being one of the pioneers involved in building  Kalinga Hospital. The hospital was his brain child, the first of its kind in the poor state of Odisha. He managed to see it take shape in spite of serious hurdles placed in form of the bureaucracy in Odisha notorious for being inept and corrupt. 

In 2005 when I met him at Kalinga Hospital along with my father, I asked him his life as a doctor during his initial days in US. He fondly remembered how back in those days the insurance companies were very cooperative, approval of claims was shoo in, making the life of a doctor a whole lot easier. My small mind barely understood the nitty gritty details of all these, but could comprehend that the life was much healthier then than now. During the tete-a-tete my father took out a packet of "Gundi" (unscented raw tobacco) out of his pocket and popped it into his mouth. Dr. Raichoudhury mildly chastised my father to stop this bad habit as tobacco is harmful to health. I also followed Ramesh Mausa's suit echoing his concern. But it hardly affected my father as the doc's advice entered one ear and came out of the other. Now at 82, he still continues to liberally munches his "Gundi" to kick his bowel movement every morning, followed by several mouthfuls all day. 

Ramesh Mausa continued to actively serve Kalinga Hospital and Utkal Pradesh (state of Odisha) leaving no stone unturned well into his ripe age. May God give his family strength to bear the pain of bereavement of a rare gentleman doc who carved his niche. Om 🕉 Shanti.

Illegal immigrants dream turns nightmare

 A Bhakt's midwinter day dream. Mahaprabhu Modi calls his Fraand Dolaand and gives him a mouthful of BCMC "Gaali" (rebuke) for sending illegal immigrants handcuffed in a military plane to India. Fraand Dolaand trembled like a building in the middle of a Ritcher scale 7.0 earthquake and shat in his pants. He then assured our "Viswaguru" not only to stop further sending illegal immigrant back to India, bring back those already sent by sending them a one way Business Class ticket to the United States and a Green Card at the port of entry as compensation. 

Alas, non of these actually happened ! "KAANCH KI KHWAB HAI, PALKON MEIN TOOT JAYENGE (Dreams are made of glass, they shatter at twinkle of eye). Now dream shattered, here is some reality check as the American dream of many undocumented immigrants has turned into nightmare. India's Honorable External Affairs minister Sri Jaishankar has nodded his approval by saying that the illegal immigrants deported in handcuffs is part of America's SOP (Standard Operating Procedure). From Mahaprabhu's cabinet, I am sure Dr. Jaishankar is speaking his behalf as forget giving such a statement on his own, he can't even visit toilet without Mahaprabhu's permission. 

Also as confirmed by a friend who works in the medical field, many of these illegal immigrants have AIDS as they bed cheap prostitutes to fulfil their biological needs. It is quite understandable as they lead a lonely life, away from their land and wives, ever ready to fulfill their sexual desire when they get a chance. So it becomes imperative for Government of India to do STD (Sexual Transmitted Disease) and AIDS test on these returning individuals lest they don't pass it on to their wives and/or girlfriends. 

I am reminded of one certain individual of Indian origin who once boasted that before he dies he will screw all the pretty girls of the city. Not sure how far he succeeded in achieving his ambition, he certainly has earned a FRCS (F*ck*ing Round County Side) degree. When someone brought his sexual escapades to my attention, I threw my unsolicited advice for the females he beds to do a STD and AIDS test at the earliest. Folks listening to me had a good laugh. 

The same is applicable to the Returning Illegal immigrants. Sorry if I sound cruel and lacking empathy, what's illegal is illegal. Period. You enter a country as illegal, take advantage of their system, be a burden to the honest tax payers, you need to be penalized, not rewarded. In many countries reward comes in form of death penalty award for the illegal immigrants. In USA, at least you are transported on an Aircraft which costs no less than $4,500 a person, the cost of a normal Business Class return trip fare from USA to India. It's a fare deal folks, whether you arrive handcuffed or otherwise.

Military Cadence - Bawdy Jody

 I live close to the Ft.Moore (previously called Ft.Benning) Army base. One day I met one young US Marine who told me about cadences - the work songs sung while doing PT (Physical Training) in military. He was very candid about those, admitting without any remorse that more profane they were, more mojo it brought to their Amry workouts. One such story is about JODY, the fictitious doppelganger having all the pleasure at home at the expense of the poor G I Joe (American army guy) deployed abroad. Here is the limerick cadence dedicated to our JODY. 

Ain't no use going back

Jody's got your Cadillac

Ain't no use calling home

Jody got your girl and gone.

Ain't no use feeling blue

Jody's got your sister too.

He took away my faded Jeans

Now I am wearing Army Greens. 

The list doesn't end there. Many such bawdy ballads are attributed to an old man's lascivious escapades with a young girl. The Army Sergeant would yell these following limerick to motivate the young recruits - 

With Old man on bed, young girl had no clue.

But he f**ked and f**ked until he turned blue.

It was followed the marching Marines parroting these lines after him. It would keep the young soldiers going. No popular song or religious sermon can match these cadences to shrug off the jaded nerves of the army brats barely in their teens and twenties to march along. 

It is analogous to our Hindi counterpart used by folks back home in India to lift or pull any heavy object - 

LAGAO JOR HAIN SA,

JOR LAGAKE HAIN SA. 

Transliterated...

(Give it a big bang,

Give it a big hand). 

During my childhood I once saw a large electric pole getting installed close to a field near BJB Flats, Bhubaneswar where my father was quartered in. A bunch of laborers while trying to lift the heavy pole up on the ground chimed in unison - 

"KAALIA SANDHA HEINSA,

TA NAALIA B***A HEINSA". 

Roughly transliterated -

"Hail the Black Bull,

His Red Cock helps us Pull".

I am sure if this will be replaced by a stanza from Tulsidas Bhajan or Jagannath Janana they will hardly motivated, their adrenalin won't pump enough for them to get their job accomplished. The pole would never get installed in the ground. 

The Odia equivalent would be the famous or rather infamous chants locally called RATH BOLI (chariot chants) to enthuse the crowd during the annual Rath Yatra (car festival) in Puri. Those chants by the charioteer is now banned for being too salacious and replaced by sagacious Sanskrit SLOKAs (hymns). 

Titillating, naughty naughty humor relating to a old man's desire for a much younger girl in order to stimulate soldiers are abound from old times. In 1857 the British roped in  Balochis, Punjabi Muslims, Dogras, Gorkhas and Sikhs, a bulk of the Sardarjees forming the famed unit "Hudson's Horse" who fought gallantly along with the British to mercilessly quell the Sepoy Mutiny in Delhi. During the nights after consuming their ration of Rum and "Kukkad" (Chicken) the Sikh mercenaries would vigorously clap and sing a lewd Punjabi song ascribing a short, old man struggling to make love to a tall she camel. It motivated the tough Sikh fighters relieve their stress after a hectic day of fight. The "Goras" (Englishmen) would call General Hudson's trusted Sikh aide and ask him who he was, to which the innocent Sardar would answer in heavy Punjabi accent "I'm Hudson's Arse" (he was in Hudson's Horse unit). The "Firangies" (foreigners) would burst into bouts of laughter. 

The glut of smut about young women and much older men is not limited to military. During my college days in REC, Rourkela I had a Malayali roommate who would sing a loud song with half a dozen Keralites around him laughing in chorus. Curious me once asked him to translate the song to me. He went on recounting the saga of a Malayali old man's lustful desire for a 16 year old girl and so on. 

Bulls or Military Boys, nothing can actuate a man more than a bawdy jokes. Women crack salacious "AINSIA" (non-vegeg jokes as they say in India) too, but lot softer versions of their men counterpart, keeping them strictly to themselves (exceptions are some Punjabi ladies who can match the hard dirty jokes of their men). But the fact remains that raunchy lines can motivate a man to move a mountain more than any religious sermon.

Rasputin the Evil Monk

 Most of us may not have heard of Rasputin, the Evil Monk who was killed exactly 109 years, a month and a day ago, i.e. 30th December of 1916. A strapping tall peasant from Siberia, he blended his charm and rumored spiritual power to get close to Romanov family, the last Czar to rule Russia.

Using his charisma, combined with a powerful, potent mix of mystic persona along with a reputation of irresistible sexual prowess he soon rose to become a confidant to Alexandra, the last Czarina of Russia. Draped in long, dark orb, the mountain sized Russian with piercing bright blue eyes was rumored to possess a soothing healing touch, so much so that Alexandra believed he cured her hemophiliac son Alexei, the heir apparent to Czar's throne. Alas, her dream of seeing her son ascending Czar's throne came crashing down, as the hungry protesters of St. Petersburg crashed into the Czar's palace, ransacking it as the Cossacks called out to quell the riots refused to open fire. 

No one knows exactly when Gregory Rasputin got access to the Royal family. But what is known, the barely literate man from the far off eastern province of Siberia had a taste for expensive Cakes, Caviar, Ice Cream, exotic Champagnes and of course pretty Women. He soon began to develop a cult around him, so much so that his female followers would rush to kiss his long, dark flawing beard and scrambled to lick leftovers of cake crumbles from his plate.

No wonder the insecure women of the Court at those turbulent times when the Bolshevik Revolution was knocking at Czar's palace door found him attractive. For he was a tall man, with remarkable muscular, slim figure despite being a sweet tooth glutton and a prolific wine guzzler. Leading a hedonistic life and maintaining such a figure without any known fitness regime, it only added an aura of myth around him, with women flocking in hordes to seek solace from his company in those tumultuous days of Russian history. Rasputin took full advantage of their insecurity and his amplified personality.

The Monk's growing power and fetish for wine and women created jealousy and jealousy creates detractors as he was  accompanied by enemies in Czar's court. A group of Monarchists led by Prince Yusupov decided that they had enough of Rasputin and thought of getting rid of him. Knowing his sweet tooth, they served him his favorite Cake and Wine heavily laced with poison. To their surprise Rasputin finished the Cake and Ale, scaring the plotters by smiling back at them. Now a bewildered and impatient Prince Yusupov and his cohorts shot him several times from point blank expecting to finish him, but mysteriously Rasputin refused to die. 

The nervous killers then dragged him outside to the bank of a frozen lake and shot him there too, again from close range. Rasputin slumped down and became quite. Convinced that they had seen the last of Rasputin, Yusupov and his accomplices turned around and started to walk away. No sooner they walked back a few feet, than they heard him cursing them - "After me, your end isn't far away". They looked back to see a crawling Rasputin struggling towards them, still mumbling his curse, not in a mood to die and refusing to lay still. The assassins were too afraid to turn back and fled.

Nothing more is known about Rasputin after that incident. What is known, his prophetic curse came true, sooner than later. The very next year, the Bolsheviks snatched power, followed by wiping out of the entire Romanov family. All Czar's family members, including their women and children were mercilessly butchered. Curtains finally came down on an Evil dynasty as foretold by a Clairvoyant Evil Monk.

Last moments of Gandhi and Godse

 History has been the witness to many political assassinations. Leaders of stature like Abraham Lincoln, Dr. Martin Luther King Jr have failed to assassin's bullets after leaving their indelible mark in history. I am reminded by one such assassination on the Anniversary of Mahatma Gandhi's killing on 30th January, 1948 by a fanatic named Nathuram Godse exactly 77 years ago. It makes it imperative to narrate certain interesting anecdotes from last hours of Mahatma's life.

Nathuram Godse and his Accomplice-cum-mentor-in-Chief Narayan Apte (both were hanged together) booked an Air India flight from Bombay to Delhi a fortnight before Gandhi was killed. Two one way tickets (return ticket was not necessary for the nature of their mission) cost them Rs.308, a substantial amount those days when a college Professor's salary was Rs. 25 a month.

Air travel was a luxury those days. On  board the aircraft sumptuous meals were served unlike these days when we are served peanuts, often literally. Narayan Apte who had a taste for good food, Whisky and women enjoyed his meal on the flight whereas Godse was busy engrossed reading his book on HINDU RASHTRA (The Hindu Nation). 

Apte started flirting with a comely Air Hostess, managed to make her accept his offer to read her palms, an old skill by men to get closer to women by playing with their curiosity. In the process of holding her palm and predicting her future, Apte persuaded her to meet at a hotel next evening in Delhi for his next stage of dating.

Nathuram Godse was not amused by his companion's flirtatious adventurism. Concerned about their mission bring jeopardized due to his accomplice's lecherous escapades, he reprimanded Narayan Apte, telling the later to abort his rendezvous with his lady friend for the more important mission of killing Mahatma Gandhi. 

The night before the D-day Godse (a Maharastrian Brahmin) and Narayan Apte finished a nice vegetarian dinner, followed by a Rs 5 tip to the waiter (a dream tip those days). Godse was cool as cucumber. But Apte was nervous and went out to watch a movie. Upon returning he found Godse soundly sleeping with his Hindu Rashtra book kept by his head.

At the same time Mahatma Gandhi was asleep after giving finishing touch to his version of Indian Constitution. The all pervading corruption in India, which was hardly prevalent during British Raj had reached an epidemic proportion soon after we got our freedom. Within months of the formation of the first post independence government of Congress party, the corruption started raising its ugly head. 

This development did not go unnoticed to Mahatma Gandhi, who duly noted this in his write up for Constitution. Signs were evident on the ground that this was not the RAM RAJYA (ideal state) he once dreamt about. (I was once a school monitor and my task was to keep a tab on erring classmates, who feared the teachers but never me. Similarly, the British made good use of DANDA or rod to keep the lid close on the can of corruption. Once we got our freedom the worms started pouring out as we were good at obeying the British, the outsides than listening to our own).

Visibly upset by this slow encroaching menace, he mentioned about it to his many visitors. A few minutes before he was assassinated Gandhi spent long time discussing with Sardar Patel, the Home minister at the time, regarding his discomfiture about the corruption in a government which was still at its infancy.

Patel was there for a different reason. He wanted to convey Gandhi about his decision to resign because of his differences with Nehru. Gandhi tried to dissuade him. Serious discussion ensued before the Mahatma realized that he was running late for his evening prayer meeting. A religious man who was religiously punctual, Gandhi was visibly perturbed even if he was running late by 10 minutes only. He instructed Manu and Abha, his lady caretakers to take him to the venue via a short cut route through the garden.

His fate in the form of Nathuram Godse was shadowing him, stealthily lurking towards him. Godse's initial plan was to shoot him during the prayer meeting. But suddenly he saw Gandhi taking a short cut through the garden, walking towards him. For Godse it was a God sent opportunity. His SHIKAR (target) was approaching right in front of him. So, he instantly decided to execute his plan. He lurched forward, as Manu tried to shoo him away saying - "Bapu is already late for his meeting, please meet him after the prayer". 

At that moment Godse was only two steps away from Gandhi. He said NAMASTE (salute) to Gandhijee and bowed. No sooner he got up than he pumped 3 bullets from close range on the hapless man's chest. The frail old man was not expecting to survive 3 bullets. Mission accomplished Godse did not try to flee. He gave himself up. 

Rest we know is history. Godse and Apte were both sentenced to death. Godse showed no remorse when he walked towards the hangman's noose. Narayan Apte, a staunch believer in astrology and palmistry, was convinced till end that his death sentence will be commuted to life as it was written on his hands. 

The last minute reprieve never came. Apte was nervously shaking when he walked towards the gallows. He fell down twice. Curtains fell on his life, as he collapsed when the hood was put on his head. He had to be assisted to complete his last journey, his astrology and palmistry never coming to his rescue. 

The lure of neon light

 US President Trump's decision to deport 11 million undocumented illegal immigrants who are mostly of Hispanic origin, though it include an estimated 725,000 number of Indians who form the largest group after Mexico and El Salvador. It needs to be reiterated that  USA is NOT deporting NRIs. They is deporting the ILLEGAL Immigrants from India, most of whom are from Indian states of Punjab, Maharashtra, Andhra Pradesh, Telengana and of course Gujarat, a state proudly proclaimed as role model development state of India's Prime Minister Narendra Modi. 

Inititially 18,000 of them will be deported which Indian Foreign Minister will accept them as the first batch of gift from "My Fraand Dolaand" ever since he took his office as the 47th President of America less than a week ago. A good number of illegals of Indian origin rather jumping borders, jump the visitor and dependant Visas by overstaying, never to return to their motherland. Yet most of them take the "Donkey" route to jump across the Mexican and Canadian border. In a tragic incident couple of years ago a couple from Gujarat were frozen to death along with their small children while trying to cross the Canadian border into the United States during a brutal winter.

During my 28 years of living in the United States I have come across several folks from Indian whom I suspect as illegal and undocumented. Some of them are incidentally from Odisha, my home state back home. Years back, an Odia officer from IFS (Indian Foreign Services) was posted in America. Per Foreign ministry rules, he was entitled to bring a domestic help from India - an euphemism for the uncomfortable sounding servant. He brought a semi-educated young man from his village in Cuttack, thinking him the last and the least likely person to escape. Or so he thought.

The officer, a bachelor at that time, spent long days and evenings at work, often eating outside as part of his Foreign Service assignments. Having nothing to do at home and getting bored watching TV all day in an era sans smart  phones and social media, his "helping hand", popularly known as "CHAKARA TOKA" in Odia or NAUKAR in Hindi, helped himself by going around the city. Slowly he started getting a taste of the American life. One fine morning he decided to abscond without informing his employer. Our IFS Babu (Officer) anticipated that his fellow Odia must have melted away in Chicago, gobbled by the gargantuan city as an undocumented illegal immigrant doing some menial job.

Soon his suspicion turned out to be true. One fine evening he was eating his meal in an Indian Restaurant where he saw his ex-helping hand mopping the floor. No sooner their eyes met than the later turned and ran away. Our Odia Officer chased him for a while, calling his name at top of his voice, that he is going to forgive him and his folks back home in India are now a worried lot. 

It had no effect on the guy as he melted into the labyrinth of vehicles parked around. If the officer wanted he could have followed up with the local authorities to trace him out. But he let him go, allowing the man from his village pursue his American dream. Fast but not fast enough with his Babu type alcohol belly, he returned back gasping like the Cheetah on the National Geographic Channel after a failed attempt to catch its pray.  

America was and still seen as "The Land of Freedom" as many of the forefathers of its inhabitants landed in America fleeing Europe to escape persecution. They were no doubt adventurous those days - for you need to be brave enough in order to migrate to a different corner of the world at a time when you don't know what's in store of you in a new world not you are connected to home by telephone, internet or social media. Yet, the call for freedom trumps all hurdles which can motivate humans to get adventurous, go above and beyond.

Illegal immigrations will continue as long as people perceive America as the land of opportunity and success in quest of a better life. Only if they are unable to find work, they can be tempted to go back. That won't happen as long as the local businesses in US have a vested interest in hiring illegals by paying them peanuts to further fatten their fat cat owners and the legal, unemployed ones would prefer to stay on welfare than doing any menial job. The powerful business lobby as well as the liberal organizations like ACLU (I sense a Business backing there too) want the illegal immigration to thrive.

Trump has stirred a hornet nest by trying to keep his election promise and doing more than lip service with his attemp to deport them. He has an herculean task ahead. Only time will tell how far he will walk the talk and succeed in his mission.

Childbirth rush before citizenship deadline

 Today I came across the news of many Indian couples in America rushing for C-section to maternity clinics and are asking for preterm births. It is because the US President Donald Trump's executive order proclaiming the end of Birthright Citizenships from February 20. This is in spite of Doctors expressing concern about the health of mother and child.

A well known Software company from India is also known to be not very employee friendly and a stingy paymaster. For its employees posted on assignments in US, it provided minimal Health Insurance coverage, with almost nil maternity related coverage towards delivery and child care. It was to dissuade its employees to focus on work rather than have kids on American soil.

The company suddenly changed its policy in the early 2000, leading to a baby boom with its employees going on a breeding spree which could challenge rabbits, fathering hundreds in a year. It included an Odia gentleman who was close to retirement age at that time became a dad for second time, his first kid was already in college.

I saw him rolling a stroller carrying an infant on a bright, sunny afternoon in New Jersey as the image of the sparkling sun was quite visible on top his bald head which acted like convex mirror reflecting light. I started pulling his leg - "AGYAN APANA BI EI BAYASARE... (You too at this age)" ? The gentleman blushed, his cheek turning red as his shiny head - "TAME KHALI THATTA KALA Sambeet (You are poking fun at me)". He didn't want to be left behind in fathering an American kid as a retirement benefit.

Craze for producing an US Citizens is not limited to Indians alone. Have you ever heard of the term "Birth Tourism" ? This has been going on in America for sometime, though the country has stepped up scrutiny of pregnant women who come to the USA on their Visitor's Visa to give birth to US Citizen. It is mostly misused by the wealthy Chinese, who ostensibly harbor a desire for US citizenship for their babies by delivering them on the American soil at any cost on a Visitor's Visa. 

It doesn't come cheap either, costing them a cool $100,000. That's the amount they pay to Agents as fee, from arranging the airfare and Visa to medical and initial diaper expenses. It is strange that the craze emanates mostly from China, a country which is now is the 2nd biggest economy in the world and has made immense strides in last 40 years or so.

Obviously China has share of communist party members (some Communists are more equal than others) and government officials who can afford such jaunts for their pregnant wives paying from their hard earned bride on top of their SARKARI (official) salary. By law,  anyone born on American soil automatically qualifies for citizenship. So technically they break no law when they go through "water break" on US soil. Instead they are charged for Visa fraud, as they don't mention about delivering baby as the reason for their visit.

It is estimated that more than 10,000 women visit United States on tourist every year just to deliver baby, the bulk of them being Chinese. Lure of the neon lights propel them "Eastward Ho" towards United States, for the Hus and Hwangs of the Middle Kingdom of Asia, America is still the land of opportunity. It yet vindicates the theory - One's open critic and proclaimed rival can also be a secret admirer. For the Chinese officials who see America as rivals, also see it as the land of Childbirth Tourism. 

The craze for parenting US citizen led the employees to get aggressively engaged as time was short to produce a child within the limited timeframe of the consulting assignment. One never knows when things may change. So better get going before it gets late. Their hard work provided results in a year as hundreds got their grant fulfilled. Over the years nothing much has changed. Child birthism still continues unabated as the Presidential decree goes effective from February 20.

Netaji's Birthday

 Today is the Birth Anniversary of Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose, a man who has earned my deep admiration and lives in the hearts of many more. He was our true NETAJI (Dear Leader), vindicated by the fact that he was the Commander-in-Chief of an entire Army called Azad Hind Fauz (Independent Indian Army) with no tangible military experience. This is not possible without unmatched leadership skills and ability to command respect. A highly motivational and charismatic speaker, he is remembered for his famous speech "GIVE ME BLOOD, I WILL GIVE YOU FREEDOM". Simple yet so profound, it inspired millions and still gives goosebumps.

He was born in Cuttack, Odisha, my home state back home in India, studied in Ravensaw Collegiate School where he topped his class in the entire state. A brilliant student, Netaji continued to top in his academic career, eventually getting the top position in the Indian Civil Service, arguably the most cherished and competitive test in India at the time (still cherished but it has lost its luster). He could have easily joined Civil Services and retired as a Chief Secretary. Yet rather than joining the coveted job due to his reluctance to serve under the British, he chose the tedious path towards the goal of the freedom of his motherland. He escaped India in disguise right under the nose of British travelling ncognito around the globe, living in dense forests and unmarked houses, covering thousands miles under water in submarines and raising an army outside to fight an enemy. All done almost single handedly.

Nazi Germany's tanks blitzkrieged into Poland on 1st of September, 1939 announcing the beginning of World War II. Later that month Subash Bose came to Odisha. As President of Odisha State Congress Pandit Nilakantha Das took Netaji around Cuttack atop an elephant. At night halt both stayed in the same house. During that period Netaji would consult Sri Nilakantha Das, his Man Friday in Odisha before taking any decision during his campaign in Odisha.

Many of his colleagues were trying to persuade Netaji to give speech in Bengali. Nilakantha told him bluntly - "Please give speech in Hindi, English or Odia. Not in Bengali". Subas Bose duly obliged. In Puri BADADANDA (Broadway) Netaji gave a fiery speech in Hindi, mocking Gandhi "SUTA KAAT KE KYA SWARAJ MILEGA" (isn't it preposterous to get self rule by making threads out of cotton) ? My grandfather, then in his 20s heard this speech by Netaji and mentioned it in his Diary which I still hold on to like a precious jewel. Per him, Netaji was a highly charismatic orator, who beat the speeches of Nehru and Gandhi by miles.

Though Subash Bose gave 200% effort to make India free from the English rule, arguably it was Hitler who was indirectly responsible for India's independence. British won a Pyrrhic victory in the World War II, subsequently lacked manpower and resources required to hold on to their colonies. They had to relinquish most of them including India - their Crown Jewel of British. The superpower who used to takes pride as "Sun never sets over the British Empire" had to reluctantly let go as they were unable to hold the reigns.

But still many believe "BRITISH KARA SUBASH BOSE NKU DEKHI PANT RE JHAADA HEI GALA, SEMANE INDIA CHAADI PALEILE (British shat in their pants on the sight of Subash Bose and fled away from India). This is just unwanted bullshit peddled by the Right wing propaganda machine in India who are patriots in name only, laced with fake jingoism and nationalism. They revere Subash Bose but profess everything opposite to his qualities. Subas Bose was a left of the center politician and never liked the RSS brand of Hindutva.

These days such depth of patriotism is unfathomable. My thousand salute to the man who unfortunately never got the reward and recognition he duly deserved by the country for which he made the ultimate sacrifice and died in a disputed plane crash in the year 1945, couple of years before India got its freedom.

Now, a tale of two NETAJIs. During pre independence time people fondly addressed Subhas Bose as Netaji. He earned the sobriquet. The term Netaji is very loosely used these days to depict any politician from small timers running for village Satpanch to big fishes. Any KUJI NETA (sundry leader) is a Netaji these days, the more ubiquitous being Mulayam Singh Yadav the UP politician who was addressed as Netaji by his followers. The similarities between Netaji Bose and them end there. In Odia we say KAHI RANI KAHI MEHENTRANI (Where stands the Queen and where stands the Toilet Cleaner). In Hindi they say KAHA RAJA BHOJ AUR KAHA GANGU TELI. Meaning of the proverbs in both languages is quite obvious.

The term NETAJI has been diluted and downgraded beyond repair, regressed over time. Hoping to be proved wrong, our generation may fade away remembering Subhas Bose as the last NETAJI of our time, a la the Royal Bengal tiger, soon to be extinct. Happy 128th  Birthday to the Legend, a real leader and patriot who if didn't die in a disputed air crash, we might have seen a different India.

The fertile Bihar scam

 A fertile scam has been reported in Bihar where a gang fooled many males with fake pregnancy job offers. A group of fraudsters in the cow belt state known for scams and other notorieties, conceived an unusual method of scamming young men, by offering them hefty payment to impregnate childless women for an advance fee of a nominal amount. Unfortunately no sooner the advance fee was paid, than the scamsters became untraceable. The police has finally managed to arrest the gang who thrived long on the men's weird fantasy with some bonus of quick bucks a scope of turning into reality.

It brings me flashbacks from the year 1991. Months after Iraq lost the Gulf war to the American Allied forces, there was this serious rumor in Odisha - that there is a dearth of males in Iraq who perished during the war followed by high number of war widows. The Government of Iraq as relaxed its Visa rules to allow every able bodied Odia to enter as full paid house guests to procreate as many children as possible during their stay. 

Added to this myth - Only "SANDHA MARKA ODIA TOKA" (Bull Branded Boys) from Odisha, with tremendous physique and immense stamina meeting such demand would be granted this coveted Iraqi visa. Once the demand is fulfilled, the hosts and the guest had enough, plenty of offsprings produced, the male is free to return home.

Such kind of fantasy is not unusual in a sex starved milieu. It could be very well be the daydream of an Odia youth feeling hot after consuming a stomach full of PAKHALA for lunch on a hot day afternoon (PAKHALA is locally consumed water soaked rice blamed for the complacency and laziness of Odias as a race). Yet many bought the story and started enquiring if any agency was there to facilitate such trips to Iraq. 

Now fast forward to almost 35 years, I can see some parallels and history repeating itself in the neighborhood state of Bihar. The basic human nature has remained unchanged over the years, only the state and platform of expression has changed to social media which wasn't there in the year 1991. From Iraq to Odisha and Bihar, the dream of delivering paid progenies lives on !

RIP Raj Kishore Sasmal

 I knew Rajkishore Sasmal before joining REC (Now NIT) Rourkela in 1986 where we studied Engineering together. Both of us were from Bhubaneswar, then a sleepy township of salaried folks, when every one knew the other person in the city. One year senior to me, he was one of my father's favorite students in BJB College who taught Physics to him. A smart, brilliant student, very well behaved, soft spoken and mild mannered boy, he was loved by all teachers including my father, a trait he carried into his student life in REC, Rourkela.

Though we addressed most of our Seniors in REC with their first name followed by "Bhai", I addressed him as "Sasmal Bhai" due to his unique last(sur) name. When I arrived on a sultry August afternoon at REC, Rourkela we were greeted by a bunch of seniors looking to rag freshmen, like red meat placed in front on salivating carnivores. Suddenly I saw a tall guy bending in front of my father - "Namaskar Sir. I will make sure that Sambeet is least impacted by ragging". I instantly recognized him from his voice and exclaimed - "Sasmal Bhai, how are you". He hadn't changed much since I last saw him in Bhubaneswar, except he built some muscles in the meantime, thanks to a well equipped REC Gym. Sasmal Bhai quietly called me to a corner - "Let me tell you. Don't show your exuberance and never behave smart in public and attract attention of seniors. Pretend to be a dumb guy. It will keep you unnoticed and certainly help you escape from any brutal ragging". I followed his advice which definitely helped.

During our REC college days Sasmal Bhai was seen as a very dynamic person carrying his massive figure and personality who could be seen everywhere - in Back post, at Kresto's tea kiosk, College canteen, AV Hall, Drama competition, Spring Fest and many more. A good organizer, he was the Cultural Secretary of their batch, a coveted position to hold those days. He was an excellent team player. One winter day in late 1988 we crossed the sands of the dry "Brahmani" river to have a picnic in "Jhirpani" in the outskirts of Rourkela, followed by a feast of real time cooked Rice, Goat meat and salad. Sasmal Bhai not only arranged every thing for us, he let us enjoy while he guided the cooks, served us the food close to dusk while being the last person to eat. His action earned our respect.

In November 1989 while he was employed at TISCO he came to our hostel in REC to invite his juniors including me to his marriage. While handing me the card, he wanted me to take the lead in gathering a team to attend his marriage followed by the reception. I would have loved to, but with Exams around the corner, neither I could arrange a team nor make it to the occasion.

Last time we met was in November 2003 at the Bhubaneswar Airport. Though I saw him after more than a decade, he could instantly recognize me. Over the years he had gained some weight and developed a paunch. But his voice was soft and polite as ever. We chatted for few minutes while I waited for my luggage to arrive from the last day and he waiting for his mother coming back from Bangalore. During our tete-a-tete he adored my father who taught Physics at BJB College for a long time. Sasmal Bhai was tutored by him and told me how much he idolized my father for his inimitable and impeccable style of teaching. He admitted that my father's communication skills and style of expression and explanation of principles of physics and problem solving skills left an indelible mark in him. I was immensely flattered.

I never met him after that, but continued to keep hearing about him from our common friends. It saddened me a lot when I heard about him passing away to the other world. It saddened me more to see a young, talented man leave so early. I am reminded of Rajesh Khanna from the movie "Anand" - "ZINDAGI BADI HONI CHAHIYE, LAMBI NAHO" (Life needs to be lived King size, doesn't have to be long). He sure lived his life. RIP Sasmal Bhai. Om 🕉 Shanti.

Tribute to Fakir Mohan Senapati - A legend of Odisha

 If he wasn't born in Odisha on this day of January 13, 1843 we Odias would be reading and speaking Bengali today. Fakir Mohan Senapati, a legend of Odisha was way ahead of his time. He was a writer, patriot, social reformer and a shrewd strategist rolled into one, who fought for the survival of Odia language which at one point of time was on verge of extinction.

Had he not been there, in all probability Bengali would have taken over Odia as the medium of teaching in the state where Odia is the mother tongue of the overwhelming majority. Many eminent, powerful Bengalis at the helm of affairs those days living in Cuttack led by one Anandilal Mitra made this fallacious proclamation - "ODIA EKTA SWATANTRA VASA NAYE, "Odia is not an independent language". 

Fakir Mohan fought tooth and nail, lobbied hard against this wrong notion. He strategized in order to achieve the goal of saving Odia from total annihilation. First he started an printing press in Odia and published several books in his mother tongue. Odia survived as an language, thanks to his efforts and the likes of Sri Gourishankar Ray and Utkal Gouraba (The Pride of Odisha) Sri Madhusudan Das and the Das duo of Utkalamani (Jewel of Odisha) Sri Gopabandhu Das and Pandit Nilakantha Das.

Fakir Mohan's life was a sad saga of personal tragedies and struggle. Born in the district of Balasore, he lost his parents at an early age. In abject poverty he worked as a laborer to finance and further his childhood education. A lanky man of small frame he suffered from multiple ailments. Tragedies struck him one after another as he lost his wife, remarried and lost his wife again. He went through bouts of alcoholism in order to cover up his frustrations with  life.

He did several odd jobs to make a living - doing business is sea salt, working as an accountant and being DEWAAN (Prime Minister) of Vassals and Zamindaars (Landowners). Though never financially secure, it didn't stop him from writing some brilliant short stories - from serious ones like REBATI where a girl child's education was blamed for cholera deaths in her family to funny ones like PATENT MEDICINE, the story of a perpetually drunk man. This play was later immortalized by its musical version made by the multi-talented Akhshay Mohanty. Personally I was impressed by his short story DHULIA BABA (The Sand Shrouded Saint). In that epic story the writer has exposed the duplicacy of a BHANDA BABA (fake mendicant).

 

Fakir Mohan realized that Odia language can only be taken to the next level by popularizing and expanding its literature through various publications. His friend Gourishankar Ray published an Odia magazine named UTKAL DIPIKA (The Lamp of Odisha) for the first time on August 4, 1866. They left no stones unturned by reporting the failure of British administration to prevent and contain the great famine of 1865-66 when millions died from starvation.

Mr. Senapati irrespective of being weak and having a weakness for alcohol lived 75 years at a time when average human longevity was less than half of that. He loved Brandy and had a good number of English friends who supplied him with Foreign brands - a luxury those days. On one cold winter evening of 1866, when  he was 23 years old, there was a hot discussion amongst drinking buddies inside the exclusive Station Club of Cuttack. They were pulling legs of E. J. Barton, the Assistant Collector of Khurda who was accused by a local woman of fathering her daughter. It was the outcome of an affair of an Englishman with a native girl in an age without contraceptives. 

The folks believed her, for the newborn baby was looking like an English girl with her sparkling blue eyes and reddish white skin - a genetic trait nowhere close to the generally dark complexioned local men. A Khurda man's progeny can't be a blue eyed boy and an English child. The case was eventually dismissed due to lack of evidence at a time when DNA test was strictly fantasy and the British were in power.

This news about the blue eyed girl came like a bolt from the blue on that blue, starry evening at the Club as gossip filled tongues kept wagging about the spicy incident in the milieu amongst the bland, mundane life of the government officials. The English ladies giggled and bitched about the hot news as hot as their piping hot afternoon tea. This news was picked up by Utkal Dipika and was arguably the first tabloid scoop by an Odia magazine which certainly helped increase its circulation. Nothing much has changed 150 years down the road. Spicy gossips still persist and sell well.

Fakir Mohan was smart and witty. While working as Dewan in Keonjhar he was kept under house arrest by mutineers. He was closely monitored, not allowed any communication to the outside world. He wrote a letter to one of his close friend - "Dear Bholanath Khamaria. Send me 100 betel and 100 betel nuts. Irrigate the sugarcane fields by watering from North. Otherwise, you will lose the entire field of crop".

The letter looked too innocuous to raise any kind of suspicion. His captors duly sent it to the intended addressee. Needless to say betel was the code name for guns and nuts for bullets. The instruction was to attack from the north, lest the sugarcane field (the palace) will be destroyed. The recipient decoded wily Fakir Mohan's note and soon sent armed soldiers to rescue him.

Sad that the name a statesman of great stature now languishes in the dustbins of history, restricted only to a Government College in Balasore named after him and few stamps released on his 175th birth anniversary. Hardly anyone remembers him these days. My thousands salute and tribute to the man for his service to the state of Odisha on his 182nd Birthday.