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.

 

  

Lal Bahadur Shastri

 The birthday of Mahatma Gandhi always overshadows that of a hardworking, honest, patriot Indian, a great leader who shares October 2 with Bapuji as his birthday. He was our ex-Prime Minster, Lal Bahadur Sastri, albeight for a short time.

If Lal Bahadur Sastri did not die the fateful day on January 11, 1966, exactly 58 years ago, Rahul Gandhi would most likely be a mid level manager in some private company, only to boast about his great grand father being the first Prime Minister of India and great Grandma being a Central Minister, instead of being the CEO and Scion of Congress Party Inc. Only difference, the CEO of a company is accountable to its shareholders, whereas Rahul Gandhi is accountable to none.

Lal Bahadur Sastri was a diminutive man with a towering personality. A charismatic person whose personal integrity was beyond question. He resigned as Railway minister taking responsibility for a train crash, something inconceivable these days.

During his one and half years of being at the helm of affairs, he could capture imagination of millions of Indians. 

Thinking him as weak, Pakistan attacked India in 1965, soon to be resoundingly rebuffed. His slogan of the time JAI JAWAN, JAI KISAAN (Hail Soldiers, Hail Farmers) swiftly yielded results in form of yield by farmers which was enough to wipe out India's perennial grain shortage and in the form of motivating soldiers who gave a befitting response to our attacking western neighbor by reaching the outskirts of the city of Lahore. It raised him to the zenith of popularity which unfortunately didn't last long due to his untimely and controversial death on January 11, 1966.

Sastri's premature death brought Indira Gandhi to power, who soon consolidated her position by making the Congress Party her family fiefdom or "BOPA ZAMINDARI" (Father's feudal property). Soon others emulated her, except the Communists (though I have no love for them, I admire them for resisting the family fiefdom politics) and to some extent BJP, though of late it is starting to look like Congress. Almost all parties, regional or otherwise are now family held Inc.

From the Badal dynasty of Punjab in North to Karunanidhi dynasty in South, from the Biju Dynasty in East, to Siv Sena Dynasty in West, we have examples aplenty. I am sure the history of India would have been different and our generation who were born in late 1960s and early 1970s would have seen a different India today, if Sastri Jee did not die on that fateful cold Soviet night in Tashkent in January 1966.

Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani

Today was the Day 1 of the "Pravasi Bharatiya Divas" (Non Resident Indians Day) at Bhubaneswar, Odisha, an annual jamboree held with a lot of fanfare. Mark Twain, the great American writer famously said - "It is easy to quit smoking as I have quit it 100 times." Same can be attributed to the Non Resident Indians (NRI) who have been promising to go back to India for several decades and still doing it. It is easier for me to go back to India as I have gone back 100 times.

But NRIs, much maligned, often butt of jokes and criticisms, referred to as Non Returning Indians, Non Required Indians, Non Responsive Indians etc have prospered as a community abroad while staying away from their motherland. NRIs in general and NROs (Non Resident Odias) in particular have made their share of vital contributions by giving back to their motherland. Technically many, including me who live overseas aren't NRIs, having relinquished their Indian Passports for long time by taking Citizenships of other countries, permanently settling down in their new homelands.

In United States where I have settled down for good, the Indian Americans are only next to the Chinese immigrants in number and prosperity. It includes a sizable Odia diaspora present in ubiquitous larger number in numerous cities and Metros, excelling in multiple fields like Science and Technology, Medicine, R&D and various businesses. Nicknamed as DESI by their own, the NRI community have carved their niche. (Mostly Persons of Indian origin use this term Desi among themselves, often in a deregatory way. Mainstream Americans are mostly unaware of the term. Though I have this uncanny ability to laugh at myself, during my inititial days I was uncomfortable being called a Desi, a term generally used to denote pariah dog back home in Odisha).

Though NRIs based in US, Canda and Europe get a lot of attention, the largest number of them are present in Africa and Gulf countries. NRI bashing is quite common, they being outrightly branded as unpatriotic, selfish deserters of their motherland. Their kids are called ABCD (America Born Confused Desi).

Not that all NRIs are great, but generalizations can go horribly wrong. Most of them carry India's brand name in America, Canada, Europe, Africa, Australia, Singapore, Gulf and so on. They remit valuable foreign exchange to their motherland, invest money in business and entrepreneurship contributing to the growth of Indian economy, generating employment in hundreds of thousands. They are not only a major driving force behind the state economies, they handsomely contribute towards charity. Kerala's economy will be in dire straits if remittance from Gulf will stop. My own state back home Odisha may not be in the same state like Kerala, but there is a spurt in NRI investment in the recent past and it is in upswing.

In the aftermath of the Kargil war many NRIs, sarcastically described as Non Responsive Indians, responded spectacularly by wholeheartedly making handsome donations towards the Kargil funds set up for martyrs who died fighting while securing our border. I was one among them and was able to contribute more since I was earning much more in America than I was in India. Did not my ability to contribute a higher amount being a NRI benefited the families of our heroes ? It dispels the myth that NRIs don't contribute to their country of birth.

The Chinese government has succeeded in utilizing the potential of their diaspora living abroad by ably supporting and encouraging them to make major investment in their economy. Our Indian government is slowly realizing this and catching up, though still years behind their Chinese and South Korean counterparts. Yet it is never too late to harness the potential of our powerful NRI community.

Based on my tete a tate with commoners in India I have observed that many have this notion of NRIs (Non Resident Indians) sleep on stashes made from wards of money and dollars grow as fruits on plants in backyard. That is not necessary true in every case. I am just a regular middle class guy who makes just enough to pay his bills. I wish TANKA MO GACHHA RE FALANTA (Money would sprout on the tree in my yard). Regardless, always happy in my heart to make my share of contributions to India and Odisha.

Here is something on a lighter vain. A NRI visiting India once went shopping for toilet paper. The store was out of it. Said the furious NRI - What kind of store you have, you don't carry a necessity item like Toilet Paper ? "Sorry Sir", the storekeeper replied politely. We don't have toilet paper but we have plenty of Sand papers. TIKE ADJUST KARANTU or THODA ADJUCT KIJIYE ("Please adjust a little bit)".

I am now reminded of this song from Raj Kapoor's movie "Awaara" -

MERA JOOTA HAI JAPANI,
PATLOON ENGLISTHANI,
SAR PE LAL TOPI RUSSI,
PHIR BHI DIL HAI HINDUSTANI,

Roughly transliterated...

"My shoes are from Japan,
My trousers from England,
The cap on my head is Russian,
Still my heart is Indian".

So, for us all NRIs, "Phir Bhi Dil Hai Hindustani" - Yet our heart is Indian.

Happy birthday Irfaan Khan

 Irfaan Khan, the versatile, talented actor of many Bollywood and Hollywood movies and one of my favorites  succumbed to his battle with cancer in the year 2020. He was only 53, a tragic young age to go. A brilliant actor, he had acted in Hollywood movies too.

I am reminded of his movie "PAAN SINGH TOMAR" where he has done a commendable role playing the leading character Paan Singh - a class IV drop out from the Badlands of Chambal, who joins the Army, where his passion for running is recognized by his Superiors. 

Yes, Indian Army in 1950s was part of a system which was was fair, honest and efficient at a time only a few years after independence. We then still retained the old school of ethics inherited from the English (Corruption hardly existed during British days, but slowly crept in when we owned our own nation - a concern by Gandhijee to Home Minister Sardar Patel moments before his assassination).

In this movie Paan Singh's talent was recognized by his Sardar (Sikh) senior in Army as he makes him run for arriving late during the perfunctory military drills. A la Forrest Gump from the iconic Hollywood movie, he never stopped running. Soon he crashed into limelight when he broke the National record in Steeplechase at the 23rd National Athletics meet held in Cuttack, Odisha in the year 1958. It earns him a ticket to the Asian Games held in Tokyo a few year later, where he ran the 3000m Steeplechase race representing India.

A heart touching saga of a person whose sacrifice to the nation as a Sportsperson and a veteran Army man never came to his rescue, when circumstances turned a hard working, proud patriot into a dacoit-cum-kidnapper. It was in the 1970s when corruption well aided by the high handedness of Indian bureaucracy did everything possible to turn the man to take to guns for his own survival. The system failed him big time.

In the movie, Irrfan playing Paan Singh is a straight shooter, both from his mouth and gun. When a newspaper reporter interviews him asks why he became a dacoit, the fugitive retorts back - DAKAIT TO PARLIAMENT MEIN MILTE HAIN, HUM TO SIRF BAAGHI HAI (Dacoits are found in  Parliament, I am just a rebel). He wasn't far from the truth.

Another monologue from Irfaan Khan needs some reflection - "After crossing 28 barriers to be the Steeplechase champion and earning accolades for my motherland, no one cared about me. Now that I have become a Baaghi and a thorn in the flesh of the tri-state Police (UP, MP and Rajasthan), I am getting fame and attention.  While I ran and won medals for my country nobody took a note, now when I became a runaways BAAGI  (rebel) I make news."

Quite a story and kudos to Irfaan Khan for his remarkable role. You crossed 28 barriers as Pan Singh Tomar. You, the fighter fought bravely against a malignant disease. Salute to you, Sir on your Birthday. Rest in Peace.

Visit to Jagannath temple on New Year's Day

 On New Year's Day the world famous Sri Jagannath temple in Puri in Odisha was kept opened for almost all night as hundreds of thousands thronged the temple to visit the ARADHYA DEVATA (The most propitiated GOD) of all Odias across the world. It has become quite fashionable these days to visit temples on First Day of January - which ironically follows the Gregorian Calendar rather than the Hindu Lunar Calendar. Many of these visitors who are the first ones to be critical of the New Year's Day being celebrated in India on Gregorian New Year are also the first ones in the rat race to reach the temple.

Not long ago, on one fine New Year's Day morning in India, I was trying to cross the Puri bound road close to our home in Bhubaneswar. I was surprised to see abnormally high traffic on a normal day, a rush almost similar to what you would see on a day of some major festival, like the famous RATH YATRA (Car festival) in Puri. While trying to cross the road, I had to tip toe my way, swaying hip, waving, clenching my hands like an eunuch at the approaching traffic of vehicles big and small zeroing on me, blaring their cacophonic horn in unison at the irritating pedestrian in me obstructing their path. 

As there were no Zebra crossing, it took 5 minutes of exhibiting my ass swinging skills to cross a 25 feet wide road. Road crossing is an art in Odisha and one needs to be a trapeze artist to cross roads at the crossroads of Bhubaneswar. That day I went above and beyond my normal hip swaying which would have made any danseuse proud.

After managing to reach home in single piece I asked my father the reason behind such an unusual rush on an usual day. He said, it has become fashionable now-a-days to do a "JAGANNATH DARSHAN" (take a peek at Lord) on New Year's Day at His abode in Puri. Like a dip in river Ganga, they trust CHAKADOLA (Circular eyelid, another name of Sri Jagannath) with his ever pervading look will purify them off their dirt accumulated over time like Aqua guard does to crude water. 

It explains why you would see many bloody, bleary eyed folks, still nursing hangover from previous night's New year's eve Bacchanalian jamborees and after dumping their last year's shit stumbling their way up the "BAISI PAHANCHA" (the legendary 22 step entrance into the temple) leading to Lord's abode. Many of them I know are prolific slimy, corrupt characters, congenial liars, champion womanizers and cheats of the highest order, who are known to religiously make this trip on New year's day to His temple and involve themselves in temple matters. I am now reminded of the Odia proverb - "ATI BHAKTI CHORA RA KAKHYANA", "too much of devotion id sign of a scoundrel". Reminded of yet another Hindi proverb which aptly describes such folks - "SOU CHUHA MAARNE KI BAAD BILLI HAZ KARNE CHALI" (After killing 100 mice the cat went on a Pilgrimage). 

Constipated with sins, they hope that the next 364 days (365 days if it is a Leap Year) will go as smooth as whistle, as the morning bowel movement post a dinner of RUTI (Chappati) and DALMA (boiled mixed of fiber rich lentils and vegetables), a staple Odia food. They think their accumulated sins will be reset to zero after entering Jagannath temple on New Year's Day. Define hypocrisy. But they forget one thing - "CHAKA AKHI SABU DEKHUCHI" (Lord Jagannath is watching everything).

We have this popular Odia Adage - "BAARA BARSA RA TAPASYA SUKHUA PODA RE JIBA", transliterated, "Twelve years of penance will be swept away by consuming broiled dry fish". It means, all the great efforts and perseverance for a long period can go wrong by a single stroke of stupid act. Reverse this theorem - A trip to the abode of Lord Jagannath on the first day of the year guarantees buying peace and tranquility for the rest of the year, erasing off the sins in one stroke, a la the wiper of a car swishes away all the dust accumulated in summer after fresh monsoon rains. May KAALIA (as Lord Jagannath is known for his Amber complexion) bless them for the next 364 days, until their must visit yet again on January 1, 2026.