Arrival at Bhubaneswar - India trip 2026

 I was welcomed at the Bhubaneswar Biju Patnaik Airport by a cool and slightly foggy morning (not as bad as Delhi) with the Sun struggling to shine through a hazy hue. There were fewer people inside and outside the Airport, lesser din and bustle, less annoying honking of vehicles and haranguing touts (in local lingo TAUTARs). Old man winter probably drove them into hibernation.

No sooner I stepped out of the Airport, than I smiled at the gray sky and utterd "Good Morning Bhubaneswar", suddenly remembering the Hollywood actor Eddie Murphy in the movie "COMING TO AMERICA". Coming from America, I wished to replicate the same. In that scene from that movie, the actor's wish at top of his voice, "Good Morning my neighbors", is instantly returned by an equally prompt response " Hey, F...k you". Eddie Murphy returns with a smile "F...k You too". Glad no one responded to my Good morning wish at the Airport to reciprocate in kindness.

Everything inside the Airport glitters. But all that glitter isn't gold. There are 3 lanes in front of the Bhubaneswar Airport, lane 1 devoted to the VIPs, lane 2 used by lesser humans for regular airport drop offs and pick ups, lane 3  for the OLA, Uber vehicles booked via online. We are probably the only country on earth still clinging to this sick VIP culture, Odisha being in forefront. The whole place is swarming with scums, touts, unscrupulous elements with passengers having unpleasant experiences to share. Many people present at the Airport are neither passengers, airline or airport staffs. They have no business to be there. Yet they hang around the place creating nuisance.

On reaching home after a long journey of 30 hours spanning over 3 continents and 10 time zones, I badly needed a shit, shave, shower and sleep in my comfort zone of home. Inside the bathroom I turned the faucet on to brush my teeth. Prrrt.. Prrrt.. it farted twice before emitting a thin stream of water which slowly got thicker. The overhead shower wasn't working. So I put water inside a bucket and started pouring mugs after mugs on my head and torso. It was fun to take shower the old fashioned way after a long time and I loved every bit of it. Be Roman in Rome. Through bathroom skylight I could hear the tweeting spree by a bird tweeting "Tweetwoo tweetwoo.. tweetwoo...", with no restrictions on characters to tweet put by its social media counterpart Tweeter.

No sooner I finished eating my typical Puri style home made lunch than I lied down on bed tired after a long journey and jet lag, starting to doze off to the sound of the slow moving overhead fan as midday felt little warmer. On the branch of the nearby mango tree I could hear the coarse cawing of a crow interrupting sweet flute tone of the Cuckoo. It was interspersed with occasional spurts of passing by bikes honking - -"keee..kicky.....", big construction trucks making loud noise, followed by wafting  voices of street vendors - E JHADU NABA JHADU (Want to buy Broom), KAREI NABA KAREI (Want Utensils), E MUDHI MUDHI (Voices selling Puffed Rice).

Back of my mind I thought of avoiding a siesta so that I can better sleep in the night. In a supine pose on bed I started reading the local vernacular Odia newspaper "SAMBADA". Soon I could feel my eyelids refusing to stay open. Didn't realize when sleep overcame me until at twilight I had the deja vu feeling my mother's hand caressing me, waking me up - "Get up my son. Don't sleep any further. Save some sleep for tonight. You have lost weight. Aren't you eating enough these days". I got up, feeling the poor newspaper lying on my side, the smiling face of Odisha's Chief Minister Mohan Majhi on the cover page torn from the middle inadvertently by my elbow when I slumped on it, thanks to my tiring journey of 30 hours. Mom is up in heaven and she is the first thing I miss at home.

A mother's caressing hands on forehead and chest felt so soothing, something I longed for days and months. A mother's love is panacea for all ills. Though she equally loves all her children, she has a special affection for me being her only son and her first child born when she was still in her teens. With passing time her feelings towards me never wavered a bit.

All mothers are alike. Time and again she would ask me - "MO PUA (my son). You must be hungry. Have you eaten anything ?" though I have been munching all the time, trying to make best out from my finite stay. A mother's love for her child is always pure like the water from the mouth of a mountain spring - perennially pristine, unequivocally soothing, unwavering and unflinching. In her voice laced with care and caution, she instructed me to sip my evening cup of hot tea before it gets cold.

My reverie was rudely interrupted when I was served black pepper afternoon tea boiled in ginger. It shugged off my jaded nerves. It trigger me being overcome with a sudden desire to rush to the bathroom. It was 6 PM in India but 7.30 AM morning in America which expained the urge for a trip to toilet. I was reminded though currently in India, I left my biological clock back in USA. More later...