My goutlandish story

 This April is a landmark for me. It's now a decade since last time I got Gout - a painful inflammation on my left toe. That was April, 2016. Glad so far I have been spared from getting a repeat bout of gout. Yet as always illnesses can be predictably unpredictable and have a knack of hunting you down at the most inopportune moment. Quoting Scarlett O Hara from Margaret Mitchell's classic movie Gone With the wind, "Tomorrow is after all another day".

My first bout with Gout was 16 years ago when I was in India in summer of 2010. One fine hot and humid morning I woke up to a painful, inflamed toe. It hurt pretty bad, even the slightest touch of the soft blanket on my toe gave me a throbbing, stinging pain. It was so bad that one evening I couldn't wear my  shoes and had to cancel my planned trip to Bhubaneswar Club, a place which mandates wearing shoes.
The first thought came to my mind was that it's was probably an insect bite which caused this lingering pain on my toe. I took several painkiller pills which gave me temporary relief, but the pain stubbornly refused to go away. Late Dr. B.K. Das, an eminent physician and my father's friend upon seeing my symptoms suspected it as gout. The lab tests soon confirmed it, finding my blood saturated with more than the normal amount of uric acid. Medicines prescribed by Braja Mausa reduced the pain, but it still persisted, with me walking with a perpetual limp like the legendary character SHAKUNI of BR Chopra's  MAHABHARAT serial from my college days, until the pain slowly relented after completing the full course of the medications.

Now fast forward to April 2016, almost 6 years later. My tryst with gout continued, as after years it showed at my toe step. This time on American soil as I woke up to a big, painful toe. My Primary Care Physician prescribed a medicine to reduce the pain and another to reduce my high level of Uric acid. The medicine acted fast and swiftly reduced the pain, but gave me severe diarrhea. Less than a day after I started taking the medicine, at my workplace a sudden urge to relieve myself hurried me towards the Restroom (toilet). Before I could bang through the door, my boss appeared right in front of me exchanging pleasantries, though my mood was hardly pleasant at that time.

Struggling to hold on to my bowel with a smiling face, I had to bear the imminent nature call with clenched teeth. Suddenly I remembered Shakuni ridiculing Duryodhan in B.R. Chopra's MAHABHARAT serial - "MURKH WOHI HAI JO RONE KI WAQT PAR HASTE HAIN" (Fools are those who laugh at the time of crying). My smile was now slowly turning into a helpless grin. You should have seen my face and captured it on camera. It would have gone viral with million plus hits on YouTube.

To my relief, my boss got a call on his cellphone and melted away, leaving me alone to attend my nature's call. The journey of less than 10 feet from the restroom door to the stall seemed eternal. I tip toed as fast as I could, sat, shat and burst myself. Ahh..finally I came out immensely relieved of both bowel and gout pain, which was now gone with the wind. It reminded me the story of the legendary Odia witty jester Gopal Bhanda who convinced his King that world's greatest feeling of relieving oneself after taking a huge dump in toilet.

Gout used to be known as the Rich man's disease during medieval times though me, a poor victim of gout is no where close to rich. Mughal Emperor Akbar had gout. His Hakeems (doctors) struggled to treat him. King of England Henry VIII had multiple wives and multiple bouts of gout. Protein rich, high purine foods like red meat, shrimp, crab, turkey, bean, beer etc are said to cause of very high Uric acid, leading to gout. But I know someone, a strictly vegetarian and frugal foodie who also gets periodic bouts of gout. Guess genetics plays a role here.
The prescription medicines are good at providing instant relief, but would like to avoid them as they're not free from side effects. Eating a balanced diet, drinking plenty of water and doing regular exercise are recommended to prevent gout. As always, prevention is better than cure. Thanks for your patience for hearing my goutlandish story. Glad gout has spared me for 10 long years though tomorrow is another day.

April Fool's day - 2026

 March this year ended with a lot of uncertainty with wars, high oil price, stubborn inflation and speculation of impending recession. But being an eternal optimist I can see light at end of the tunnel as nothing lasts forever, not even bad things which happens to us. The first quarter of the year is about to end and the next month starts with April Fool's day, the first day of a new week, a new month and a new quarter. Time to gather some Foolish anecdotes while stepping into the All Fool's day.

April 1 is named FOOL'S DAY, after Steve April. He was born on 1st April of year 1579. He started 105 businesses in his lifetime, but none of them ever succeeded, losing all his father's assets. So everyone started calling him father of fools. At 19, he married a 61-year-old woman who divorced him after a month because of his foolishness. He used to carefully read all kinds of fake stories like we are doing now on social media. So we are no less fools than him.

Every year, 1st of April comes with its share of April Fool jokes. Even when we were keep washing our hands to keep Covid and other diseases away last few years, we shouldn't wash off our sense of humor. A few year's back April Fool joke from Google was - "Equator found to be slipping. Australia at risk of becoming a Northern Hemisphere country by 2055". Many actually believed it.

Not a whole lot are aware of the fact that Equator is an imaginary line. Once Indian President Giani Zail Singh was flying above the Equator. His secretary humored him - "Sir, can you see the equator below" ?  Zail Singh responded "Yes. I can see it and a car is slowly running on it". What he actually saw, was a lice walking on his long strand of hair, which just happened to fall right in front of his eyes.

MIT, Massachusetts which has produced hordes of innovators and Nobel winning Laureates is known for sheer wit and sense of mischief from its bright and creative students. In 1998, on All Fools' Day, MIT's homepage was rebuilt to announce that the Walt Disney Company had bought the famed institute for $6.9 billion. In same year in Pittsburgh where I was living, 1st of April came with a freak snow storm - fooling all on April Fool's day.

One thing I can't fathom - Why the Utkal Dibas (Odisha day) coincides with the April Fool's day ? It would not have hurt our forefathers to chose 31st March or 2nd April instead. We have been living in a Fool's paradise ever since, fooled time and again by our leaders who have taken us for a ride.

Never let a fool kiss you, or a kiss fool you - said Joey Adams, American Comedian (1911-99). Happy Fool's Day.

When your Commander-in-Chief has no militarily experience

 In the movie Movie "Last Castle" released in year 2001, the legendary Robert Redford is a 4 star general who goes to a military prison. Inside the jail he meets the man in charge of the prison played by actor James Gandolfini who shows him around many military decors he had collected. Instantly replies Robert Redford - "These collectibles can be gathered by a man who had never stepped a day in a battlefield". Robert Gandolfini wasn't amused.

Same is the case of Donald Trump. The man, is a draft dodger who has never stepped on a battlefield is unfortunately the Commander-in-Chief of the most powerful Military on earth who is fighting a war of choice with no clear goal in mind without any end game.

Politically the Middle East is an extremely complex place and the American is making it from bad to worst in its quest to control global energy. Add to it the Israeli factor. It is the Jewish state who is trying to fix Iran by firing gun from America's shoulder. If it backfires (which it looks like), it is US which will feel the brunt of it. America has happily walked into Israel's trap. War is rarely a solution to a problem. Most war mongers I have encountered, whether they are proponents of war against Pakistan, Iran or Ukraine have one thing in common. Forget about fighting a war, neither they nor anyone in their 14 generations from both sides of family lineage have ever held a real gun.

The Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussain kept Iran under control by fighting a decade long war with its eastern neighbor. US and the Arab nations indirectly supported Saddam until he went rouge in 1990. He had a personal hatred for Iran and famously said - "God shouldn't have created 3 things. Sand, mosquitoes and Persians". America went to Iraq and created a huge vacuum by removing Saddam Hussain for Iranians to fill in the void.

Not having its bete noire Saddam to fear, Iran expanded its influence to Iraq which is Shia majority nation and has 60% Shia population. Then it wanted to be the champion of the  middle east by fingering Israel by publicly announcing to wipe it out from earth when the Sunni majority Arab world went soft on Israel, having a healthy working relationship with the Jewish state. At the same time, Iran funded terror groups like Hezbollah and Houthis, the former fights Israel and the latter fights Saudi Arabia. Iran failed to realize that as an isolated country it cannot fight Israel and antagonize the Arab states at same time as the Sunni Islamic world will never allow a Shia majority country to be the leader of the Islamic Ummah.

So, long story short, the Middle East needs a political solution, not military. America which is still the superpower is currently led by one crazy man who is doing exactly the opposite. Now let's look at the two other major global powers - China and Russia. China, though growing powerful day by day, is not in a position to take global leadership role to solve Middle East crisis. Russia is knee deep in the Ukraine war. So ironically countries like Turkey, Egypt and even Pakistan are now playing the role of the peacemakers. Middle East, what a mess ! May Vishwaguru save it.

Adversity to Advantage

 History has witnessed many instances of men and women turning their weakness and adversity into advantage which is the secret sauce of their success. Instances are plenty, but let me address a few in chronological order, with one example each from Ancient, Medieval and Modern age of history.

Samrat Ashok from 260 BC in Ancient India and Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb in the 17th century Medieval India are great examples of using their shortcomings as opportunities to turn the tides of fortune in their favor. Both killed their brothers to ascend the throne. Battle hardened, both eliminatrd their father's favorite, pampered and eldest son among others to ascend the throne.

Ashok was son of Bindusara and grandson of legendary Chandragupta Maurya. During his childhood a saint who came to Bindudara's court predicted that Ashok, not the the King's eldest son Sushim will follow him to powerful throne of the Magadh kingdom after killing all his brothers.

Bindusara ignored the  prediction. However his eldest queen and mother of eldest son Sushim was quite concerned. Apt at palace intrigues, jealous and insecure of her Souten's (co-wife and another queen) charismatic son Ashok's growing popularity, she succeeded in convincing the King to send Ashok to quell rebellion in some faraway province. While the eldest son Sushim stayed back, pampered in the Magadh court, Ashok polished his military skills by engaging with the enemies of the state. When he heard the news of his father the King's death, Ashok brutally killed his brother Sushim who tried to stop him at the gates of Magadh, followed by killing rest of his brothers (he purportedly didn't killed his brother from her own mother). As the Saint's prediction came true, the point is Ashok didn't whine about being banished out of the state at cost of his brother, the favorite to the throne, but used it as an opportunity hone his military strategy and acumen to go for the final kill when it mattered.

The medieval era Aurangzeb's case was slightly different. The brothers he killed were from his own mother's womb. The third son of the Mughal Emperor Shah Jahan, better known for building the famous Taj Mahal saw from childhood his eldest brother Dara Sikoh being pampered and groomed for the throne by no other than his father Sah Jahan. Dara's marriage in year 1633 to his cousin (cousin marriages were common among Mughals) was a costly affair. Historians have estimated that amount to be over $48 million in today's money which surpasses all display of opulence.

Aurangzeb noted the favoritism shown by his father to his eldest brother, breeding hatred and suspicion towards both. 25 years later in 1658 when Dara Sikoh was mollycoddled in Mughal court groomed to ascend the famous Peacock throne after Sah Jahan, the 3rd son of Sah Jahan was sent by his father on missions to distant Afghanistan and Deccan. Unfortunately for both father and his favourite son Dara Sikoh, this mistreatment of Aurangzeb produced a tough and experienced warrior. While the suave Dara sat with Pundits busy learning Sanskrit and translating Upanishad (a sacred Hindu text) to Persian, his younger brother became a hardened combatant learning all scheming and political maneuvering needed to fight a war. When push came to shove, the battle tested Aurangzeb not only defeated and killed Dara, he sent an imprisoned Sah Jahan the severed head of the old man's favorite son. Aurangzeb like Ashok before him used circumstances adverse to him to his advantage.

Now let's jump to modern era. Unlike Ashok or Aurangzeb, the case of Naveen Patnaik, Odisha's Chief Minister for 24 consecutive years is not about blood or bothers, but him using his inability to speak the native language Odia, his perceived shortcoming which he turned into positivity towards his advantage. He read the minds of the Odias pretty well as him not speaking Odia created an aura of exceptionalism and exclusiveness around him in front of Odisha millieu. Like these Emperors he is known to be politically ruthless and trusts no one. But his voters loved him, his suave and soft demeanor.

This part of his personality can be attributed to his legendary father who was rumored to have a low opinion of his youngest son. It is noted in a well researched book written by a reputed journalist that sometime during the early 1990s when Biju Patnaik was in his last and final tenure as the Chief minister, his Delhi based socialite son Naveen, a frugal visitor to the state suddenly dropped in with his British friend at the state capital (Now it's other way round. Naveen Patnaik rarely steps outside state). The father Biju Patnaik avoided entertaining the duo in his house and instructed one of his ministers to house them at a local hotel. This is one of several instances the Odia legend snubbing his son for reasons best know to him.

It is said that the son has paid it back by not being a big fan and protagonist of his legendary father's vision, except using his name for political gains. Yet, a la Aurangzeb who ruled the longest amongst the Mughals for almost half a century, the ignored son of Biju Patnaik eventually had the last laugh by ruling the state longest post independent Odisha has seen, with the possibility of ruling further if he is still around 2029. He is another example of turning adversity to advantage. No wonder, History loves to repeat itself. What was served as ruthlessly in ancient and medieval age has repeated itself in the modern era.

The saga of fountain pen

A part and parcel of our childhood memories, an ubiquitous paraphernalia of our early student life was the ubiquitous Fountain Pen. The first modern fountain pen was invented by an American, Lewis Waterman from New York, which revolutionized writing by making it less arduous.

Before that there was no plausible way for a continuous, capillary flow of ink. Many great writers had to contend with the pain of penning down their thought in a staggered manner, going through a tedious loop, the monotony of dipping the pen tip time and again inside the ink bowl to write. Our teachers carried multiple fountain pens inside their bulging shirt pockets. It was not unusual to see leaking pens spilling and blotting their shirts, causing embarrassments and occasionally spilling some beans.

The SULEKHA was the most popular brand of ink and Royal Blue being the more often used color, though I preferred black. The red ink was sparingly used, only for markings and notations by examiners. One had to be very careful while pouring ink after unscrewing the fountain pen, taking care not to spill it, lest it spoils your shirt and surrounding. During the hot weather or due to fewer usage, the nib of the pen would dry out. Shaking it off and letting the Newton's law of gravitation do the rest to make it workable. Sometimes widening the nib with an used razor blade also did the trick.

Razor blade serves multiple purposes. Once in my first job I met a guy from Barhampur, Odisha who came for an interview. Staring at his stained teeth due to over consumption of PAAN (Betel leaves with scented tobacco) I asked him - "Don't you think you need to clean your teeth before your interview" ? He snarled his brown teeth at me - "AJI RAATI RE. TOOPAAZA (Topaz) BLADE NEI DAANTA KURRIBARRA EKKA (Tonight using Topaz blade I will extract all the stains out of my teeth). Not sure if he ever got the job.

The iconic movie 3 IDIOTS pokes fun at our education system - our tendency to prefer complex solutions over simple ones, deliberately obfuscating versus common sense. At beginning of movie the Director of the Engineering College boasts in front of his students showing a pen he designed to work in space, where there is no gravitational pull to pull the ink downwards. The pragmatic yet playful Rancho played by Aamir Khan retorts back with a simpler solution - "Why don't they use pencils in space" ? As they say in Hindi "BADI BADI KHUSIYA HEY CHHOTI CHHOTI BATON MEIN" (Big happiness lies in small talks). The audience instantly burst into laughing after Rancho's impromptu response.

Back to fountain pen, its ink had many multipurpose usages - especially in our school aptly named as Demonstration Multipurpose (DM), a school with a high visibility in Bhubaneswar those days. One fine morning we boys decided to demonstrate the multipurpose utility of our fountain pens. Someone came up with this brilliant, creative idea of using the pen to bring out more playful joy and do justice to its potential of used other than using it for writing. Play HOLI with the fountain pen.

He wetted and painted the back of the front benchers by surreptitiously slashing some blue ink from behind. The front benchers did same by replicating it and passing the buck to the guy ahead of him. By afternoon, most of the guys looked colorful, their starched white shirts now converted to blue and black Polka dotted Hawaiians. Our martinet sports teacher, Hannan Sir spotted us spotted leopards and tried his best to get to the bottom to dig out the culprit who started it.

Like "NIRMULI LATA" or rootless creeper, which curls it's way from plant to plant, making it is very difficult to trace its roots, our teacher's curiosity to trace its source was futile. In spite of his best efforts, he could not get to the root of the matter. Frustrated, he punished all of us by forcing us into a tiring run around a field, along the edges of Eucalyptus trees. The Holi celebration written in ink had an unholy ending as no one ever dared to play this ink throwing game again.

Towards the end of the 1980s the  Fountain Pen started dying a slow, natural death, unable to compete with ball point pens which slowly took over. The Reynolds brand, unique of its kind and only available in Bhubaneswar those days were so popular that I used to get big orders and acted as a mule, carrying bagfuls of them to my eagerly waiting Engineering College friends in Rourkela.

Have you observed that no matter what, when you use some one's pen it has certain inertia associated with it. For a few more minutes it is not unusual for one to get this ghostly feeling of possessed by the last owner, as your handwriting tends to take the shape of the previous user of the pen. It had made me wonder how come my handwriting suddenly got better.

Now writing with a fountain pen is going to be of mountainous proportion, a real pain. Only left are nostalgic memories to cherish, which is going to die with our generation, as photo films, telegram and handwritten letters did. Wish you all had a Happy and Colorful Holy-day sans ink. 

Our social media warriors

 The ongoing Israel-US's war on Iran has set cat amongst pegions within social media in India. Many hitherto united due to their hatred against current Modi-BJP disposition are not only highly divided about a war where the Government of India has taken a neutral stance, they are rabidly warring among themselves more than the current war, being already divided and taking opposite sides. It is often outrageous and occasionally outright funny to see their clash of thoughts and watch them debating on social media. Those having opinions about the ongoing war in the Gulf fall into the following categories.

1. The Indian Liberals - especially those from an Eastern state of India known to have a long Commie leaning are not unexpectedly staunchly anti-USA although their idol Russia and comrade China have long relinquished communism and have a perfectly working relationship with the United States. America is certainly not above criticism and they have every right to be critical of its policies. But here comes their hypocrisy - they don't send their kids to Moscow or Beijing, rather to Marlyland or Boston and try their best to get American Visa for themselves. (One of my college mates and a huge critic of America had his US Visa rejected). If Hypocrisy would be an event in the Olympics, they would win Gold medal hands down.

2. Hard core Bhakts and supporters of Modi/BJP - They love to hate Iran and have a crush on Israel. Since time immemorial they have been cheering every time the Jewish nation bombs Hamas, Gaza or Iran. Some of them even address Israel as "Salom Dost" (salute my friend). Don't think common Israelis ever reciprocate in same frenzy and address us Indians as "Namaste Mitron". Even if Modi hugged Netanyahu (the later reciprocated the former's hug by an apparently uncomfortable embrace not to be seen as diplomatically impolite in public), the Israeli Prime Minister's "Fraandly" response was more strategic than any meaningful friendship with Modi. I am sure the Isreali commoners share the same feelings, without having any great love for us.

A few of them who are rabid Muslim haters are supporting Iran because of their antipathy towards Trump ever since the American President, once the darling of India's right wing now turned into rabid Trump/America haters. They are behaving like jilted lovers ever since their idol Modi was ditched by his Fraand Dolaand for his new love Pakistan. They come with their own confused defense of their support for Israel but opposition to USA - we stand with the Iranian public but are against their Ayotollah leadership. They are against American attack on Iran, at same time they're for Israeli attack on Iran, as if the results of their attacks are any different. Have you ever heard of more confusing opinions ! Regardless, the deserve a Silver medal in hypocrisy.

3. Indian Muslims - No surprise or hypocrisy here. They were anti Israel and Trump from the beginning, they are still now. Most of their love towards Iran dwell on religious affinity rather than understanding of the complex Middle East crisis. While they are critical of killing of innocents in Gaza (I too consider killing of innocents as inhuman), they are conspicuously silent of the attack by Hamas on innocent Israelis and the atrocious atrocities of the Iranian Mullahs on their own citizens, especially women. Bronze medal in hypocrisy goes to them.

Regardless of what's happening in the Middle East, the issue is too complicated to be solved militarily. A long term political solution is the key no one is talking about. Forget laymen like us, even professional foreign policy analysts have no clue about any long lasting solution. Middle East, what a mess !

Happy Women's Day

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

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 go to India, my mother's hug and caressing hands used to feel so soothing, something I longed for days, months and years. Mother's love is panacea to all ills plaguing mind and body, heart and soul. Unfortunately she is no more. 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, yet our misogynistic society rarely mentions about it. (Bollywood is still a misogynistic institution, filled with nepotism and hypocrisy. Otherwise how could be a silly movie like "Animal" released few years ago where a woman asks a man to lick his shoes be a big hit making millions) ?

But unfortunately with the progress of time, in the age of cutting edge technology where thoughts can fly in twinkle of an eye, Artificial Intelligence (AI) and Robots are replacing humans, the world has become anything but respectable to the fairer sex. 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, humiliating their wives in public like drop of a hat to prove their masculinity and indulged in rampant cheating.

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 him impromptu 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 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 of accepting women as equals. On the occasion of Women's Day I salute all women who have made a significant difference to my life, contributing to it, shaping my knowledge and character, like a potter shaping pottery out of clay. Happy Women's Day to all !!!

Ides of March

 Beware of the Ides of March. As weather warms up with the arrival of spring, the month began with a turbulent world heating up Middle East as war and turmoil there continues unabated with no sign of Russia's war against Ukrain ending anytime soon. It is further accentuated by uncertain economic future ransomed by Trump initiated war.

Historically nothing new about a tumultuous March as it brings back memories from a major historical event tied to this month eons ago, when Julius Caesar, the scion of the great Roman Empire was murdered inside the Senate by his own insidious colleagues, many he believed were his friends.

Julius Caesar was a fascinating character in history, a great general and politician, a handsome, muscular, flat stomach man with a magnetic persona, the Knight-in-Shining armor darling of the Roman women presiding over 50 million people of the Great Roman empire at its zenith of power, extending from Britain to Syria, from Bavarian Alps to North Africa. 50 million was a gargantuan population 2,000 years ago.

With success comes jealousy, rivalry, enemies and backstabbers. This has been since time immemorial, a basic human nature unaffected by passage of time. Caesar was a victim of his own success. In the quest for power a person's near and dear ones (as usual) can be your worst enemies. We have this Odia adage - "ANTI CHHURI TANTI KATE" (the waist knife can cut your throat, or your so called near and dear ones are the first ones to backstab you). It was vindicated two millenniums ago that politics invariably and eventually trumps over military. Most who planned Caesar's assassination were his close friends, especially his closest buddy Brutus of "Et To Brutus" fame. Those were Julius Caesar's last words as Brutus pulled the dagger on him to snuff life from his body.

Historians differ on how close Brutus was to Caesar. Some say they were extremely close. Others say it wasn't so, as Brutus once unsuccessfully rebelled against Julius and was pardoned by the later for he was the son of Caesar's mistress. He always had a grudge against Julius to settle, for he harbored the humiliation of often taunted for his mother's allegedly affair with Caesar. It is said Brutus's mother simply couldn't resist and succumbed to Julius's charm. Personal anger and jealousy can be a lethal concoction leading a person to get vindictive. Brutus was waiting for the opportune moment to push the dagger on Julius to backstab him.

The role of another Mistress of Caesar, the powerful Egyptian Queen Cleopatra in this imbroglio can't be ignored. She was from Royal Egyptian bloodline with a legendary blend of beauty and brain, a talented woman who spoke multiple languages and dabled in politics and medicines with equal aplomb. Cleopatra who was rumored to take bath in pure milk to preserve her beauty accentuated Caesar's ambition to be the ruler of great Roman empire by suggesting subjugation of Senate - the people's elected body. She too fell for Julius Caesar's irresistible charm.

Power could be an addictive aphrodisiac and its still now. Thousands years down the road we have seen democratically elected leaders soon developing dictatorial tendencies - Indira Gandhi, Trump, Modi and many more included. Cleopatra, who was the daughter of a politician from Egypt's powerful establishment and quite familiar with the palace intrigues saw this coming. It is said that based on a dream she had the night before her husband's Brute(al) assassination, she warned Julius Caesar to be on guard. But drunk with sheer public adulation, fame and the accompanied over confidence he chose to ignore her, least expecting an assault to come from his close friends on his familiar Senate floor.

Power often prevents the powerful from being aware of the vacuum surrounding them, keeping them myopic not to be able to see the approaching storm, leaving them off guard and vulnerable. China's all powerful President Xi Jinping who has consolidated power in China, the second largest powerful country in world couldn't see Corona virus coming. Trump ignored it only to pay a price of getting defeated after his first term. In India, Indira Gandhi, the iron lady Prime Minister with dictatorial tendencies was assassinated at the peak of her power when she was a pan Indian cult figure.

From Shakespeare's novel it looks as if the attack on Caesar was impromptu on that fateful Spring day inside the Roman Senate. But the sinister plot to kill him was hatched long before and later implemented to perfection. Gladiators were kept ready as back up, in case the best laid plan went wrong. Caesar was assassinated on the Senate floor as planned.

Plenty of water has flown in the river Tibur (the bank on which the city of Rome was established ) since that fateful day in the month of March. Guns, bombs, missiles have replaced dagger as the killing machine. Humans can fly into space and their thought can travel at twinkle of their eyes, with the world shrunk to a global village as Artificial intelligence and Robots take over.

Yet for quest of absolute power politics, the backroom deals, back stabbing, jealousy,  assassinations, leaders with dictatorial tendencies vying to consolidate power hasn't changed over the past 2000 years. The basic human nature hasn't changed at all. March has just started, we are not done with it yet. Beware of the Ides of March.

Israel - US launched strike on Iran

 Middle East is boiling again as Israel and America have launched attack on Iran behind the smokescreen of talks going on between US and Iran. It is rumored that the Iranian Supremo Ali Khamenei has been eliminated, though we all know that truth is the first casualty of war. Here are the major forces who are in action and what's in stake for them.

1. USA - I remember in 1996 US firing Monica missiles on targets in Afghanistan at peak of Bill Clinton's Lewinsky scandal. Fast forward 30 years to 2026. It's time for "Epstein" missiles to fall on Iran. Also pro-Israeli Jewish lobby is very strong in USA, a country which has more Jews than any country including Israel. American jews are extremely rich, powerful and influential. Their writ runs in any US Administration, regardless of Republican or Democrat. Trump who promised to end American involvement in overseas wars is true to the salt of his fellow Republicans is involved in wars, dancing to Netanyahu's tune. With US $38 trillion national debt and still growing,. the country can at least afford a war at this juncture.

Israel - The country seems to be obsessed with Iran and fully using America to do its dirty work. Ever since Israel was formed in 1948, followed by immediate recognition from US and UK the country along with its middle east neighborhood is in perpetual turmoil with no end in sight. Now too both countries have come swinging in support of the Zionist state unlike most of their NATO partners. But end of Iranian regime doesn't mean that Israel will be allowed to live in peace and tranquility. A place as complicated as Middle East can't be solved militarily, it needs a long term political solution.

Iran - It has done the strategic mistake of trying to be the hero of the Muslim world by taking on Israel which is more than thousand miles from Iran and both countries don't share a common border. In its zeal to be the darling of the Isramic world it started to poke Israel. This hasn't gone well with the Saudi Arabia led Sunni world of Middle East for whom Shia Iran is more dangerous than Zionist Israel. Iran is paying the price of taking the Israel bull by horn when the other Middle East Sunni dominated nations have compromised with it,grudgingly accepting Israel's existence to coexis with the Jewish state.

China - It is a country which ruthlessly follows its self interest policy with long term goal to dislodge America from its position of world's superpower. This war gives it an opportunity to test its weapons against American's with whom it is fast catching up. It is shrewd enough not directly get involved in a war, although it is a major buyer of Iranian oil. In one way we can see it as a proxy war between China-Russia versus US-Israel axis.

Russia - A long time partner and weapons supplier to Iran, it is busy in its war in Ukraine. Economically not in great shape, its war ridden economy benefits from high gas price due to the turmoil in the Middle East. Trump's softness towards Russia is pretty well known and American President will make sure that Putin is kept in good humor. Don't be surprised if top officials of the present Iranian regime end up finding asylum in Moscow.

India - Incidentally Prime Minister Modi was in Israel just few days ago when Israel-US were openly plotting to launch an attack on Iran. Incidentally Donald Trump already went public mentioning America was preparing to strike Iran. The recent public show of hospitality and extension of red carpet by Netanyahu towards Modi is not due to Israel's love for India, but as a timely strategy. Not that Netanyahu loves our Vishwaguru's white beard or fake laugh, being mostly isolated these days even by its erstwhile friendly western European nations, Israel is desperate for any support from any quarter in any form. In that context it doesn't hurt Israel to court India. No more, no less.

There are folks on social media fed with fake propaganda of India being a Vishwaguru are demanding India to intervene to stop the war. Let's be realistic here setting our jingoism aside. Do you think that US and Israel will listen to India and stop the war ? What leverage it has got to impress Israel and USA to change their mind to stop the war ? Modi was in Israel only few days ago when Israel was already in preparation for the war. What magic India has to stop the war at this moment ? The best option for India would be to follow a wait and watch policy as it won't do anything, as it cannot do nothing. Let's just keep fingers closed and hope for the best for the entire world.

Two men of February - Manoj Das and Khushwant Singh

 As we March into the month of March, February is the month I remember for giving birth to two great Indian writers - Manoj Das an Odia writer of international fame and Khushwant Singh, who needs no introduction. Both are my favorites whose simple, crispy and lucid style of writing without using many bombadistic words has a tremendous influence on me. 

Both are unique and contradictory in their own way  - One known for his sagacious and the other for his salacious writings. Manoj Das's writing touches the simple truth and philosophy of life. He never hurts a fly. But Khushwant Singh never spared anyone, including himself and his Sardar community by his self deprecating jokes, often mocking at his own religion and community.

Books by both authors are enchanting writing and make a fabulous read. Manoj Das was an excellent story tellers, his philosophical writing was way beyond to comprehend for a layman tyro like me. Both have some serious writings to their credit - Manoj Das with his philosophical stuff which can only be understood and appreciated by folks at an higher level of intellect (not me). Khushwant Singh is known for his volumes of "History of Sikhs" which is regarded as an authentic treatise and researched encyclopedia about the Sikh community and the religion.

Manoj Das was a vegetarian and spiritual person to core. Khushwant Singh loved his Spirits in the form his Scotch every evening. Prayers and Devotional songs were Sri Das's company during the evening, while the old Sardar cherished the company of wine and women his company. The fairer sex were attracted towards his intellect. He listened to their sorrows (most women have their secret sorrows to share) and his company was a soothing balm for them. The Sardar was smart enough to figure out Indians mind's hypocrisy and obsession with sex which he catered well in his work. Manoj Das never veered into that territory in his writing which was clean as a whistle.

Unlike poles are known attract each other. Manoj Das's short stories were serialized by Khushwant Singh when the later edited "THE ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY", the most widely read and circulated magazine in 1970s. Those days many were desperate to get their short stories published in Illustrated Weekly magazine. But Khushwant Singh would include Manoj Das's short stories which he found to be uniquely unique, very authentic and original.

Writings styles of both eminent writers were poles apart. The Sardar, a master of glut of smut, thrived on liberal dosage of crude humor, fart and sex, whereas Manoj Das's revolved on nature and life, the subtle humor hovering around its vagaries. No wonder Khushwant Singh who rejected many stories sent to him published many short stories written by Manoj Das because of the authenticity in the later's writing. Sri Das eulogized the witty Sardar as "JANE NIRBHIKA LEKHAKA" (One fearless writer). It is proved by the fact he dared to take head on the likes of Bal Thackarey and Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale at a time most other journos when expected to bend, volunteered to crawl before the those self proclaimed lords and myopic hate mongers).

Manoj Das, in his tribute to Khushwant Singh after the later's death has described how liquor used to flow during evenings at the Sardar's party, while Manoj Das would be sipping his endless glasses of Tomato juice. These two great writers formed a unique bond in diversity, of mutual trust and respect. The old Sardar still kept writing well into his late 90s and may Sri Manoj Das too. Khushwant Singh lived until 99 and Manoj Das late 80s. Kudos to both.

Urban legends from Childhood days

 Like many from my generation, I grew up amidst several Urban legends (few Rural too) in Odisha. For a long time I believed them as gospels written on stone. Here you go :

Jeff Thompson was known to be the fastest bowler during my childhood days. It was then said, to Sunil Gavaskar, the better known cricketer of our time, once the ball came out of Thompson's hand it looked like a woman's Sindoor (Vermilion dot which adores Hindu women's forehead as a symbol of marriage). A la Hindu women, it was destined for Gavaskara's (Sunny's last name pronounced in a thick Odia accent) forehead.

But our little Gavaskara knew about this folklore attributed to him. Because the Little Master had the height advantage of having a small height, readily ducking Thompson's "bounsara" missiles without getting hurt. As we know in India, cricket is more skewed towards the batsmen (probably the reason why we rarely produce quality fast bowlers). So whatever supposedly came out of our Gavaskara's mouth who dominated in the 1970s and 80s was treated as the gospel.

A guy in our neighborhood used to say that the world's fastest bowler was Lillian Thomson. Many would be wondering how can be a woman be the world's fastest bowler in a male dominated sport. Fast bowlers are known to hunt in pairs, so he innoculosly combined Lillie and Thompson duo as Lillian Thomson. But unfortunately later on we alluded the guy as "Gullian" Thompson (Gullia in Odia means a person who kills light hearted jokes).

In the 1979s a person from near my ancestral village near Puri, Odisha got into the Civil Services, undoubtedly the most cherished job those days when government was the largest employer in the country. The legend goes like this. In the UPSC interview panel he was questioned - "What's Half Circle, Full Circle, Half Circle A, Half Circle, Full Circle, Right Angle A". Instantly came his answer - "Coca Cola", which catapulted him to a top rank above the rest who were not brilliant enough to answer this question correctly. Not sure if that question prompted George Fernandez, the champion Socialist of that era to drive Coke and IBM out of India. It's rumored he toiled hard to nationalize the Tatas, the largest private sector of the time. Glad sanity prevailed, nothing of that sort happened.

And this one beats all - the myth about Mahatab's head. A widely circulated story attributed to the brain of late Dr. H.K. Mahatab, a Congressman and ex-Chief Minister of Odisha and the Governor of the state of Maharastra. Considered to be a wily politician of his time, it is said after his death America secretly fetched his head from Odisha to investigate and explore the secrets behind his masterly shrewd political brain.

It is still rumored to be well preserved is some remote research lab in the United States as the American scientists still can't fathom the depth of his immense political acumen and shrewness. Source of this GULLI (a light hearted joke) is most likely the Old Town area of Bhubaneswar where he lived and still has a lot of fan following. Many credit him for being the Founding Father of the New Capital city of Bhubaneswar who influence with Nehru tipped Bhonsara in its favor rather than the originally panned Anugul as the capital city of Odisha. Never know one day I might stumble upon a mummified head in some museum in US with a slab underneath it 'The Brainiest Head in the history of Mankind'. 
 
The story about his head is a devotional lie which transformed itself into a well believed truth. No wonder Goebbels, Hitler's propaganda Minister during the days of Nazi Germany famously said - "A lie repeated hundred times becomes the truth". We have an Odia proverb - "TINI TUNDARE CHHELI KUKURA - " a goat can be a dog if three mouths say so". The meaning is self explanatory as lies after lies peddled these days are believed as gospels by gullible folks.

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 small time Hindu Chiftain who went on to built a 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 very few Hindu Kings in a thousand year span who successfully survived the onslaught of his enemies, including the Badshah of Bijapur and Nizam of Hyderabad who were in his surrounding neighborhood, 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 although very brave lacked guile and strategy, perennially facing defeat. Shivaji was unmatched, for he used his guts along with classic guerilla warfare tactics and pre-emptive strikes, altogether forming an 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 few of his fingers chopped off by non other than Shivaji himself. After almost killing Shayast Khan he planned his escape well in advance, letting loose the 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 the darkness.

But non of his several escape escapades matched the breaking free from his house arrest by the Mughal Emperor Aurangzeb in Agra. Shivaji was invited to The Emperor's birthday-cum-coronation ceremony after the middle son of Shah Jahan earned it after eliminating his potential rivals. The Mughal Emperor was sitting on his peacock throne when the Maratha King along with his son Sambhaji who was a boy 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 had frustrated him time and again. Shivaji had a history of making spectacular escapes when surrounded with all escape routes closed only to resurface earning this sobriquet. Now the 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 Emperor was not supposed to return showing his back to the "Badshah". He must bend and walk backwards until out of sight of the Alamgir (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 Mughal book of etiquette in front of "Jahapanah" (Emperor) which was considered a sacrilege. The Scion of Mughal Empire, Aurangzeb the ruthless, observed this, but didn't show his reaction in public. He sent his faithful, 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 solicitating 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, on Emperor Aurangzeb's order Shivaji was put under house arrest in Agra.

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 the abode of Allah. 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 to sit 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 gifts of charity in leau of blessings for his early recovery from his feigned illness. This continued every day.

One night he changed his dress with one of his trusted attendants, a barber who shaved off his well trimmed beard and moustache, put his son in one of the sweet crates and carried it disguised as a 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 was catching up with 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. Now a man possessed, 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 has 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 surrounded by tall well built generals). 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, 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 quarter of a 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 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.

Clemency for Imran Khan

 Imran Khan still hangs on, hasn't hung up his boots yet. News from Pakistan is the former famous cricketer-cum-playboy turned politician is seriously ill in prison fighting for his life and on the verge of losing eyesight, at least in one eye. His sad and precarious condition has prompted many prominent ex-cricketers raise "May Day" which includes well known ex-cricketers and Imran's contemporaries Sunil Gavaskar, Vivian Richards, Kapil Dev, Clive Lloyd and Chappell brothers requesting Pakistan's government for urgent clemency.

Imran Khan had a highly successful career as a Cricket player. As the cricket captain of Pakistan he desired to defeat England in England and India in India - both countries he loved to hate, though In his book "All Round View" Imran Khan wrote that in the 1982–83 season, Mohinder was quite simply the best batsman in the world. He got both his wishes fulfilled by defeating India in India in the spring of 1987 and later England in England in summer. Then he went on to win the Cricket World Cup in 1992 after motivating his team when all hope was gone as they were one game shy from elimination. He said he told his players to behave as cornered tigers and the team responded magnificently.
He soon built a Cancer hospital in memory of his mother, first of its kind in the poverty stricken nation of Pakistan.

The ultimate Alpha Male, Imran Khan a playboy of repute bedded a number of lasses, some of them rumored to be Rekha, Moon Moon Sen and notably Zeenat Aman whom he almost married but for the objection from his mother. He produced at least one kid out of wedlock from the six feet American celebrity girl Sita White. He first denied but in the age of DNA test he admitted of fathering the girl child when an US Court summoned him to do a paternity test. Sita White died young at a young age 43, suddenly collapsing before her Yoga class in Los Angeles. Imran was forced to take his daughter into his custody. He married multiple times which included Jemima Goldsmith, his first wife and daughter of a super rich Jewish tycoon - a girl half his age.

Imran Khan had a great eye for talent. Once in 1990 he saw a young Inzamam Ul Haq at the nets and was impressed. He told Akram and Waqar to bowl to him. He also bowled couple of bouncers to Inzamam who successfully pulled them. Imran walked to Rameez Raza and said - "Pakistan got its Vivian Richards".

When Imran Khan joined politics, he was laughed off and expected not to replicate his success on the Cricket field in the murky world of Pakistani politics. A man destined to be the yet again winner all the way, he went on to become the Prime Minister of the country - the ultimate dream of any politician from the Indian subcontinent.

But politics is a different ball game. His dream would soon turn into a nightmare. Allah, Army and America rule the roost in Pakistan. Imran Khan should have realized that, but he made the cardinal mistake of taking on two of the three, i.e. Army and America. Every successful person doesn't necessarily succeed in the murky world of politics. Ask India's Bollywood megastar Amitabh Bachchan who quit politics barely two years after he became a Member of Parliament with a lot of fanfare only to realize that politics wasn't his cup of tea.

Imran Khan is paying the price of taking on the all powerful Pakistani Army establishment, the institution which got full support of America. It ain't happened yet. Though ailing the gritty Pathan won't quit without a fight. I always admire and adore leaders with "never say die" attitude, also famously exemplified by British Prime Minister Winston Churchill during the World War II (incidentally both Imran and Churchill weren't great fans of India).

A born fighter, Imran Khan hasn't hung up his boots yet. Like a cornered tiger when he came back from behind against all odds to inspire a talented but maverick Pakistan side to win the 1992 Cricket World Cup, he is still in the game, down but not out. Though fighting an increasingly losing battle, he can take solace from the legendary American baseball player Yogi Berra who famously said - "It ain't over until it's over" ! Good luck all rounder.

Change of habits after coming to America

 I was in India last month where I observed how much things have changed in almost 30 years since I left India. 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 since 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) in night. Can't do that now. Even in Bhubaneswar the water was cold enough to mix it with hot water from the overhead Geyser water heater. Cold water bath is considered for the body protecting skin from dryness. Read somewhere 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 ! Many in India were surprised at looking at me pouring ice cubes into my drinking water and drinking refrigerated water in the middle of January. 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. Converted many tree trunks and walls as urinals, not anymore as there is no empty space left in Bhubaneswar to do relieve yourself, even at night.

4. Catching up with Hollywood movies I missed earlier and became extremely selective on Bollywood ones, the later lacking ingenuity as years progress. No wonder a junk Bollywood movies are becoming blockbusters. OTT stuff on Netflix and Amazon are much better these days.

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. Even TV has taken a backseat these days.

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. Won't dare now. Used to lane driving and driving automated cars (have never driven a shift gear car with cluth in my life). If I ever drive a car 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 a hobby. Never thought in wildest of my dreams I will cultivate these hobbies, but now I am addicted to those, cultivating veggies and fruits in my backyard every summer.

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 like 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 at all.

Leaving Odisha - India trip January 2026

 I have been visiting Bhubaneswar every year post Covid since 2021, twice in the year 2024. Couple of things stood out to me, exponential growth in pollution and alcohol consumption. Since I flew out of India my cough, runny nose and throat irritation has suddenly become a thing of the past. I have a feeling it was the pollution and dust laden air of Bhubaneswar causing it. Throughout my stay the cloudless sky of the Capital city of Odisha looked gray not blue. The mid afternoon sun resembled incandescent bulb.

From my childhood I know the color of the sky is blue. For a Gen Z kid growing up in Delhi and Bhubaneswar, the capital of India and Odisha respectively, the color of the sky is gray. No sooner I arrived in Abu Dhabi than its morning sky looked bright and blue which I missed for almost 3 weeks. Normally you would expect otherwise in a city in the middle of a sand and dust filled desert.

Now coming to alcohol, it is available aplenty these days with most known foreign brands flooding the market to be consumed by the noveu riche Bhonsariya who of late have carved their niche with growing affordability. But alcohol juxtaposed with arrogance are on the rise, forming a deadly concoction. One evening after finishing my dinner at a well known hotel-cum-restaurant in the city I suddenly stumbled upon an old friend. At the hotel lobby he introduced me to a guy - "This is my friend Sambeet". His companion who was already heavily inebriated asked me in a slurry voice, "Where do you live ?" I replied, "In America". "Oh, I see. There must be one lakh (100,000) Odias in America" - he queried.

I found one lakh a gross overestimation of the population of Odias living in the USA and concluded it as a perfect calculation of a drunken mind. Before I could correct his unrealistic assessment he dropped another bombshell - "AMERICA RE JOU LAKHYE ODIA ACHHANTI SABU MO BA**A BA*LA" (All the Odias living in USA are my pubic hairs). In response I somehow blurted out "How could you count your pubic hairs so accurately and arrive at the exact figure of one lakh ?" I went a step further - "How do you manage to count and groom your 100,000 pubic hairs ! Do you count them by hand or use a machine, the kind uses by bank tellers to counter cash emitting a whirring sound" ?

He was too drunk to get my joke, but told me - "Hang on. I will see you around". He never came back. My friends were still laughing at my reply. No sooner I turned around than came a loud thud. I looked back to see our drunk friend fall down at the doorstep of the hotel lobby and farted loudly enough to be audible over a distance as his friends struggled to pull him up. Staggering a few feet, he suddenly leaned on a car close by and started vomited on the tyre, belching out BHAK..BHAK in waves as one of his friends poured a bottle of water on his head and then forced him into the back seat of a car.

On my way to the Airport while going over the Punama Gate overbridge which bridges my  locality to the Airport, making it only a 15-20 minute drive, not too bad by Bhubaneswar standard. I could see a lot of people in front of a podium loud blaring music. It was a Melody, a local lingo for Orchestra going on for the occasion of "Agi Purnima", a bonfire festival in Odisha to celebrate end of winter and the beginning of spring when the days start to get warmer but the night is still cool. The traffic slowed down for me to take a peek. The singer on the stage was apparently doing lip syncing in front of a boisterous crowd. I doubt many from the current generation of Odias would be remembering "Agijala" (bonfire) Purnima which has been mostly relegated to villages.

At Bhubaneswar Airport I found our Bhais (brothers) and Behens (sisters) occupying chairs near the boarding gate and blocking a seat next to them by placing handkerchief or bag on it for their spouses who leisurely roam around as if seats are their father's property. I removed one such bags from a chair and sat down on it. The lady next to me complained. I said - "You can't reserve a seat while others are standing".

Those who have traveled by bus in Odisha know this a classic way of reserving seats. Once while travelling to Dhenkanal by bus I waited for my turn and took my time to board. Once inside I saw some empty seats though many were still standing, reluctant to occupy those seats by the windows strewn with handkerchiefs. I nonchalantly swished away one of those "RUMALS" (handkerchief) from a cherished window seat and occupied it. After a few minutes here comes this guy leisurely strolling towards me munching a packet of peanuts (groundnuts), spilling the shells on the bus floor. He wasn't too pleased to see me occupying his side seat.

While bending down to pick up his Rumal he started accusing me of stealing his seat which he painstakingly reserved for himself by throwing that piece of cloth. I told him pointing to a Scooter parked outside "So you think by throwing your handkerchief on this vehicle you can claim it as your own" - trying to drive my point. I could hear muffled laughter from the surrounding co-passengers.
But the punchline was yet to come. Another guy sitting behind followed me in his typical Odia in Berhampuri accent "HA RE PUA, MO MAAIKINA MUNDARE RUMALU TA THOI KAHIBU TO MAIKINA TA MORA EKKA" - "Oh my son, you can put the handkerchief on my wife's head and claim my wife as your's only." Now the entire bus burst into laughter.

My deja vu recollection of the event was rudely interrupted when the boarding call was announced for my flight for Zone 3 and the rest were told to seat until their turn arrives. There were 3 lines (queues) clustered around i
like the Triveni Sangam of Ganga, Yamuna and Saraswati in front of the gate. Inside the flight I had a Mosquito as my co-passenger getting a free ride, swarming around. I also noticed Wheel chairs being abused, folks looking perfectly healthy using it.

My flight to Delhi landed at Terminal 2 close to midnight. I quickly grabbed my luggages from the carousel and took a walk to the international Terminal 3 pushing my trolley in a cold, foggy night with low visibility. The immigration and security check was shoo in, thanks to a pretty tall, pretty pretty girl from the Airline who goaded me through the security gate. During our walk together we had a bit of tete-a-tete. She had a mixed view of her employer. Originally from Gorakhpur, UP she lives an hour from the Airport and does night shift from midnight till 10 AM. Every day she travels by a bus designated for the Airport which picks her up close to home. After the security check in I told her to wait until I put my belt on - "Without the belt my trousers could go down. Don't want to stand wearing my boxers in front of hundreds of passengers in the middle of an Airport". She laughed at my joke covering her mouth with her palm.

From inside of the full flight I could see the Full moon close by, the rabbit inside it looked eager to jump into my lap. The 30 hour long journey including the in between flight stoppage time seemed eternal. I finally reached home tired and jet lagged. My first day at work wasn't too bad except late in afternoon when my chin started to drool and hit the space bar of computer keyboard. Still drooling over my India trip. No black coffee or aspirin can assuage post vacation hangover, only time will heal it. My trip didn't go in vain. Travelled miles to achieve several milestones meeting family and friends, connected with old friends and met new ones, ate a lot of local food with fun filled moments, last but the least managed to get my first book see the light of the day.

Reminds me of Kamal Hasan from the movie PUSHPAK who while staying in a posh hotel could not sleep as he missed the sights and sounds of his locality, where his deep rooted roots lied. The pleasure of staying amongst your own is unparallel. One always tends to fall in love with own millieu. Love it or hate it, amidst all these there is a unique flavor of incredible India which you do not find elsewhere. Thus concluds my travel blog to India. More next time...

Day XIV and XV - India trip January 2026

 A Math question for today. The first few lines of an Odia duet number I overheard in a Barber's shop (saloon) in Bhubaneswar.

Boy - TO SEXY SEXY ANTA DEKHI
          MO DIL FIDA HELA.
(Looking at your sexy waistline,
My heart is super fine).

Girl -  TO STRONG STRONG BODY DEKHI
          MO NAZAR LAKHI GALA.
(Looking at your strong body,
My eyes were fixated on it steady)

Calculate how many English, Hindi and Odia words are there in this so called Odia song loaded with tons of vulgarity. It is high time for the legendary Odia singers Akshay Mohanty, Chitta Jena, Prafulla Kar et all to take rebirth to save Odia music from adulteration, cataclysmic alteration and eventual extinction. When I told the saloon owner to switch to another song, his reply was - "Folks prefer to listen such songs these days". I am a middle aged expatriate. Who cares for my opinion here anyway !

This isn't the sole example. At a local sweet shop I saw a purely Odia looking girl talking in pure Odia with someone on phone suddenly taking a pause and asking another pure Odia shop owner - "BHAYA JARA JALEBI DENA" (Brother, give me some Jalebi). Bhai has become Bhaya and Jilapi has turned into Jalebi. Dhantera has replaced the festival of Akshay Trutiya. We are now celebrating Lori. To those who imbibe North Indian culture I have a question, how many North Indians will celebrate Raja or Kumar Purnima !

North Indian invasion is not just limited to festivals. Nani and Apaa have become Didi. Bhinei has become fashionable Jiju and so on. A lady who I used to address as APAA (elder sister) for decades insists on being addressed as DIDI (as they address elder sister in Hindi). "APAA, NA KADALI CHOPAA (Banana peel), MOTE DIDI DAAKE (call me Didi)" - she retorted back. I got the message loud and clear. Ekta Kapoor's serials clearly had their effect. First time I heard the word "bro" was in Hollywood movies and after coming to America. Now bros are roaming rampant in Bhubaneswar, many address one another with "Hi bro".

For someone from current generation of middle class in Bhubaneswar being closer to Hindi and English sounds "Hef" (the word used for being cool here). The Forest Park dwellers, Netflix and Amazon Prime watchers are one step ahead of them in "Hef" category, as they chew "Phew, Oops, Shit" in English - for them Hindi is so passe as English rich slangs are more fashionable


The barber at local saloon gave me a close shave, followed by haircut and application of color to my hair. He continued chatting while clipping my hair. Hailing from Bhanjanar and speaking with a Southern Odisha accent, he told me that there aren't lot of opportunities back home. Here in Bhonsara he lives in a rented house close to the Saloon and makes enough money to send to his folks in Bhanjanagar. He went on - "In my village there are many unemployed youth who don't do anything and sit idle at home. When I go there they demand a BHATA-MANSA (Rice and Goat meat curry) party from me. At the same time they burn with jealousy for those who have gone out of village and make a decent "ROJAGARA" (income). Bloody double headed snakes". With such stories rampant here, he made his point.

On Saturday I went to the Toshali Literature Festival which featured the release of my first book "Architects of Odisha - a NRI's prospective", a compilation of my selected blogs on Odisha, its achievers, culture and traditions. The program commenced on time. Many accomplished writers and poets were on stage, speaking from the podium. Some speeches were short, witty and eye-catching, others dour and long winded which gave me an excuse to step out to view the farmhouse named "The Ranch" located in Mangalpur, about 10 miles from Bhubaneswar on the National Highway to Puti. The place had a lot of flora consisting of dwarf Mango trees filled with nascent bloom, short Papaya, Coconut trees which didn't look native to me. The cool breeze and chirping of birds outside sounded much more soothing.

My book was released on time just before the noon tea break, followed by some photo ups. Excitement would be an understatement. I was super thrilled on the release of my first ever book. It was followed by another session of addresses and discussions followed by a very homely lunch. On the last throes of my India trip I was glad to able to get my book published and released. I returned back home late in the afternoon.

What's the similarities between a vacation, a consulting assignment and life ? All have a start date and an end date. Like all good things in life a vacation has to come to an end. Before vacation one is rejuvenated and filled with energy. Towards the end of the trip one is jaded, somewhat depressed. There is always an inherently internal wish you had a few more days to spent. Three, four or five weeks, however long you stay in India it is never enough.

In the wee hours of the trip it's always the endless cycle of last minute shopping, meeting friends and relatives, run errands, packing, weighing, repacking and re-weighing of luggages.  Now the time has arrived to bid adieu to my motherland. Good Bye India. See you later...

Day XII and XIII India trip January 2026

 The day following Republic day was Tuesday. On that day there was a strike called by the Unionized Public Sector Bank demanding a 5 day work week. It is no coincidence that this was perfectly timed to make a 4 day long weekend a 5 day one. Anyway, I went to withdraw money from the local branch of Kotak Mahindra Bank, a private bank located closer to our home at Lewis Road. I own an NRE account in that bank.

The Bank opens at 10 AM. I was there at 10.30 AM to encash a check. The girl at the money transaction desk was away. I was told "MADAM BREAKFAST KARIBAKU JAICHANTI (ma'am has gone to eat breakfast)" and was instructed to seat in front of her chair until she is back. It took ma'am 20 more minutes to get back to her desk. She burped a bit indicating a fulfilling breakfast, slid her chair to make space to take her seat, sipping couple of sips from her green color plastic water bottle. I passed on my check to her for verification. She looked at the check's front and back, put a "x" sign behind it and pushed it back to me - "ETHI SIGN KARANTU (Please sign here). She kept clicking into the computer with her right hand as she yawned covering her mouth with her left hand.

I asked her - "Why the shutter at the bank entrance is half down ?" She replied back - "That's a precautionary measure to prevent the public sector banking folks from barging in and creating nuisance, forcing us to support their strike by closing our bank". I said - "But why the shutter is half down ? Is it to prevent big, burly guys from entering into the bank and only less threatening Liliputs would be allowed to get in ?" She laughed at my joke, covering her mouth and responded - "Sir, not long ago we had folks from the Government Bank Union forcibly enter into our bank threatening to do "BHANGA RUZA" (vandalism). We had a close call. I am so scared of their GOONDA GIRI (rowdiness) and concerned about my safety today". She again pushed back the check to me and told me that being the holder of an NRE account I need to check the box mentioning the purpose of withdrawal. I did the needful. She passed on the check to the next counter where the girl sitting inside an enclosure handed me the cash without looking at me as she was talking to someone on her cellphone, clinging to it well tucked between her left ear & shoulder. I left the bank safe with cash on hand.

The next day was Bharat Bandh (Close India) strike called by Farmers Union and supported Opposition parties. I had to cancel some of my programs in morning as I was told that traveling on the main roads could be hassle. Though the impact of Bandh was minimal, I didn't take any chances. At the fag end of my trip din't want to travel in a vehicle and be stoned. Fasting and Bandh as protests are so passe. Those are from a bygone era and shouldn't have any place in 21st century. It's such a wastage of time, money and productivity. Sad every party, including BJP, so called a party with a difference do it.

In the evening accompanied by a friend made a trip to the 64 Yogini Temple on the outskirts of Bhubaneswar near Hirapur village. The temple was surrounded by huge mango trees harboring tons of sprouting brown colored "BAULA" (Mango flowers) and at least a dozen monkeys, big ones jumping around, mama monkeys carrying their babies perched on their back. Most of the visitors to the temple were from outside Odisha, speaking in Hindi and Telugu (same I noticed when at Lingaraj temple, not far from where I live).

It was "GODHULI" (twilight zone) time as we drove past on a dusty road with the red setting sun looking like the an ultra-large "Sindoor" of an old woman in the smog. After reaching the picturesque confluence of the rivers of Daya and Bhargavi, I took pictures of birds circling over, flying back to their nest after a long day. My native village near Puri is located on the banks of the tributary Bhargavi before it flows into the Chilika lagoon.

My reverie was bluntly disturbed by smell of wet shit wafting into my nostrils. Turned around to see couple of urchins relieving themselves by the "BARAKOLI" (Jujube) bush with smartphones in hand, their bottoms barely an inch above pyramids of shit. They felt shy,  looked the other way and so also I. A swarm of mosquitoes spiraled out of the cesspool of water looking like mini tornadoes forming in the smog, spreading through, a la time Draculas baying for blood. 

It was getting dark as my friend and I left the place. On the river bridge we saw fishermen selling fresh catch of "POHALA" fish and tiny shrimps from the river under street light equipped with the modernity of cell phone and "Phone Pe". India is a paradox, a land of contradiction where richness and poverty, modernity and backwardness all thrive together side by side. I slapped myself to get rid of a mosquito sitting on my cheek and the dimmed red hot son slid below the distance horizon to mark the end of the day. I tied the helmet to my head and rode the pillion back home. More later...

Day X and XI - India trip January 2026

 In order to catch the early morning flight to Bhubaneswar via Hyderabad leaving Dabolim Airport of Goa at 7.30 AM, I had to get up early at 4 O'clock in the morning and get ready. It was pitch dark when us, about a dozen friends boarded the van to the Airport. As India has only one time zone sun rises at 4.30 AM in the eastern state of Assam, where in Goa which is on the West coast of India it doesn't dawn before 7.30 AM. It felt like middle of night in Goa in the wee hours of the morning. Considering its size, India should ideally have 2 time zones.

For us who had only carry on hand luggages to carry and no bag to check-in, we moved straight to the security counter as we already did our online check-in. The security at Dabolim Airport in Goa was shoo-in. But it wasn't so at the security gate in Hyderabad Airport where transiting passengers were transfering/connecting to various airports in India. Sunday morning, the next day being a Monday and national holiday there were too many passengers in the queue (line) waiting for their turn to go through the security.

The place was too crowded for my comfort. Some one shouted that his flight was about to leave, slid down one of the straps separating the parallel lines to get ahead in queue. Commotion followed as some passengers snuck through that narrow opening as many in the back shouting at the perpetrators of this uncivilized act. But the flood gate already opened, people poured in like waves across a ruptured dam which would have put DALEI GHAI (the legendary embankment on river Mahanadi known to burst during monsoon flooding) to shame. 

A lady security staff arrived on scene and tried to keep the crowd under control by putting back the strap in place. I was but a mute yet amused spectator to this saga which didn't end there. As I pulled out the tray to put my hand bag, belt, phone etc to be X-rayed, some one tried to sneak in his tray ahead of me. I politely asked him to go back in line. He dithered a bit. But no sooner he looked around and saw a security personnel staring at him, he fell in line. I remembered Khushwant Singh once mentioned on his column - "We Indians respect rod more than logic". Couldn't understand why there weren't more staff to handle the security on a long weekend at a major Airport of India. As I climbed the escalator towards the boarding gates, I could hear the sound of another bout of verbiage directed at some one cutting the line which slowly faded away due Doppler's effect we read in Physics as the escalator moved upstairs.

Today's saga reminded me of an incident narrated by Bollywood actor Raja Murad who was once traveling in an upper class of an international flight in the very early stages in his career. Traveling with him was Rajkumar, an established actor at that time. Someone passed on a message to Raja Murad that folks traveling in the Economy Class were interested to get a glimpse of their favorite star Rajkumar who after some persuasion agreed to come to the economy class to meet his admirers. After the meet and greet was over on his way back to his Business/First Class area Rajkumar told Raja Murad in his inimitable style - "JAANI, TUM KAHAN MUJHE DHARAAVI LE AYE" - "My dear, you have brought me to Dharaavi". It was a condescending remark alluding the economy class, also called cattle class to Dharaavi, a famous slum in Bombay, the biggest in Asia. After watching the episode at the Hyderabad Airport security I am convinced that folks in Dharaavi or Salia Sahi slum of Bhubaneswar are a civilized lot.

It was already past 10 AM as it took us close to an hour to come out of security. Famished as we hadn't eaten since last night, some of us hit the lounge area to eat breakfast. It consisted of myriads Indian dishes like Dosa, Vada, Idli, Sambar etc and a veritable spread of Continental cuisine like cereal, bread, eggs, chicken sausages, baked beans, washed down by Masala Tea, watery juice and Coffee. Food and caffeine rejuvenated our tired souls.

The flight to Bhubaneswar was full with more than a dozen of my friends and classmates on board for company. As the aircraft descended over the mid-afternoon Bhonsar you would expect to see a bright, sunny blue sky. From the window seat I had a smoky and dusty view with the sun looking like a dimmed incandescent bulb. It seemed as if some one lit millions of "Agarbati" (incense sticks) in the city, thanks to heavy dust and pollution, most of it created by city's residents. No sooner I reached home than took a short nap to ameliorate my body & spirit and recharge my battery. The long day is yet to be over as a long evening awaits me to get ready for a social event. More later...

Day IX - India trip 2026

The residents of Goa mostly speak Konkani. It was interesting to know that there are two variations of Konkani - the regular Konkani spoken en masse and the Catholic Konkani which has a heavy Portuguese influence tinged with its own grammar.

After a good night sleep, I followed up with a heavy breakfast taking full advantage of the buffet spread with a varieties of Indian items like Dosa, Idli, Upma as well as the regular spread of continental dishes like fruits, cereals, bread, egg, sausages, potato wedges and so on. In Odia we have a saying "AME ODIA LOKE MAGENA MILILE RALA AAU GARAM PICHU HAPUDI PAKEIBU", meaning "We Odias can slurp hot coal tar or black pitch used to make road surface, as long as it is given to us free". Being a true Odia, I helped myself well at the breakfast buffet of all free items.

We traveled by bus to Nandanvan Spice Farm in Kodar, about 30-40 minutes drive from the resort. A guided tour of the Spice plantation was followed by lunch. The plantation looked dark and deep, the foliage kept environment cool at middle of the day when temperature hit 90°F (32°C). The soil was still damp from irrigated by sprinkler earlier that morning. When I queried the tour guide about the dry environment outside the plantation, she said - "You should visit Goa during the monsoon season between June and September. It doesn't rain here, it simply pours. Rest of the year it stays predominantly dry in Goa".

Being a nature lover, its flora and fauna, I saw a Resin producing plant from which "Jhuna", a product when lit produces smoke used during Puja (worshipping). I saw plants of cashew, betel nut, bay leave, turmeric, green ilaichi (cardamom), nutmeg, clove, cinnamon and last but not the least, black pepper, called the black gold during the medieval time of history. The Portuguese discovered it in India and found the Goa weather most suitable for its plantation. Black pepper plant is a climber which goes around tall trees. I saw one climbing on a betel nut tree, its nascent green fruit sprouting on both sides of the stem a la beads on the long braid of a tribal girl. Our girl guide told us that come April, these green fruit will turn red, the tiny round shaped pepper inside becomes dark in color, ready to be harvested as black pepper. The Europeans preferred black pepper to the chillies because unlike chilli pepper which gives instant heat, the heat from black pepper is milder with a distinct flavor which takes time to bring out the heat, titillating the taste bud.

Mid afternoon after a quick lunch at the Spice farm it was time to head to Benaulim beach, known for its various Water sports activities. Many took part in fancied jet skiing, paragliding etc. I stuck to a ten seater boat ride about a mile into the sea from coast. It was fun with all the salty water flashing all over your body. Yet I would consider the beach between Puri and Chandrabhaga in Odisha better with its golden white sand and rolling waves. However the Goa beach was lot cleaner. Unlike the Puri beach which is strewn in litters and at shit at places where you can hurt your feet if you walk barefoot, the Goa beach hardly had any debris. The coast guards were patrolling to chastise any recalcitrant tourists trying to break rules.

After returning back to hotel and freshening up, it was time to hit Joecons Beach Shack Benaulim right on the beachfront, sipping Bahama breeze cocktail on a breezy evening. As a fitting finale to the reunion, we had our last supper accompanied by live band and karaoke with Arabian sea roaring in the background. I loved Serradura on supper manu, a local sweet dish of Portuguese origin which I ate for the first time.

It was a lovely evening filled with nostalgia, the last one before our departure. We all agreed "ZINDAGI NA MILEGA DOBARAA", such life will not come again. Earlier that evening our friends went to the beach to enjoy the sunset. Sun might have set over the British empire, but Sun never sets over our friendship. God bless the REC 90 batch. More later...