Christmas party years ago

We had a Christmas party last week and another scheduled for coming week. Every holiday season the Christmas parties reminds me of one such party, long time back in the 1990s when I was a new arrival in America. It was my first Christmas party in USA. Alcohol, especially the locally popular Kentucky Bourbon Whiskey and Jack Daniel were flowing like Mahanadi in spate during monsoon or a flooded Chattahoochee river after heavy showers. New, shy and a bit unsure about myself to fit into the milieu I was sipping some Vodka, standing alone at a corner of the big banquet hall.

Sensing my loneliness three mountain sized coworkers, as big and burly as the local Appalachian mountain approached me with the intention of making me comfortable. They said Vodka is not sipped, rather tossed in at one go and gave me some demo by inviting me to join them to imbibe shots in unison. I got carried away by their attention and joined them liberally tossing down a few shots of Vodka repeating 1-2-3 go, 1-2-3 go several times. I could feel the fiery stuff going down my esophagus, clearing away any doubts I had about Biology when last time I studied the subject during High School.

It turned out to be a foolish decision on my part. Nothing happened to the big guys as they melted away inside the hall enjoying the party. Minutes passed by without anything happening to me while I munched some chicken nuggets and chunks of cheese on toothpicks. As absolute power can corrupt absolutely, Absolute Vodka can intoxicate absolutely. Alcohol shrugged off my jaded nerves. Moments later suddenly my legs started getting wobbly and head swirling like whirlpool. The sound of this song played by the DJ suddenly started wavering and dancing with the light.

"Where'd ya come from Cotton eye Joe
I have been married long time ago.
Where'd come and where'd ya go,
Where'd come and where'd ya go."

The flickering lights started floating around me amidst the tap dancing Cowboy hat wearing men and red dressed women. All of a sudden they started looking blurred to my elated, intoxicated eyelids. The sound of music got louder and louder, as I stumbled couple of times. But I was in sense and sensible enough to know where I was heading to. So I thought it judicious not to hang around anymore and make an ass out of myself. Rather it would be wise for me to head back to my apartment sooner than later.

On my return drive I rolled down the windows to let in the frigid Midwest air to keep me alert and awake. Luckily I encountered no cops. A DUI or Driving Under Influence of alcohol could have hampered my on going Green Card, i.e. the Permanent Resident status in US which was under process during that time (An advice to my friends not to drink and drive, especially if your Green Card processing is still on. A DUI at that juncture certainly won't help you).

No sooner I reached home than I crashed on bed, my shoes half hanging from my feet. It was 10 AM the next day when I woke up with a heavy head and parched throat, feeling my urine has dried up. Drank a full bottle of water to see my urine resembling mustard oiI. I spent the entire next day nursing my hangover. That experience was enough of a lesson for me to never get drunk and go overboard with alcohol. So far I have religiously adhered to it. Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Enjoy the season responsibly.

Pathani Samanta - the pride of Odisha

Today I decided to commemorate the memories of a gentleman who is not remembered much these days in his place and state of birth, let alone people know or care about him. He is our Samanta Chandrasekhar, popularly known as Pathani Samanta (pronounced Samantaw) - an Odia who dabbled in astronomy producing results with immaculate accuracy in 19th century, at a time modern science and astronomy was at its infancy. He was born exactly 189 years ago, on December 13, 1835.

Born in a village in the district Nayagarh in Odisha, Pandit Samanta deeply studied our Ancient Hindu texts of astronomy written in Sanskrit and was able to decipher the hidden knowledge which supplemented his instinct and intuition. He used his grasp of astronomy to measure the distance of celestial bodies from earth amazingly close to what has been found by modern scientists. Without any access to the modern instruments, he took the help from a hollow bamboo pipe and couple of sticks for his measurement. Pathani Samanta's findings were recorded in his book titled Siddhanta Darpana (The Gospel Treatise Mirror). This book found mentions in the European and American press in 1899. 

During his childhood, Pandit Samanta's passion was watching the movement and position of moon and stars in the night those days when the air was crispy, pollution free - the sky was bright and blue during the day, crystal clear to gaze at night. During the day he would closely observe shadows of Sun and their length. It is said that he could measure the distance of vultures flying high in the sky using his naked eyes and few wooden instruments.

In the year 1894 Sri Chandrasekhar was concerned about his health due to chronic frequent bouts of colic, commonly called in colloquial Odia as "PETA MARA BEMARI" those days. At the age of 59 in an era when the average life expectancy was less than 50, he had reasons to be worried, carrying the burden of 5 sons and a daughter, not to mention his shy but supportive wife. He was a poor man, being dependent on meager income received from the King of Manjusha who was impressed by the Pandit's skills in correctly measuring the height of Mahendra Giri (Hills) using his bare hands and his famous paraphernalia of bamboo sticks & wooden accessories. His ability to correctly predict Lunar and Solar eclipses earned him the title of MAHAMOHAPADHYAYA (The Very Wise and Learned One) by the British India Government - first time ever conferred to a non Brahmin in Odisha. 

Though poor, Pathani Samanta's fame in Astrology and Astronomy had travelled far and wide, enough to get an audience with Commissionner Cook of Cuttack. One sultry August afternoon the duo of Samanta and his son travelled downstream on a boat on River Mahanadi to Cuttack and reached Cook SAHEB's (a colonial way of addressing the Englishmen and still reserved for the elites in India). The Commissioner who was leaving for a game of Tennis gave them an appointment to meet the next day. 

Following morning, Cook took Pathani Samanta to the bank of the river Kathajodi. Pointing to the Saptasajya range of mountain, the Commissioner challenged the later to measure its height. Samanta Chandrasekhar instantly got busy with his hollow bamboo stick and other instruments, burying his head, making calculations on the ground using a piece of chalk - finally deriving his figure of 1178 cubits and 16 fingers. Commissioner Cook cross checked the height of Saptasajya mountains from his official records. The result was tantalizingly close.

An impressed Cook shook hands with Pathani Samanta. The first thing the Pandit did after coming out of Commissioner's residence was to take a dip in the river Mahanadi - for he touched a MLECHHA (outcaste). Touching a beef eating, Christian White man those days was tantamount to sacrilege, so he needed to purify himself by taking a bath in the river before it was too late.

On another occasion, during a bright, starry night sitting on the verandah of the house of Jogesh Chandra Ray, Professor of Science in Cuttack, Pandit Samanta was challenged by the Professor to measure the distance between the planets Mars and Venus shining on the Western sky. The shabbily dressed old man got busy with his instrument and making calculations using a chalk on the verandah. To the Professor's surprise the calculation by Pathani Samanta came extremely close to the actual distance between the two planets. When Sri Jogesh Chandra Ray showed our Pandit a modern Telescope, the old man started dancing as he could see from close up his favorite celestial bodies whom he gazed at from a distance over several decades.

But his joy was short lived, as he didn't live long after this incident. His Colic got better of him, slowly consuming him, destroying the body of one of the finest brains Odisha had ever seen. On his birthday I am taking the opportunity of dedicating my blog to our twinkling, scintillating star of Odisha who is living among the galaxies in the boundless sky where he rightly belongs to - a beacon of light, ray of inspiration for the current generation and many more to come.

The forever unreliable Middle class

 Laloo Yadav, the veteran politician from the Indian state of Bihar, known for his earthy talk, once said - "AGAR GARIB KA DIL KISI PE A GAYA, TO APNI JAAN TAQ LAGA DETE HAIN", if the heart of a poor person gets fixated on something, he puts his life into it. Being a grassroot politician from one of the poorest of poor states in India, he had a point about describing the poor.

But he wasn't the first who noticed this trait in those who belong to the deprived section in India. Years ago before Laloo was born, Mahatma Gandhi, India's Father of Nation figured this out. A smart strategist, Gandhi realized the importance of assimilation of the underprivileged mass in his Freedom movement against the British occupation of India. So, he started calling the poor and downtrodden folks from the lower strata of the society as "HARIJAN" (Children of God). He knew very well that most from the upper class were in the pocket of British, the middle class couldn't be trusted as they are selfish and change their allegiance at drop of a hat, but the poor class, if motivated can come to the front and take the blow from the LATHI (stick) of British police on their chest. Those from Upper and the Middle class, all creatures of comfort would rarely do that.

Talking about the fickle and unreliable Middle class, it reminds me of a scene from 1974 Amitabh and Rajesh Khanna starrer "NAMAK HARAAM". As the movie progresses, Amitabh is advised by his rich father not to trust his friend Rajesh Khanna, because the later was from the middle class. The rich dad played by veteran actor Om Shiv Puri warns his son - "Your friend is a good guy, but belongs to the middle class. Folks from that class, though vouch on their ideology and principles, are also ambitious and hence could turn treacherous. They perennially look for an opportunity to move up, hence they can easily drop their pretense of ideology to do anything to climb up the social ladder. Keep in mind my dear son, most ambitious folks come from this middle class who can be dangerous and should never be trusted."

Very apt and prophetic statement. People from the Upper class born with silver spoon in mouth mostly have a smooth sailing and stay closer to the establishment. The barely ambitious lower class may look forward to their next meal, but can give their life for the cause they believe in. The middle class always has this feeling, "I would love to be there but I am not there yet, may be one day in this life".

They day dream about reaching the status of those "haves". Competition is cut throat and jealousy is the highest amongst middle class. Some of them are capable of doing anything and everything, by hook or crook for the sake of upward mobility, to grab money, power and social recognition. The burgeoning middle class in last few decades just strives hard to do that, a desire to get rich overnight at any cost. They are the ones who are pretty much responsible most corruption and scams we see these days, as many corrupt Netas (leaders) and Babus (Bureaucrats) happen to be from this class. The tall ambition of the middle class told to the tall actor Amitabh years ago still thrives.

In a more recent Hollywood movie "INSIDE MAN" the actor Clive Owens takes a bank into hostage. He blackmails the Bank owner using a letter he finds from a safe deposit box given to the Bank owner by Nazi authorities years ago during World War II in recognition to his service to the Nazis. The kidnapper keeps that note as his insurance, a safety net in case the banker turns revengeful in future. The dejected Bank owner narrates his story to the actress Jodi Foster who was trying to mediate a deal - "During the Nazi occupation of France, my rich Jewish friend trusted me with his family's money and jewelry. I was young and ambitious, betrayed my Jewish friend to the Nazis who took him away for execution". The middle class man soon became rich by establishing his banking empire with his betrayeal blood money and Nazi connection.

Chanakya, ancient India's legendary teacher, strategist and advisor to Chandragupta of the Maurya Dynasty famously said - "Never trust an ambitious person who can easily betray you to achieve goal". He wasn't far from truth. We live in an era where thoughts fly in twinkle of an eye, but the basis human nature hasn't changed since Chanakya lived around 300 BC.

Bhopal gas tragedy

 Exactly 40 years ago, the killer waves of MIC (Methyl Iso-Cyanate), a highly toxic gas engulfed the skies of the sleepy township of Bhopal in the state of Madhya Pradesh in India. Many who were peacefully sleeping, would never wake up again, only to breath their last in the form of poisonous air. A leakage in the local Union Carbide plant killed thousands and maimed many when the Knight of Death visited that night.

This incident popularly known as the "Bhopal Gas Tragedy" had its consequences. The value of Union Carbide Chief in India, Warren Anderson from USA was so valuable that he was helped by the then Madhya Pradesh Chief Minister Arjun Singh who flew him out of the city on his way out of country. He couldn't have done this without the tacit approval of his all powerful boss in Delhi, Rajeev Gandhi who barely a month ago was made the Prime Minister of India on the aftermath of his mother's assassination. (Per Congress party culture, its regional leaders can't even go to toilet without the permission of their High Command, aka the Gandhi family at the helm of affairs. It's inconceivable that American CEO Warren Anderson was let go without the knowledge of PM Rajeev Gandhi).

We go an extra mile to transport an American who does felony in our own homeland miles away to his safety, but whine and protest vehemently when our diplomat is treated shabbily for breaking the law on American soil (ironically this incident happened in the month of December little more than a decade ago in the year 2013). We, the champion practitioners of hypocrisy and double standards, never lose opportunity to accuse Americans of the same.

40 years down the road the justice has been both delayed and denied. Anderson the Union Carbide Chief, died of natural death at his home in Long Island, New York not so long ago. He refused to meet any Indian reporter and hardly took ownership of the disaster nor offered any tangible benefits towards the families of dead and the injured. Those who survived the Bhopal gas tragedy had to go through a lifetime ordeal, many of whom became maim for rest of their lives were given compensation thrown at them in peanuts - a tardy too little, too late. 

Have we learned anything from history about industrial safety and bringing rich and mighty felons to justice ? Your guess is as good as mine.

Preach but practice

 We humans are basically elements of contradiction. It would be a lie not to admit that we all have some semblance of hypocrisy embedded within us. Let me narrate an interesting incident from past.

Years ago I was visiting the Jagannath temple of Greater Chicago along with my sister's family during the Thanksgiving holidays. It was a typical blustery day in the Windy city Chicago and it felt very cold inside the temple, not quite unusual towards end of the month of November in Midwest United States. To make things worst the heating system inside the temple was not functioning properly.

The chief priest of the temple was already aware of this but did not inform the Utility guys as his inflated ego was punctured. I came to know that the reason was quite silly but not something unusual amongst us Desis (a slang used for people of Indian origin in America). Our priest felt that he was not properly approached by the members of the temple committee. His ego was bruised, needing a buttered massage to sooth it.

I was patiently listening to the conversation between the priest, my brother-in-law and other members of the core temple management committee. The man remain implacable, stubbornly refusing to yield an inch like a bovine on an Indian road refusing to budge by the relentless honking. Finally I concluded that it was nothing but the priest's BIG ego which put a spanner in the wheels of any movement going forward.

As the afternoon gave way to evening, it felt icy cold inside the temple as the Priest continued his 30 minutes long PRAVACHAN (sermon), elucidating how ego can be harmful to mind, body, heart and soul, and what needs to be done to conquer ego etc etc. In the meantime I noticed a few lines in Sanskrit scribbled on the temple wall in Devnagari script (the script of Hindi language) - "AHAM BHAV ATMA KE LIYE KHARAB HAI", meaning "Ego is bad for the soul".

It was getting cold and dark as time to bid adieu approached. Yearning for the heated comfort zone inside the car, I was about to step out. But before leaving I wanted to bring the attention of our priest to those lines and asked him point blank - "PANDITJEE (Respected priest), can you please explain those lines written on the wall to me ?" He duly obliged by explaining to me again how ego is harmful to the body and soul, though I could sense the conundrum in him. I thanked him, did my NAMASTE (Indian tradition of greet and good bye) and started walking back towards the exit door. 

Suddenly I heard the Priest's voice from behind, "Dash Jee, RUKIYE (please stop). I have a feeling you knew the meaning of those lines but still asked me". He went on - " I agree we don't always practice what we preach. We are filled with flaws. That's why we are mere humans seeking guidance from God". I smirked and chuckled back, as a burst of howling chilly Chicago wind gust rushed through the semi-open door slapping my face, reminding me to run towards the warmth of my car. "See you later Panditjee", I muttered as I was eager to run away from spirituality, longing for some spirits to keep me warm and fuzzy for the rest of the evening.

Late that night I learnt that to every one's delight and pleasant surprise the priest did a volte-face and agreed to call the maintenance folks to fix the heating the first thing next morning. Relationship gone cold not long ago had warmed up like bonfire defrosts a chilly milieu. I retired to bed under the warm comforts of the comforter with some comforting news.

Anniversary of 26/11

Whenever I travel to India, I am forced to take a break in Delhi or Mumbai for a few hours before catching the connecting flight to my hometown Bhubaneswar. On my return journey I spend some time in those cities. Never ever I fail to take the opportunity to talk to the cabbies and commoners to gauge the pulse of our nation at the time.

In Mumbai the outsiders are often branded as GUJJU (Gujuratis), GULTI (Telugus), MALLU (Malayalis) and so on depending on their states of origin. Not sure what they call Odias behind their back - probably the people from Odisha are insignificant, not numerous or influential enough to earn a specific tag. The South Indians as a whole are packaged as "YENDU GENDU WALLE", poked fun of their accent, often put under the same bucket as Behenc**d (sister slammer) Madrasis as they are called in Delhi.

The worst in Mumbai is reserved for the Biharis (any one from the cow belt is considered as a Bihari including those from UP) who are regarded as betel chewing, foul mouthed, smelly, dirty ones living in squalors. They are accused of having a criminal bent of mind compared to the cultured, broadminded and brave heart Marathis. 

The Bihari cab drivers reciprocate by accusing the Marathis of being arrogant, snobbish and intolerant to outsiders. Folks lose no opportunity to backbite each other community, often in a deregatory way. So much about the much boasted cosmopolitan fabric of Mumbai where reality is every community speaks ill of each other behind their back.

But a notable difference was little more than a decade and half ago when I was travelling through Mumbai barely a week after the 26th of November, 2008. The patriotic fervor was high on aftermath of the infamous 26/11 incident when terrorists from Pakistan caused multiple casualties inside the city. My brother-in-law, my wife's cousin Saurav Mishra was one of the victims who took a bullet but fortunately survived. I didn't come across any community specific character assassination by anyone in an apparent show of unity which overrode the all pervading parochial feelings.

It is said that crisis can be the best leveller - tiger and goat are known to live in peaceful coexistence and collaboration when cornered inside a boat during flood. No wonder Cricket and Pakistan, especially when both juxtaposed together brings the best Indian out of us.

It also didn't go unnoticed to me the lack security in the Airport inside and out barely a week after this heinous crime. You would expect a Fort Knox at the Airport and it was far from it. Have we learnt any lessons from this attack ? Are we better off more than a dozen years after this incident. Your guess is as good as mine.

These lines from my friend Ambika Prasad Mahapatra aptly reminds of this fateful day.

A Blood thirsty nation
A dozen rotten souls
An incompetent State
A few brave hearts
Hundreds of innocent victims
Thousands of devastated families
Millions of vulnerable commoners.
And the line - "We salute the Mumbai spirit"..

The Festival of Prathamastami

Today is PRATHAMASTAMI, a festival very unique to Odisha where the first born child in the family is celebrated - well fed and pampered with new clothing. As the name suggests this celebratory event is held on "ASHTAMI" or the 8th day of the Lunar Month of MARGASHIRA, immediately following the better known festival of KARTIK PURNIMA. On this day, he or she, the eldest child of family goes through a PUJA, or mini worship ritual at home, where especially the women folks of the family pray for long life and prosperity of the kid. 

PRATHAMASTAMI this year comes pretty close to the 7th month Anniversary of my mother's death as per the Tithi (occasion) based on Hindu lunar Calendar where a month is approximately 28 1/2 days, the time taken by Moon to revolve around planet Earth. This is slightly different from the commonly used Solar or Gregorian Calendar across the world where a month consists of 30 days based on the time taken by earth to revolve around the sun. 

Being the eldest child of my parents, it was the day I would wait in eagerness to receive the rock star treatment, my day of celebratory status while it lasts. During my childhood, my mother, for whom I was the Apple of her eyes, would wash me, make me wear a new pair of clothes early in the morning. She wanted to finish the sundry rites early to make sure that her son doesn't stay hungry for a long period of time, as I had to remain in empty stomach until the Puja is performed. The rites would be followed by me breaking fast imbibing the PRASAD (offering to God) consisting of various fruits and sugary sweets. 

A few years ago when I was in India during PRATHAMASTAMI, my mother became my alarm, waking me up early in the morning, reminding me of the occasion, prodding me to take a bath while limping across the house to make sure every thing is ready to for Puja. Post the rituals she would be in kitchen preparing a sumptuous lunch of NADIA KHECHADI (Ghee laced yellow rice with freshly grated coconut sprinkled on it), NADIA BARA (coconut cutlet), Puri style DALMA, again with coconut toppings or Sweet Daal, all of which tasted heavenly. During evening it is time for her to make a plethora of PITHA (rice based cakes) - varying from the thinner CHAKULI to the baked variety of slightly larger than Golf ball size "ENDURI PITHA", which no doubt healthy and tasty, but BIRI or lentil component in it produces a lot of gas. My favorite was the rice based MANDAA PITHA stuffed with grated coconut laced with a heavy dose of sweet jaggery. 

These love laced heavenly delicacies have passed on to heaven along with her, like her they exist more, passed along with her. This year there will be no PRATHAMASTAMI for me or my son, as per Hindu rituals, no religion festival should be celebrated within the first year of any death in the family. With moisten eyes I still remember my mother never failing every year to call me from India to remind me of PRATHAMASTAMI, checking on to ensure that I and his "NAATI" (grandson) wear brand new clothes for the occasion. 

Mummy, I will never be able to pay back your unmatched selfless love you have showered me throughout your entire life. Your love is priceless, purer than the purest spring water sourced from a pristine glacier, the pristine, crispy breeze on a mountain top, purer than 24 carat gold. I will never be able to pay back my debt in this life or next. In conflict with myself, I couldn't but murmur this Kishore Kumar number - 

"LEHRON KI TARAH YAADEIN.

DIL SE TAKRAARI HAI,

TOOFAN UTHATI HAI,

LEHRON KI TARAH YAADEN" - 

Roughly transliterated,

"Waves of Memories like waves,

Collides with the heart,

Raising a storm,

Like waves, those memories".  

Time will fly, days will become week, weeks becomes month, months become year, but your memory will last forever, this life or next.