Takht Ya Takhta

There used to be a saying during the Mughal rule in India,"TAKHT YA TAKHTA", which means, "Crown or Coffin". It aptly described the fratricidal wars fought between the Mughal bothers for the prized Kingship which knew no Kinship.  In the end one brother ended up with Crown, the rest of the brothers rested in graves. Fundamentally hardly anything has changed over ages. It is invariably the winner take it all world. Others who lose the battle are destined to be relegated to the backburner of history.

A few days ago there was a severe thunderstorm in the USA Capital of Washington DC. Four persons were taking shelter under a tree right in front of the White House when they were struck by lightning. Three of them died and only one girl survived. The survivor was all over Prime time cable networks on TV describing her ordeal with the lightening strike and how immensely lucky she was to be still alive. She sure was lucky. Those who died faded into oblivion. The one who made it through the lightening strike, struck a goldmine. She crashed into instant limelight as TV cameras followed her around. She lived for another day to bask in glory.

How many remember this incident from the Kargil War in 1999 when two IAF pilots ejected from their fighter planes and landed in the Pakistani territory ? One of the pilots was brutally tortured and killed before his body was returned to India. The other one, named Nachiketa was lucky to return alive in one piece. Not many, including me can remember the dead pilot's name from top of my head. But we remember Nachiketa, who would have been turned into a superstar if social media existed those days.

Fast forward to the Indo-Pak imbroglio of 2019 when social media had established its footsteps world wide. Thankfully, our pilot Abhinandan who ejected and parachuted in Pakistan came back alive and kicking to receive rockstar welcome at home. God forbid, if something bad happened to him there would have been a huge hue and cry. But he would have been forgotten soon from the public memory. Now if he desires, he can join politics and possibly end up as the Defense minister of India.

Tragedies occur all over the globe. Many perish, some survive. The survivors are often treated as heroes earning a new lease of life and a life of celebrity. The rest who perish soon fade into dusk laden horizon. The Pakistani teenager Malala was shot by the Taliban. Luckily she survived. She became an icon of the oppressed girls in that ravaged nation, eventually earning the coveted Nobel Peace Prize. Had the perpetrators succeeded (mercifully they didn't) nobody would be remembering her like many like her killed by Taliban.

There was this incident a few years back involving a boat which went adrift in the Atlantic Ocean. Two survived and the rest didn't. The ones who survived got all the media attention in America. They were shown live on prime time narrating their harrowing experience. Those who drowned were barely remembered. Elizabeth Smart the girl kidnapped in 2002 survived. Now she has written a book and is all over the talk shows on TV minting money. Many kidnapped kids vanished for good never to return. They were soon forgotten. 

Such a thing called destiny. Not many remember Michael Dukakis, Bob Dole or Al Gore, the later who was so near yet so far to the White House. It was because all of them lost their election. It's a cruel world. History is always partial to the winners, with losers destined to its dustbins. Life ain't fair and lovely. Never it was, never it will.

China and its millieu

 The other day I was watching a teleseries. It was the story of two families related to each other via marriage. The boy and the girl married to each other are the lone child of their respective parents. The son's parents feels proud, fortunate and privileged, exhibiting supremacy over the girl's family.

The son-in-law perpetually torments his wife's family. The guy's parents are proud of their son making extra bucks by greasing a few palms, although still dissatisfied with the amount of dowry provided by the girl's parents. They blatantly boast in front of the girl's parents that how lucky she is to have their son as her husband. Obviously the girl and her parents are unhappy with this liason. Sounds familiar, just like an episode from any typical Indian family, straight out of a SAAS-BAHU (Mother-in-law, Daughter-in-aw) soap opera.

No, you are wrong. It's not Indian, rather a Chinese teleseries with English subtitles I stumbled upon while flipping through channels on my TV. It provided a rare view into the Manchurian menu, as the curious me watched the Chinese milieu to have a peek into the reclusive society of a country which in 1978 was at par with India, now 5 times India's GDP, an aspiring Superpower flexing its economic and military muscle. But I was surprised that their social fabric and fraca aren't so different from us.

A friend of mine is married to a Chinese girl. Having made multiple trips to his SASURAL (in-law's house) in China, he has shared some fascinating anecdotes and provided me many interesting inputs about the country and its society. Wrapped in a cloak of secrecy, the Middle Kingdom and its citizens are incredibly inscrutable to the rest of the world, which now takes a keen interest in a nation out of curiosity and fascination for its tremendous economic and military strides made in last 40 years. 

Per him, unlike the Japanese the Chinese aren't a whole lot different from us. Cynical and insecure like India for long ruled by outside forces, they carry the burden of similar social issues including dowry. However the Chinese are more hard working and disciplined, a trait they have inculcated in recent time which has been forced upon them by their authoritarian government and now has become their habit. Like India many are critical of America but are great fans of Hollywood movies and hankering for a US Visa was quite conspicuous. Your worst critic could be your secret admirer.

My friend went on - in China you can feel the state breathing down your neck, as if the big brother is watching you all the time. However, there is lot less crime in the society, so much so that the girls commute by buses and trains late in night and roam free without fear wearing mini scots. In his most recent trip to China just prior to the Covid  outbreak, he saw signs of bad economy as many workers had left Beijing, going back to their hinterland due to massive job losses. The vacant satellite townships in Beijing looked like ghost towns.

In one of his trips his wife took him to her original small town in the hinterland of China from where her parents came from, migrating to Beijing to work in one of myriad factories churning out manufactured goods to cater to the voracious western consumers, especially in Americans. Her native place, a small town, was located some 4 hours by Bullet train from Beijing.

Inside the small Chinese town all looked at him expanding their tiny eyes, as if they saw an alien just parachuted from another planet. Even his in-law's pet dog went into hiding, gaping at him from a safe distance, baffled by the looks of an Indian with brown skin. My friend went around the town, savoring local Chinese dishes which tasted totally different from the Chinese food he ate in India or USA.

Though he saw some sporadic signs of poverty, the streets were litter free. He saw no one was peeing or defecating in open. My friend heard many stories of  corruption in interior China and people complaining of bribes forced upon them by the government officials in return of favors. Though every year hundreds are hanged in China on corruption charges, the disease is still rampant, unlike in India where corruption is in epidemic proportion.

Facebook is banned though Internet was available. His wife's girlfriends were jealous of her, as they were infatuated with the large eyes and sharp nose of my tall, dark, handsome friend. The Chinese men were envious of him as the local belles ogled at him, giggled and poked fun at him in a coquettish manner which my friend cherishes till today.

The Chinese government has recently relaxed their one child norm by extending it to two. The strictly implemented one child principle in China has contributed to a skewed male - female ratio in the society, heavily favored to the former. It has  landed the Chinese in not so sweet, but sour soup. The result - per a recent report there at least 50 million males in China who simply cannot marry because demand vastly exceeds supply.

Human mind always has a fascination for the unknown, until the intrigue aspect wears off in due course of time. The life within countries like China and North Korea raises interest for now, but it may recede at some point when the countries implode as the Iron curtain falls down. Familiarity breeds contempt, the curiosity will web when the country's ugly underbelly gets exposed. Till then it's not bad to take a peek inside the society of our powerful northern neighbor who will a perpetual thorn on India's flesh for unforseen future.

Anniversary of Hiroshima Bombing

 77 years ago on a bright sunny summer morning of August 6, 1945 a tiny US plane carrying a nuclear bomb of enormous power flew over the city of Hiroshima in Japan. The bolt from the blue sky came literally form of the pilot dropping the bomb, the first of its kind in the world, causing huge, permanent damage to the city. This bomb, an Atom bomb effectively put the final nail in World War II's coffin and Japan's war campaign in the Far East. Before Japan could recover from the bombing aftershock, it was followed by another one on another city of Nagasaki only 3 days later, on August 9. 

This bombing incident which happened that fine morning in August marked the close of the curtains of a chain of events which commenced following another bombing on a bright winter morning of December 7, 1941. This happened 80 years ago which forced America into the World War II, a little late in the game after its Pearl Harbor Naval base in idyllic Hawaii came under attack by Japan on the wee hours. The swift devastating blitzkrieg by the Japanese fighter planes completely caught the Americans unaware.

The main architech of the attack, the Japanese Admiral Yamamoto was not so inclined to attack the Pearl Harbor Naval base fearing its consequences. Educated in Harvard, he had some idea of American capability and he knew the retaliation will be fierce and could lead to Gotterdamerung. But drunk by success in Indo-China, the Japanese military junta headed by General Tojo vetoed the prudent Admiral's concerns and gave the go ahead order.

The calm, sunny morning in the  picturesque Pacific island of Hawaii was shattered when there were clear blips on the Radar announcing the approach of a string of airplanes on the horizon. It was promptly conveyed to the Headquarters who dismissed it with the now famous four words - "DON'T WORRY ABOUT IT", dismissing the fighter planes as routine flights which fly from California to Hawaii on regular basis.

The Japanese meticulously planned their mission. They were successful in fooling the Americans, cruising their Aircraft Career incognito for thousands of miles on endless Pacific Ocean and choosing to launch the strike on a Sunday morning when the Sailors were expected to be resting after a late Saturday night party and the officers busy playing Sunday morning Golf.

A la a swarm of killer bees moments later the Japanese bombers stung the Naval base, sinking one battle ship after another and taking thousands of young sailors only in their teens and 20s who barely started their career in US Navy. It was the first attack on the American soil by a foreign power, completely catching it off guard. The entire American naval fleet at Pearl Harbor was destroyed.

The same evening President Roosevelt declared war against Japan, marking the opening of a new front and chapter in World War II. Admiral Yamamoto knew very well that there must be an element of surprise in the attack to destroy US's superior Battleships before they could recoup and launch any counter attack. But it was no surprise when the US's Pacific fleet tracked Yamamoto when the later was hopping flight and shot his plain straight into the jungles of one of the uninhabited Islands in the endless Pacific.

Ironically, a few years after his death, his prior concern belittled by his superiors was vindicated when the G.I.s spectacularly fought back capturing one Pacific island after another from Japan. Their de facto leader, General Tojo anticipated an attack by US on the Japanese islands and was preparing for it. He didn't anticipate a nuclear attack. USA's surprise return gift to Pearl Harbor attack culminated in the dropping of "Little Boy", the new kid in the block in the form of an Atom Bomb on Japan, forcing the later to surrender unconditionally.

World has moved ahead since then, with nations like Pakistan and North Korea already possessing nuclear weapons. Many say the nuclear weapons serve as deterrent. There is some truth to it. I believe India and Pakistan would have fought a 4th war if both were not part of the Nuclear club. Yet, this day 77 years ago saw the addition of a new chapter in the history of a war, the extent of its impact still unknown.

Comparing my son's thread ceremony with mine

Can't help comparing my son's BRATOPANAYAN event (thread wearing ceremony of Brahmins) held a few years back to mine held eons ago on a hot summer afternoon in 1979 and how things have changed ever since. I still retain the fond memories of those cacophonous songs blaring out of HMV gramophone record rotating at 46 RPM in the ceremony held in my native village near Puri. 

Music came blaring from the funnel shaped mike tied half way up a coconut tree, an inherent part of the flora of coastal Puri district in order to expand its reach to the broader audience. The birds 🐦 in the area scared by the high decibel sound took vacation for a day. Gramophone record those days was a major part of the paraphernalia for any ceremony to lend a festive mood to the occasion. Your function is a function of this music, the louder it is more prominent and prestigious is your event. 

The MIKEWALLA or the Gramophone guy would carefully put the pin on the rotating record which does a bit of cracking noise, fart couple of times prrt..prrt..before the music starts erupting. Intermittently he would clean the tip of the pin with the same handkerchief he uses to wipe off his betel stained saliva. At the same time he would be very protective of his music set, shooing away any curious urchin who dares to touch it, forcing them to gape at it from a distance.

Popular songs from Amitabh's hit movie "MUQADDAR KA SIKANDAR" emerged from the mike all the day long as my Brataghara ceremony went on. Being a huge Kishore Kumar fan and it being my special day, I was allowed to have my way. Hence I instructed the operator to play my favorite Kishore hits to keep me in good spirits on a long tiring day while seemingly endless chanting of hymns by the priest continued.

One prominent song playing on that day was a Akshaya Mohanty's funny Odia number :

MO BAPA NKA BAPA NKA BAPA
THILE JANE MANKADA,
E DALA RU SEDALA SEDALA RU E DALA AMARI PURBA PURUSA.

Transliterated from Odia...

"Our's dad's dad's dad was a monkey,
Our ancestors used to swing on branches getting jumpy".

It was followed by another one next in sequence...

"TU DEIGALU DHOKA..
THAANTA JADI LAKHYE TANKA..
E JHIA, TO MUHA TA KARI THANTI BANKA..

(O' Girl, you cheated me,
If I had 1 lakh Rupee,

I could have taught a lesson to thee)

The song was the howling of a HATASA PREMIKA (jilted lover) whose girl friend dumped him for Rs.100,000, a gargantuan amount those days. That year was 1979. Now fast forward to 2022. If a boy sings such a song he will be laughed at as 1 lakh rupees means nothing these days. LAKHPATI (proud owner of 1,00,000 rupees) has lost its significance. World has changed a whole lot since 1979. A LAKHPATI has graduated to a KARODPATI (10 Million Rupees) these days.

Then followed another Akshay Mohanty classic.

HASA TA LAKHE TANKA
CHALI TA ANKA BANKA;

RAGILA NAALI LANKA

RUSILA OOI HUNKA

TA GHARA KU BATAKHARCHA ADHEI TANKA.

(Her smile is worthy of Rupees One lakh
Her manner of walk is zig zag;
Her anger is like red chilli
She being upset is akin to termite hill;
The traveling expense to her home
Is 2 and 1/2 rupees)

These days 2 and half rupees will not take one beyond hundred feet in the cheapest bargain one can get for a rickshaw. A guy has to be exceptionally lucky to find such a girl close by.

WOKT NE KIYA..KYA HASI SITAM

NAA TUM RAHE NAA TUM

HUM RAHE NA HUM...

(Time has done such a wonderful injustice,

Neither you stayed you, nor I stayed mine)

Teacher beating students

 ପିଲାଙ୍କୁ ପାଠ ନଆସିବାରୁ ନିର୍ଘାତ ମାରିଲେ । ଶିକ୍ଷକଙ୍କ ମାଡ଼ରେ ୧୪ ଜଣ ଆହତ ହୋଇଛନ୍ତି । ଆହତ ପିଲାଙ୍କ ମଧ୍ୟରେ ୫ଜଣ ଗୁରୁତର ଥିବାରୁ ତାଙ୍କୁ ଡାକ୍ତରଖାନାରେ ଭର୍ତ୍ତି କରାଯାଇଛି । ଏମିତି ଘଟଣା ଘଟଛି ବାସୁଦେବପୁର ବ୍ଲକ ସୁନାମୁହିଁ ସରକାରୀ ଉଚ୍ଚ ପ୍ରାଥମିକ ବିଦ୍ୟାଳୟରେ ।

The above news from Odisha, my home state back home rang a bell. Roughly translated from Odia - "14 students were injured in an Upper Primary (Elementary) school in Odisha, badly beaten by their teacher as they couldn't answer his questions. 5 of them were serious enough to get admitted to a hospital".

During my growing up days in Odisha it was quite common for our teachers to beat their students, some of them mercilessly. My memory goes back to the year 1978 when I was in class V in Ramakrishna Mission Upper Primary School, similar to the one mentioned above where this ghastly incident took place.

It was the fateful day when the results of the Science subject of our Half Yearly examination came out. I was fortunate to get the highest mark in our class in that subject, but not fortunate enough to escape thrashing by our Science teacher. In spite of scoring the highest marks I still got few whips of canes on my palm from the fastidious teacher. It hurt like hell and both my palms turned red, but I didn't suffer any bruises. The pain lasted for couple of days. My mistake, I made a few mistakes on the paper. 

I might have escaped with few thrashes on my palm, but others didn't. Our teacher lashed them on their hands and backs with his thin cane which had a sizzling effect when it hits the skin. He carried on with his caning with closed lips, yelling intermittently MURKHA PILA PITHI DEKHA (You illiterate kid, show me your back), alternating his caning between the backs and sides of the hapless students. The kids as young as 9-10 years old had no other option but silently bear the brunt of the thrashing with eyes closed, some crying BAPALO MAALO MARIGALI (dad, mom, I'm dead).

A couple of them wetted their pants. Now came the turn of this big, burly guy and a champion athlete from our class, but little slow in studies. We were in awe of him and his physique, because he used to frequently bully us. Now we saw how vulnerable he was when he walked towards the teacher, shaking out of fear akin to a coconut branch during a strong gale.

When his turn came stream of urine started flowing on his left thigh as he fainted in anticipation of things to come. The school Peon came running with water which was sprinkled on his face till he came to his senses. Still he got some ear twitching, but thanks to his fainting he saved himself from any further cane lashes. We were scared to death watching the fracas. This incident was humiliating enough for the big boy to stop bullying us further as the aura and myth surrounding him was shattered. He was teased as MUTURA (peeing boy).

Ironically it happened in Rama Krushna Mission School, based on the name of Sri Ramakrushna Paramhansa, better known as the Guru of his famous disciple Swami Bibekananda. Sri Ramakrushna preached love, non-violence and compassion for all living beings. But cattles would have been treated better compared to the way our Science teacher dealt with his primary school students that day. He strongly believed that thrashing makes the kids more obedient and keeps them better focused on studies. How silly !

I am sure many from my generation and above would have been through this ordeal. Sadly there was no cell phone, Internet, social or 24x7 media then to record them and make viral videos. This kind of treatment which makes news now was like walk in a park those days. When I narrated my ordeal to my parents they just brushed it off as just another day in school. Those were the days, those were the times. Now similar actions by teachers can get them into serious trouble.

The celebrity love triangle in Odisha

 For those who aren't aware, in Odisha media, social or otherwise is currently covering a triangular love story between Babusan (Pati) - his wife Trupti Satpathy (Patni) - and another girl named Prakruti Mishra (Woh).

Who are they ? Babusan is the son of ex-Superstar of Odia movies Uttam Mohanty and his actress wife Aparajita. The spoiled brat of a celebrity couple, he is also an actor in Odia movie industry. An alcoholic and prolific consumer of drugs, Babusan is married to Trupti Mishra and the couple have a child.

Of late Babusan has been living with a girl named Prakruti Mishra, an anchor in a local TV channel and an actress. A week ago his wife along with reporters following her, dragged Prakruti Mishra out of her car and blamed the actress for her husband's infidelity. It is always the other woman's fault, as if Babusan is Doodh Ke Dhoole (lily white), blameless.

Interestingly both Uttam Mohanty and Aparajita are siding with their daugher-in-law Trupti. Meanwhile Babusan and Prakruti Mishra, both have escaped to Madras and the media has followed them to the southern city. Prakruti Mishra's mother has added another dimension to the drama by vehemently backing her daughter in public glare and lodging a case against Trupti at local police station.

This is a perfect spicy recipe with full histrionics for the public in Odisha to consume and media to improve its ratings. Now whole Odisha is talking about it.

Acharye Thile Boli

 There was this short story in our Class VIII Odia SAHITYA (literature) textbook titled "ACHARYE THILE BOLI" (Because Mr. Acharya was there), written by an eminent Odia writer Sri Raj Kishore Ray who was narrating a true incident. Not sure if kids of the present generation back home have read this story.

Short story short, the writer is traveling on a train in Odisha when a beggar walks into his compartment. Many of his co-passengers rudely refuse to pay him until Sri Acharya Harihar, an Oriya freedom fighter, social reformer, educationist and statesman arrives on the scene. He obliges the beggar with few coins. Those who refused to pay moments earlier, now suddenly developed compassion towards the beggar and opened up their wallets quite generously. But the writer who was silently watching all this did not pay anything but was paying attention to the behavior of the rest.

Acharye asked Sri Ray why he did not pay the beggar like the rest. The writer replied, "ACHARYE THILE BOLI" - Because Mr. Acharya was there. A great story with plenty of connotation and imagery. Whoever we are, we live in a veneer of hypocrisy and tend to portray a public image conducive to our milieu, separate from our own self. Here Acharya's presence provided such an environment, bringing out sudden benevolence in the conduct of folks surrounding him, however temporary it may be. The author of the story Mr. Rajkishore Ray was unperturbed and preferred to stay by himself.

Now living in the United States for more than quarter of a century, I have seen inside Indian grocery stores like Patel Brothers our own DESI brothers and sisters (Desi is a slang used to denote Indians in America) trample trolleys over each other,  jump the line (queue) at the earliest opportunity, flood the floor with vegetables and plastic bags. In Indian restaurants you can see them jump the buffet line, spill things around with impunity. Yet the same folks care not to do the same in a Wal Mart or Kroger, in a McDonald's or Chillis.

We Desis are just two different people - one inside the Patel Brothers and other inside the Publix. I have seen many amongst us, in exclusive Indian gatherings doing all kinds of loitering, including throwing food on the floor, quite aware of the fact that SAMBAR and Butter Chicken Masala gravy can create havoc on the carpet. Occasionally they can be seen throwing crumbled balls made out toilet paper roll strewn all around the restrooms (toilets).

Yet I have observed that in many gatherings our Desi brothers and sisters are unbelievably disciplined and suave in the presence of Americans. A baffled friend of mine once pointed out the same on one such occasion where the local folks were present in an overwhelming majority and asked me how could be our Desi siblings so disciplined ! My impromptu response to him with a smirk - "AMERICANS THILE BOLI (because Americans were there).