Back in America - India trip January 2024

 On my arrival at the Atlanta Airport the Immigration Officer told me as he swiped my passport - "Welcome home". It suddenly occured to me that I was away from home visiting my home in India. I hit a perfect home run in my just concluded India trip, where I felt lot at home to write about. By all means, my trip to India wasn't entirely uneventful. Met most of my friends and relatives I intended to. Those who I inadvertently missed will catch up next time. Made a short and sweet trip to my ancestral village near Puri, sweetened by guzzling Coconut water on the way. 

Apart from missing memories and moments in India, I miss the murmuring of mosquitos who loved the taste of my blood already sweetened by the varieties of local sweets my sweet tooth sampled. Like a good charitable samaritan, I shared the booty with the tiny insects, thus sustaining the food chain. Emulating the well known commercial (Advertisement) of State Farm Insurance the mosquitos of Bhubaneswar celebrated - "Like a good neighbor, Sambeet Dash is here". 

My 2 hour long Indigo flight from Bhubaneswar to Delhi was mundane and uneventful, as the return trip lacks the JOSH (mojo) of the onbound trip towards India. But a similar return trip to United States in 2021 wasn't uneventful at all. The Indigo flight to Delhi on that day growled on the termac for a good half an hour after boarding. Right in front of me was seated a middle aged man, probably in his late 50s or early 60s - short, dark, bald and plumpy with hippie hair on his ears busy frantically Whatsapping. The screen of his smartphone was barely two feet away from my prying eyes as suddenly a semi-bare female body slowly appearing on the screen raised my curiosity to eavesdrop in between the gap of the seats. 

The large size font of his smartphone and the subsequent raunchy chat got my attention and gave away his intention. From the attire of the girl, the nudity and the kind of lascivious exchanges made between the two, it was quite apparent that the conversation was between a call girl and her client. The man seemed desperate to reach Delhi. He wrote his final sentence as the flight started running on the termac - "Keep sending me your pictures for my in flight entertainment". He probably wasn't aware that he wasn't the only one inside the plane having in-flight entertainment. He switched off the phone as the flight took off and I switched my head towards the window to take a view at the fading string of the lights below as the flight slowly vanished into the cloud. 

One of the best sights I ever saw was when the flight from Delhi landed in Paris around noon local time. The clouds from the top looked like snow capped glaciers, the blue openings in the sky in between the clouds looked like melting glacial ice sparkling under the bright sun. The plane came under the cloud with the cloudy, gray wintry weather all around, same as in life it doesn't take long to dream turn into dull reality of life. 

Marriage season is in the air of Odisha. There are also plenty of other social occasions with too many parties to celebrate them. Unlike in America where social gatherings are limited around the holiday seasons of Christmas and Thanksgiving, in India it extends to most part of the year. Celebrations in USA is much less lavish and much more frugal to what I have seen in India. Consumerism has hit the roof as people aren't hesitant to spend money, sometimes just to show off their newly acquired wealth. There is a class of nouveau riche in limelight these days who got tons of money but lack class. 

With greasy food taking over the healthy local diet and increased alcohol consumption it is really a challenge to maintain a healthy lifestyle for many. Though one has to be a Roman in Rome, it is imperative to inculcate strong control over food and drinks to stay healthy and maintain fitness. A good sign is the increasing number of morning walkers in Forest Park which I frequented during my stay. In a dancing workout session I saw a bunch of pot bellies middle aged males gyrating their tummies to the tune of Hindi music exposing their white protruding chest, breast hairs and betel stained teeth. 

Long haul flights are getting more and more painful as I age. Gone are the days when air travel was a luxury. Now it is an unavoidable necessity. Crammed in cattle class like sardines is a pain in the butt, literally - not to mention close to 20 hours inside a flight carrying hundreds of passengers in a closed environment full of stale air at forty thousand feet isn't exactly healthy but a necessary evil to deal with. I try my best to drink plenty of water to fight the dehydration caused inside the flight, consume less spirit to stay spirited. The 30 hour long journey including the in flight and stoppage time seemed eternal and tiring. As the Delta flight entered the USA Airspace from New England area, the moon looked a whole lot bigger and brighter in the pollution free air - the rabbit inside the moon looked eager to jump out into the window seat I took and fall on my lap to cradle. 

Back in Georgia to a cold, late evening temperature of 40°F (5°Centigrade). It would be early morning in India. Already miss the humming of mosquitoes and brutally clapping them to death, the yodelling of mongrels in middle of night. The cold, crispy air of Georgia felt refreshingly fresh as I stepped out of the Airport. It felt odd not to hear a single vehicle honking on my 100 miles (160 km) road trip from Atlanta to Columbus. Miss the din and bustle, crowd and the continous kickee...kickkee..kickee...of bikes yonking horn and slicing their way through the traffic - the ubiquitous jerk on the road and the bumpy rides, the roads being too smooth for comfort to my back here. A person who has driven on roads of Odisha, driving anywhere else in world is a walk in the park. 

Traveled 10,000 miles to and fro between my family in United States and India. Felt sad to bid adieu to my parents in India, happy to get back to my family in Georgia. Left India with Jai Jagannath in mind, back with "Georgia in my mind" - to echo the famous song by Ray Charles. I have two hearts, India and USA, separated by 7 seas and 13 rivers, united by the bond of love. Rooted strongly in both, I am rooting for both. Though I love United States, my adopted home, like first love in life India is and always will be close to my heart. Thus concludes my travelog to India this year.

Goodbye Odisha - India trip January 2024

 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, how many of them 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) now 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 are clearly having 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.

The barber gave me a close shave, followed by haircut. When he was in the middle of his job, someone called him on his mobile (cell). The barber told the other guy on line - "Call me later. I got a customer here". He continued chatting with me as he clipped my hair - "These guys are from my village in Jagatsingpur who don't do anything and sit idle at home. Nothing else to do, they call and disturb me. When I visit my village, they demand a BHATA-MANSA (Rice and Goat meat) party from me. At the same time they burn with jealousy for those who have gone out of village to make money. Bloody double headed snakes". With such stories rampant here, he had a point.

In one of my earlier trips a guy suddenly barges into the saloon, combing  ploughing his hair backwards, uttering in Odia - KIRE KUNA (a common Odia nick name) TAA SHAALI BAHAGHARA RU PHERILA (Did Kuna return from marriage of his sister-in-law) ? The guy reading a local newspaper got up, walked to the front door to spit out his betel stained saliva and replied - "NA MA. SE E JAYE MEESSI KALLA KARINI". (He has not yet given me a miss call - a call on the cell phone destined to be missed but expected to be returned at the earliest). The tete-a-tete continued as the barber focused on giving me a clean shave, used his blade in surgical precision reaching out to all the nooks and corners of my face which I can rarely reach. He continued weeding out the unwanted hairs off my face, gave me a nice massage, soothing my jaded nerves. I thanked him for giving me a clean slate.

Many here suffer from IBS (Irritable Bowel Syndrom). But ever since I am here in India, I am having ISS (Irritable Sleeping Syndrome). Though my jet lag is gone, I am sleeping at odd hours and up very early in morning, still longing for couple of more hours of sleep. In United States most places open for breakfast quite early, between 5 AM to 6.30 AM. Then open for lunch from 10.30 and dinner at 6 PM. Here stalls on the street selling breakfast open after 8 AM, most restaurants around 9. Lunch is eaten not before 2 PM and dinner often after 10 PM. With such late dinner one can imagine eating a late breakfast. But at our home here we don't eat that late and it keeps me sane. I prefer to have my cuppa tea early in the morning, but lunch at 2 PM and dinner at 10 PM isn't my cuppa tea.

Thanks to the information provided by my friends Shubhranshu Mishra Babu and Rajendra Jena, I was able to change my Rs.2000 note (Bill) at the local branch of the Reserve Bank of India (RBI), India's equivalent of the Fed. I arrived at the gate at sharp 10 AM. The guard at the gate casually told me to come after 10 minutes. I replied - "Is there any place to wait ? If not, the only place I can go is to my vehicle which is parked across the street. At this peak commute hour it will take me 5 minutes to cross the road to get into my vehicle and another 5 to get back. I would rather prefer to stand and wait here for 10 more minutes". The guard laughed and pointed me to a waiting area - "SAARE (Sir), please take a seat there". Sense of humor helps.

When I loaded some Airtel minutes to my local mobile (cell) phone, I was prompted to speak out my phone no. Speaking "96688" as nine-six-six-eight-eight" is often frowned upon and not properly understood. You need to pronounce 66 as "Double 6", 88 as "double 8" and so on. Being out of touch with the milieu for a while, it took me a while to figure this out.

This eminent writer R K Laxman sited this reason for him to stay back in India when he had the option to settle abroad - "Where on earth you will find so many variety of characters to write about !!!" He wasn't far from truth. No place under sun can match India in the richness of flora, fauna, chaos and characters to write about. Often chaos and disorder brings the fun and frolic out of life rather than orderly tidiness.

Overall my trip to India went well. Thanksfully no RT-PCR test before boarding flight, a requirement during the Covid Pandemic days. Though bitten by mosquitos multiple times so far no symptom of any disease. Ran lot of errands, did some charity work. The feeling was more satisfying than visiting a temple.
Met lot of friends and relatives. Made a trip to my native villages where I sat cross-legged after a long time to savor the local temple food, the taste of which beats food from any 5-star hotel by miles. Attended a marriage reception where I sampled more than a dozen of items, followed by MEETHA PAN (sweet betel). Hardly anyone stood on line (queue) at the food stalls. Many just hung around close to server so that they can take a second help without having to go back in the line.

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 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 XVII in Bhubaneswar - India trip January, 2024

 In USA, barring few exceptions, we cook our own food, even make our own tea. Being cooked and served these by someone for a difference feels very different. So invited for lunch I didn't want to miss such an occasion during the last throes of my vacation. It was the day of making a trip to my ancestral village of Biranchidashpur near Sakhigopal on way to Puri to attend a function, which in local lingo means a social event.

The drive on the 4 lane expressway was impressive as it has cut down the time of traveling by half to the village compared to a decade ago. But there were signs of "old habits die hard" not yet dead. There were drivers who could be seen coming from the opposite way on the same lane, against the tide of the one way traffic. Unnecessary roadblocks by man made barriers and animals like gangs of cows and stray dogs were strewn around - all prospective causes of accidents.

The sun was striving hard to force through the misty air during the early hours of the lazy, holiday afternoon, as the fog painted the horizon in white like a broad brush on a blue canvas. The smiling white KASHATANDI (Saccharum spontaneum), a lanky flower on sandy soil with a white broomlike top and the coconut groves waved at us through the haze. We passed through golden yellow paddy fields, the harvested ones forming cylindrical crop circles. Drove past SUANDO, the native village of Gopabandhu Das, though the meandering pucca roads under archways of coconut groves, as the banana and palm trees swayed by the afternoon breeze.

After a long time got a glimpse of life in rural Odisha. Curious women and urchins gaped at us as we drove past them. We encountered greenish village ponds every other miles. Children were jumping on to water, while ladies bathing struggled to cover themselves as our vehicle passed by. On the village outskirts, cows were strapped to tiny poles as a bull was inspecting them for insemination.

All roads to my village lead to the conclusion that communication technology has come a  long way. I saw many cyclists and bikers in GAMUCHA and LUNGI (loincloth), head tilted with a cell phone tucked between their chin and shoulder.

Cricket has penetrated deep into rural India, Odisha being no different. Due to salubrious weather I saw at least half a dozen cricket matches by the roadside. On the village roads kids and adults alike were playing gully cricket. We passed a guy on bicycle, holding a cricket bat on one hand and handle of the bike using another, eager to arrive on field.

Felt awesome connecting to my roots as it was my first visit to my village after 2018, before the cataclysmic Cyclone Fani changed the flora of our village like a bull in the China shop. Earlier the houses were dwarfed by the coconut trees. Now there are hardly any thatched roof left in village.

Houses built of concrete dwarfed the few coconut trees which survived Fani. I had my moment of embarrassment when the strings of my sandal, part of which was eaten by stray dogs came off while walking on village road. I had to cover some distance to the temple in bare feet limping slightly, dragging myself forward and come all the way back to Bhubaneswar in bare feet. Luckily for me, the January sun spared my feet from getting burn from the scorching asphalt road. After long time I ate seating cross legged on floor and loved every bit of it. I thought it would be inconvenient for me, but I passed the test in flying color.

I am a bibliophile who has a decent collection of books at home in Bhubaneswar. As they are gathering dust, I wanted to donate those to our village library. But I was sad to learn the sad state of the library which has now become defunct. Unlike the libraries in Alexandria in Egypt, Athens of Greece and Nalanda of Bihar, they were not destroyed by any outside invaders, but by the villagers themselves. The destruction of the famed libraries was seen as the harbinger of the demise of those civilizations. The decapitated village library doesn't augur well for its future. All the books were stealthily stolen as neither the books and sometimes the borrowers themselves never returned.

From what I heard, the goats on the ground and monkeys above are the major nuisance for our villagers. Goat rearing is very popular these days, for their ever growing demand in the ever growing Bhubaneswar. They roam around, munching with impunity whatever comes on their way, entering and destroying the kitchen gardens of the hapless village folks.

If goats are pain at the bottom, monkeys are pain from the top. They come in droves, eat and destroy all fruits, especially the prized cash crops like coconuts, papayas and betel nuts. All the methods to drive them away, yelling, beating BAJA (drums) and bursting fire crackers only succeeded temporarily.

Yet goats are far easier to handle, as they are dispenible, destined towards slaughterhouse. It is another thing about monkeys. Being the descendants of Lord Hanuman, no one dares to earn the wrath of our "Monkey God". So someone came with this creative idea to outsource the killing of the head of the clan of simians to a group of Muslim hunters. The later managed to track and kill the monkey chieftain. 

The villages were spared from their the menace for a while. Within a few days they returned, not the monkeys but the hunters filled with remorse. The hunters have now become the hunted. They narrated that ever since they killed the monkey, misfortunes one after another have struck them. A bout of diarrhoea attack killed few from their community. Many of them Butchers by profession lamented in Urdu laced Odia "LAXMI CHHAADGEIS" (Laxmi, the Goddess of wealth has left us) as their business plummeted.

Since they beat the monkey to death their meat business had taken a severe beating. They were convinced that Lord Hanuman's wrath had been bestowed upon them with Laxmi following the suit, leaving them. It was amusing to hear the local Muslims scared to death of Hanuman and talking about the subsequent loss of Laxmi. No more Monkey business for them. Loss of life and business trumps over religion. Slowly the monkeys kept coming back. No one in our vilage or its surrounding ever wanted to repeat the fiasco as monkeys still mean business. Never say " Mere Monkeys" ever again. More later...

Day XV and XVI in Bhubaneswar - India trip January, 2024

 A man once went to an astrologer, who after seeing his chart said "You will be begging after two years". "What will happen after 2 years ?" asked the man, now somewhat curious and concerned. The astrologer replied - "Don't worry. You will get used to it". Similarly during my initial days in Odisha, the incessant honking and zigzag traffic sounded irritating to me. Now in little more than couple of weeks I have got used to it. 

Bhubaneswar used to be extended village. It still is. As far as civic sense and sense of entitlement go, we have some catch up to do. A city originally designed for 50,000 people is currently 12.5 million strong, growing annually at the rate of nearly 3%. Once a sleepy township of salaried class people, Bhubaneswar has many sleazy stories to tell these days which comes as part of the package with the ever growing population.

But it is nothing compared to the "Auto" cracy I witnessed in Bhubaneswar. The 3 -wheeler vehicles want to outsmart and outrun each other in the rat race of catching the next BHADAA, in Odia it means rental passengers. A taste of autocracy I got the other day when the driver had to slam his break as an Auto Rickshaw came right in front of our car from nowhere. A hundred feet ahead both the auto Rickshaw stopped next to our vehicle at a red light. As the vehicles stopped, some bikers and the autos came from behind, snaking their way, sneaking through, filling the narrow gaps in between. This recalcitrant auto rickshaw which my car almost hit moments earlier stood next to me.

I rolled over the window and chastised this moron, "KANA MARIBA KU PRABALA ICHHAA (You got a tremendous death wish) ? The guy had no remorse. He bent to spew red spit on the ground and grinned back to me to my chagrin, exposing his black betel stained teeth like the snarl of a rabid dog. As he sped away, he spewed some venom at me. It was drowned by the high decibel traffic, but from his lip movement I knew he wasn't saying praiseworthy things about me. As a thank you note, I promptly reciprocated kindly with my lip movement of praiseworthy stuff for him, which would have made anyone from Puri highly proud. As he sped away, from his look I could gather my message was well conveyed, inaudible but effective.

Just the other day as I was walking on the street across our house, a car was backing up to take a U-turn. A la a doggie protruding its head out of car window, the driver drooped his outside the window and did a "pooch" to spit out his red beter saliva on the street, continuing backing up while brushing his hair looking at the rear view mirror. He didn't care to stop even if I was walking right behind his car. If I didn't stop on time, he would have no hesitancy to run over me. I hollered at him - "KANA MOTE MAARIBA KU ICHHA (Do you intend to kill me) ? The driver gave me a half baked smile and nonchalantly drove away. From someone having a death wish by coming right in front of me to another guy eager to run over me, the errant drivers have come a long way, putting me in tenterhooks.

Years ago, I was walking at exactly the same spot across the street from our house where the car almost ran over me. Suddenly I saw a car's side view mirror hitting a little girl as it tried to overtake her, clipping her right shoulder tangentially from behind. The poor girl fell flat on the street. The reckless driver looked back and sped away. But before he fled, I managed to captured his number tag and photographed it in my mind.

The bystanders including me rushed to the girl. She was shell shocked and shobbing. Thankfully her injury was minor baring few bruises on her knees and elbow. Her parents who lived at a stone's throw distance soon arrived at the scene. As the girl, still crying hugged her parents for comfort, her father asked the bystanders if any one by chance knew the driver of the car or noted its number tag on plate. I came forward and told him to note the number starting with "OD-Whatever" before I forget. Her father was fuming in anger and was furious - "MU SE HARAMI KU CHHADIBINI (I won't let that son of a bitch get away). I am going to press charges to police". Thanking me profusely, he took my local address and phone number. I assured him to reach out to me for any further help.

After coming back home, I narrated this incident to all present, thinking I would be appreciated for my efforts. But I was wrong. My mother and PIUSI (father's sister) started chastising me - "You are a GADHA (donkey), a GANDA MURKHA (deep rooted moron). Being a visitor here only for just a few days, why do you get entangled into this mess ? Police case HEI JIBA. TU HAIRAAN HABU (there could be a police case and you can be in trouble). Folks here are very wary of police and prefer to stay away from them.

The only person who didn't say anything after listening to my ordeal was my father. His silent face bore the quite testimony of the approval of my action. One indeed needs to be very careful while walking on the roads frequented by vehicles, keeping an eye on the traffic around. Prevention is always better than cure. Pedestrians generally have right of the way, but here in Bhubaneswar they don't. Cat has nine lives, we just got one. More later...

Day XIII and XIV in Bhubaneswar - India trip January, 2024

Walked into our neighborhood grocery store earlier this morning to buy milk packets. The owner of the store who is known to me for more than three decades was excited to see me. He welcomed me asking the standard question I get from all during my India visits - "When did you come and how long you will be here". After the pleasantries were over, he told me - "TRAWMPAW AU BAIDEN BHITARE PUNI KANA LADHEI HABA ! TRAWMPAW AMA DESA PAI BHALA THILA. Pakistan KU SABAD KARI DEITHILA. NA KANA APANA KAHUCHANTI (It seems Biden and Trump are going to fight again. Trump was good for India who taught Pakistan a lesson. What do you say) ? I said - "APANA TA SABU JANICHANTI. MU ADHIKA KANA KAHIBI" (You are Mr. Know All. What more can I say) ? From his body language I could decipher that he took my response as a huge compliment.

Foreign policy and economics experts mushroom in every tea stall, grocery store and betel shop kiosk, often metamorphosing into their domain of expertise in these fields, especially on social media. The next question followed - "AMERICA LOKANKA AYODHYA MANDIRA UPARE MATAA-MATA KANA (What's the opinion of the Americans about Ayodhya) ? My short answer was "They don't know, don't care".

The marriage season in Odisha came to its peak as soon as I arrived in Bhubaneswar. Marriages might be made in heaven but dances take place on earth - once during the marriage, then couples dance to the tune of each other post marriage, especially husband to his wife's tune. One day all of a sudden my vehicle came to a complete halt as from nowhere arrived a BARAJATRI/BARAATI (bridegroom side) procession barging in right front of me. I prayed for the ensuing traffic jam to ameliorate, wishing the crowd to dissipitate fast.

But my ordeal was not going to be over anytime soon. Among the cacophony of the honking vehicles around, I enviously watched the bikers sneaking their way though the labyrinth of vehicles. I had no such luxury but to bear the exteremely loud music played by the BAND BAJA BARAAT (Band party of the Groom's procession) blaring from the loudspeakers mounted on top of truck a few feet from my ears, playing the song :

DIL TUJH PE A GAYAA,
KYA NASHA CHHAA GAYAA,
HE HE HE...

Roughly transliterated,

My heart has fallen for you,
How intoxication has spread around !
Hey hey hey...

I plugged my both ears using my fingertips but kept my eyes wide one and watched the accompanying BARAATIs (friends of groom) dancing on the road.

Their dance was more like a monkey jumping fiesta than any kind of rhythmic twist to the tune of the music. Many were stamping on each others feet, some apparently in an inebriated stage. A few fell on the ground, wiped the dust off their hand and body, then continued the jumping spree. Among the dancers were few fat ladies gyrating their sweaty torso with waves of fat on waist below their Saree clearly visible.

The place was close to one of the KALYAN MANDAPS (marriage venue) nearby. Many well dressed girls gaped through the gate to take a glimpse of approaching procession. Their presence acted as a catalyst to the dancers. Like a bull getting excited upon seeing a Red Flag, the BARAATI guys wriggled and jumped with more power and enthusiasm. Couple of guys upon sighting the giggling girls started NAAGIN (Serpent) dance. One of then playing the role of Serpent rolled on the ground, face up, his both hands folded like a hissing Cobra. Another guy was swinging on top of him, biting one end of a long handkerchieIf and holding the stretched other end emulating a Snake Charmer, his handkerchief posing as his luring musical instrument. More the girls giggled, some with their mouths closed with palm more the guys jumped and rolled. (Those who are not familiar with it might mistake this NAAGIN dance involving two guys as a gay courtship dance).

This continued for a while until the giggling of the girls subsided. A cop arrived on scene, trying to regulate the crowd and snarling traffic which had come to a screeching stop. A guy stepped out of the melee, walking towards him. I assume he is a true Gandhian, as I saw him surreptitiously pushing a few greenish papers bearing Gandhi's head into the cop's underhand. As a token of  appreciation, the cop let the jamboree continue for some more time. Finally the ordeal ended, as the crowd and cop slowly melted away. The road was now clear for me to continue my journey through the road and rest of my vacation. More later...

Day XI and XII in Bhubaneswar - India trip January, 2024

Pandian and Politics here are the two major topical topics to talk about. There is not a single gathering I attended where politics wasn't mentioned or Pandian wasn't discussed - a veritable blend of some truth, some hearsay, some fictional accounts. Many are unsubstantiated rumors and myths surrounding the man, adding to the mystery. But one thing is clear. After the British who ruled and left in 1947, no non-Odia outsider has captured the imagination of the Odias as much as this man has.

This morning my mother caressed me and said - "MO PUA KALA PADI GALANI - my son as turned dark in complexion". Far from being a racist, she was simply echoing the Indian obsession for fair complexion. No question, we are a fair skin crazed Indian Subcontinent, never been able to get rid of this complex about our complexion. Fair skin lotions sell like hot cakes. Indian matrimonial columns are filled with ads where the prime most criteria for the bride is "FAIR", followed by Tall, Beautiful, Qualified blah blah blah. In Odisha when a marriage broker says "JHIATI TIKE MANDA RANGA, meaning " the girl has little bit dull color", it's an euphemism for dark complexion. Can't blame the marriage broker here, it's not fair to kill the messenger. He is just trying to make his sales pitch in a marriage market where fair complexion rules the roost.

Fair enough. No doubt we got a complex about our complexion in a nation where leading Hindu Gods Sri Ram, Lord Krishna and Lord Shiva are known to have dark complexion.  An article in India Today magazine not so long ago mentioned about numerous high society Call Girls operating in Delhi are from the impoverished ex-Soviet Republics. The answer given by a pimp to the undercover reporter - "White skin is more sought after than the rest".

Winter weather in Odisha can be summarized as warm days, cool nights. But today was a cooler day - a cloudy, dull, windy day here in Bhubaneswar, harbinger of rains. For me it is shorts and T-shirt wearing weather. While driving a Scooty, slicing through the dusty air in a dusky atmosphere, I could feel a bit of cold due to the windchill factor. There was more air to in the air to follow. A guy on a bicycle was riding next to me, looking like an Eskimo attired in a monkey cap, muffler and a shawl wrapped around his body. He suddenly lifted his ass, farted twice, sat back again and continued biking with an apparent sigh of relief on his face.

Hovering around since morning the gray cloud started converging, turning grayer and darker, clustering together as the day progressed. After dusk the sky opened up, as ADINA MEGHA (unseasonal rains) lashed out late in the evening with dust filled wind giving way to heavy droplets of water plattering the ground with rhythmic music. The swaying coconut trees looked like gargantuan Wind Mills, their branches a la giant windshield wipers were seen swish-swashing the silvery gray sky of patchy clouds amidst a backdrop of bright shining stars in a distant horizon. It was a pleasant feeling of tranquility spending time on our balcony, relishing the wind shower which briefly reminded me of Bhubaneswar of my childhood days.

The rain commenced with few droplets to bring out the petrichor, the smell of fresh rains on parched earth which can beat the best of French perfumes any day. Steady rain continued overnight. Standing on the balcony I was looking at the nearby plants and trees showering under the bright street light. The silvery stripes of rain turned into golden sprinkles by the neon light before it could reach the ground. I watched the rains wiping off dust from the foliage like wiper blades of a car, as the rainwater rolled from coconut and betel nut palms. The buildings looked brighter. The parked cars looked fresh after the rain wiped off the surface dust, providing them a free, natural car wash.

The morning after the rain cleared, the sun smiled, struggling through the disbursing clouds, glad being able to see though the far less dust studded air, thanks to the unseaonal but much needed rain. The air looks clean and crispy. City-zens of the city, enjoy the dust free air while it lasts.

The buildings are looking wet but lightened up by the sunshine peeping through cloud. The craters on the street across our house were filled with muddy water. One of those craters was used by the familiar stray dog who is part of our family, for we never fail to feed him. He was seen slurping the khaki color water as his eyes were scouring for a drier spot to rest. The flora and fauna around were trying to make the best out of the unseaonal rains. More later....

Day IX and X in Bhubaneswar - India trip January, 2024

Fruits and vegetables, plants and vegetation, flora and fauna perennially inspire me. There are perennial Banana, Coconut and Jackfruits trees in our backyard, followed by few flowers and "GUA" betelnut trees in our front yard. I love greenery. Both envy and proud of my mother's green thumb. She had planted some of these trees, maintains them even today by succinctly raising and protecting them. 

Am eating a lot of local fruits and vegetables. They are in season and plentily available, great way to keep my arteries and bowel clean. American food can clog your arteries and cause constipation. Eating a whole lot of Guavas, Barakoli Jujube (a berry), Sapetas (Sapodila), Saag (leafy greens) and the Odia dishes of Dalma and Santula - all tasty, fiber rich food packed with vitamins and other essential nutrients. Win win situation for a foodies - eat tasty, healthy and nutritious. I am not eating these days, rather sampling the food. With age, my appetite has gone down. Instead of having a stomach feeling meal I prefer to sample a bit of each.

I saw Broccoli here but desisted from buying as we get plenty of it in the US. I remember when my mother visited America and saw Broccoli for the first time in her life, called it as "Sagua Kobi" (Green cauliflower). Here I prefer the local stuff. Every other day I visit the the HAAT (Flea or Farmers market) at Samantaraipur Chhaka, barely a kilometer (1/2 mile) from our house in order to grab some fresh leafy green veggies - especially my favorite LEUTIA, KOSALAA SAAGA (Local Leafy Greens) and DESI ALU (Yam). I have become the favorite of an elderly lady veggie vendor who I think likes me for two things. Every time I buy, I don't do any bargaining at all and tell her to keep the changes when she returns me the balance due.

The first time I purchased vegetables from her, I gestured her to keep the change. It raised her curiosity as she raised her head, putting her hand over her forehead to take a close peek at me through the sun glare. Now I got her attention. Every time she sees me standing in front of her mounds of vegetables, she hands me over the choicest pieces of DESI ALU and five bundles of SAAGA which she sets aside exclusively for me. It seems I have become her favorite customer as I don't dishearten her.

Remembered this incident years ago during one of my summer trips to India. One fine morning I came to this same vegetable market to do some shopping and catch a glimpse of the milieu. No sooner I finished my purchase from a vendor than I heard someone shouting MAHADEB, MUNDIA (Salute, O Lord  Shiva. The venerable Bull is the ride of Lord Siva). I turned my head to notice a huge Bull sniffing vegetables hardly couple of feet from me. The mountain sized bovine acknowledged the greetings by nodding its head while still happily munching on the vegetables offered to him.

A man suddenly arrived on scene clad in LUNGI (A loincloth wrapped around the waist which can be conveniently removed for multiple purposes). Scratching his private parts in public (blame the hot and humid weather for that) he asked the lady vendor, "ALO BAIGANA KETE NEKHA - Hey, how much is the cost of the Eggplant (Brinjal)" ? 

Then came a woman covered in rags, shouting explicit at another vendor who refused to part her with vegetables. She started cursing the vendor's whole family to die from BAADI (cholera, a killer disease of yesteryears but now defunct). She could have cursed her to die from Covid or Cancer as one has a better chance to perish these days from these diseases rather than Cholera. She also went on accusing the woman vendor of soliciting illicit relationship with her mothers and sisters. I couldn't understand why she didn't direct her anger towards her father and brother rather than mother and sister. Apparently we are a male dominated society where mothers and sisters are the butts of profanity and curse.

After being content from covering every member of her 14 generations with all her curses she finally relented. The lady selling the vegetables ignored her and went on shouting BAIGANA BAIGANA (eggplant, eggplant). I asked the lady vendor the reason behind the other woman's sudden outburst. Before she could answer my query, a man in loin cloth and unkempt hair told me "She is a mad woman. No one takes her seriously". He sounded serious and logical.

As he walked away, the vegetable vendor started giggling. I asked her - "What's so funny about what he just said ? It was quite obvious that the woman didn't sound to be mentally sound". She replied, "Babu (Sir), this man just told you that the abusive woman is a PAGELI (mad woman), right ? Hee, Hee, Hee". "Yes, I think I heard him loud and clear", was my reply. She continued giggling "Hee hee. He is no different. He is a PAGALA (he-mad) too." And he calls the woman mad. Hee hee hee. She continued giggling.

Now trying to make sense out of the madness surrounding me I swept off the beads of sweat from my forehead as the tropical sun was peaking right over my head. It was time to rush back home, far from the madding crowd. More later...