Day XII in Bhubaneswar - India trip 2017

Biking is fun, but for a shorter distance. The local traffic is too erratic and unsafe to venture into main roads where one needs to be a zigzag Zen master to manoeuvre. 

There's hardly any designated Pedestrian or Zebra crossing in Bhubaneswar. You have to tip toe and sway your hips, waving and clenching hands like an eunuch towards the incoming traffic in order to walk to the other side. Road crossing is an art and one needs to be a trapeze artist to cross roads at the crossroads of Bhubaneswar.

Though it stayed under 40s, it was another muggy, lazy dog day summer. After a heavy lunch, I lied down reading SAMBAD, a vernacular Newspaper. Didn't remember when sleep overpowered me until wafted in AMBACHAARA ... LEMBAAACHAARA, the voice of a street vendor selling Mango & Lemon pickles. 

The voice appeared louder, gradually closing on me and slowly fading away reminding me of the Doppler's Effects we studied during Intermediate Physics. I turned my side yawning semi asleep. Then poof, power gone again. But thanks to the inverter, the fan kept on churning the air to my relief but soon the circulating air was slowly getting too hot for my comfort. 

I stepped outside, still wobbly when our maid cautioned me not to step into the floor she just mopped. Thanking her for saving my somnambulist torso from crashing on the slippery floor, I tip toed carefully trudging into the balcony. Another vendor came yelling DAHI BARA DAHI BARA (Vada soaked in buttermilk), a big tin container tied to the back of his bicycle with rubber tubes. 

It reminded me of an episode from my childhood, when defying our parents we bought DAHI BARA from such a street vendor to find couple of drowned cockroaches who had taken a Buttermilk burial. We were squarely reprimanded not to buy anything from such vendors.

Had a taste of BIKRUTA (Wierd) Odia today while I caught the local FM. Some of my non Odia and NRI friends speak far better non-accented Odia than the anchors on FM, especially the female ones who apparently think speaking accented Odia is a fad. More later....

Day XI in Bhubaneswar - India trip 2017

The Monday started with a gray sky and cool breeze filled with promise of rain. It made gray, the color of gloom, turning to be the harbinger of joyful expectations in a city already baked at 43 degreees (110 degree Fahrenheit heat) topped with sultry humidity just the previous day. The approaching rain from the distant horizon which brought respite from the stifling heat was welcomed by one and all.

I got caught in the sudden storm while taking a morning walk in our neighborhood. The perfume of fresh rains on parched earth engulfed the air, its fragrance better than the bestest of French perfumes. The leaves and small twigs from trees swirled around as silvery rain lashed through the dust bowl, releasing its all pervading steam laced fragrance.

I started taking longer strands, walking on the sidewalks covered with protruding edges of kiosks with water dripping from them. The dust now settled down, forming a slightly muddy slush, splattering all over the legs. The ubiquitous Brown Bull inspecting a cow for insemination was forced to abort his foreplay to take shelter under the foyer of a nearby shop.

Couple of mongrels now occupied the spot vacated by the bull near the Giant Bovine's comfort zone on the sand mound and rolled over it to absorb the coolness from the freshly wet sand. The rain started pounding faster, plattering on the asbestos roof of the road side kiosks. 

The two pariah dogs moved under the shelter, giving a glancing look at the Bull at the other side of the foyer. The Bull was oblivious of their presence, busy nonchalantly ruminating its food intake and over a missed opportunity.

After a while the Bull surreptitiously put its head inside a sack of vegetables to begin his breakfast. The store owner shooed it away. The Bull trudged its way forward to the nearby kiosk where he was welcomed with MAHADEB MUNDIA (Salute to the Supreme God). Being the official carrier of Lord Shiva, every Bull has his (Mon)day.

Finally I made back to home, wet and wild after taking bath in nature's pre Monsoon showers. The morning rain kept the temperature at bay throughout the day. The best way to pass a relatively cooler afternoon is to take a short, refreshing Siesta which recharges the battery of mind and body.

This evrning my son got curious at a mound of dung near our main gate and queried - "Dad, what's that ?" "Don't worry. That's some real Bullshit" - was my response. "No kidding", my son replied back, unable to fathom the bullshit he saw was literally true. More later...

Donald Trump's rant against India on Paris Climate Deal

Donald Trump repeatedly ranted against India as he dropped out of the Paris Climate Deal by saying - "India makes its participation contingent on receiving billions and billions and billions of dollars in foreign aid from developed countries".

It's a typical Trump hyperbole. When it comes to creating imagery no one can beat him. He makes use of his great persuation skills in his public addresses "Hey. Look at the crowd. There are tens of thousands of them". There might be actually a thousand, but the impression amplifies and sticks in the mind of the targetted audience is, "Wow, how popular is this guy !!!". 

He once said - "ISIS douses you in oil, burn you in a cage, they chop your heads", making hand gestures to drive his point. Don't think ISIS will ever come to the American heartland to make Kentucky Fried People, but the image of such brutality created by his oratory skills creates a sense of apprehension of Trump being their protector, their Knight in Shining Armor. 

Such visuals inside the brain creates a persuasive image, inculcating a lasting impression, more lasting than facts and figures. Images created via Emotions is more influencial than logic - as love (its opposite hatred too) is strongest when its unreasonable. Human heart is known to override its judgemental head.

Similarly Trump' claim that India was seeking "billions and billions and billions" is no doubt a gross exagerration. Yet it reinforces the adage - "All politics is local". We may not like Trump, but his voters like him and he cares for them. The rest of the world can hate him, but it hardly matters to him, nor he cares. 

It is important to note that President Trump has proved different than the candidate Trump - his campaign video addressing to Indian Americans ABAKI BHAAR TRUMPH SARKHTAAR (this time it's Trump Administration) not withstanding. He doesn't care much about India and did not think twice before being overtly critical of India - especially a few days before his first ever meeting with Modi as POTUS. 

Understandably, there is lots of outrage on Trump's statement. There has been war cries in a section of media, social or otherwise, a few wanting Modi to cancel his scheduled meeting with Trump.

But such decisions in haste would be immature diplomacy at the best. Even German's Merkel and Mexico's President - the nations with whom US has a lot at stake are playing defensive. With U.S. having a tremendous upper hand vis a vis India, it will be immature for Modi to call spade a spade, as it will backfire on the later. 

With 2.5% of our share of world trade and of least strategic importance to US, I don't think we are in a great position to drive a wedge. US is still the Superpower and India needs US MORE than the other way round, especially when surrounded by a resurgent and belligerent China. Diplomacy is not a zero sum game played on emotional whims, rather it needs a lot of deftness to protect a nation's self interest.

For the Modi supporters who did YAGYAN (Sacrificial fire) for Trump's victory, they can chant this epic song from the movie "Bhaag Milkha" - 

HAVAN KARENGE, 

HAVAN HARENGE,

HAVAN KARENGE

as only Trump can match the GARAM HAWA emanating from the HAVAN fire by his own "Hot air".

Day X in Bhubaneswar - India trip 2017

Power went out again for couple of hours on a steamy Sunday morning. My father's take - the Electricity Grid folks are tuning up their system to ensure uninterrupted power supply for this afternoon's One day Cricket match between the arch rivals of India and Pakistan. He was probably correct. The game got multiple interruptions due to rain, but the power supply for the entire duration of match stayed uninterrupted.

Certain small things give me the biggest pleasure in my life. They are - Scratching private parts on a hot, humid day, a long satisfying fart and watching India defeat Pakistan, whether a Cricket or Hockey game (A defeat by Gandhi family led Congress comes a close second). Just the Opposite happens when the role is reversed. A defeat of India by Pakistan creates a morbid, depressing feeling. 

During my growing up days, the later used to happen more frequently. India's loss to Pakistan in cricket (in Hockey as well) was a norm, a rule rather than an exception. Their fast bowlers Imran and Akram would destroy our batting, their batsmen Miandad, Salim Malik and Saeed Anwar would smash us into pulp.

It happened too often for comfort, to the chagrin and frustration of the cricket fan in me. India could never come out of the jinx of getting hit out off the ropes by the famous last ball six by the mercurial Paki batsman Miandad off Chetan Sharma's delivery in April, 1986. 

So much so that, there was only a solitary victory of India over Pakistan until November of 1991. After a brief blip in the radar, our losing streak continued in Harjah (Sarjah, as sarcastically called then, ascribed to us getting frequently vanquished by our next door neighbor in that venue).

Since then India has come a long way. Its players no more capitulate under pressure. Rewind back to the years of 1980s and 90s. India facing a virulent Pakistani attack. The body language of the Indian batsmen, their apparent nervousness visible from their sweat beads. It was not the prickling humid heat of the subcontinent, rather the steamy, pressure cooker atmosphere which caused swearing. India struggles and after Sachin Tendulkar gets out, the rest make a beeline to the dressing room.

Now fast forward to 2017. Under the same situation, Kohli and Yuvraj at crease showed hardly any visible sign of nervousness. They looked determined and played some sensible cricket under the circumstances, guiding India to victory. Our Achilles Heels of the lack of aggressiveness and crumbling under pressure is now a thing of past. What matter more, the fighting spirit, professionalism and killer instinct of our cricketers have increased many fold.

Nothing ever gets India united and brings out the patriotism more than this game called cricket. It's arguably the only instance, at least for a day, we don't see ourselves as a Punjabi, Marathi, Tamil or Odia when India wins a cricket match against our obsessive neighbor, but rejoice as Indians. 

Such is the passion of the game, it's either flowers or brickbats as far as fans go. Let's enjoy the flowers for now while our determination doesn't wilt, as you never know when the brickbats would follow. Congratulations Team India, good luck for rest of the tournament.

Day IX in Bhubaneswar - India trip 2017

My experience with OLA and UBER cabs so far has been extremely positive. They arrive on right time, comfortable cars with reasonable fare. A OLA driver told me that through slow during day, demand picks up after evening. More non Odias who have a sizable population in Bhubaneswar make use of the cab service than the Odias of the city - per my Ola driver.I am

Not so positive experience with the Bhubaneswar traffic. Though the roads have got a whole lot better, the civic sense of the people has gone worse. Suddenly an autoricksaw or a two wheeler will barge from nowhere. Big vehicles would be parked on the middle of the road. 

Folks driving in opposite direction on the their lanes is a common sight, with police standing helpless.There are still intersections manually operated, with the traffic police doing gymnastics in heat and pollution. It must be stressful job. Time to turn all traffic junctions electronic.

In Bhubaneswar most trees are chopped off for commercial purposes, resulting in the loss of ecology supporting flora. Our neighbor has a huge garden adjacent to ours where he planted several trees. But one fine morning he decided to make commercially the best of it by cutting down the most trees and constructing tiny asbestos roofed houses, housing a bunch of families cramped like sardines.

Only prominently visible tree left is a giant Jackfruit tree pregnant with its gargantuan fruits protruding, dangling all over, some touching our fence. It's base and trunk used as urinals. I shouted HEY HEY at a guy peeing on the tree trunk. Flustered, he fled in dishevelled state, grabbing his LUNGI as it came off couple of times, scrambling to pull it on his waist.

I should have knocked on wood when I said earlier that Electricity hasn't played truant so far. For last few days it has been little freaky, going on off for a few minutes at regular intervals. No one can play better hide and seek than the electricity in Odisha. Last morning it went on summer vacation for a little longer for my comfort. More later...

Day VIII in Bhubaneswar - India trip 2017

During the mid 1990s there was this huge rumor of someone inventing a machine which could convert water to petroleum. It came all over the news at that time and most bought it.

Similarly this summer with 40 degree heat with humidity can do similar stuff. The human body can convert water intake into pure, unadulterated mustard oil in the form of pee in a few hours. It can be very well be named Morarjee Brand Mustard Oil, named after Morarjee Desai, the ex Prime Minister of India who had this fetish of drinking urine. Jokes apart - Drinking plenty of water is a must to stay hydrated during this weather.

Afternoon saw some respite from the stifling heat in the form of cool breeze wafting from a distance. I smelled a thunderstorm nearby. It turned out to be true, as soon I got the news of a bout of KALABAISAKHI (summer time thunderstorms) pounding few miles away in the North side of the city. Our side of the city got the same couple of days before. It was mother nature's turn to do an equable act on the city.

As we eat a lot of hot, spicy food flashes of cold water is more ass soothing and cleanse feeling than using toilet paper. The softest of toilet papers can handle Subways Sandwitches, as a Mug of Cold water would manage Chicken Tikka Masala better.

An NRI in India once went shopping for Toilet paper. The store was out of it. Said the furious NRI, "What kinda store you have, you don't carry a necessity item like Toilet Paper ?" "Sorry Sir", The store keeper responded. "We don't have toilet paper but we have plenty of sand papers. TIKE ADJUST KARANTU or THODA ADJUCT KIJIYE, (Please adjust a bit)."

I am a strict believer in the adage - Be Roman while in Rome and not looking around for toilet papers. At least in this aspect we Indias are so environment friendly. If Westerners are taught the use of LOTA (Mug) it will be no flash in the pan, saving millions of trees from getting chopped. More later....

Day VII in Bhubaneswar India trip - 2017

This morning a gentleman queried me - TRAWMPAW (Trump pronounced in Colloquial Odia) KEMITI ACHHI (how is he) ? The way he spoke it appeared as if I talk to the President of the United States on daily basis. He continued further, "Kulbhushan Jadav KU PHAASI NA DABAKU TRAWMPAW Pakistan KU KAHICHI" - Trump has instructed Pakistan not to hang Kulbhushan Jadav.

"Where did you get this news Sir ? " - I got curious as the news sounded too true to be believed. The gentleman responded - "Trump has said that the ICJ order must be respected".

I replied - "Haven't heard or read anywhere Trump saying that ICJ's verdict needs to be respected ! Even if he said so, this hardly means anything and shouldn't be construed as anywhere close to Trump directing Pakistan not to hang Jadav else face an ultimatum, though I sincerely hope for the poor guy's early release and return in single piece".

The gentleman, long retired from the Government services went on further, "Are you on LTC from your company (Leave Travel Concessions - an annual coverage of travel fair for an employee on vacation") ? "No MAUSA (Uncle). Unfortunately they don't", was my response, "I wish my company pays for my travel during vacation - it would be something nice to have". I could feel the feeling of one upmanship in his eyes 

A very common query I used to face during Obama's 8 year in office - "How come Obama who does not a look like a foreigner (euphemism for White) has become the President of America. My usual explanation, "Not all Americans are Caucasians though most of them are. Obama is an African - American in real sense (his Father is from Kenya and mother an American) who by virtue of his talents and hard work became arguably the most powerful person on earth. Guess the elevation of Trump as the new President has made this question redundant.

A person, a Modi BHAKT (Devotee) once asked me - "I heard that Obama regularly takes political and administrative tips from Modi ?" I chuckled and choosed not to respond as I didn't want to dishearten the fan in him.

Another hot and muggy day here in Bhubaneswar. Coinciding with handful of days prior to the arrival of monsoon in Odisha, this time is accompanied by stifling heat and humidity. Hence this phase is locally called as ANASARA GULUGULI (muggy) days, close to the famous RATH YATRA (Chariot Festival) of Lord Jagannath. The almost static air, pregnant with water vapor and barely moving a leaf on the trees becomes unbearable, with hardly any relief on sight. The local populace take solace from a free Sauna for a few days, praying for early advance of monsoon.

Though a rough day otherwise, the weather turned salubrious towards the evening with bursts of wind bringing in some solace to the parched souls. From a distance flashes of cloud to cloud lightening suddenly charged the atmosphere, bringing in cool wind gusts through the deep, dark contours of the vast array of Mango, Jackfruit, Papaya and BELA (Stone Apple) trees - the last of the green foliage still standing tall in the newly christened Smart City.

The swaying coconut trees looked like Wind Mills, their branches a la giant windshield wipers were seen swish-swashing the silvery gray sky amidst a backdrop of bright shining stars. It was a pleasant feeling of tranquility spending time atop our rooftop, relishing the wind shower which briefly reminded me of the Old Bhubaneswar. More later...