Day III and IV in Bhubaneswar

The weather here in Bhubaneswar has been very cooperative and since my arrival has turned salubrious by summer standards. With thunderstorms happening every other day either at my place or closer to where I live, it has driven the scorching heat away. However the humidity persists. Never ever the sound of distant thunder this afternoon sounded like music to my ears and the cooler wind that followed more comforting.

Yet the time between 10 AM till 5 PM was incredibly hot, the sun spitting fire from the sky and the dust laden wind blowing prickly heat on your face.  I rode a bike to the local bank and parked it outside in sun. At the bank, the girl in front of me in the line (called queue here) was talking in Hindi with the man at the teller counter. Both of them, apparently pure bred Odias were conversing in PAKHALA KHIA HINDI (Heavy Odia accented Hindi spoken after eating stomachful of water soaked rice, a popular Odia summer dish). And literally so, as the man inside his counter was talking in pure, unadulterated Odia to someone over phone about eating PAKHALA for lunch in this hot weather. The girl leaned over her side and started talking to someone in chaste Odia in a soft but audible voice - "EI MAA, TU JANICHU NA, MO BOYFRIEND TA EBE MO KATHA SUNUNI (Oh my dear, do you know this ? My boyfriend is no more listening to me)". Done with their chit chat, she took a break to collect her cash. But knowing the current trend, I found it hardly surprising that two Odias, living in the heartland of Odisha are talking to each other in Hindi. Real Odia Asmita (pride) !

After finishing my work at the bank I swept off the beads of sweat from my forehead, picked my nose to clear off all dark shoot as the tropical sun was peaking right over my head. When I started the bike and put my heavy bottom on the broad, black seat I thought I went back on a time machine to medieval times when in feudal Europe a losing aspirant for Kingship was made to seat on a hot, metal throne as part of torture. I suffered similar fate as I grinned my teeth in pain with my ass getting baked. Someone should have taken the photo of my face at that moment and put it on YouTube. It would have instantly got a million plus hits.

From hot seat, soon I was back to the comfort zone of my house, reading a lot of horse shit on the local vernacular newspaper. Drank a full glass of cold water to prevent my pee from turning into mustard oil. Little after noon when I took shower I found the water soothingly lukewarm, heated by solar energy. We don't have any solar panels or anything fancy like that. The overhead tank water was warmed by pure and natural sunlight. Felt so cool to take bath in this environment friendly environment. No electricity or natural gas was needed to bring the water to a lukewarm temperature. No boiler or geyser was operated, water only warmed by pure and unadulterated sunlight. But mention of this earth friendly story only elicited lukewarm response from most.

After finishing my fish lunch followed by a plate of sweet mangoes, with siesta in my mind I scanned the remaining pages of  the local Odia newapaper. As always there were odd but amusing news items. One such eye catching news was - "EKA TARAFA PREMARU JHIA RA PUSRUSHA BABDHU KU BIFALA PREMIKA KA CHHURA MADA (One sided affair of a frustrated lover of a girl led him to murder her boyfriend). Other news were boring enough to make me drowsy. Soon I could feel my eyelids refusing to stay open. Didn't realize when sleep overcame me until around 3 PM when I woke up feeling hot and thirsty, sweating. The power just went caput. The poor newspaper lying on my side, the smiling face of Odisha's Chief Minister Mohan Majhi on the cover page torn from the middle inadvertently by my elbow when I slumped on it, thanks to my deep siesta.

The power outage continued. I felt like a fish out of water, lying supine like the horizontal version of Sri Chaitnanya Mahaprabhu on hot bed getting barbecued. The inverter driven fan hardly helped as it kept on circulating hot air. It's 5 PM, still no sign of electricity. Sprinkle some salt and pepper over me I am a great grill. Another couple of hours I could have become a SUKHUA or dried fish, an Odia delicacy. Thankfully the power came back only after I sat in the balcony to cool myself with bursts of cooler air from thunderstorms close by.

Another positive outcome from this hot and muggy weather is it has kept mosquitoes at bay. The tiny blood suckers haven't vanished, rather been in hibernation to escape from the heat. Whatever a few of them I encounter in my room I mercilessly clap them to death. Mosquitoes are known to have amazing resilience. Non of these mosquito repellants are effective against them. The best option is mosquito net, but I feel terribly claustrophobic inside it. Preventing them from entering your room and their manual extermination of those present is the optimal solution. Thankfully, I don't have to deal with the mosquito menace this time. More later...

Day II in Bhubaneswar-India trip 2025

 The long arduous wait in dark was finally over as dawn gave in to early morning on my second day in India. Getting slightly better at my fight with jet lag, woke up at 4 AM instead at 3 last night. Following a night of broken sleep, I walked over to our balcony facing the street to take a look around and inhale lungfuls of fresh morning air. The eastern sky grew brighter, turning crimson red as the light morning light strived to drive away the darkness hiding under the trees and bushes, fighting a losing battle against sunshine. The bright sunshine melted away the slight mist, disbursing it like a dissipating crowd after an event gets over.

Couple of houses down I could see a woman tie her untidy hair into bun while yawning and stretching her arms. Down below another  lady quickly dragged branches of our "MANDARA" Hibiscus and TAGARA (Pinwheel) flower hedges using a crooked stick and rapidly plucked away flowers before any one could notice. A man leaned over our fence and pulled down flower tree to surreptitiously stole the low hanging flowers. When he saw me noticing, he pulled away and moved on to the next house. But not every one notices my peeping Tom eyes. In one of my earlier trips I saw a man stealing flowers looked left and right to make sure no one was noticing before he bent pressing his paunch and letting out a painful, bombadistic fart creating ripples through his white "Lungi" and audible 20 feet away to me standing on balcony to hear. Pokhran II Nuclear blast happened right in front of our house.

You must have heard about Sand mafia, Land mafia etc. Have you heard of Flower mafia ? They come at wee hours of the morning, steal flowers from the frontyard gardens and sell them off to the larger market segment. My senior citizen father can hardly do anything to stop them. By now the early rays of the morning sun sprinkled the trees with a golden hue, giving their dust covered leaves a shining copper coating. The chirping of birds grew louder as the heavy metal sound of GHANTA from the nearby Bengali "MATH" (Monastery) slowly melted away. It was followed by the morning session of prayer. Amidst the banging of GHANTA wafted in a Bengali Bhakti (devotional) song through the dust laden mango, jackfruit, coconut and betel nut trees. I could grasp the following stanza - 

JASHODA JANANI DAE, 
BAL KRESHTO KHAE RE.
SONAR NUPUR BAJE,
HARI JENE JAE RE. 

Roughly transliterated... 

Mother Yashoda gives,
Kid Krishna to eat.
Golden anklet makes sounds,
Wherever God goes around. 

Our never aging gray colored gigantic local Bull never stops placidly chewing cud on his bed of a big mound of sand in front of our house, with his head drooping in an up and down motion. Couple of mongrels sleeping nearby noticed the tectonic shift in their surrounding as the giant Bovine suddenly stood up, shrugging off sand from his body. The doggies shifted further off to a nearby semi-broken concrete culvert perceived by them as a more secured, safer location from the big bully Bull. 

Two pariah dogs were indulged in a face off, their protruding mouths barely a feet from each other. The bigger, aggressive one about to prounce on the other like a dragon in fury. The smaller doggie in a defensive, crouching pose was snarling at its bigger opponent with its tails well tucked within the hind legs. The barking and snarling continued for a few minutes until they made a truce and went separate way. 

From a distance approached our local Newspaper walla (guy). He swung and threw the newspaper past our main gate with immaculate accuracy and moved on to the next house. A stray dog tiered from last night's Kawali sessions woke up, sniffing his way near to man walking, holding a milk packet only to be rudely shooed away - HEY HEY JA JA (Hey, hey, go away). The doggie nonchalantly walked away. Well began is half done. It was a day well began in Bhonsar, the way locals pronounce Bhubaneswar.

Sitting on our balcony with my morning cuppa tea I scanned through the largest circulating Odia newspaper "Sambada". The first page had no news. It was filled with commercials (Advertisements as called in local parlance). On the next page, the frontline news was - "Enamored with love for his Saali (sister-in-law as wife's sister) a man shoots his wife and son in Dhenkanal. Folks from the undivided district of Dhenkanal, also snubbed as DHENKUs are simple folks supposed to have wit as dim as tubelights on a low voltage night. He or she has a reputation of being naive, slow witted. Only difference - unlike the Sardars, they are not known to be dangerously go crazy with madness at noon. We live in different times when simpleton Dhenku runs amock with gun.

In bathroom I turned the faucet on to brush my teeth. Prrrt... Prrrt.. it farted twice before emitting a thin stream of water which slowly got thicker. Through the skylight I could hear a Koyal's sweet recital on a mango tree. The weather has turned a lot salubrious since last night's rains. The morning breeze felt so nice and cool. I went to the local bank to withdraw some money due to the upcoming long weekend - Saturday and Monday being local holidays. Pray for some ex-CM/PM or an ex-President to die on Tuesday in which case you will get 4 consecutive days of paid holidays. Please understand such a job for me (transliterated from MO PAI EMITI GOTE CHAKIRI BUJHI DIA).

Remembered this scene from a forgettable Hindi movie, when Comedian Johny Lever tries to rob Kadar Khan at gun point, telling the later to withdraw money from his bank account and pay him.

Kadar Khan : How can I withdraw money as today is a Bank holiday ?
Johny Lever : Then go tomorrow
Kadar Khan: Kal (tomorrow) Gudi Padwa Hai.
Johnny Lever:  To Parson Jao (so, go the day after).
Kadar Khan: Parson Good Friday hai.

(Day after tomorrow is Good Friday)
Johnny Lever: Then go next day ?
Kadar Khan: Koi Neta Marne wala hai.(some politician will die, hence holiday).
Johnny Lever : So next day ?
Kadar Khan: Sunday thodi bank khulta hai (You expect bank to open on Sunday?)
Johnny Lever: ABE JAB ITNA CHUTTI HAI, TO TERA CHUTTI KARWA DUNGA. (If so many holidays are there, I will make you leave this world). 

More later...

Day I in Bhubaneswar - India trip 2025

 From 38°Fahrenheit on the morning I left USA to 38°Centigrade in Bhubaneswar, I traveled a long way. During World War II the British Prime Minister Churchill desperate to drag America into the war due to the incessant German blitzkrieg in Europe, he flattered USA President Roosevelt - "We are common people separated by common language". Similarly, I saw common temperature separated by common degree on both sides of the globe".

It was far from a normal arrival at home. I missed my mother's welcome with her usual cheerful smile, standing at our doorstep, embracing me saying "TU JHADI JAICHU, KALA PADI JAICHU (How much have you thinned, looking dull). There would be hardly any visible sign of my weight loss and I am expected to look dull after a long, arduous travel across the globe. This time I could feel the void left by her. Mom, I may be the apple of your eyes, you are my star in the heaven. Even in her death my mother she is still alive in the house. I could feel her presence  everywhere.

The love of a mother is at the purest form, precious and unadulterated, like the clear spring water bubbling out of the top of a glacial mountain. It is perennially pristine, unequivocally soothing, unwavering and unflinching. When I come to India, my mom's hug and caressing hands felt so soothing, something I long for days, months and years. Mother's love is panacea to all ills plaguing mind and body, heart and soul. Unfortunately she is no more and I am yet to get over her loss and probably never will.

It was scorching hot during the day with temperature touching 100 (110°F with heat index). Evening felt muggy with stalled atmosphere. Like me the air decided to take a vacation. Suddenly at night near 11 PM it started with wind gusts quickly turning into a squall. It started pouring heavily as the sky opened up to shed all the sweat it had accumulated during the sultry day in form of heavy rains. I stepped out to the balcony as doors collided with walls and windows started banging each other sounding "Dhoom Dhoom Dhadaas" like we have seen in the horror movies. To add to the background giving credence to spooky milieu the power went  poof. 

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 I inhaled in various of Duty Free Shops across the globe a day ago. The ADINA MEGHA (unseasonal rains) in form of "KALABAISAKHI" as its is called locally lashed out with heavy winds with small raindrops giving way to heavy droplets of water plattering the ground with rhythmic music.  The swaying coconut trees in the dark looked like gargantuan Wind Mills, their branches acting like giant windshield wipers of a big truck were seen swish-swashing the silvery gray sky of patchy clouds amidst a backdrop of bright shining stars in a very distant horizon. When the electricity came back, the  silvery stripes of rain turned into golden sprinkles by the neon light before it could reach the ground. It was a pleasant feeling of tranquility spending time on our balcony, relishing the wind shower on the first night of my stay in Bhubaneswar briefly reminded me of my childhood days.

Yet the first night can be painful, the first night with jet lag post arrival. A stubborn Jet lag is a real pain in my butt. My body clock simply refuses to relinquish the US Time Zone as I woke up at 3 O'clock in morning. Jet lag for me now seems to get too stubborn to relent as I age. It feels miserable to get up so early in the morning, without being able to sleep any further. Kishore Kumar's song from Rajesh Khanna's movie AAP KI KASAM - KARWATE BADALTE RAHE SAARI RAAT HUM (turning sides on bed for whole night) never sounded more prophetic.  

Steady rain continued for sometime. After waking up early I peeped through the window at the nearby plants and trees showering under the bright street light. The rains wiping off dust from the foliage like wiper blades of a car, as the rainwater rolled drop by drop from coconut, jackfruit, flower trees and betel nut palms. The buildings looked a whole lot brighter wet washed but lightened up by the sunshine peeping through cloud. 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. I was 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 won't mind to enjoy the dust free air while it lasts. 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.

I stepped into our balcony facing the street and neighborhood and breathed a lungful of the cool breeze which wafted in carrying the fragrance of flowers from trees in our frontyard. A bat flew fast into the semi-dark, dense mango tree.  Morning star shines brighter than the fading moon, slowly dissipating into pink sky. I could see lights going off from the street. Crows begin crawing, sparrows and pigeons crisscrossed the parapet, slicing the air. All announcing me back in my beloved city, to the loving arm of the city which nurtured me during my childhood and early part of my youth. A long day awaits me. More later..

Arrival at Bhubaneswar- India trip 2025

 While loitering inside the Airport after checking in and clearing the security before boarding my flight to Bhubaneswar, I saw Samosa displayed at Rs.250 a piece behind glass cover at a store. It reminded me another saying in Hindi - "BOSS PE BHAROSA AUR AIRPORT ME SAMOSA, DONO MEHNGA HOTI HAI" (Trust on Boss and Samosa at Airport could be costly).

The Air India flight to Bhubaneswar starts from from Domestic Terminal 3. No sooner I checked in for my last leg of flight to Odisha's capital, than I settled down on one of several empty chairs next to the boarding area around 3 AM in the morning. Another 4 hours of waiting time before I catch my flight to Bhubaneswar, so I tried to catch up my lost sleep. But the jet lag refused to cooperate. Eyes and ears wide open I spent looking at loitering passengers. Eyes soothed by staring at neatly dressed air hostesses sliding their wheeled bags in one hand and speaking on cell phone in another. Ears not as I could distinctly hear a guy passing by farting loudly as it faded due to what we studied in Physics called Doppler's effect.

As it neared the scheduled departure time of 7AM, the sparcely populated area slowly started to fill out. The sun brightened the horizon, revealing the array of Aircrafts on the turmac, spraying golden hue on  the Orange colored Air India Aircrafts. I could recognize the typical Odia crowd close by from their looks, language and manners. We Odias are world's champion in mannerism. In one of my earlier trips I saw a guy surreptitiously scratching their private parts in public while waiting to board the flight, grimacing with an orgasmic pleasure of big sighs "Aah, Ooh" laced relief from the itch as the heat and humidity of India can cause real havoc down under. When our eyes met he pretended to adjust his belts with a "Not I" look on his face. 

The Air India flight took off from Delhi turmac slicing through the morning air and thin, low hanging clouds like a hot knife through butter. I looked outside the window. Up in the dust free air the orange sun on the Eastern horizon popped up, looking like the sunny side of poached egg for breakfast. Crimson color cloud on the far eastern horizon suddenly looked like hot lava flowing from a dormant volcano turning active. The world above the clouds is dream, taking you to Cloud 9. The world below it is the reality. The roaring big bird was flying high, whizzing past low lying clouds, enabling me to take a peek outside to get a Bird's eye view. The plane was flying over snow white fleece of cloud looking like a vast cotton plantation. Huge mushroom clouds looked like the snow capped castles of some distant planet in the Guardian of the Galaxy.

There was quite bit of turbulence in the first hour of the flight to my final destination. A bunch of kids from a group which looked like a joint family were running around even if the cabin service was suspended with clear instructions from the pilot for everyone to get seated with fastened seat belts. But the recalcitrant kids were running helter skelter. I don't blame the innocent kids, but rather was appalled by the lack of safety concerns from the parents.

Inside domestic flight to Bhubaneswar I have grabbed opportunity to interact with many interesting personalities. Once a man sitting next to me was a garrulous guy full of hot air. He boasted how like Hercules he carries all his company's responsibility on his shoulders and without his expertise it would collapse like a pack of cards. How indispensable he was and has visited all the 75 states of India on various company trips (never knew there were 75 states in India, even if you include the Union territories). 

Years ago in one such homeward flight, groggy with jet lag, I dozed off to the humming of the airplane engine for the first half an hour of the flight, my head drooping sideward. The Airhostess politely woke me up - "Veyzz (veg) or Non - Veyzz, Sir ?". "I like non-veg", was my impromptu, reflex action reply in a semi asleep state. She served the food, suspiciously glancing at me, thinking I passed a double entendre. In India non-Veg means food containing meat, fish or poultry, but colloquially it denotes a person with carnal or amorous instinct. Bawdy, dirty jokes in India are often termed as "Non-veg" jokes. Living outside India for a long time had taken its toll on me. I better be careful lest I am branded as a dirty, middle aged man. 

As the plane lowered itself preparing to land at Bhubaneswar, the rivulets meandering through the grayish landscape down below formed a spectacular sight, basking in a foggy, grayish and bit dimmed morning sun. The green, undulating waves of Eastern Ghat mountains were swimming in the misty fog. River Mahanadi looked like a huge cold blooded Anaconda taking a sunbath on golden sand to stay warm. Approaching Airport, the river Daya down below appeared like a gargantuan brown horseshoe covered in greenish water.

Every other year I fly over Bhubaneswar, the city I moved into as a 7 year old in 1976 and never left, sadly I see more concrete and asphalt, less green foliage as the asthetic city once known for its salubrious weather slowly turning into an urban jungle. Peeked below to take a view of the city I grew up with to notice that has outgrown itself. Saw multiple skyscrapers staring at the plane from down below as vehicles looking like match boxes were snaking on the highways. I left Bhubaneswar for good for more than a quarter of a century now, but the city has never left me. Way too many skyrises see from the top have gone over the top. They are becoming a growing environmental concern - gonna to bite this city big time sooner or later.

How contrasting is the worms eye view of the sky from the ground to the bird's eye view from the top. It makes me understand the meaning of the phrase "Down To Earth". When it all seems you are on top of the world, in minutes you are back on the ground. So are the vagaries of life. How much and how high you fly you have to come down - in no time you must descent from 39000 feet to ground zero. Airplane teaches us a lesson on life than anything else. My day dreaming came to an abrupt end by by the voice of the stewardess "Please keep your seat belt fastened until the plane comes to a full stop". No sooner the announcement was made than I heard incessant clicks of opening up the seat belts. Surrounding me mobile went up likes the hands in a Baba Ramdev Yoga camp followed by chatters. 

Stepping out of Biju Patnaik Airport welcomed by a hot and muggy Bhubaneswar weather, though it was not as bad as it had been during my recent summer visits. My ride was 15 minutes due to no fault with him. His car was stopped for 15 minutes by a police to set some "NETA" (politician) and his entourage pass though. We are probably the only country on earth still clinging to this sick VIP culture, Odisha being in the forefront of it.

I rolled over the windows to take a view of the city where I spent my childhood and youth, savoring the sights of the millieu, as vehicles yonked their way through in a zizzag manner. The breeeze breezing through the window caressed me, drying off the beads of sweat swelling on my chin and forehead. Apparently, the old law of Physics "Evaporation caused cooling" still holds good. 

As I stepped out of the vehicle in from of our house, a burst of breeze from South-West made the strangs of hanging green mangoes swung like pendulum. A Koel sitting on the mango tree was cooing, echoing the sweetest sound of the nature from the shadows of the summer heat. A little birdie, smaller in size than Koel on the branch was on a Twitting spree which would have given Donald Trump run for money - "Tweetwoo...tweetwoo.. tweetwoo..", without bothering about character limit. Couple of mongrels seeing new kids in the block gaped at us for a while before melting away chasing each other's tail. It is always a pleasure homecoming to home back home. More later...

India trip April 2025 - Arrival in Delhi enroute Bhubaneswar

 I saw a guy sitting next to me at Doha Airport, writing, rather texting in Arabic from right to left. I knew that unlike most languages in the world which are written from left to right, Arabic script is written from right to left. It felt bit odd and interesting to see some on type on phone so fast from right to left.

Kudos to the person who coined the term Cattle Class for the Economy Class which sounds more polite and politically correct. A la Cattles heading for QATAL (kill) loaded in trucks towards slaughter house, the economy class in QATAR Airways from Doha to Delhi was packed like sardines. While getting out of flight, they went helter skelter, scrambling to pluck their carry on bags from the overhead compartment. Only the "HEK HEK" sound of the cowherd goading cattles as seen during twilight in villages of Odisha was missing.

Got reminded of trip eventful trip to Delhi last year. While taking a cat nap, I was suddenly interrupted when a Sardarjee (Sikh) senior citizen in bright brown turban and flowing white beard sitting behind tapped me, gasping heavily, talking in a very thick Punjabi accented Hindi, complaining of breathing difficulties. I immediately alerted an Air Hostess. She tried to communicate with the poor man, but was having trouble as she knew only English and French, whereas our Sikh gentleman could speak neither, for he only spoke Punjabi and a very thick accented Hindi I could barely decipher.

So I became an in-flight translator and managed to figure out that the man was having breathing issues from his words "Sans" (breath), "Taqlif" (difficulties) which started from his connecting flight from Canada to Paris which still persisted. The cabin crew made an announcement looking for a doctor. In minutes walked in a lady Doctor who was travelling from Virginia. The issue again was the Doctor, born in Kenya and settled in USA spoke only English and some Gujarati. Glad I could translate the man's feeble Hindi, explaining his problem to the doctor in English. She measured his BP. It was much higher than normal. She suspected "Sleep Apnea" and suggested putting the patient on an Oxygen mask. It certainly helped as after sometime the Sikh gentleman uttered "Wahe Guru", announcing feeling better. Glad I could help. All the cabin crews, the Sikh man and not to mention the doctor thanked me for my cooperation. Reminded me of Tom Hanks from the movie FOREST GUMP - "Life is like a box of chocolates, you never know what you are going to get". 

The flight to Delhi from Doha lasted  just 4 hours, too short by international flight standard to be eventful. My sole solace was sitting close to the screen separating between economy and business class which offered me occasional glimpse of business class service and derive a vicarious pleasure out of it. Felt extremely relieved, when the aircraft started to descend over New Delhi with the pilot's voice announced - "Welcome to New Delhi's Indira Gandhi International Airport. It's 2 O'clock in morning, hazy, 31C (close to 90° Fahrenheit) outside. 

During one of my earlier trips just before landing at the Delhi Airport came abruptly the voice of an exalted teen sitting close to me exclaiming to his buddy next row, "OI UTTH, BAIN**OD DILLI A GAYEE" (Get up, So and So the sister slammer, Delhi has arrived). More than the pilot, I found the teen's welcome far more enthusiast and the most appropriate way of welcoming to Delhi. As "Jai Maharastra" goes with Mumbai, Oh' Calcutta to Kolkata, "Jay Jagannath" to Odisha,  Behn**od (sister slammer) fits well to Delhi. It was a grandest of grand standing Welcome to Delhi, Punjabi style, where a sentence can start with Bain**od (occasionally sounds as Pain**od, interspersed with a few liberal dosages of Bai**od and ends with Bai**od. It is how the self proclaimed Dill walle (Big Hearted) Dilli walle (Delhites) often greet each other. Reminded of a Delhi limerick -

ASMAAN MEIN CHAAND HAI,

AUR HAI KITNE TAARE,

YAHA KISI SE BHAROSA MAT KARO,

BAIN**OD HAI SAARE

Roughly transliterated.

"Moon is in the sky,

And also so many stars

Don't trust anyone here,

For everyone is a slammer of sister".

At the IGI Airport in Delhi I breezed through the immigration which was a shoo in for me. The Terminal 3 is quite impressive. Restrooms (toilets) were maintained nice and clean. No strong smell of ubiquitous Phenyle and dark brown betel stains at corners of walls. Our International Airports can now be considered truly world class. I saw a digital bill board proudly displaying Mahatma Gandhi's picture, followed by a visual of Chivas Regal Scotch. Ironically our Father of Nation was never a fan of consumerism, nor he ever extolled us to drink Chivas Regal. Many streets in big cities in India bustling with consumerism are named as M.G. Road, after a man who preached simple living and abhorred consumerism. 

I remember that in the year 1998, more than quarter century ago when I was bit excited as I was coming to India to get married, no sooner I came out of the IGI Airport in the middle of night than I was treated like a hapless hare amid hounds baying for my blood in form of haranguing touts. I was forced to do an about turn and beat a hasty retreat, only to come out at break of the dawn to be ragged again. It was not unusual then for hapless  passengers like me to dish out a $20 note (Bill) to buy themselves out of harassment at the Customs department. Such things are long passe. 

Throughout the journey I watched folks drooling over their smartphones. All heads down like Ostrich, they were busy fingering over the glaring screens of their devices. I have seen this in America, not unusual and unexpected in a nation where individualism rules the roost. But I have observed the same in Europe, Middle East, Singapore and in India. Asian culture is more social and group oriented, where people enjoy a tete-a-tete, even with strangers. I saw many, including Airline crew busy dragging bag in one hand and texting using the other, clinging to their phones and baby sitting their devices. At Delhj Airport while waiting to catch my connecting flight to Bhubaneswar, the guy next to me was watching some reel where a guy in thick Barhampur accent in full volume on speaker was yelling - "KI KEYLEE AU GAMAATA KARUCHA HEY (So much fun and jokes you are doing) caring a hoot about others sitting close to them. Why can't he use headphones !

Growing up back in the days in India, we use to chat about anything and everything under the sun, covering topics ranging from "NANA BAHA GHARA RU, NANI BAHA GHAR PARYANTA" (From Dad's marriage to Sister's marriage). Perhaps we have gone electronic doing e-Khatti (chit chat) on social media. In the year 1979, barely a 10 year old, I accompanied my Uncle to a play at his Alma Mater Vani Bihar of Utkal University, Bhubaneswar. It was a symbolic Odia play which I could hardly understand, but still remember those lines by an actor on stage. 

OTA PAKHI PARI JIBA BHAI 
NAHI NAHI HOIRE,
JIBARE MANISHA SABU
OTA PAKHI HEI JIBARE. 

Roughly transliterated, 

You all will become a Ostrich,
Uttering no no,
Humans will become Ostrich as days go.

We have become Ostriches burying our heads  inside our phones, the way an Ostrich buries its head inside sand. The same drama is now enacted in another era more than 40 years later. The nondescript person who wrote this Odia Drama (play) in 1970s was so prophetic and was certainly way ahead of his time. More later...

Arrival at Doha Airport - India trip 2025

 Traveling often throws opportunities at us by delivering chance encounters with some memorable tryst with human foibles. I am reminded of this funny incident at a stop over Airport few years ago. A Virgin Airline flight was about to board and names of passengers not boarded yet were called as it was getting closer to the departure time. An Air hostess swung by, shouting at top of her voice - "ANY VIRGIN HERE", obviously looking for some missing Virgin Airline passengers. Couple of girls raised their hands. Everyone close by started looking at them, some with chuckles and half baked smiles. The shy girls retreated to their privacy by dropping their heads over their smartphones to hide their embarrassment, still peeing through the corner of their eyes to look at the others reactions. Non of them got up to board the flight. We humans are slaves of our inadvertent reflex actions.

I was all excited and bit apprehensive upon my arrival at the Atlanta's Hartsfield - Jackson International Airport, hoping there is no flight delay due to rains like yesterday. Thankfully the clouds bended their spine like gentlemen, opening the door for sun to peek through them spreading its golden wings as sky cleared out. My flight to Doha, Qatar was on time on a relatively cool spring day. I thought both the Airport and flight would be sparsely populated considering schools are open post spring break. But I was wrong. We were on a packed flight to Doha. With the ever growing Indian population in the United States, my observation shouldn't come as surprise.

It is interesting to watch flights taking off and landing in quick succession at Atlanta's  Hartsfield International Airport, the busiest in the world. This being the peak hour, every couple of minutes an airliner lands or takes off. Flights line up one after another in the semi gray sky, forming a string of hazy pearls extending into the horizon, as they wait for their turns to land. The Air Traffic controllers must be doing an amazing job. They are in a profession where error is not an option.

Remembered travelling in our DM School bus in Bhubaneswar when it stopped at Railway level crossings (those days the roads, the arteries of Bhubaneswar were not clogged yet, no bypass in the form of flyover was necessary over the Railway tracks). As a goods train would pass by, we waited inside our school bus counting the number of bogies. Now I don't have patience to watch flights landing and taking off every other minute, forget counting them.

The flight to Doha was filled with a good number families with infants & toddlers - some of them cranky and cacophonous. The plane entered into calmer sky and as it entered Nova Scotia of Canada, the setting sun dropped behind the crimson horizon looking like a gargantuan red vermillion on a Hindu woman's forehead. Due to the diurnal rotation of mother earth, while flying West to East you lose time, see reduced amount of day and night passes by too fast, too soon. Again you gain time flying the other way round, as earth is round, vindicating the fact that what goes around comes around. A few hours of dozing off was all the sleep I got. The short night evaporated as I could see glowing sunlight trying to dazzle through the airplane window of my window seat. I slid off and kept doing off through intermittent "ding dong" of bell from passengers solicitating air crew and pilots making announcements to put on seat belts due to occasional turbulence.

Inside the flight I was boosted by couple of shots of Bloody Mary Cocktails, the best Cattle Class could offer and watching one of my favorite actors Kevin Koster taking shots in "HORIZON SAGA". Being a long flight in order to pass time between sporadic naps I looked down at the fleece of pretty bluish white clouds which would have made another Mary of Little Lamb fame proud. The top view of the spotless white cloud splintering away looked from an unadulterated virgin sky like scores of white furred lambs on move on a bluish-greener pasture. It seemed I was looking at a gigantic milk shakes with cream churned on top.

It was afternoon when the flight got closer to Doha Airport piercing through a hazy, desert sky.  As the slowly descending gigantic bird lowered itself flying in a low altitude, I could see several light blue Oasis amidst giant sand dunes looking like giant sand boa taking sunbath under bright, sparkling sunlight. It was late afternoon, local time as the flight descended piercing through a hazy sky. The gulf next to the Airport looking like faded sky blue ink on a dusty sandpaper as the ground looked gray and listless. As the aircraft descended further, the sea looked much brighter like bubbling blue sapphire with ships looking static from top, a la white rubies garnishing the blue sapphire. As the flight was barely few hundred feet above ground the palm trees on drab sand looked like gray black dots pores on a brown face. After a long flight of 14 hours from Atlanta I reached Doha, Qatar. 

I decided to stretch my legs before I catch my connecting flight from Doha to Delhi. I took time to walk around the glittering Duty Free Shops doing window shopping. Apart from Europeans and Asians, I could see a good number of Africans wearing long gowns. Arabians in white cotton helmets, with their female folks tagging along in black attire from top to bottom peeping through tiny slits cut below their foreheads - looking like Knights from Medieval era in black. Covid virus won't dare penetrate their impregnable visors of these ladies in Burkha attire from tip to toe were looking like Penguins let loose inside the airport. Almost four hours flew fast as four more hours of flight remained as I sat near the boarding gate of my flight from Doha to India. No more Virgins were solicitated as an Air stewardess started calling names of the last minute passengers. More later...

India trip 2025 - leaving Georgia

 Jet, set and a long way to go from Columbus ---> Atlanta -------> Doha -----> Bhubaneswar before I reach my final destination in the state of Odisha in India 🇮🇳. Leaving today on a 3 week trip to India which is going to be a long travel spanning across seven seas, 13 rivers spread across multiple continents in various time zones. Few hours left before I leave and miles to go before I reach.

This journey is going to be my 19th trip I have made so far to India from Coke Land in my 29 years of living in the United States, that means I am a frequent traveler to India on an average of once every 1.5 years. I am flying at a time when it is Spring in the United States whereas it is scorching summer in Odisha. I am fully equipped with the latest Covid shot and the paraphernalia of masks to cover my face in case I need to face this never ending menace. Covid is like that drunk uncle who you don't want to come to your family reunion, but shows its face nevertheless. Not planning to do a whole lot of traveling, restrict myself only to Bhubaneswar, the city I grew up with and like one's first love is always close to heart.

The choice to travel to India is rarely inadvertent, as such trips are planned months ahead, governed by several factors like getting time off from work, social & family occasions, children's school schedules, price of air tickets and of course the weather in India. Although the weather in India isn't exactly salubrious at this time of year, family and social occasion overrode all the above to chose this time to travel as it is my duty to do the "BARSIKIYA SHRADDHA" (the annual death ritual) of my mother who passed away last year. Apart from cricket it is arguably the weather which unites India at this time of the year. Barring a handful of hill stations, from Ahmedabad to Agartala, Chandigarh to Chennai it is invariably hot and muggy right now. Hoping the dog days of Indian summer won't put a spanner on the wheels of my trip.

Summer would be in the air of Bhubaneswar. It's the season of mango, the King of Fruits in India. The mango tree next to our house there must be pregnant with fruits. It is said the hotter the summer is in India, the sweeter gets the mangoes. The Jackfruit tree in our backyard would be having its fruits  protruding out of its trunks and branches like bellies of Japanese Sumo wrestlers. I am longing to eat fresh, raw Jackfruits from our backyard, loaded with vitamins and fiber, in form of Curry, Bhaja (fry) and part of Dalma, a popular Odia dish of Puri origin.

In life the feeling of apprehensive curiosity in anticipation of an event is much more pleasant than the event itself. Right now I am having the same feeling. Excitement would be an understatement, I am so thrilled. As the migratory birds fly South on their perfunctory trips during the winter, NRIs (Non Resident Indian) flocks to their homeland. People usually go out of home on vacation. We Persons of Indian origin go home on vacation. My friends in America find it a bit odd that we visit our homes for vacation, when they travel away from home for the same. Yet there is so much fun homecoming when you are away from home.

Upon arriving in India, the initial days of jet lag and reverse cultural shock gives way to a lot of attention from friends and relatives, a la an infrequent guest is treated more cordially than a regular one. The shorter the trip, more the attention you get. Even if I try not to, I invariably eat like a Pig whatever comes my way, shit like a Bull and end up writing a lot of bullshit blogs. Time is short and finite, engagements are many - way too many things to do, so much food to sample.

Looking forward to this short and sweet trip which will challenge my sweet tooth as I intend on splurging on an array of my favorite Odia sweets which includes but not limited to, CHHENA JHILLI, CHHENA PODA, PAHALA RASAGOLA, RABIDI all very typical of Odisha. Luckily I don't have any sugar issues. The other stuff I love are Cuttack Mixture, freshly baked Naans, numerous Street foods, AVADA, the temple food and much more which I don't get here in the USA. 

I have made a solemn promise to myself not to touch any Pizza, KFC, Subway, visit Burger King or McDonalds. I prefer a 3 rupees freshly fried Street side Bara to a Rs.300 burger at a Mall. Having seen the two biggest Malls in America - the Mall of Minneapolis and King of Prussia Mall in Philadelphia I have no desire to visit Malls. I firmly believe in - Be Roman in Rome, eat Indian in India. I am keeping my fingers crossed, for a nuisance free 3 week trip. Dear Motherland, here I come.