Happy new year 2016

The year 2015 paves its way to the year 2016. As the old man 2015 bends extending his hand and opens the door to welcome the New Year, it's time for some introspection.

A la getting rid off the old cloths for new ones and the soul moving from one body to another as famously extolled by Lord Krishna in BHAGWAT GITA, only a number 1 is added to the number of the year. Hardly anything changes. It's just the same shit, different day, as more or less the status quo is maintained. We may forget history but we don't forget to repeat it year after year. Similar to this starting stanza of the Kishore's song

EK RUT AE, EK RUN JAE PHIR,
MOUSAM BADLENA, BADLE NASEEB.

"One season comes and another goes,
the season changes not the fateful woes".

This year came with a mixed bag of good, bad and ugly. Made new friends, revived old ones and lost some ones, once and for all.

To me, almost all the New Year wishes expressed over the years have been pleasant which makes them forgettable. Our inherent human nature makes us remember the unpleasant ones. I remember this one from 1st January, 1982. On the first New Year after his marriage to Diana, Prince Charles wished the nosey British Paparazzi, " Have a Nasty New Year".

Let me repeat the forgettable wish, as I do not forget to do at the end of every year, HAVE A WONDERFUL NEW YEAR 2015. Stay blessed.

Back to US - India trip 2015

Back to US, It feels unusually warm in Georgia. A low of 15 degree Centigrade here makes it warmer than Bhubaneswar on this day. The cool air, moist and thick, feels refreshingly fresh. My ride back home from the Airport felt too smooth for comfort. I missed the bumpy rides back home, the din and bustle, the cacophony of honks and the chaotic traffic, the murmuring of mosquitoes and clapping them to death, the yodelling of mongrels in the middle of night and so on.

Reminds me of Kamal Hasan from the movie PUSHPAK, who was staying in a posh hotel, but could not sleep as he missed the sights and sounds of his locality, where his roots were deep rooted. Love it or hate it, amidst all these there is a unique flavor of India one does not find anywhere else. My first working day post vacation awaits me. Post jet lag, late in the afternoon, my chin is destined to drool and hit the space bar on my desktop keyboard.

India trip over and the holiday season coming to an end, I already feel like gaining a few pounds. Nothing unusual after a visit to India, during which one eats a lot, followed by little or no exercise. My mother disputes the, saying "MO PUARA SWASTYA TIKE HEICHI, SE MOTA HEINI" - my son has become healthy not fat. Like all mothers from our generation, gaining weight by their son is a matter of pride. A chubby chap is known as KHAIBA PIBA GHARA PILA(in Odia) or KHANE PINE WALA GHAR KA LADKA (in Hindi) meaning a boy from a well to do family who liberally spends on food.

A slim trim guy is considered as a DHAIN (in Bhubaneswar slang, meaning a nincompoop) - someone who is stingy and miser(able). A SWYASTAWALA or healthy son earns accolades for the  the daughter-in-law for feeding the son well. On the other hand a slim husband can earn the wrath of the mother-in-law, more if she is a SWASTAWALI (a healthy-she), in which case she is accused of gobbling her husband's share of food.

Still drooling over my India trip. No black coffee or aspirin can assuage this post vacation hangover, only time will heal it. My trip did not went in vain. Travelled miles to achieve several milestones including my first visit to Taj Mahal, a trip down the memory lane to NIT Rourkela, meeting parents and relatives, connecting to old friends and so on.

Still the feeling of homecoming to America is unique. Reminds me of a scene from B R Chopra's epic serial MAHABHARAT, during late 1980s. Just before the war starts, Duryodhan boasts in front of Bhishma that he has warriors like Pitamah himself, Drona, Karna, Ashosthama, Dushashana and many more on his side. Pitamah Bhishma, the wise one replied back "They all still have to face Arjun and ARJUN PHIR BHI ARJUN HAI (after all Arjun is still Arjun), elucidating the fact that Arjun is still above the rest. Drawing a similar analogy, I conclude that while I have seen many great places in the world, America is still America, standing taller amongst the rest. (PS: This is purely my personal view and one does not necessarily have to agree).

Preparation for departure - India trip 2015

Last night saw on TV, a news regarding some University students indulging in vandalism, throwing tomatoes and rotten eggs at their Chancellor. Riots, bottle, chair and stone throwing is a global phenomena. But throwing of eggs and tomatoes are very typical of India, probably extending to its neighbors Pakistan and Bangladesh. Why not potatoes and bananas, what's so special about eggs and tomatoes ?

More than 3 weeks gone since I came to India. I had a great time. Wherever I went I got stomach full of food and heart full of affection. As the time to bid adieu approaches the excitement dissipates and a classic role reversal takes place. The ecstatic feeling before making the trip gives rise to a morbid, remorse feeling. In the wee hours of the trip it's the endless cycle of meeting friends and relatives, run errands, packing, weighing, repacking and re-weighing of bags.

What's the similarities between a vacation, a consulting assignment and life ? All have a start date and a end date. Like all good things in life, a vacation has to end one day. Three, four or five weeks, however long you stay, it is never enough.  Vindicating Einstein's Theory of Relativity, vacations get over quickly, time flies where a working day go slow, never ends. Before the India trip I was rejuvenated and filled with energy. Towards the end of the trip I feel jaded,
somewhat depressed. There is always an inherently internal wish you had a few more days to spent. So with a heavy heart, but a pleasantly soothing balm of  anticipation to meet my family in United States, I bid adieu to Odisha and India.

Rourkela Day II - India trip 2015

Yestersay, while taking a stroll around the campus, I met a group of students who obliged me by agreeing to a selfie taken with them. Our tete a tete continued, they were surprised to discover that we passed out from the institute before they were even born. One of them asked, "You must be a big shot". "No, I am not", I responded, "I am a very small fry compared to numerous NITians who are highly successful around the globe". The institute has its stamp in Technocracy, Civil Services, Research and higher echelons of the Corporate World. I told them how proud I am of my Alma Mater and you all should be, whatever you do, wherever you land up in future.

On hearing to what I just said, their cup of joy was full, spilling all over in form of smiles and giggles, as if they won an event in Spring Fest defeating their rivals. I continued further, saying how pleased I was seeing so many girls in NIT, compared to hardly a dozen from our batch. And how during our days a Rengcolian boy's dream was to get the dream job of DARWAAN (the Gate Keeper) of the Ladies Hostel, to watch the damsels toing and froing Mecca. It brought the young folks laughter to crest. When solicited, my parting advise to them was to follow your Dreams, even if it's the dream of being the Ladies Hostel DARWAAN. I could still hear their giggling, which slowly waned as they melted away as I walked ahead.

When I told all these, making eye contacts with the eyes of these youngsters filled with dream, I wasn't exaggerating and stand vindicated on my assessment. Rengcolians from my batch are in myriad professions, spread over from Timbuktu to Turkmenistan. Nowhere you will find so many students after graduating, in such a wide spectrum of professional fields. We have folks in Civil Services (one each in IAS, IPS, IRS), Post grads from IIMs, Xaviers, IITs and many prominent American Universities. Top class techies, managers, bankers, businesspersons, they are spread their tentacles in 6 continents, probably with the exception of Antarctica. It's said that if you throw a stone in California Bay area, the center of creativity and innovation, it might hit the head of a Rengcolian (as a NIT, Rourkela person from my time is referenced as).

Next day, we woke up to a sunnier and chillier Rourkela. A fun filled day awaited us at our batchmate Hardeep's farmhouse in Panposh, on the outskirts of Rourkela. Secluded, but filled with modern amenities and lush green foliage, it had ample of space and facilities to host an event. In the middle of winter, I discovered a bunch of green mangoes, hanging in clusters, barely few feet above ground. Varieties of lavishly laid food platters were spread out for us, to keep us munching on through out.

As the day progressed, it felt exhilarating to catch up with the past quarter of century and beyond. Our Sardar friends, Hardeep and Gurmeet were conspicuous by their bright turbans, shining like the sands of River Brahmani on a sunny day. Sands of time has seen many of us losing our hairs, apparent from receding hairlines and eggheads, but we haven't lost our sense of humor and camaraderie. Many of us have put on weight, developed double chins, some looking mature with their salt & pepper top.

We shook our salt & peppers and protruding bellies to the tune of songs from our batchmates, especially from Rajesh Dhabre, who kept on churning out one after another numbers. A Mechanical Engineer, now with IRS, a part of Civil Services, he has become a great singer, having produced his own album. Rajesh entertained us with a plethora of hits from 60s and 70. The long day finally came to the end, as the dusty twilight was soaked with our farewell tears.

ZINDAGI NA MILLEGA DOBAARA, life won't come again the second time. Such encounters in life reminds me of a passage from our epic BHAGVAT GEETA - that two logs floating in the middle of Ocean collide with each other, to get separated forever, never ever to meet again. Back of my mind I knew, the same awaits us after the rendezvous with our batchmates, some of whom I am destined never to meet again, never ever.

Trip to REC Day I - India trip 2015

My friend Satyakam (Happy) Dash and I boarded the Tapaswini express from Bhubaneswar to Rourkela to re-live our glorious college days, a la the guys from the Hindi movie ZINDAGI NA MILLEGA DOBAARA. After several years I had the opportunity of making a train journey in India. The Puri station has undergone a complete transformation. The profile of the passengers have changed. The folks from general class have graduated to 2nd class, 2nd class to to AC II tires, and AC II tire folks to AC 1st Class and so on.

Inside the train, we had a surprise in store. Our chatting about our college and the upcoming Silver Jubilee celebration raised the curiosity of a lady sitting next to us. She turned out to be Sweety Kanoria, our topper and one of the 11 girl students we had from our batch. She had covered Puri and Nandankanan zoo, before going to Rourkela. 

Other friends joined at Bhubaneswar station, some of whom flew from different parts of the globe. Bhubaneswar is better connected than Rourkela, so it's convenient to travel to the steel city from the capital of Odisha. Incessant chats from good ole days continued late as the trains rolled its way through stations. It was late when we decided to retire. The scent of the metal chain used to hold the berth and the diesel smoke not far from my nose, the whistle of the engine aroused a deja vu feeling. Did not know when I was rock and rolled by the train to sleep like a baby inside a cradle.

On arrival at Rourkela station a person sharing the platform floor with a dog, both lying lazy taking the advantage of the hazy winter sun on a cold morning. Both were in deep slumber, their chests heaving in rhythm hardly bothered by the swarming flies and surrounding cacophony. Couple of men were relieving themselves standing. Upon noticed they suddenly turned 45 degrees and then looked down to ensure that trajectory is maintained.

Soon proceeded to REC (Now NIT) and were amazed by the changes we saw since we left our Alma Mater 25 years  back. Boys and girls on foot and bike all over the campus with cell phones on hand, otherwise walking hand on hand, chatting. At the venue those who arrived from all over the globe were hugging and embracing, struggling to chaff out the looks of quarter of a century ago, from the current pot bellies and receding hairlines from my college days. A few with shining silver hair looked apt for Silver Jubilee.

The air was thick with excitement. We sat inside to the AV (Audio Visual) Hall, going through the valediction process, flattered by the heroic welcome we got, for doing nothing heroic except visiting our Alma Mater after 25 years. We started with paying Homage to all the departed souls from our batch. After being served a sumptuous lunch, we strolled around Campus and Hostels  (called Halls of Residence these days). Many students were met were fascinated by the fact that they were not even born when we passed out from the college.

No trip to NIT, Rourkela is complete without a trip to the famed Back Post. My friend Ratnakar went to Backpost, and after seeing many girls joked that it's not the same Backpost anymore. He wasn't far from the truth. Backpost has gone through complete transformstion over the years.

The short winter day was getting shorter, shadow slowly started looming with the approaching evening. The winter sun turned crimson and was well on his way to set. Rourkela is colder than Bhubaneswar,  I suddenly felt the urge for a light warm clothing. After a long day, we went to our respective hotels to freshen up, followed by hitting the dance floor, charged with the voice of Rajesh Dhabre and Subrat Das, a fitting finale to the perfect day I of our meet.

Puri trip II - India trip 2015

Woke up to a foggy morning under a gray sky in Puri, a chilly weather for the locals but extremely comfortable weather for me. It drizzled in the morning. As the sun came out and the fog cleared a bit, we left for the sea beach. The vastness of the sea reminded of the Hindi phrase DARIYA DIL (Sea like heart), the term we use address persons of  huge benevolent heart. How small and unimportant we are, when we see the unbounded horizon of the ocean ahead of us.

The beach was crowded as usual and equally dirty. Such a wonderful and pristine beach with golden sands and rolling blue waves. But its beauty is spoiled by the littering, petulant and pilfering locals and tourists alike, with an inefficient and corrupt authority looking the other way, same as the guy on the beach, who looked the other way, when I caught him scratching his private parts in public.

Walked past the SWARGADWAR cremation ground which was quite busy with several pyres burning. Swirling smoke was spiraling up in the air, slowly thinning and melting away. Reminds me of the eventuality, All your money and power one day will go up in smoke and it will be just the ashes which will remain as residue.

We walked past the Puri hotel on the beach. The jam packed holiday crowd shared the sand with pariah dogs sniffing for food. Many tourists posed with malnourished camels and mules. Some were seen snapping selfies of their half drenched bodies with their pot bellied partners in strpped shorts with hanging NAADAA (strings). As we approached the Mayfair, the stench from the sewage became unbearable enough for me to leave the beach. Now over to Rourkela for NIT Silver Jubilee celebration.

Puri Visit I - India trip 2015

No trip to Odisha is complete without a visit to Puri, the legendary city on the sea of Bay of Bengal. There is a chaotic serenity associated with this historic city famous for the Lord Jagannath Temple, symbolizing our rich culture and heritage. I have a personal connection to this city as my roots belong here, my ancestors were natives close to Puri.

The ride to Puri was never smoother for the roads have become wider and lane oriented. At one stretch our car was going at 70 mph (110 kmph) which is the fastest ever speed I have clocked on the road to Puri. This would be unthinkable a few years back. The time to travel to Puri has drastically gone down as no more bumpy rides through narrow lanes for most part of the journey, though stray cows, dogs and incoming homo sapiens from the opposite direction on the single lane were avoidable nuisance

We walked on BADA DANDA (The Broadway) towards the Jagannath temple carefully treading our path amongst numerous bulls and beggars. It is sad that most of our places of worship has turned into an abode of charlatans, pickpockets and beggars ( I have nothing against beggars who are needy but many I saw begging in Puri were healthy enough to work, taking the devotees for a ride).

No sooner we got close to the temple, than the PANDAS (priests) started casing us. Years back, once a PANDA followed me, addressing me in Bengali, DADA ESON ESON.(Brother, come, come with us. Most tourists in Puri hail from Bengal, if Bengalis decide to boycott Puri some reason the local economy will take a huge hit). I switched to Puri dialect proclaiming myself as a native not a Jatri (tourist), expecting to be left alone. The dejected Panda pursued me for a while before asked me for Rs.10. As I did not relent, he melted away muttering behind me, KANGAALA KAHASE AYA (a miserly man of penury has come from somewhere). I took it as a compliment and moved on.

The dogs are prohibited inside the temple. In case a dog is discovered inside the temple, the entire  MAHAPRASAD of the day becomes MAARAA (desecrated). But Cats and monkeys roam aplenty inside the tea. I saw a mama monkey revolving on a tree branch, while the baby monkey did the same around her neck, same way moon revolves around the earth and earth revolves around the sun.

The salubrious weather of December drives hordes of tourrists towards Puri and today was no exception. It was 8 in evening, the inside of the temple resembled mini India, with crowds visible from nooks and corner of India, vindicating it is the best time to visit Puri.

It was jam packed inside the temple. The short height folks were standing on the toes and short sighted ones adjusted their glass rims, to take a peek at the Lord. I saw an Air Conditioner hanging from the roof, close to dieties. One thing didn't go unnoticed, the inadequacy of safety measures towards preventing tragedy. Though our Lord is known for His Benevolence, deaths due to stampedes inside the temple is not something unheard of.