Happy birthday Manoj Das

 When the eccentric celluloid genius Kishore Kumar died in October 1987, the Editorial on Newspaper "The Times of India" came with a tribute about him - "The last of the originals". Today, 25 years later, I attribute the same, the last of the original Odia writer to Manoj Das on his 89th birthday.

I am not new to Manoj Das and his writing. Ever since as a 8 year old I read his book ALOKA O ANANDA RA KAHANI (Story of Light and Delight) published by National Book Trust (NBT) in 1977, I have never ever looked back. A writer at ease in both Odia, his mother tongue and English, he is an excellent story teller for a layman tyro like me, also a writer of philosophical stuff which can only be understood and appreciated by folks at an higher level of intellect (not me).

Manoj Das shifted to Aurobindo Ashram in Pondicherry in the early 1960s and it was a prudent decision on his part to leave Odisha, as the state is known as a graveyard for any kind of creative pursuits. I believe he would have been the proverbial "BANA MALLI BANA RE JHADI JAE" - "Jasmin flower in the forest falls off without its fragrance ever getting noticed". No sooner he left Odisha, than his talent was immediately visible and recognized, his writings were published by the widely circulating Newspaper "THE HINDU" and spread northwards beyond Vindyas when Delhi based The Hindustan Times started publishing his articles and short stories.

It didn't take very long for more adulation to follow, especially from two nations, whose success is often attributed for their penchant to appreciate and nurture talents - The United States of America, my adopted country and Singapore, my ever appreciated country.

The late Martha Foley annually listed the best short stories published in the United States for many years in 1970s. At least five short stories by Manoj Das were published in the year 1975 in some of the prestigious magazines and anthologies of the USA. To cite a few more examples Confrontation, a volume brought out by the Long Island University (1983) was an interesting anthology of the representative writings of Brooklyn, vis-à-vis the representative writings of the current world. The only story from Asia to find a place in the compilation was Manoj Das’s “Lakshmi’s Adventure”, a typical Indian short story worth a mystic touch. Similarly, the international Number of New Orleans Review (Loyala University, 1979) chose only one story from Asia and that was Manoj Das’s “A Bridge in the Moonlit Night”.

The government of Singapore invited him in 1980s to help them in their Moral and Ethical studies projects. Sri Das delivered lectures in Schools and Colleges of Singapore, wrote two textbooks for their school system, his work appreciated by non other than the Deputy PM of Singapore.

Manoj Das's short stories were serialized by Khushwant Singh when the Sardar (Sikh) edited "THE ILLUSTRATED WEEKLY OF INDIA", the most widely read and circulated magazine in 1970s. The writings styles of both the eminent writers were poles apart. The Sardar, a master of glut of smut, thrives on liberal dosage of crude humor, fart and sex in his writing, whereas Manoj Das's revolved on simple life philosophy and his subtle sense of humor hovering the mundane life episodes. The Sardar the salacious and the Manoj Das the sagacious formed a unique bond.

Yet both has tremendous respect for each other. Khushwant Singh recognized Manoj Das by publishing his stories in his magazine of repute at a time when authors of the day died to get their work published in the Illustrated Weekly of India which he edited. Manoj Das was one of the few whose writing made into the much coveted magazine on regular basis. Sri Das appreciated the witty Sardar as one NIRBHIKA LEKHAKA (fearless writer, proved by the fact that he dared to take head on the likes of Bal Thackarey and Sant Bhindranwale, at a time most other journos when they were expected to bend volunteered to crawl in front of them).

Manoj Das, in his tribute to Khushwant Singh after the his death has described how liquor used to flow during evenings at Sardar's party, when the invited odd man out Manoj Das would be sipping his endless glasses of Tomato juice. These two great writers formed a unity in diversity, of mutual trust and respect. The old Sardar still kept writing well into his 90s and may Sri Das, who passed away couple of years ago in his late 80s.

If I am allowed to vote for the greatest Odia achiever in my lifetime - it would go to this gentleman MANOJ DAS. He may be dead, not the immortal masterpieces from his pen. RIP Sir in heaven where you aptly belong.

RIP Pradip Kaka

Today I received one of the biggest jolts in my life. Pradip Panda uncle, a close friend, philosopher and guide to our family lost his battle with life after days of stay in the ICU. He was only in his mid 60s. I simply can't believe he isn't among us anymore. 

A very noble, kind and benevolent human being, he never dissapointed anyone. No one would ever return empty handed from his doorstep. Pradip Kaka, as we fondly call him was way ahead of time, way apart from others. He was a multifaceted talent who predicted all the outcomes in my life for last 30 years just by browsing my horoscope, surprising the sceptic in me. He predicted that I will marry in winter, as being born in the month of May certain "Dasa and Lagna" will always prevent me from getting married in summer months. Well I tried to defy my fate by almost tying the knot in summer but my marriage broke up. I ended up marrying in December, as predicted by him. 

He also accurately predicted my coming to America, settling down in South and what not with immaculate accuracy. He owed his accuracy of clairvoyance to his intuition and experience. And apart from being a brilliant astrologer, he was a moving encyclopedia who had answer to every query under the sun. Conversations with him was a erudite concoction of fun and knowledge. He would drive me to the best bookstores in Bhubaneswar and introduce me to the latest best sellers. 

Pradip Kaka was too good a person, a kind soul who left way too early, leaving a huge vacuum amongst his family and friends. A part of me snapped when I heard the news of his passing away. Sometimes I wonder about the vagaries of life. A doctor who cures patients from incurable diseases, can fall seriously ill. A great bowler who take wickets of the best batters often gets out to ordinary balls. Astrologers who can predict other's future can barely control their own. Burglaries in policemen's home aren't unheard of. And many more... 

May God give his family strength and courage to overcome this untimely tragedy. As I finish writing my obituary, I can feel the blurriness of my eyelids, my view turning hazy due to the moistening of the corner of my eyes. Unknown to me, my reflex action took the glasses off using my fingers, wiping off my tears, tersly reminded of this Hindi song, an ode to the nicest of human beings whose repertoire of love and affection to me and my family was never empty. 

ZINDAGI SAU BARAS KI SAHI,

ZINDAGI KA BHAROSA NAHI;

CHAAND CHHOOP JAE KAB KYA PATA,

CHANDNI KA BHAROSA NAHI. 

Transliterated.. 

Life is for living hundred years,

But destiny is unreliable forever;

Never know when moon can go into hiding,

For Moonlight is not worth relying.

One year of the Ukrain war

Russian invasion of Ukraine completed its first year, entering the second. Many, especially those who neither themselves nor anyone in their past 14 generations have ever stepped a day on a battlefield nor have done anything beyond swinging Lathis (sticks) in the age of AK-47, jumped to predict that Russia would vanquish Ukraine in 12 days. The loser Bhakts were supporting Putin. Ukraine has given the Bhakts, Whatsapp University foreign policy experts such a tight slap that they will never forget.

But at end of 12 months from the commencement of war it is still a stalemate. The big bear Russia was supposed to maul the hapless human Ukraine to pulp. But the hapless human though injured, like a cornered tiger has held on spectacularly against the big bear for 1 year and could do so for many more months to come.

Ukrainian resistance surprised graduates from Whatsapp University. Yet it has also surprised many military, strategic and foreign policy experts, including its aggressor Russia too, though it is not surprising that NATO, mainly the USA has played a key role behind the lines helping Ukraine to stubbornly resist the Russian aggression. At the same time the Russian troops are hardly motivated to be dogged in a long dragging, purposeless war against an enemy with whom they are emotionally and culturally bound for a long time. It is to be noted that for decades both Russia and Ukraine both were part of erstwhile Soviet Union or U.S.S.R. In fact the Bhakts and graduates from Whatsapp University who say that Russia supported India in 1971 war against Pakistan, they conveniently forgot that Ukraine then supported India too as part of erstwhile U.S.S.R.

In meantime the global economy may not be doing great, but it seems to have recovered from the aftershock due to the sudden spike in the crude oil price. Gas price has been stabilizing, at least in the United States. It has come down by no less than 25% at the gas stations from what was a year ago. That's certainly good news. Inflation though still high, has gone down a bit.

How this thing will end is a million dollar question. Frankly no one knows, especially in this age filled with tons of unpredictable factors the world's best astrologer or clairvoyant cannot prophesize the future. But what we know, considering the countries forming NATO are turning into more of a liability than assets to the United States. What's a wastage of tax payers money !

NATO countries are behaving like toddlers holding their parent's hands forever, complacent with the desire to stay forever young and dependent. They don't want to learn how to walk and are reluctant to decouple their hands from their parent's. It's high time America quit holding their hands and let NATO countries learn to stand on its own feet and walk by themselves.

Germany, France, England are formidable powers with a long military history. They should take care of themselves rather than forever leaning on America's shoulder. In the meantime let's pray that Putin sees some sense and the war ends soon. Because he is the one started it, he should end it. Ending this war is good for all except Putin's ego and the Arms lobby.

Thoughts from Dil Dhadakne Do

 Simetime back I saw this Hindi movie "DIL DHADAKNE DO" (Let the heart beat). The story veers around a rich but dysfunctional family going through a financial mess and trying to cope with the changing reality. An ordinary movie, with some extraordinary anecdotes carrying subtle underlying messages.

A group of business families are on a Cruise Ship, armed by - "ADHARE HASA, ANTARE BISA" (Smile on lips, Venom filled Inside). Fakeness at its best is displayed by women in the group, who make the perfect use of their kitty party to indulge in classic "PARA NINDA, PARA CHUGULI" (Character Assassination and B**ching about others).

Men, if not dragged into avoidable squables on their wives behest were seen mixing business with pleasure. Apart from bragging about their wealth and amorous conquests, they were busy drinking, fixing deals and smartly trying to outmaneuver each other by manipulating using devious ways to proliferate their business through marital bond amongst their kids.

Loved this monologue delivered by Anil Kapoor in that movie - "Humans are basically pretentious. If others do it we call it hypocrisy, if we do it we call it worldly wise." How true !!! So also goes another narration in the movie. When the boy goes out on date, he is considered to have come to age by their parents who feel proud of his maturity. But if a girl does the same, she brings shame to their family. How shamelessly hypocrite !

All these traits acted out nicely by a group of performer who have one thing in common. Being from the tinsel town of Bollywood which reeks of hollowness and hypocrisy, playing these roles on screen came naturally to them, as a walk in the park.

Though the milieu shown in this movie is distinctly upper class, this venom of plastic runs fast and furious in the vain of the middle class, something we engage on daily basis. ADHARE HASA, ANTARE BISA (Smile on lips, Venom Inside) never seemed more apt. We see it all the time - smile on your face, stab on yout back.

Saraswati Puja memories from the past

 Saraswati Puja brings back nostalgic memories from my childhood days. As kids, for days we used to eagerly wait for its arrival. I could barely sleep the night before the auspicious occasion, as my mind would be preoccupied with getting early to pluck or rather steal flowers from our neighborhood houses.

I starkly remember a homeowner chasing us urchins away, after we stealthily managed to jump into his front yard to steal his flowers. In the haste his LUNGI (a piece of loin cloth worn by males which can conveniently removed for multiple purposes) slipped off his waist. In the commotion that followed he spent the next few seconds lifting the LUNGI from the ground and tying it back around waist, giving us precious enough time to jump off the wall and flee.

Back home, time to decorate the foot long statue made out of clay and pedestaled on a  wooden chair. We decorated the strings tied to the hands of the chair adorning the statue of the Goddess extended to the corner of the room with triangles of color papers, known NAALI, NELI KAGAJA with the help of glue made from ATTA (wheat flour).

After a quick shower, it was time to wear a pair of new dresses and wait for the ordeal of PUSHPANJALI (offering of flowers) to be over before eating the BHOGA (or Prasadam) to quench our already starving stomachs. An integral part of it would be the Laddoos of Rashi (TIL) made by my grandmother. My father did the Puja in our house, chanting the SLOKA (hymns) in praise of Goddess Saraswati.

Post noon, it was time to go to BJB College near our house and sample the BHOGA served by different departments - each hosting their own Puja, eager to outsmart the other. It was mostly a mixture of sweetened CHUDA (parched rice) with fruits and if luckier dosage of  lumpy, oil soaked BUNDI along with it. It was enough to fill our stomach till the evening, when we would venture out in bicycles to view Saraswati Pandals spread all over the Bhubaneswar.

Once I entered into REC (now NIT) Rourkela to study Engineering, the Puja venue was much larger and quality of Prasad much better than any other institutes I knew. The celebration was much more robust in scale, a fitting finale being the BISARJAN (immersion) ceremony.

Those days Bhubaneswar was a sleepy township with hardly any traffic. The arteries of the roads were not clogged yet, so no bypass was needed. It was perfectly safe for us to bike our way from BJB flats to Saheed Nagar amidst funnel shaped loudspeakers from Pendals blaring out the contemporary hits. One of them was "MEIN HOON DON" from the Amitabh's hit movie Don. Another one I can't forget was this Akshaya Mohanty's Odia number,

"LANDA MUNDIA DRIVER
GADIKU TIKE THIA KAR
GADI JIBA PHULBANI
SANGARE ACHHANTI GHARANI
GHARANI MUNDARE KHIA
UKUNI KARANTI BASA".

Roughly transliterated though the fun can be lost in translation. ..

"O bald headed driver

Stop your vehicle for better,
Phulbani is the destination
My better half is with me in person,
Bob tied pig tail has my wife
It is filled with lice"...
and so on.

There were many outstanding Pendals but the one by USHALA CLUB at Master Canteen, Unit 3 stood taller (literally too) than the rest. After a long tiring meandering around the city it was time to munch some PURI, ALOO DUM (curry) and sweets before hitting the bed. Gone are those days. ZINDAGI NA MILEGA DOBARAA (That Life won't come again).

Failure of Prohibition

 At least half a dozen folks died in Siwan, Bihar after consuming spurious liquor. Prohibition was introduced in the state in April, 2016. The liquor ban was shoved into the throat of the citizens, but a thirsty Bihari would always find solace to his dry mouth, thanks to the illegal bootleggers. Only tangible outcome happened so far is the depletion of the state coffers and the enhancement of coffers of the black marketers, hand in glove with the corrupt government officials, not to mention periodic deaths.

Prohibition has a long history of failures. It failed miserably when the faddist Morarjee Desai implemented it as the Chief Minister of the erstwhile state of Maharashtra, which then included the present state of Gujarat. N T Rama Rao  implemented it in Andhra, only to see the real beneficiaries being the bootleggers and bars in townships bordering the state (one of them was the border Town of Barhampur, Odisha) where folks flocked in drove to quench their parched throat.

Gujarat is officially a dry state, being the birthplace of Mahatma Gandhi and it is no exception there. It doesn't make sense to enforce this token Gandhian  value at the cost of the exchequer, when we have long since deviated from all his principles. My friends studying in REC Surat used to tell me there was a phone number the Engineering students which they mockingly referred as being used to "Dial D for DAARU (liquor)". The voice at other end will ask you the brand and quantity needed, which would later be delivered for the right price.

Prohibition has a history of failure elsewhere in the world too. America once experimented with it in early 20th century and failed miserably. However as a blessing in disguise, some famous Bourbon Whiskeys as a byproduct from that era were produced by the innovative Americans.

It's inherently human to indulge in curiosity, like smoking, drinking and sex which invariably starts during youth. It only amplifies when we are prohibited from accessing the things we aspire for. When we used to play afternoon gully cricket in Bhubaneswar, there were couple of guys who would join us, only when their martinet dads were out. Often it would happen so, while batting (Cricket in India is batsman dominated, everyone eagerly waits for his turn to bat), no sooner they hear the sound of their dad's approaching scooter from the horizon, than they would throw away their bats and start running towards home.

It's always a desperate race against time, attempting to sneak into their home through backdoor before the dad enters through the front door. The man usually takes his time to take off the helmet, elongate the folded stand of the scooter using his hind leg, park and lock it before turning the handle couple of times ensure that the lock is secured. That provides the scared kids precious little time to be at their table, pretending to be studying.

If unfortunate enough to get caught, they would be severely reprimanded, often thrashed. One was even beaten with his father's thick leather belt on regular basis. This was to suppose to prevent him from becoming a CHHATARA (a girl chasing vagabond) or BAZAARI (a free roaming guy in market). Eventually it would happen so when the son went out to live in a hostel. He was now a cage free bird and really went wild fitting perfectly into a well defined CHHATARA and BAZAARI. This is another example of the failure of self imposed "Social Prohibition" which can backfire big time. Bottom line - Prohibition has never worked in history, it never will.

The saga of the solitary penny

 The other day I was taking my afternoon walk inside our community on an unusually warm and sunny January day in Georgia. Suddenly I noticed a solitary penny lying near the curb at a turn, glittering under the bright, crispy sun. For me it was a golden moment.

But I was in a dilemma. Should I pick it up or not ! So, I decided to give it a thought while I continued my walk. If I don't, the penny would be lying there forever, dormant like the trunkless statue of the eccentric poet Percy Bysshe Shelley's famous poem "Ozymandias". (Geniuses are known to be eccentric). Once upon a time that penny could be Ozymandias, the King of Kings in Shelley's iconic poem. But over the time it has lost its value, lying helplessly dormant like the trunkless statue. They say these days it costs more to mint a penny than its actual value. But once upon a time the penny might have seen better days.

Now my first round of walk was complete as I passed by the penny the second time. I was still in a quandary - "To pick it up or not" ! The penny was starting to give me a cold, sneer stare and telling me - "All that glitter may not be gold, but old is gold". I still decided to give the penny a pass, moving forward, trudging ahead for my third and final lap as I suddenly remembered the old days, a short story tittled "Ha Penny" from my Class IX non-detail text book, a collection of tales by eminent writers from across the globe and few Indian authors as well, as part of our English curriculum in my School.

"Ha Penny" was penned by the South African novelist Alan Paton, illustrating the story of an orphan boy who longed for family affection. How touching and invaluable the story was and why I am still reluctant to touch the penny thinking it of no value ! I got teleported to my school days riding a time machine, suddenly remembering my first crush of life, the tall girl couple of years senior to me in school. In her I saw the Hollywood actress Brooke Shields, the epitome of my fascination for tall girls. The sands of time might have buried my crush long time ago, like the visage of the King Ozymandias. But no one forgets the first crush of life, its memory being so precious and timeless. The dream has never died, still glittering at the corner of my head after decades like the penny under the bright sun.

Oh, suddenly I discovered me standing right in front of the penny as I completed my third and final round of walking. Third time is the charm. The penny hasn't lost its worth, like the memory of my first crush. I could still see my dream from the past inside it.  Without any hesitation I picked up the coin and headed home. To give you the heads up, I heard that if you pick a penny lying with its head up it is going to be your lucky day.  P.B.Shelley, the eccentric genius could crush Ozymandias's ego, but couldn't crush the memory of my first crush. Heads I win, tails you lose. Shelley, I have earned my penny.