Sunday, August 30, 2020
Monday, June 22, 2009
A couple of years ago, we had been on a fun trip to Satpada, the meeting point of the Bay of Bengal and Chilika. This is also known as Dolphin Bay and a half-hour boat ride takes you to the point where, if you are lucky, the cute Irrawaddy Dolphins will show themselves, vanish, bob up again,give you a glimpse of their cute smiling faces and..sorry folks showtime is over!
This post however is not about the dolphins. On the way to Satpada, in Brahmagiri, there is the Alarnath Temple. Legend has it that for the 15 days after Snana Purnima(loosely translated as bathing purnima!) when the Lord Jagannath in Puri is cofined to the sick-room(anasarpindi) after His marathon bath with 108 pitchers of aromatic herbal water drawn from a special well within the temple,devotees wishing to see Him must do so at Alarnath. It is believed that Sri ChaitanyaDev visited the temple in 1610AD after a Divine Call exhorted him to do so. He was so elated that he danced in pure joy and prostrated himself before the Lord. Such was his devotion that the hard stone melted at the points of contact with his body!To this day the imprint remains for us lesser mortals to see,wonder and marvel....
Sometime last week J's friend said that his son was home for a few days prior to his departure for higher studies and that he wanted to show him something different in Orissa. J has long been an ardent Jagannath devotee and he told his friend about Alarnath.It was decided that early on Sunday we would set out for Alarnath.
So J and I were up with the birds(a rare occurence for me!) and on the dot at 5.15 our friends arrived. An uneventful one hour later we were at the Y-junction after Atharanala.Our friend wanted to show his son the chariots which are being readied for the Lord's Rath Yatra on 24 June. So we took the left fork and drove along the Grand Road. There stood those 3 magnificent chariots....artisans were already at work giving the final touches. The largest called Nandighosa has 16 wheels with a height of 45 feet and will be covered in red and yellow cloth...it will carry Jagannath. Jagannath's older brother Balabhadra will be carried on Taladhwaja which is 44 feet in height and has 14 wheels and will be draped in red and green. Little sister Subhadra will travel on the Darpadalana which has 12 wheels, is 43 feet high and will be covered in red and black...
At 6.15 we were on the right fork to Alarnath. The temple gates had just opened at 6.40 when we reached. We were among the first to enter the sanctum sanctorum. The priest showed us the thumb of the Lord which was reportedly scalded when He was eating hot kheer in a hurry!Then we saw the stone slab which bears the impression of Sri Chaitanya's body...the head, the torso, the hands and feet....it was awe-inspiring.
It was only 15 minutes past 7 in the morning. I mentioned that the first catch of the day would be available at the Satpada tourist bungalow.J's friend agreed that it would be a pity giving that a miss! At the tourist bungalow one of the attendants remembered me from our last visit(are we the only ones who look for the first catch?!)...and told us that he could offer prawns tossed in butter garnished with fried onion rings fresh-ground pepper and slit green chillies.Being frail mortals we could not, simply NOT,say no!! Over some hot alu paratha and dahi,AFTER the prawns were devoured, we planned our day.
The Chilika Lake has several islands, some of the more famous ones being NalabanaKalijai,Parikud,Somolo and Dumkudi,Breakfast Island,Honeymoon Island(this has the ruins of a bungalow which was used by an erstwhile ruler for his honeymoon.But it also is known for the limbless lizards..eeks).There is also a Birds Island which has huge white hanging rocks(white because of the bird-droppings!)....We boarded a ferry (along came our SUV too) to an island called Janhikud.This ride took about half-an-hour and we saw schools of small fish and some crabs.I had heard that you could also occasionally spot some water snakes! Thankfully there were none to be seen.At Janhikud we resumed our journey by road and went to the famous Parikud Palace.The caretaker probably mistook us for "authorised visitors"...without our asking, he took us on a tour of the grounds, showed us the huge pond which yeilds an annual catch of 4 quintals of fish, opened the door of the durbar(its musty smell was overpowering)and also introduced us to the resident ram which loves munching on brinjals!(nice knowing you Ram!and I didn't know your breed was so lazy that you almost fell off while trying to bite the brinjal in a supine position....ovine intelligence demonstrated)
Our drive took us through several villages and narrow roads with occasional glimpses of the Chilika. Our driver informed us that a few years ago it wouldn't have been possible to drive through like this. You had to use boats. On the way I noticed the white and black Indian Pied Kingfisher(which we do not see in our urban areas now) and also an impressive golden brown Brahminy Kite. We decided to go to Rambha for lunch and maybe a speed-boat ride to Kalijai Island. The Orissa Tourism facility at Rambha has had a face-lift and the room we rented for a few hours was very comfortable. Lunch was simple. Prawns, grilled fish, dal, vegetables and rice.The manager informed us that the boat was ready but warned us that late afternoons the weather is unpredictable. It might suddenly turn stormy. I recalled a childhood incident....an amateur astrologer had predicted that I would drown. Even before the others could vote, I suggested a trip to Potagarh in nearby Ganja District. Diversionary tactic paid off.
Potagarh is situated on the banks of the Rushikulya river. Almost a stone's throw from the Jayshree Chemical Factory, a side road leads you to it. We drive through the gates of the fort over what-was-once the drawbridge and what-was-once a moat. The fort is in ruins but the wall remains. Standing guard. And the armoury, the barracks, the place for horses etc. Even a tunnel! And the dungeons! Potagarh was a French port but some historians feel that it may have been built by the fourth sultan Ibrahim Qutubshah.The East India Company occupied it in 1768.We climb on to the wall and peer over the edge. The Rushikulya river, serene in the pre-monsoon, looks picturesque. In the distance some buffalows are wading across in a neat row. We note the harbour below.As I idly glanced skyward,hoping to note the first signs of the elusive monsoon I saw something which I will treasure always. The Pallas' Fishing Eagle, a magnificent bird with a wide wingspan(about 5 feet) resplendent in a white underbelly, was coasting. I believe it saw me staring, mouth agape. And I think it winked!.......A young lad, definitely a local, scrambles up and offers his services as a guide. Despite our distinctly cold reaction he proceeds to tell us of the cemetery nearby where the graves of some of the people who lived in the settlement were. About 8 years ago I had visited the cemetery with YBhai and Sdi(my all-time favourite people, but more about them later). J's friend was also aware of such a place. So we decided to go there.The approach road(if it can be called one) is a dirt track lined on either side by thick Kia(kewra) bushes. Our vehicle hit a huge pile of sand and ground to a halt. The party descended and wanted to walk. I joined in, reluctantly.K ia, especially when it is beginning to bloom(as in now) is known to play host to snakes; and it was nearing sundown. My apprehsions were brushed away by my companions. We started our walk. Suddenly, a jackal appeared, looked quizzically at us and darted into the undergrowth.Then a couple of young boys appeared with a knife at the end of a pole. The men in our group had walked beyond sight. As manfully as I could, I asked them what they were up to.They must have thought we were part of some "official" group. Very respectfully, and ready to run, they told us that they were collecting the Kia flower to sell in the nearby village market. And showed us their harvest.It smelled so good. A delicate whiff of kewra. They allowed us to take two.Now we hurried to catch up with the men. The kai forest ended in a large expanse of green. Beyond that were fields of ripening chillies. And across from there we spotted the gravestones.The headstones on the graves there(around 25 of them) told a story. The youngest person to be buried was a 5 year old girl in 1756. The earliest grave was that of a person who died in 1706. Two little children, felled by malaria, lie buried next to each other.The chief of the settlement also lies here.
The jackals now appeared in multiples and looked in no mood to tolerate flesh and blood in this place of spirits! We made our way back. Boarded the vehicle and headed back. Our mandatory halt at the Chilika Dhaba for dinner. Crab Masala, prawns and roti. This is such a bustling place. Sarangi, the boy serving us, has featured in the NDTV good food show. He tells us that every day, 400 crabs,70kgs of prawns,100kgs of fish,100kgs of chicken are cooked apart from rice dal roti and vegetables......Food for thought.
Home at ten-thirty. Good day,what? Good night.And yes the Kia flower looks elegant in an imitation crystal vase and the room is suffused with its aroma.
This post however is not about the dolphins. On the way to Satpada, in Brahmagiri, there is the Alarnath Temple. Legend has it that for the 15 days after Snana Purnima(loosely translated as bathing purnima!) when the Lord Jagannath in Puri is cofined to the sick-room(anasarpindi) after His marathon bath with 108 pitchers of aromatic herbal water drawn from a special well within the temple,devotees wishing to see Him must do so at Alarnath. It is believed that Sri ChaitanyaDev visited the temple in 1610AD after a Divine Call exhorted him to do so. He was so elated that he danced in pure joy and prostrated himself before the Lord. Such was his devotion that the hard stone melted at the points of contact with his body!To this day the imprint remains for us lesser mortals to see,wonder and marvel....
Sometime last week J's friend said that his son was home for a few days prior to his departure for higher studies and that he wanted to show him something different in Orissa. J has long been an ardent Jagannath devotee and he told his friend about Alarnath.It was decided that early on Sunday we would set out for Alarnath.
So J and I were up with the birds(a rare occurence for me!) and on the dot at 5.15 our friends arrived. An uneventful one hour later we were at the Y-junction after Atharanala.Our friend wanted to show his son the chariots which are being readied for the Lord's Rath Yatra on 24 June. So we took the left fork and drove along the Grand Road. There stood those 3 magnificent chariots....artisans were already at work giving the final touches. The largest called Nandighosa has 16 wheels with a height of 45 feet and will be covered in red and yellow cloth...it will carry Jagannath. Jagannath's older brother Balabhadra will be carried on Taladhwaja which is 44 feet in height and has 14 wheels and will be draped in red and green. Little sister Subhadra will travel on the Darpadalana which has 12 wheels, is 43 feet high and will be covered in red and black...
At 6.15 we were on the right fork to Alarnath. The temple gates had just opened at 6.40 when we reached. We were among the first to enter the sanctum sanctorum. The priest showed us the thumb of the Lord which was reportedly scalded when He was eating hot kheer in a hurry!Then we saw the stone slab which bears the impression of Sri Chaitanya's body...the head, the torso, the hands and feet....it was awe-inspiring.
It was only 15 minutes past 7 in the morning. I mentioned that the first catch of the day would be available at the Satpada tourist bungalow.J's friend agreed that it would be a pity giving that a miss! At the tourist bungalow one of the attendants remembered me from our last visit(are we the only ones who look for the first catch?!)...and told us that he could offer prawns tossed in butter garnished with fried onion rings fresh-ground pepper and slit green chillies.Being frail mortals we could not, simply NOT,say no!! Over some hot alu paratha and dahi,AFTER the prawns were devoured, we planned our day.
The Chilika Lake has several islands, some of the more famous ones being NalabanaKalijai,Parikud,Somolo and Dumkudi,Breakfast Island,Honeymoon Island(this has the ruins of a bungalow which was used by an erstwhile ruler for his honeymoon.But it also is known for the limbless lizards..eeks).There is also a Birds Island which has huge white hanging rocks(white because of the bird-droppings!)....We boarded a ferry (along came our SUV too) to an island called Janhikud.This ride took about half-an-hour and we saw schools of small fish and some crabs.I had heard that you could also occasionally spot some water snakes! Thankfully there were none to be seen.At Janhikud we resumed our journey by road and went to the famous Parikud Palace.The caretaker probably mistook us for "authorised visitors"...without our asking, he took us on a tour of the grounds, showed us the huge pond which yeilds an annual catch of 4 quintals of fish, opened the door of the durbar(its musty smell was overpowering)and also introduced us to the resident ram which loves munching on brinjals!(nice knowing you Ram!and I didn't know your breed was so lazy that you almost fell off while trying to bite the brinjal in a supine position....ovine intelligence demonstrated)
Our drive took us through several villages and narrow roads with occasional glimpses of the Chilika. Our driver informed us that a few years ago it wouldn't have been possible to drive through like this. You had to use boats. On the way I noticed the white and black Indian Pied Kingfisher(which we do not see in our urban areas now) and also an impressive golden brown Brahminy Kite. We decided to go to Rambha for lunch and maybe a speed-boat ride to Kalijai Island. The Orissa Tourism facility at Rambha has had a face-lift and the room we rented for a few hours was very comfortable. Lunch was simple. Prawns, grilled fish, dal, vegetables and rice.The manager informed us that the boat was ready but warned us that late afternoons the weather is unpredictable. It might suddenly turn stormy. I recalled a childhood incident....an amateur astrologer had predicted that I would drown. Even before the others could vote, I suggested a trip to Potagarh in nearby Ganja District. Diversionary tactic paid off.
Potagarh is situated on the banks of the Rushikulya river. Almost a stone's throw from the Jayshree Chemical Factory, a side road leads you to it. We drive through the gates of the fort over what-was-once the drawbridge and what-was-once a moat. The fort is in ruins but the wall remains. Standing guard. And the armoury, the barracks, the place for horses etc. Even a tunnel! And the dungeons! Potagarh was a French port but some historians feel that it may have been built by the fourth sultan Ibrahim Qutubshah.The East India Company occupied it in 1768.We climb on to the wall and peer over the edge. The Rushikulya river, serene in the pre-monsoon, looks picturesque. In the distance some buffalows are wading across in a neat row. We note the harbour below.As I idly glanced skyward,hoping to note the first signs of the elusive monsoon I saw something which I will treasure always. The Pallas' Fishing Eagle, a magnificent bird with a wide wingspan(about 5 feet) resplendent in a white underbelly, was coasting. I believe it saw me staring, mouth agape. And I think it winked!.......A young lad, definitely a local, scrambles up and offers his services as a guide. Despite our distinctly cold reaction he proceeds to tell us of the cemetery nearby where the graves of some of the people who lived in the settlement were. About 8 years ago I had visited the cemetery with YBhai and Sdi(my all-time favourite people, but more about them later). J's friend was also aware of such a place. So we decided to go there.The approach road(if it can be called one) is a dirt track lined on either side by thick Kia(kewra) bushes. Our vehicle hit a huge pile of sand and ground to a halt. The party descended and wanted to walk. I joined in, reluctantly.K ia, especially when it is beginning to bloom(as in now) is known to play host to snakes; and it was nearing sundown. My apprehsions were brushed away by my companions. We started our walk. Suddenly, a jackal appeared, looked quizzically at us and darted into the undergrowth.Then a couple of young boys appeared with a knife at the end of a pole. The men in our group had walked beyond sight. As manfully as I could, I asked them what they were up to.They must have thought we were part of some "official" group. Very respectfully, and ready to run, they told us that they were collecting the Kia flower to sell in the nearby village market. And showed us their harvest.It smelled so good. A delicate whiff of kewra. They allowed us to take two.Now we hurried to catch up with the men. The kai forest ended in a large expanse of green. Beyond that were fields of ripening chillies. And across from there we spotted the gravestones.The headstones on the graves there(around 25 of them) told a story. The youngest person to be buried was a 5 year old girl in 1756. The earliest grave was that of a person who died in 1706. Two little children, felled by malaria, lie buried next to each other.The chief of the settlement also lies here.
The jackals now appeared in multiples and looked in no mood to tolerate flesh and blood in this place of spirits! We made our way back. Boarded the vehicle and headed back. Our mandatory halt at the Chilika Dhaba for dinner. Crab Masala, prawns and roti. This is such a bustling place. Sarangi, the boy serving us, has featured in the NDTV good food show. He tells us that every day, 400 crabs,70kgs of prawns,100kgs of fish,100kgs of chicken are cooked apart from rice dal roti and vegetables......Food for thought.
Home at ten-thirty. Good day,what? Good night.And yes the Kia flower looks elegant in an imitation crystal vase and the room is suffused with its aroma.
Thursday, April 16, 2009
Why do we have to make choices? I mean if there was only one thing to do at a time, life would be so uncomplicated....but no we have been blessed with "free will", so, choose we will. I remember reading that if we look back on our life we will find certain 'ctitical crossroads'(cc) where what we have 'chosen' to do has determined the course of our lives till the next cc,and so on.In effect life thus is never a straight line......
Last week I encountered my nth cc. The Vagina Monologues or a night ride to the "muhana"(where the river meets the sea) of the Rushikulya River to watch the annual spectacle of thousands of Olive Ridley turtle hatchlings scrambling into the sea.I took a deep breath and chose.
It was 1930 hrs when our rumbling stomachs urged a halt at the Chilika Dhaba.If you are ever visiting the Chilika Lake(and here I will simply assume that no reader of my blog does not know where or what Chilika Lake is!)you simply must must eat a meal here.This eatery falls on the right side of the National Highway just after the point where you turn left for Barkul. The steward recognized us and ushered us into a special dining area. He then announced the catch of the day....a 2 kilo green Chilika crab. A 10 minute wait and the poor crustacean was on our table as a spicy crab masala along with jumbo prawns. This is a no-frills place so the only accompaniments to our dinner were some local baby onions, roasted papad and some very mean green chillies along with rice.
Journey resumed at 2030hrs(yes the service is phataphat as was our devourment of the meal!).Some 30 minutes after that we turned left for a village called Gokharkuda.About 10 kilometers seaward through narrow kutcha bumpy roads and we thought we had arrived. We had been told to go to the cyclone-rescue-shelter where our local escorts were waiting for us. What we thought was the CRS turned out to be a local distillery!They directed us to turn right so turn right we did. 3 kms later the CRS stood shillouted on stilts. We were met by our two local escorts, members of the Turtle protection volunteer team. Disembarking from the cool confines of the Chevrolet SUV we were led to marshy land. We waded through slush, walked on ridges,crossed backwaters over a rickety bamboo bridge, trudged through the river shallows and panted 2 kms(this is my estimate....cut down to 200 mteters by the more fit members of our team!) on the beach. The silence was palpable,broken only by the sound of the waves and the occasional swishing sound of the adult Olive Ridley Turtles in the shallows of the backwaters. The moon shone silver and serene on the water.Our escorts pointed at the indentations on the beach. And then,while we were generally taking in the ambience....the Miracle happened! From one indentation a dark mushroom emerged,slowly. The mushroom grew in size..and squiggled..and then started to disperse!The hatchlings! About 150 of them(our escort informed us that during the mass-nesting period,known as arribada, the female lays upto 180 eggs in the sand and buries them deep.45 days later, the hatchlings emerge) started their scramble toward the sea, some 60 meters away, guided by the moonlight reflecting off the waterfront. Almost simultaneously the other indentations also gave up their treasures. The whole stretch of beach was crawling.Perfect little miniatures. Our escort was carrying a CFL torch which glows white,like the moonlight,and he swung his light at one such mushroom,but in a direction away from the water...and guess what happened? The tiny little things scampered toward this light! Demonstration over,he quickly switched off his torch and the little ones reoriented.We stood rooted to our spot and took in this wonderful sight......we were there for more than an hour and every moment was special,magical,beautiful.
On the drive back all of us were either chattering excitedly about our experience or reflecting quietly on the very special experience of witnessing a rare spectacle.....It is believed that the Olive Ridley returns to nest on the same beach that it hatched. Although experts estimate that only about 20 percent survive my prayers are with each of those little darlings.
The day after our trip my sister-in-law told me about the rollicking, risque,scandalously irreverent Vagina Monologues and how much they all loved it. I had only a twinge of regret. I repeat, only a twinge. This is one CC I can never regret.
Last week I encountered my nth cc. The Vagina Monologues or a night ride to the "muhana"(where the river meets the sea) of the Rushikulya River to watch the annual spectacle of thousands of Olive Ridley turtle hatchlings scrambling into the sea.I took a deep breath and chose.
It was 1930 hrs when our rumbling stomachs urged a halt at the Chilika Dhaba.If you are ever visiting the Chilika Lake(and here I will simply assume that no reader of my blog does not know where or what Chilika Lake is!)you simply must must eat a meal here.This eatery falls on the right side of the National Highway just after the point where you turn left for Barkul. The steward recognized us and ushered us into a special dining area. He then announced the catch of the day....a 2 kilo green Chilika crab. A 10 minute wait and the poor crustacean was on our table as a spicy crab masala along with jumbo prawns. This is a no-frills place so the only accompaniments to our dinner were some local baby onions, roasted papad and some very mean green chillies along with rice.
Journey resumed at 2030hrs(yes the service is phataphat as was our devourment of the meal!).Some 30 minutes after that we turned left for a village called Gokharkuda.About 10 kilometers seaward through narrow kutcha bumpy roads and we thought we had arrived. We had been told to go to the cyclone-rescue-shelter where our local escorts were waiting for us. What we thought was the CRS turned out to be a local distillery!They directed us to turn right so turn right we did. 3 kms later the CRS stood shillouted on stilts. We were met by our two local escorts, members of the Turtle protection volunteer team. Disembarking from the cool confines of the Chevrolet SUV we were led to marshy land. We waded through slush, walked on ridges,crossed backwaters over a rickety bamboo bridge, trudged through the river shallows and panted 2 kms(this is my estimate....cut down to 200 mteters by the more fit members of our team!) on the beach. The silence was palpable,broken only by the sound of the waves and the occasional swishing sound of the adult Olive Ridley Turtles in the shallows of the backwaters. The moon shone silver and serene on the water.Our escorts pointed at the indentations on the beach. And then,while we were generally taking in the ambience....the Miracle happened! From one indentation a dark mushroom emerged,slowly. The mushroom grew in size..and squiggled..and then started to disperse!The hatchlings! About 150 of them(our escort informed us that during the mass-nesting period,known as arribada, the female lays upto 180 eggs in the sand and buries them deep.45 days later, the hatchlings emerge) started their scramble toward the sea, some 60 meters away, guided by the moonlight reflecting off the waterfront. Almost simultaneously the other indentations also gave up their treasures. The whole stretch of beach was crawling.Perfect little miniatures. Our escort was carrying a CFL torch which glows white,like the moonlight,and he swung his light at one such mushroom,but in a direction away from the water...and guess what happened? The tiny little things scampered toward this light! Demonstration over,he quickly switched off his torch and the little ones reoriented.We stood rooted to our spot and took in this wonderful sight......we were there for more than an hour and every moment was special,magical,beautiful.
On the drive back all of us were either chattering excitedly about our experience or reflecting quietly on the very special experience of witnessing a rare spectacle.....It is believed that the Olive Ridley returns to nest on the same beach that it hatched. Although experts estimate that only about 20 percent survive my prayers are with each of those little darlings.
The day after our trip my sister-in-law told me about the rollicking, risque,scandalously irreverent Vagina Monologues and how much they all loved it. I had only a twinge of regret. I repeat, only a twinge. This is one CC I can never regret.
Thursday, January 29, 2009
resumption
Okay so I haven't written anything in a long while...but so much has happened. The leap to mother-in-law has happened but hey it really doesn't feel different!And my husband has opted for retirement from his job but hey it doesn't feel different!And the world is all set to make the great transition into the fifth dimension, but hey even that doesn't feel different....Hoo Boy do I need the Maggi H'n'S...
Discovered just now that I had a post in an earlier avatar which kind of adheres to my promise of recounting early days in my life. Pcube has read it and commented but I want to share those experiences with you too..so here it is(before I became ooffifty)
Discovered just now that I had a post in an earlier avatar which kind of adheres to my promise of recounting early days in my life. Pcube has read it and commented but I want to share those experiences with you too..so here it is(before I became ooffifty)
Saturday, April 5, 2008
Have been reading a few blogs lately. I thought they would provide the impetus to write but surprisingly what I feel is diffident. The young ones today are so lucid, they infuse such dynamism into ordinary humdrum lives that my 'extraordinary' life seems pale.And what, you will enquire,if you have the time, have been the salient features of my extraordinary life? Oh things like flying kites on Makar Sankranti with my brothers and cousins on our rooftop and being Machiavellian about consequences(imagine!), wreaking revenge on poor Gulshan for biting my favourite cousin.....what a satanic mix of chilli sauce-pepper(fresh ground)-salt-dettol(we were imitating good samaritans!) we applied on the poor biter. I am sure she lost her nascent-cannibalist tendencies forever!(all's well that ends well?)To continue with the extraordinary features...going on a shikar with my brand new brother-in-law.He was the SDO in a district in southern Orissa and they had declared an RBT maneater since the beast had mangled/scratched/bitten/eaten a few tribals.I was all of 8 years old and had been despatched from home to keep my sister(cousin)company...BIL thought that he should not expose me to any danger so I was supposed to be in the care of the caretaker at some forest rest-house while the bravehearts went on a survey trip. Poor BIL had not reckoned about a CITY-bred precocious SIL.The 8 year old screamed and threw a tantrum.BIL then decided to include her in the posse.So the jeep arrived.Driver,my tender self, sister and Braveheart in the front,in that order.The rear had the spotter, the gunman and a shikari(fine distinction,that!). We drove along the ghat road, the spotter waving his lights into the deep dark forests on the right.We spotted deer, sambhar, mouse-deer,rabbits(their eyes gleam green)and then leopards,civet cats and ,hold your breath,the RBT(the eyes gleam red)... our shikari team member exhorted us to stop breathing!Those menacing red eyes retreated and BIL relaxed(ManekaG would have medalled him!) but just then old YogiB meandered across the road.Alladin's genie had a serious rival in BIL...in the twinkling of an eye I was physically hoisted from my safe haven next to the driver and placed right-most where braveheart originally was.Fortunately the shikari loved YogiB comics and did not want to harm kin so YB-kin ambled across to the nearest bee-hive and enjoyed a variation of the early bird getting the worm...So sweet....Oh and then the time when we decided to "verify" if dogs were indeed "natural" swimmers...our mongrel had fathered a litter. We picked the strongest and dumped him into our pond. The little chap floundered but waded to safety ultimately. Then we threw him a little further.Same result.So our sadist brains told us to tie a weight around its neck.Did that but even then puppy reached shore.So like true researchers we increased the weight to a brick. He drowned.So b-a-d..Then lets skip a few years and its a trip to Nandan Kanan with my Rotaract group....most of my friends chew paan with tobacco.I am all of 17 and insist that I be given a special paan. To the credit of my friends, all of them married and doing very well profesionallynow, tried to dissuade me.But in the face of my resoluteness I was given a "dada special"....the world spun, I wobbled,my friend who I thought looked like a frog was ACTUALLY a frog and my surdee friend's army-disposal jeep was an advanced time machine...HGW's vehicle took us to Pipli where we had the divinest tea and pakoras...Lets cut to my marriage. 1981. Great style..Rahim the Chef had to prove a point. His biryani, singapori prawns and vegetable navratna are the stuff of lore today.Oh and Subudhi's Ice-creams....27 years on and folks talk about it!Advantage of pioneers?Wednesday, July 23, 2008
And I didn't even know him before 04July.....
Why did I have to meet him? 04 that day and the 22nd today.We were going our different ways.He was a 21 year old, on the thresh-hold of a wonderful life ahead.An Engineer recruited by one of India's best employers.I, a 50 year old,out to have some fleeting moments of fun before assuming onerous responsibilities as mom-in-law. We met because of convoluted connections.Wife of the younger brother of the cousin I was with knew these guys.Mother and son had to attend a wedding reception being hosted at an adjacent venue.They had come to collect the 'dad' who was a regular at our watering-hole.Our table had 2 empty chairs, so when cousin nodded his greeting, they came over and, very naturally for such 'clubby situations',seated themselves on the chairs.Introductions over, I offered them some snacks and a drink.Just then I had a call from home to tell me that the vet had visited and prescribed medicines for my accident-prone white labrador(thats another story ...read the monk's blog http://bhateber.blogspot.com/for elaboration).From my tone or whatever this boy perked up and enquired about my pet(s)..and added that he loved his german spitz...It turned out that the mother, an Allied Services Officer, was a contemporary of mine in college. By the time dad was contacted and told to come over to the 'housie' section, we had established quite a rapport.Over french-fries, fish-fingers and cheese-sticks I learned that the young fellow wanted to use the time he had before joining his job on preparing for an MBA programme.Since daughter-mine had gone through the ropes, I suggested a particular training institute.He seemed impressed that this matron knew things material.From disinterested small talk to a more active participation, now there was eye-contact.He spoke of plans for an MBA and then maybe even a shot at the Civil Services Examination.I teased him that an Engineer-MBA-Civil Servant was the crying need of the day!Now dad joined us. Again, small world,it transpired that he was a year senior to me in Ravenshaw College and had heard of a certain Sujata in the English department...We exchanged phone numbers and then the family left. A couple of days later the boy called me to talk about the training institute I had recommended.I told him that as soon as I was back from a trip to Hyderabad I would accompany him to the institute and introduce him to a staff member.I remember thinking that this boy would go far in life.....
And then this call a few moments ago.Late last evening this boy went out with friends for dinner at a 'dhaba' on the highway.The car skidded out of control,the door by which he was sitting opened and he spilled out.He was crushed instantly....
He will be a mere statistic ultimately when the year-end reports are made. But what of the searing tragedy?I am finding it very difficult to cope with the news. His piercing, bright,sincere eyes are boring into me every moment since I heard about the accident.I met him briefly and his life itself was so cruelly brief... Brian Weiss, who was he,what did I owe him, why did we meet and why am I feeling such a sense of personal loss?...And I didn't even know him before 04July 2008
And then this call a few moments ago.Late last evening this boy went out with friends for dinner at a 'dhaba' on the highway.The car skidded out of control,the door by which he was sitting opened and he spilled out.He was crushed instantly....
He will be a mere statistic ultimately when the year-end reports are made. But what of the searing tragedy?I am finding it very difficult to cope with the news. His piercing, bright,sincere eyes are boring into me every moment since I heard about the accident.I met him briefly and his life itself was so cruelly brief... Brian Weiss, who was he,what did I owe him, why did we meet and why am I feeling such a sense of personal loss?...And I didn't even know him before 04July 2008
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Dus Number
That's where we all grew up. 10 Cantonment Road, Cuttack. It was such a wonderful warm happy place. The house that Jeje built. Today, the address reads, "10, Dr.P.K.Parija Road", stamping official sanction on what we always considered ours.Imagine this...a non-descript village on the Eastern coast of Orissa(undivided Bengal-Bihar-Orissa,known as the Bengal Presidency). A non-descript home in Icchapur.The father a forest ranger posted in remote southern Orissa,mother an uneducated Oriya housewife.And a male child Pranakrishna who showed early determination to rise above his situation.He walked the 36 miles(approximately 60 kilometres)to High School in Cuttack.Lost his mum and Dad very early,but swore to live up to his mother's aspiration.."padhibi lekhibi bada manisa banibi"(I will read write and become famous)was probably his driving mantra.I treasure the book he got as first prize for all-round proficiency in 1904 in his school Ravenshaw Collegiate ."Selections from the writings of James Anthony Froude".Then his journey to Presidency College,Calcutta(where his class-fellows were Meghnad Saha,Satyen Bose,Sir J.C.Ghosh etc) ; Cambridge(where he did his Tripos in Natural Science and experimented and collaborated with Blackman and gave us the Parija-Blackman theory, beame President of the Indian Majlis)Ravenshaw College,Cuttack(Professor Botany,Warden and then Principal)Utkal University(first Vice-Chancellor).In short THE modern Oriya legend.Internationally known but at heart the true son of the soil.He married Sundaramani, rebellious and free-spirited daughter of landed Oriya gentry.They were an apparently incongruous couple...he the brown sahib who would sit and eat his meals on the dining table,with knifeand fork,while she would eat from a brass bowl and plate sitting on the floor.He would attend important meetings and participate in the nation-building process while she would network extensively and be the quintessential LadyBoss!The children,3 boys and 2 girls, were all very well educated and went on to be successful professionals and home-makers.We... G,SeniorA,myself,JuniorA and BabyA..are the grandchildren on the distaff side. (On the enate, its PApa,BBhai,B and C.)I ofcourse grew up and lived continuously in Dus-number till my marriage as did BabyA and PApa and BBhai.The others all came during holidays and other occasions.Breakfast was sharp at 8am while Lunch would be on the table between 12.30 and 1pm.A gong would be sounded at mealtimes to summon the family to meals.If you were late, your food would be placed in a casserole for you to eat in isolation.This was meals with the patriarch. If you chose to eat with SMP it would be really "desi"...on the floor, hot steaming boiled-rice,piping hot lentil,really yummy side dishes and also stuff like dried-fish, mutton-kassa,banana flower vadas, hand-picked mushrooms cooked with mustard,slurrp! The grounds around the house were extensive and we had four distinct gardens(bari,in our language). In the front was Burunda-bari on the left and the Kua-bari on the right.Behind was the paccha-bari, the pond and then the phala-bagicha(orchard). There were a large number of coconut palms, date palms, mango trees, sapota, karamanga,jamun,mulberry, sour-berry(bar-koli)bel,rose-apple(jamuroll),grape-vines,banana plants(green,yellow and even red),camphor trees, sandalwood trees, a huge Flame of the Forest tree and we used to have endless fun climbing trees, emulating monkeys! The pond was very well stocked with fish and almost every week there used to be an almost ceremonial casting of nets.Fresh carp, rohu,clownfish,perch and catfish. We even had an USArmyDisposal canvas rowboat to take a ride around the pond....BBhai was a great shot and he used to practise shooting at the perch and catfish with his 12 bore gun.The paccha-bari in the west, adjacent to the mosque had a menagerie.Rabbits, guinea-pigs,peacocks,budgerigars,cockatoo,parrots, mynahs and the munias. Here too was the cow-shed where PKP's favourite "Gelhhi"(loved one) was housed.Gelhhi was a beautiful black and white cow who, believe me, used to stand by PKP in the dining-room and feed on special tidbits.That was a sight to remember and recount!(as I am doing now).Gelhhi the cow on one side and on the other it used to be our Tom(Alsation+StreetPie) and Bhalu(pure mongrel).Peaceful co-existence.When PKP used to reach for the finger-bowl and fold his serviette back, these 3 would understand that it was time for them to leave the room!Many years later Tom and Bhalu were replaced byRitty, Dicky abd Blackie(daschunds) Jim(Alsation) and Kitty(Tom's family!).SMP and her batallion of servants used to make the most delicious pickles and preserves, both desi and exotic.The kitchen block was connected to the dining room via a covered aisle. The main cook was Gauranga.He had able assistants in Murali,Ghanna,Satrughana etc.The breakfast kitchen was separate and here Gorachand was the cook....Beyond the pond, on the eastern boundary, were a row of rooms which had been rented out to various shops.The Cuttack-famous Health Stores and Rangoon-stores, Gupta Sports,an artificial limbs store, a saloon,a homeopath and a car upholstery workshop.Very early I discovered that PKP used to have a credit-account with Health Stores for general provisons and he used to send little chits of paper saying "M/S Health Stores...Please Supply...with an itemised list of things to be sent over and then signed PKP" Very early too I had discovered that I could do a "mean" imitation of the signature!!Being the "brain" of our 'group of four' it took us little or no time to have an almost endless stock of Cadbury Chocolates and Milkmaid Condensed Milk..!Ditto with Gupta Sports for table-tennis balls, raquets and carrom-dots.Much later I understood that PKP knew exactly what I was upto but chose not to upbraid me..after all I was the apple-of-his-eye, his "Dholi".Dussera was the major festival for us.All our retainers would be given new clothes and bakseesh and the family too.We G.A.M.A.(Group of Four)used to look forward to the special festival food.For Diwali the anars and talphatakas were procured from Padmapur(a village on the outskirts known for its firecrackers) and SMP would engage her batallion to roll cloth wicks for the earthern lamps which were then filled with sesame-seed oil and used to illuminate Dus-Number.On Kartik Purnima day, we would be woken up at the crack of dawn to accompany SMP to the river bank to set afloat our little paper and cork boats in a symbolic replay of the Bali-Yatra when the sailors of yore in Kalinga used to set sail for Bali to trade.For me, the lone girl, SMP had special plans. Khudurkuni Puja, a month of Sundays dedicated to Maa Mangala(for the well-being of brothers), had to be observed,as was Kumar Purnima(obeisance to the Sun God to get a young handsome groom!) and then Rajo(a harvest/fertility rite)...get up early have a bath using turmeric paste and chandan, wear new clothes,and sit piously through the rituals performed with absolute dedication by SMP....It is said that in Orissa there are 13 festivals in 12 months...we in Dus-number will vouch for that and many more!!
I have a reached a point where I need a break to remember and you need a break too....so more later.Bye for now.
I have a reached a point where I need a break to remember and you need a break too....so more later.Bye for now.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Fifty and 30
Now that could be a study in contrast...the stuff of research. In this case however it is only the ticker,that infernal counting machine.The distance between 01 June and 01 July, starting from '58.
As I promised, some flashbacks...(and Monk! its not bottoms up, in more ways than one!).Possibly, 1967-68 .G was back for his first home stay from boarding school.A and youngerA, our first cousins, and yours truly, decided that hot summer afternoon to play carrom.So we positioned ourselves on the green cement floor and started the game. SeniorA and myself,partners, sped away with the first two boards. G and JuniorA were getting desperate. By now we had the P entourage watching and cheering their favourites.Must have been,like 20 people, some peering through the window grills from the expansive verandah..Kulia,Gauranga,Tuna,Bhasia,Abhiram,Ishwar and family of four,Hara and family of three,and I forget who else! The camp was clearly divided into two. The cheerleaders? Dr.PKP,patriarch himself, and his b(e/i?)tter half,SMP.Crucial game..breaths were bated and an eerie silence descended on the battlefront. I didn't know then (all of 9 or 10 ) that all is fair in love and war, but war it was! And I instinctively knew that I had to distract the main opponent.So the brainwave.G had told us that in school what irritated him most was when fellow students called him fatlala(an unkind reference to his ample proportions).I knew instantly what to do! Just as he was about to "pocket the Queen"I yelled "fatlala! watch what you are doing!", and then he saw purple...Mission accomplished. The shot went awry. We notched up another victory.Then he really saw purple/blue/black/red. In a trice I had been floored. A-la-Bheem his foot was on my neck!Arms flailing,neck grounded, my spirit was not.I managed a croak.Motalala.By now he was ready to kill. My partner was trying to help while his partner ran to the nearest wall, to cower(to be fair,he was only 7 or 8).And then...PKP was shouting its all G's fault while Defender of the GIF(great indian family,aka,SMP) insisted that it was that terrible "chhatiki toki"(nearest translation=skittish female) who was responsible.Decibels climbed. G and I forgot our differences...and watched!
As I promised, some flashbacks...(and Monk! its not bottoms up, in more ways than one!).Possibly, 1967-68 .G was back for his first home stay from boarding school.A and youngerA, our first cousins, and yours truly, decided that hot summer afternoon to play carrom.So we positioned ourselves on the green cement floor and started the game. SeniorA and myself,partners, sped away with the first two boards. G and JuniorA were getting desperate. By now we had the P entourage watching and cheering their favourites.Must have been,like 20 people, some peering through the window grills from the expansive verandah..Kulia,Gauranga,Tuna,Bhasia,Abhiram,Ishwar and family of four,Hara and family of three,and I forget who else! The camp was clearly divided into two. The cheerleaders? Dr.PKP,patriarch himself, and his b(e/i?)tter half,SMP.Crucial game..breaths were bated and an eerie silence descended on the battlefront. I didn't know then (all of 9 or 10 ) that all is fair in love and war, but war it was! And I instinctively knew that I had to distract the main opponent.So the brainwave.G had told us that in school what irritated him most was when fellow students called him fatlala(an unkind reference to his ample proportions).I knew instantly what to do! Just as he was about to "pocket the Queen"I yelled "fatlala! watch what you are doing!", and then he saw purple...Mission accomplished. The shot went awry. We notched up another victory.Then he really saw purple/blue/black/red. In a trice I had been floored. A-la-Bheem his foot was on my neck!Arms flailing,neck grounded, my spirit was not.I managed a croak.Motalala.By now he was ready to kill. My partner was trying to help while his partner ran to the nearest wall, to cower(to be fair,he was only 7 or 8).And then...PKP was shouting its all G's fault while Defender of the GIF(great indian family,aka,SMP) insisted that it was that terrible "chhatiki toki"(nearest translation=skittish female) who was responsible.Decibels climbed. G and I forgot our differences...and watched!
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