A Modest Piece of Irony

I type this piece of blog on an unhappy stomach yet a happy heart. Wait, will tell you starting from the morning, 9 am to be precise, which is when Mom shouts aloud from the kitchen, “Will you wake up now, brush your teeth, and have lunch?” I hear that in my half-sleep mode, and reach out to my phone, which again shows 9 am. Lunch? - Not really, that’s how my Mom alarms way ahead of the time. I sit back to collect my senses in a meditating pose, then Mom enters with a plate of watermelon, cut into neat and eatable-at-once pieces. She puts the plate on my bedside table, and I do not mind starting munching on a piece of watermelon, without even having my face and mouth cleaned up.

I: “Mom, I want to have Dahi Vada.” Already I got to smell it.

Mom: “Did you dream about Dahi Vada?” Undoing the window screen, she points outside, “There is your Dahi Vada uncle. You lazy mess! Only if you get your butt moving…”

Really, he is there hawking around two blocks away from our building. Though my mouth  drools more, my body will not like to walk the distance to Dahi Vada. No hope from my stupid brother to cater to my boss-like Dahi Vada wish. Suddenly, Papa appears into the scene, and tells Mom to get ready as they will be going to visit a friend.

Exactly after 5 minutes they leave, I receive a quick call from them asking me to go downstairs, as they have sent the Dahi Vada uncle, and paid him up already.

I wash my face quickly, and run down even more quickly. After all, it’s Dahi Vada for what I meowed like a cat since I have woken up. When I reach there, uncle is ready  with two plates of Dahi Vada and does another round of garnishing. It looks IRRESISTIBLE in bold letters.

I take the two plates in my two hands and turn back to see Raja, the fat, cute, nursery boy who stays in the next building, standing like a puppy bow-wowing for Dahi Vada again.

Raja: “Uncle, give me too.”

Dahi Vada uncle: “No, your Papa has said no.”

Raja: “Shall I call my Papa?”

Dahi Vada Uncle: “Okay, you go, call him. I am coming.”

Raja comes in, Dahi Vada uncle goes off in his absence.

I am still there when Raja comes back. His eyes search his Papa and Dahi Vada in turns, but nobody is there to his avail except me. I even wonder what I kept waiting for. 

I: “Raja, come to our house. Will eat together.”

Raja: “Will take lift or stairs?”

I: “Lift is not working. Let’s walk.”

Raja: “No, I can’t.” He hangs a sulky face.

Now I get why Dahi Vada is a forbidden food for him. I am no family for him to care about his health or size. At that moment, I am a cat and he is a puppy who meowed and bow-wowed over a plate of Dahi Vada. The cat passes one plate to the puppy, and pull its cheek hard and run back happily. The happiness in his eyes and in my heart, may not be told in words. 

As soon as I get home, my incorrigibly stupid brother snatches away another plate and settles down before TV which plays What Happened Next? Season 2.

What really happened is my unhappy stomach does not pronounce any big philosophy, but my happy heart does realize a modest piece of irony.  

“Giving is the most rewarding thing of all time.”

Odisha!?

During my trips to out of my state in the past and  in the present too, when I am tapped with questions like, ‘Where are you from?’, and me, talking promptly – Odisha. He/she goes silent, or mouths safely, ‘Where is it exactly? . . .  ‘As I know, it’s in Bengal?’ I follow a silence of condolence, but I do not for what – the person’s lack of knowledge or the Odisha (I belong) beyond recognition.

I am ashamed of being asked so, even more ashamed for having been silent. I so must answer to the uninformed people, and to the ashamed me.

Well, Odisha is Odisha. The state on the eastern coastal belt of India, with a sea-line of 450 KM. Hope, you passed in preparatory Indian Geography. Okay, we have hatrick cyclones, frequent floods and more. Bengal is our worse-spring of Potatoes. Andhra avenges our fondness for fish. Hope, you watch news ever.

Oh my dear homonymous, you still don’t get it. It’s our Odisha. But, everything related to it, is not again or another Odisha. We chatter Odia. We dance Odishi. Kalinga is our history. Utkal is our pride.

Thanks to your ignorance! While thinking of all possible ways to explain the Odisha to you, I realize that I love Odisha, even though I know I hate it at a good number of instances. Had Lord Jagannath given a dropdown option, I would have customized my state of birth and growing up. I thought about it, I sank inside, I would have missed the land of the most laughable English-Hindi-accented Pakhala groups. I dream of a dazzling life at UK or USA, then I suddenly long for a life of Rebati – drizzling, darkness, grandmother, croaking frogs, smoky chullah, soft-sad melody on the only available radio set from an unknown distance. From the Sundays of Facebook, Shopping Mall, Multiplexes to the Sundays of Sri Krishna, fishing, and monkeying around. Guess, Odisha reads Fakir Mohan and Manoj Das. It makes me/you miss our/their Odisha if any Odia forgets to love Odisha in a long time.

Odisha is Jagannath. But, I hated the Puri Pandas, when, the last time I visited, my Buddhist Arunachali Roommate was denied an entry to the Sri Mandir. In theory, our Lord is known to be the Lord of the world/Jagat, in practice, He is of the Pandas, by the Pandas, for the Pandas. I am sure our Lord wishes getting globalized. By the end of the trip, Konark and Chilika are the game changers.

By Statistics, the down, the poor, the undeveloped are Odisha. Let me tell you, we enjoy a stable government; our government also loves stability. Wait, if there is a crime, there is a defense. “Slow and Steady Wins the Race.’’ We may someday! Just know it!

In any type of crowd, an Odia woman stands out, draping her dupata over her head. I dislike it more often. But what to do, I love Rajo, Khudurukuni, Kamar Purnami and new dresses. Tired of brands, Mom’s old Pata smells fresh. Ethnicity, elegance, traditionalism is the fashions that never go out-dated. Still, the act of acceptance is a sign of a growing culture. I hope we keep changing for good.

I hope I give you an idea about what/how/where is Odisha. Well, I can tell more of my love-hate relationship with my Odisha, maybe sometime later. Each time the steam engine runs into the land, that looks greener, brighter, windier, of which you have no idea, feels home. In case you know what it feels to be home…

Welcome to Odisha!?