A Trip to Puri – sea beach, Jagannath temple, and street shopping

While discussing a colleague’s honeymoon plans, a debate ensued between us. What’s important to travel – money or interest. I was in favour of interest – a foremost condition for planning travel trips. And just in time I visited Alok’s blog, which has some very good pictures from Orissa, forcing me to memories from the time when we made a trip to the state, mainly driven by interest.

Father had been to Puri (on the eastern shores of Orissa, famous for the Jagannath temple) when he was a kid. Ever since marriage, he had been promising mother a visit to the place. With age, the purpose of the visit changed from honeymoon to religious, but the trip didn’t materiallise; not until the dawn of the millenium.

We visited Puri on 1st of January, 2000.

Ever since ma told me about the plan, I couldn’t hide the thrill. So many firsts – the first visit to a sea beach was the most exhilarating.

Puri is an overnight journey from Chittaranjan. The train (can’t remember the train name – neither can locate it on the net) reached Puri at about 3 in the morning.

Although we had come equipped with hot blankets and sweaters (remember it’s the peak of winter in January), the climate over here was warm enough to make these redundant. But these had to be carried. But although I have grown so big, father would not readily part with the load.

Me along with papa and ma

Since I had decided to view the sunrise of the millenium (was just thrilled thinking of the same). Even though father wanted to unload at some hotel before sightseeing, I quickly found a supporter in ma. And when we become a duo, papa ki thori bhi nahi chalti (father fears to visit any place with both ma and me together)

Except for the station, it was dark everywhere. The autorickshaw wallah was amazed when we requested him to take us to the sea beach, rather than any hotel.

It was 4 when we reached the beach. There was not a soul to be seen, just we three. I could hear the gurgling sound of water but the ocean was not yet visible. The trek was really long and father was irritated. It was also difficult to walk on sand too. When mother interrupted, he said, “tumhe kya hai. sara bojh to hame hi dhona hai”. But what’s the point in returning now.

Finally we reached water. Papa heaved a sigh of relief. Mother’s joys knew no bounds. And I was trying to locate upto where is the ocean stretched, in the dark still.

Close to 5 in the morning, the first rays of the sun enlightened the sky. And we had the first view of the vast ocean – water everywhere – with no bounds in sight. Instantly I took out the camera and began to click mother’s photos (father is too camera shy). By that time, the sun too was starting to rise in the horizon – deep red in colour.

Despite father telling us not to go in the water so early in the morning, mother and I took a dip. It was pleasure to let the warm waters of the sea dance over the body. I would go far into the sea and then relax in the water until the tide forced me on to the beaches.

At 8 o’clock, we finally decided to head for a hotel. We soon found one close to the Jagannath temple. We decided to visit the temple first. We already had freshened up and although father wanted to rest a bit, we dragged him to the temple.

Built in over a kilometre area, the majestic temple is the abode of Lord Jagannath (Krishna) where he lives along with siblings Balabhadra and Subhadra. Three wooden idols of the Lord and his siblings is what mother wanted to touch.

Unfortunately the first visit to the temple didn’t give her this luxury. And she was disappointed. Always remembered a certain person’s mother who was so unlucky that she couldn’t touch the lord’s feet after coming so close to his abode – and now she. Father tried to reassure her that she has 4 more days here and she will certainly be able to touch the Lord’s feet. Later, we came to know that because of a certain festival that fell on that day and of course New Year (Puri sees a great number of people on 1st of january) that the temple authorities weren’t allowing crowds near the idols.

The evening visit to the temple too didn’t satisfy mother’s wishes. It was on the next day that we accidentally got the chance to come close to the Lord. Father wanted to relax a bit after the morning bath at the sea (during the 5 days that we spent in Puri, we didn’t ever bathe at the hotel); so ma and I decided to go to the temple alone. Once inside the temple complex, we could see that a crowd was heading towards the temple from a different path. We were told that it is for a free darshan. Mother qickly slipped in and so did I.

Mother looked pleased once she touched the Lord, as if she had no more desires left. She remembered papa and quickly dispatched me to bring him to the temple. Papa returned just in time before the free darshan was to get over.

Yes, the prasada. The khaja is a major attraction of Puri. Father had orders from many of his colleagues to bring them khaja from Puri. Different from the khaja in Bihar. While the Bihar version is fluffy, the Puri version is thick but juicy.

There is another variety of prasada as well. This in the form of khichdi, prepared with rice, pulses, vegetables, spices, all mixed into one. This prasada is first offered to the Lord and then distributed among the devotees.

The streets of Puri were another big attraction. Most of the big brands that we see here in Delhi were present there. What attracted my attention were handicrafts. We purchased a framed idol of Lord Jagannath along with his siblings. Also, mother purchased 5 small lotas and inscribed them with our names.

Conches are very famous here. We purchased two big conches for Rs. 600. We purchased more at the sea beach. By the time we left the place, we had over 10 conches of different shapes and sizes, the favourite one being the panchmukhi, or the one with 5 mouths, associated with Lord Vishnu. We also purchased many toys and wall hangings made with sea shells.

After conches, mother’s next desire was a boat’s nail. They say that a Boat’s nail, when made into a ring, protects you from the Shani Dev. But it is not very easy to get one. Not one of the boats lying at the beach had loose nails. But I surely found one on a vacant boat – can’t say with certainty if someone didn’t throw it here.

Also mother purchased pearls at the beach – ranging from Rs. 5 to 10 – which came out to be fakes when mother got it checked from a jeweller. Everytime the fishermen would come to the banks, mother and I would run to see if they have recovered any pearls. We thought we were so smart when we negotiated a cheap pearl.

Fish was sold on the beach like vegetables on the streets of Delhi – at half the price that we buy here. Unfortunately, we were on a religious trip, so non-veg was banned. Wasn’t much satisfied with food though. Also, who had time for food (you know I am not much fond of food).

It was so good to while away time on the beach. Mornings and evenings were spent at the beach. Although father didn’t want to come along, he had no resort. Beach, temple and street shopping – the days passed away fast. The last day we went out on a trip to Bhuvaneshwar, about which I will talk in my next post. It recounts our trip to Konark, Pimpli Village, Nandan Kanan and of course some fights between my parents (it is almost impossible for them to be peaceful whenever they come together).

My niece

It has been over six months since I have seen my niece. Since my brother is posted at a remote place, he also couldn’t mail me any of her pictures. So as soon as he got access to internet, he mailed me some pictures of my niece. On January next, she will turn one year old. Hope to be at Dhanbad to celebrate her birthday.

@ cuckoo – it is for her that I ran after eunuch.

The ‘Sh’ Factor

Outside the Delhi railway station, I asked the Auto driver if he will go to Salimar Garden and his face glowed with a smile. Once inside the auto, brother told me it is Shalimar, not salimar. “But I said the same”, I defended.

This was my first day in Delhi and my tongue was hardly able to appreciate the difference between ‘S’ and ‘Sh’, thanks to the years of living in Bihar, a state best known for its rustic ways, popularised by its rustic ambassador, Laloo Yadav.

Delhi had separate tongue twisters for the different ‘Ss’ though. There was a regular S for words like school. Then there was an Sh for Shabd and Shubh. Also Delhites could rightly pronounce Shatkon, which is another S with a variation.

And that too without any formal training in pronounciation. Even we had all those variations of S when we studied the Devanagri script. But never did we learn to use them in our usual conversations.

This was paying off now. I was a laughing stock each time I told the DTC bus driver to stop at Salimar Garden. Once he told me not to maro so many sali (wife’s sister).

I have to do something with my pronounciation – I decided – like several thousand biharis who come to this place – only to make things worse.

Several days spent in twisting my tongue with the tongue twister : she sells sea shells on the sea shore. Irritated my brothers in the process. The end result was Shamoshe…ha ha.

In the end I gave up trying to improve my tongue, or rather using the different Ss at the right places.

However, other transitions were not as painful.

I quickly took up ‘main’ than ‘hum’ used at my place.

So “Hum ja rahe hain” quickly became “Main ja raha hun”. And in a bihari group, I could easily transition into the original version.

Thankfully I didn’t falter here like one of the jokes where a Bihari says “Hum hoon na” instead of “Main Hun Na”.

So proud had I been about my pronounciation – winning at least one elocution contest. The impression was shattered now. I used to make fun of Bengalis who would stretch words like forwaaard and backwaaard. Each time the Gurkha watchman would greet father with a “Shab ji”, I couldn’t help laughing (Unlike biharis who can’t pronounce the ‘Sh’, Gurkhas only have ‘Sh’ in their script). I would bully a Tamil guy almost everyday with ‘ille ille pon’. Also I laughed at a sardar boy for telling ’sakool’ instead of ’school’.

Now was my turn.

Seema Goyal- The new age Savitri

The ultra modern despise marriage – they say they do not want to commit themselves to a relationship. Men fear such committment the most.

“Women are doors to hell”

“A wedding is where the man loses his bachelors degree and the woman gains her masters”

Lest you advice them on the importance of wife by telling the story of Savitri and Satyavan (Savitri forced Yamraj (God of Death) to give back the life of Satyavan, her husband), and they tell it’s mythology.

Show them how Madhoo brought back her husband Arvind Swamy from the confines of terrorists in the movie Roja, and they tell it’s Bollywood.

Tell them it will be your spouse who will be with you when all are gone – parents, children, friends etc. “Let’s think of the future in the future”, they say.

But Seema Goyal is not from mythology or bollywood.

Seema Goyal is a live example of a woman who relentlessly fought for the release of her husband, Captain Prabhat Goyal of Stolt Valour, hiijacked by Somalian pirates. She left no stone unturned to contact the prime minister, the defence minister, external affairs minister, media, as well as her husband’s employer shipping company.

She is no less a Savitri of this age. At a time when none of the governments involved was ready to do anything and the shipping company was not ready to spare the ransom money, it was largely because of her sheer determination that the men have been released.

May be she serves as an eye opener for men fearing marriage.

Black sheep in the family

Not literally though. My brother, to who I devote this post, is the most responsible and well settled in family. But he is a little dark in complexion and in our growing years most of the nicknames he got was based on his colour.

Indians despised suppression on the basis of colour by the British. But when it comes to their own society, India is divided on the basis of colour – the black are forever despised.

We didn’t despise brother (except for a few spats that’s very normal in childhood). Only that he was the only black between two fair brothers. Seems to have taken my father’s colour. And we called him kalu, karu and what not.

So how do I remember this all of a sudden.

While bathing today, brother started to sing all of a sudden. So what was the song;

“Jasomati maiya se pooche nand lala, Radha kyun gori, mai kyun kala…”

And who was the intended audience? Bhabhi.

Brother explained:

“Just like he (pointing towards me) has been calling me names because I am black in colour, babu (my elder brother’s daughter is fair as milk and no less beautiful as a barbie doll) too would be calling your son as Kalu.”

Bhabhi dismisses such talks. She strongly believes that her son will acquire her complexion. Also she doesn’t consider brother to be very dark – only other known woman after mother to have a similar feeling.

TV blacked out

Never in history (and excuse me if I have exaggerated it a bit because of my ignorance of history) has a strike affected so many people at one go than the recent strike on Television.

Federation of Western India Cine Employees (FWICE) called a strike to demand higher wages, better work conditions, and more breaks between shoots.

For more than a month, people have been deprived of their favourite shows, and there is no solution in sight as of now, except that FWICE pacified the industry workers to resume work for four days till a solution is arrived at between the two parties.

So what does this mean for the general public:

1. Most channels would have a similar footer expressing sorrow for not bringing people their fave shows.
2. You would have to make do with re-runs of serials. So if you didn’t miss any, you are unlucky.
3. Also you would get to see some new movies on weekends (the channel owners have to keep the audience stuck)

Okays enough of the public. How does this strike affect me and people close to me?

1. Since most channels are showing re-runs of serials, I get to see a lot of movies these days. Otherwise, it were the ladies who dominated TV.
2. In dinner, I am served hot chapatis. Also there are deserts almost everyday on the menu. Otherwise, bhabhi would complete all the chores in haste so as not to miss her daily soaps.
3. Brother and I can see TV alone. The ladies hardly have an appetite for movies, that too french and dutch (UTV World Movies has a good store of such movies).

Bad for some, good for some.

Traffic jams, dogs, and some related stories

It was a usual traffic jam near Sector 15 in Noida. The peak hours, both in the morning and evening, witness such traffic jams here. There is always some or other road construction work that is going on in this stretch of the road. But I am not here to complain about those traffic jams. It is about a pleasant scene that I saw yesterday.

I was waiting for brother to pick me up for the return journey, when a bullock cart wallah stopped near me. He got down to purchase bidi (desi cigarettes) at a stall behind me. In the meanwhile, the traffic jam was getting worse – vehicles were moving at a snail pace from over a kilometre before the traffic-light. And while the driver was busy talking to the vendor, the animal carted the vehicle to a place in the traffic jam (So smart. He knew that it’s better to keep moving in a traffic jam than to stand at one place). The driver knew this and let the animal take care of the traffic while he relaxed on the pavement.

Talking about animals and roads, I would also like to talk about dogs and cows and how well they cross roads. I won’t say that they know of the traffic lights, but they know when to move and when to stop. They will not move until there is a single vehicle on road. However, at times they are caught off guard and get killed in the process. Recently, I saw a male cat lying dead on the outer stretch of Lal Quila.

However, there are some animals that dread roads and even vehicles, the roadside dogs for instance. Brownie would hide in staircases whenever there was a speeding vehicle coming by. On the other hand, there was Hunter who had taken up the role of a traffic police, keeping a check on speed. Not any vehicle can move at a speed more than what was prescribed by Hunter. And when once a person dared to speed by Hunter, he found himself in a drain with hunter on his chest. Lemme tell you the story.

There was a new guy who had come to our colony. And he soon got the nickname Hero because he loved to ride his scooter at the maximum speed; until one day when Hunter spotted him. People warned him not to rush, but wo to aadat se majboor tha (couldn’t have helped because of his habit). Hunter ran after him when he sped in his scooter. He was soon at his legs. Before he could have known how to react, he lost balance and was in the drain on the other side of the road with Hunter at his chest. Thankfully, the dog spared him anymore pains.

Talking about Hunter and I would like to talk about his progeny, but some other time. There are many stories related to them. He stayed in our locality for some ten years. And I always forget to write something on Tiger, our pet dog, who stayed with us since childhood, and when he died everyone was crying, even father.

Delhi Elections in the advertising circuit

Talk of advertisements and it is political parties that have emphasised on this medium, thanks to the impending state elections in Delhi. Delhi goes for elections on November 29, 2008

And the top two contenders here are the Bhartiya Janta Party (BJP) and the Congress (I).

BJP has made the rising inflation as its major agenda. So the advertisements that were released by BJP read thus:

Can’t afford Congress: Vote for BJP

Hindi Ad – (BJP Congress mehngi parhi: BJP Bhajpa ko Vote de)

Only today I saw Congress’ answer to this advertisement campaign (although it was a bit late in releasing the ads, it didn’t fail to grab attention). Congress’ ad read thus:

Can’t afford to stop progress: Vote for Congress

This reminds me of the Cola wars and the Airlines advertisement that belittled each other’s competition.

But, I miss the good old days of pamphlet and graffiti advertising by electoral parties. The campaigning started months in advance, with the parties there fighting for wall-space.

Each party would get walls whitewashed at its own expense. Then artists would be called to write party slogans in artistic designs. Hindi and Bengali were the most used scripts. With several big and small parties in the fray, there hardly were walls that were blank.

Although sun and rain washed away most of the shine of these ads in a few weeks, this was certainly a treat for the eye during the election days.

Kids day out – Happy Children’s Day

Yesterday was Children’s Day and seeing the Kids Carnival on NDTV Metronation, I was suddenly transported to the times when we were kids and 14th november was our day.

With durga puja just over, we finally had a new dress to show off to friends. if we were lucky, there would be one more piece that we would wear in the annual picnic. However, such luxury was rare.

Okays coming back to children’s day again.

The school grounds was where the action was. After a small prayer service to remember the first Prime Minister of India Jawahar Lal Nehru, we ran to the grounds to have a view of the various stall lined there. The view was really breathtaking. Stalls with food items, game stalls, art and culture stalls, and many more.

But the problem was that I had limited money. In those days, all I got was Rs 5. As told earlier we were a middle class family with four kids (a cousin of ours too used to live with us). Therefore, this was all that father could afford to give.

However, the scarcity didn’t succeed in lowering our excitement. We were just as happy. And events as these gave us an important lesson for life – learn to live happily within limited resources.

We had to optimally utilise the limited sum available with us. I have never been very fond of food (can be well understood seeing me). Therefore, although the crowd gathered at the food stalls, my focus was on the game stalls.

There were too many game stalls with a variety of games to play. I don’t much remember the name of the games but I will explain them. You can help me with the names in the comments though. For every game was required a token that was minimum of Rs. 1. A childish version of Housie too was there – however, playing it was out of my range- the token was for Rs. 5. Also i didn’t know the rules. So, it was better that I give it a miss.

Another game involved roping a duck smimming inside a small tub. However, this wasn’t as easy, particularly when you were standing a metre away from the target. Earlier they used to keep live ducks but then they were replaced with dummy ones. A senior called Anjil Khan had killed the duck in the process – once he roped the duck, he flew it in the air, resulting in its death. With experience, I had learnt to avoid this game since there was little probability of a win.

Only when I came to Delhi did i see Bowling alleys. That doesn’t mean I hadn’t bowled earlier. There was our own crude bowling game, with ten pins kept at a distance. Only that the ball was thrown rather than being slided. This was easier. And the prizes too were good. The winner got a packet of chips. So food needs were looked after.

In the meanwhile, I spotted one of my brothers and upon repeated forcing he would agree to spare a token of his on any food item – most often it was chat – and I would have a few helpings of it. Thus another important lesson learnt – share for happiness.

Time again for some more games. I still had 4 more rupees left. It was often a tough decision to decide the use of the money.

The next stop was at a stall where several gift items were placed on the table. There were pens, soap, a packet of chocolates, chips, and many more products. To win any of these, you had to place the ring on it. The only problem was that the ring of a bouncy quality. As soon as it hit the table that it bounced down. The co-ordinators at this stall were very smart. The attractive prizes were kept at the far end. So even if you managed to place the ring correctly, it was a pen or a soap that you could get most probably.

When brother shared with me his food coupon, it was on the promise that I will give him one of my tokens. Although I was trying to hide from him the entire day, he caught me at one of the stalls. It involved firing at baloons. My count was really bad so I avoided this game as well. But brother insisted on playing this. When I cribbed, he agreed to give me two out of five shots.

It was close to the evening when the day would come to an end. We would head for our respective buses with everyone recounting their acheivements and how they enjoyed the day. Children with the biggest gifts were most envied.

Once at home, we would eagerly put to display our catch of prizes. Although there were several pens in the pen stand, the pen that we won was put there most prominently. Long into the night we would recount our day, with my cousin telling stories (really very good at story telling) until finally papa had to shout at us at to sleep.

Chhath pictures

Worshipping the Sun god in the laps of river Yamuna

The sun finally showed up

The mighty sunOnce again the sun

The sun is really wonderful during Chhath

I think the sun is finding too much attention in my pictures

The sugarcane alongwith coconut form one of the most important fruits in the Chhath festival

Sup and dala with the fruits for Chhath ma

Devotees waiting on the banks of River Yamuna for the sun to rise

Now the setting sun. In chhath, both rising and setting sun is worshipped

A bhakta standing amidst water