The Barpali Days

This blog is the Facebook of Barpali which picturise its "life" and "culture". It was a "palli" or a village a century back where the all time great Oriya poet swabhaba kabi Gangadhar Meher had taken birth. Now this bustling little town is renowned world-over for the weaving of Sambalpuri ikat handloom fabrics. Agriculture is its prime economy. And when you happen to visit this little town don't miss to taste Chaul bara.

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Aug 31, 2011

6:14 PM

EKUSIA [ଏକୁସିଆ]


Every human birth got a series of celebrations in its lifetime, at every stage of its development. In Odissa we got a very special kind of ritual that is celebrated by the Oriyas on twenty-first day from the date a baby takes birth. This function is known as Ekusia. It is a celebration to express the jubilation of the family when it get blessed with a new born baby.

Ekusia is conducted by the paternal grand-parents of the newborn baby. The maternal grandparents are invited to participate along with the family members. The maternal grand-parents gifts new set of cloths and ornaments to be wore by the baby for this day. It is on ekusia the namakaran or the name initiation ceremony is conducted. The father of the new born  whispers the name twice on the right ear of the baby.

Though it is conducted on the twenty-first day from the date of child’s birth, but in case the 21st day happens to be in-auspicious either because of Sankranti or amavasya (let solar or the lunar eclipse) than ekusia could be conducted the day following.   

On 22nd Aug 2011 the ekusia function of Ayushman, the son of  Sh.Prakash Kumar Tripathy of Barpali was celebrated as par the ethnic Oriya culture. On this day Satyanaryana puja was conducted with ardent devotion to appease the Lord of the Universe i.e. Vishnu to pour blessings on the new born. A very special kind of sweet i.e. Sirni was prepared for this occasion to be offered as bhog to the lord. Sirni was prepared with atta or the wheat-flour along with jaggery. These long brownish chips gathered lascivious attention from every beholder for its looks and the aroma. Along with it the Lord Satyanaryana was served Manbhog, which too was prepared with atta, where as  it was in the dust form.

It was followed by a feast at noon for the well-wishers of the family at Dharamshalla. First the bhog (Sirni and Manbhog) was served in hand. It was followed by rice, dal, khata, mixed vegetables with panner, allu putal, chips  and finally khir with rasgola.

Basically ekusia is observed to purify (called sudhi) the household, where a baby had taken birth. For these long twenty days after a baby’s birth, the male members of the family are debarred from getting a hair-cut or a shave or from cutting the nails. And no religious activities like puja or the prayer to be made at home.  Every piece of cloth at home need to be washed only by the washer-man. Wherever feasible the whole house is white washed. While in the villages the earthen floors of the household are spread with cow-dung to purify the surrounding. Observing Saucha or Sudhi for eleven days is stringent, if the family members can’t follow it for the long twenty days.

Ekusia is just a stepping stone in the life of a new born baby. And this author is looking for many more invitations that will follow it in its life time, like brata-upanayana, nirbandha, bibaha and so on.

Related Posts : BHAT KHUANI, ଭାତ ଖୁଆଣି [ANNA PRASANA]

Acknowledgement: Inputs and tips on this topic provided by the astrologer Sri Saroj Dash [cell #     +919937120508]   and 
 Pandit Sri Hemanta Mishra 
[Cell # +919937539219]

With Best Complements from :

 kiranbima@gmail.com
WhatsApp# +918249314972
E.KIRAN MOHAN(The Writer)
Tahsil Chowk
At\PO - BARPALI - 768 029
Dist. Bargarh
Orissa, India
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Aug 15, 2011

1:04 PM

KECHO SOUP (Rescue Operation of a Tortoise)



It was morning of October 21, 2009. My mother had just served me a steaming hot cup of tea. I was about to lift the cup to my tea-passionate lips and generously let them have the chance of having the divine first sip of tea of the day when the only footman in our household came inside the room and announced, “O, Master, there is an un-invited guest at the outer-gate to the homestead.”
I quickly settled the tea cup back on the saucer with utmost care and followed the footman as if I was charmed. There, already a few feet inside the gate it was lumbering steadily along the walking track into the homestead. I could feel the surge of simmering overwhelm gripping me from head to toe while my eyes revelled at the sight of our uninvited guest, a moderate-sized tortoise.
I chuckled, ‘That should be the sign of some good fortune coming along in my life today.’ “Kecho! Kecho!,” I cried out involuntarily like a teenager who had just seen a tortoise for the first time in life, instantaneously I bowed down till my hands could reach the tortoise, and tried to shovel it up with my cupped hands. No sooner had I touched it than the tortoise withdrew its head inside its hard shell.
We had no rains in our part of the world for several moths then. The place where the tortoise had taken birth and sheltered, a small water body across the road from our homestead I guessed, had got dried up. Perhaps our guest was out in search of a new moist habitat, and a few drops of water which it had had no occasion to chance upon in days of such dry spell that had parched everything. It was an arduous journey it had undertaken to survive the hostile weather on the planet. I wondered how it could cross the busy state highway and escape coming under the speedily rolling wheels of the huge container trucks that incessantly plied on the road.
For a while I played with it like a belligerent kid. But then soon the fun paled and a debilitating cloud of doubt and fear descended upon me. ‘Could I rehabilitate it?’ I began scheming. I wondered if I could take it to the nearest Crocodile Breeding Centre at Tikarpara, an obscure spot of civilization and hectic scientific activity, nestled deep, some 200 kilometers from Barpali, in the dense forests of Central Odisha.
But then I was afraid I had severe constraint of time and money to afford undertaking any such a lofty and brilliant ‘save animals in distress’ project. I then briefly fiddled with my gray matter and this brilliant idea popped up in the head, the only alternate option I could have had, ‘O boy, just leave nature’s wealth to the providential care!’ There was yet another idea- ‘take it to another pond some distance away, the Gahir Bandha (pond) in the Lord Shiva Temple Complex at the nearby town of Nuapada.’
Intent on taking my uninvited guest to a safer habitat at Lord Shiva’s temple at Nuapada, I ventured out on a sojourn through the town with Mr. Kecho perched on my carefully held out palms. I had travelled barely a few yards when I bumped on Fadu, who seeing Mr. Kecho in my hand grinned and inquired, “Hey buddy, looks like you are up to a grand lunch, Kecho soup and all, right?” I was taken aback by his weird perspective.
Though I had known that restaurants served tomato-soup, vegetable-soup and mushroom-soup, and all other kinds of soup but had never heard of Kecho-soup ever being served anywhere around here. We human beings, for sure, have an insatiable hunger for all kinds of things, be it food, money, reputation or even se­­x. I quickly excused myself from this connoisseur of culinary delicacies and moved on. The second guy I met was Sunil, a decent guy from Marwadi community. He suggested that I put it in his well at the backyard of his homestead. But by then I had started disbelieving everybody and I blurted out a big and firm "NO". I wanted my baby to live its life-time and grow up to its natural size as an adult. I didn’t want it to be confined in a well having a perimeter of only six feet for the rest of its life. 
Perhaps for the first time in its life, Kecho travelled a distance of 200 meters in an amazingly short time of only 15 minutes. Breaking all the Hindu norms, ushered the hapless creature inside the temple sanctum sanctorum for lord Shiva's blessings. From there I took it to the pond. The moment it could get a glimpse of water, its tiny legs began taking massive strides, the last stride almost akin to a big leap, eventually gliding into the water.
I stood there on the bank with my gaze following the course of the movement of the tortoise. Hardly a few seconds had passed when I saw Kecho swimming back to the shore and stopping where I stood. Its joyous looking eyes were trying to meet mine as if it was trying to say, ‘My dear friend thank you for saving my life. I have found a new home. Be blessed!’ It turned back and slipped into water again.
By the time I returned home, my tea had already frozen. And there was my mother yelling at me for my being wasteful. But I was smiling inside.

This article has been published by Dimdima the children's magazine of Bharatiya Vidya Bhaban. Bharatiya Vidya Bhavan was founded in 1938 at Mumbai by the great visionary, statesman, philosopher and philanthropist Sri K. M. Munshi with the blessings of the father of Nation Mahatma Gandhi. Here is the link of it: 
--

E. KIRAN MOHAN (the writer)
C\o. Dr. E. R. Rao (M.D.)
Tehsil Chowk,
At\PO - BARPALI : 768 029
Odisha, India
Cell # +918249314972
kiranbima@gmail.com
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12:52 PM

"a bua"


It was May 2008 scorching tropical summer in India. It was a festive time at my little town Barpali for Sitalsasthi, the annual wedding ceremony of Lord Siva and Godess Parvati. One morning in the market I met a fair-skinned young man whom I asked, hey are you a Nepali. He said, no I am Charlie from Chicago. I was awestruck, who have granted him visa to enter Barpali without the knowledge of Kiran Mohan. I wanted to know, if he is a tourist and came to witness Sitalsasthi. He said, “my wife Jillian is learning IKAT (tie and dye) at Kusanpuri. In order to put some humour into my questioning, I asked “How far would be Chicago from Kusanpuri” ? He said, are you mad, I am talking of US. This single question of mine grabbed all his attention. I enquired if they met any of the Sambalpuri handloom weavers at Barpali. He said no, it’s just a couple of days since they have reached Barpali and yet to make it.

I able to judge, their limitations on exploring this territory of the world. They don’t know our language i.e. Oriya. On the other hand our weavers community are alien to the English language. As a responsible citizen of India, every evening I started escorting them to different master-weavers and introduced to Bhagabana Meher, Surendra Meher and so on. No sooner we entered any handloom stores, we were being greeted with a smile and offered chairs to seat, followed by cups of tea. Fabulous, so much attention and courtesy, this writer able to get for the first time, because he is escorting two foreigners.

One day we had been to Santoshi Cloath Store. While checking Sambalpuri sarees, Jillian wanted to know the different designs, motifs and patterns that carried. The store boy wanted to explain about the designs with utmost sincerity, but failed as he got no knowledge of English. I went to her aid. I started interpreting Sankha means shell; Chakra means wheel; Phulla means flower and so on. Jillian started to appreciate with her English as "Wow, wow". I said Jillian when you were in US you used to have pizzas, but over here you have barra pukdi, so you have to express your thoughts in Oriya while saying "a bua". When the shop keeper retuned to take-out the next saree, Jillian said "a bua". With this expression of her, the shopkeeper got surprised and looked at my face, to know where she learned Oriya.

Every evening Jillian would return from Kusanpuri and Charlie would join us at our medicine store. One evening while we were talking about their life in US, Jillian started hiccups. While I kept them busy with my talks, I lifted my right-hand and patted on her head without a precaution.  At one go Jillian got shocked and looked towards her husband Charlie. Instantly Charlie got angered, "How could you ever hit my wife"? Of course as a husband it was his responsibility to safeguard his wife. He asked his wife, "are you OK, are you OK". She had no words in her stomach for a while. May be for ten seconds I kept quiet, than started smiling at them. Charlie said, “This fellow has gone mad, let us move”. I asked, “Where your hiccups gone ? This is how, we in India treat the involuntary contraction of diaphragm when the glottis is spasmodically closed. At that moment, I didn’t hit her head, rather I had suppressed the hiccup

So when you liaison with Kiran Mohan just be alert, as he do things without telling the reasons. Give yourself enough time to understand his activities. Charlie is a young man of 26  and Jillian is 22 years old. Though from a developed nation they were soft spoken, their clothing was simple. Jillian used to be a saree-clad woman. They were always truthful. Respected the common man on street. They admiring our Indian culture more than I do.  Before they returned to US, they spent one night with the weaver community at Kusanpuri village. And at morning went to attend the nature’s call to the open field, as their host had no toilet at home.

They have promised me, they will be back to India-Barpali-Kusanpuri in four years time. And when they return, they will have a baby with them. May God Bless them.

This article has been published by The New Indian Express on 1st October 2009 with the title "INVOLUNTARY CONTRACTION OF DIAPHRAGM" :
http://newindianexpress.com/opinion/article133581.ece

 WhatsApp # +918249314972
kiranbima@gmail.com
E.Kiran Mohan(The Blogger)
C\o. Dr.E.R.Rao (M.D),
Tehsil Chowk,
At\PO: BARPALI – 768 029,
Dist. Bargarh, Odisha, India.

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12:27 PM

JUST GROW, DONT COMPETE


It was year 1984, I was 12 years old boy and a student of 7th standard in the historic Prithiraj High School of Balangir, Orissa. As a kid I used to be very shy in nature, always fearing the strangers and of-course teachers at school. I used to be an average student in studies. No sooner school was over, instead of playing with boys on the street, I used to run after my mother, even while she was busy with her daily chores at home. I never dare to do any pranks even with brothers at home. And always a victim of miss-deeds of my elder brother.

It was the time for my school's Annual Sports Festival. A batch-mate forcefully took me to the play ground to witness the competition. I was a mere spectator, as because I never use to play any games. When the first sports event was over a teacher started distributing a spoon-full of glucose to each of the participants. As a kid even I had a sweet-tooth. I went forward to beg a spoon of glucose. The teacher scolded me, as I was not a participant.

Glucose was given to all the participants, one need not be a winner. In order to claim a spoon of glucose I planned to participate in the next event. The first event I participated was the long-jump. One after another everybody started jumping as if monkeys. When it was my turn, I too followed there steps. Quickly I returned back to the teacher to get a spoon of sweet glucose. Soon the result was declared. To my disbelieve I stood third in the event. 

Surprising. I was there to get a few granules of glucose, but ended-up with third position. On the Annual Day function I shall be awarded a merit certificate. I just gave a thought, why not another certificate. The next event was 100 meters running race. I was just aiming for another certificate. I was running parallel with the boy at the third position. I just had to put an extra long-leap and there I fetch second position. Now I did not go to beg a spoon of glucose. I calm down to think, when I could fetch a third or second position, than why should not I go for the first position.

The final event was 50 meters race. The teacher blew the whistle. We the kids started running towards the red-ribbon. Now I was not competing with the other boys. I was just racing against my own-self. I was racing for the standard I set for self. If I win I shall get all the accolades, in case I fail no one got the authority to tease me. I fired all possible energy to touch the red ribbon first. I was the winner. I never knew, the quest for a spoon of glucose will lead to such rich rewards.

In life, each one of us come across obstacles. We just need to stand calm at the time of hardship, till the violent tide go slow. Do compete when you are falling short of others. But once you reach the pinnacle, now it is up to you to set the new standards for self. Make other follow you. Just grow, don’t compete. Competition is the existence of fear. It causes anguish and restless-ness in body and mind. Just keep on growing, soon one day you will be a massive tree, and your rivals will take shelter under your shadow.


E. KIRAN MOHAN
C\o.Dr.E.R.Rao (M.D)
Tehsil Chowk
At\PO – Barpali - 768029
Dist. Bargarh, Orissa, India
Cell # 91-99-371-20565
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12:19 PM

TULSI MEHER - Life on the edge


In Hindu scriptures the  “tulsi” herb or the holy-basil is considered to be the most sacred plant on earth. Its presence in a home keeps its occupants healthy. But the reality is different with the life of Tulsi Meher of Barpali town, Orissa.

Tulsi Meher, 35 years or so old woman is a polio victim since her tender age. Her both legs have been crippled because of this dreaded disease. She has got very restricted movement within her home. She leads her life in a hut under the care of her old-age mother in the Chammar-para. She is out-casted by the society as she is a chamar-meher, a schedule-caste. She is father-less and don’t have a brother. They are land-less family.

She gets Rs.200 ( US $ 4 ) a month as physical handicap stipend from the NAC office, Barpali. Beside this her mother gets Rs.200 (US $ 4)as old-age pension. Till date she got no help from any other government agencies or the local politicians. To make a living Tulsi sells mukh-phalli laddu (groud-nuts), nadia-khaja (coconuts) and other sundry items to the street children of their community. In a day she makes a turnover of around Rs.30 to 60. If you take 10 % margin, on the extreme she would be making Rs.5 a day ( roughly 10 US cents ). Her total inventory would be at most Rs.250 to Rs.300. She is the result of illiteracy and poverty which went unchecked in the past. Her mother cries as who will take care of her child when she dies.

One bhadra byakti of New Delhi forwarded financial assistance to procure a second-hand tricycle for her. She started moving in her tri-cycle independently by taking assistance from the children of the neighbourhood.

Her eyes radiates whenever she watches a kite flying in the sky. When she cast-off her body, then only her soul would be able to fly like a kite.

NOTE : If anyone wants to extend a helping hand to Tulsi to make her stand in life, please do contact     the author of this article, as Tulsi neither have got a cell-phone nor a bank account. The author propose to arange one hand-operated sewing machine so that she could be imparted traing on tailoring. It would bring her a permanent source of income from home.

Jai Ho

WhatsApp# +918249314972
E. KIRAN MOHAN
https://barpalidays.blogspot.com/p/ekiran-mohan.html
 C\o. Dr. E. R. Rao(M.D.)
Tehsil Chowk,
At\PO: BARPALI - 768 029 
Odisha, India 
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12:10 PM

NUAKHAI 2023 ନୂଆଖାଇ


 

India has got one of the oldest human civilization on earth. We got the most vibrant cultural heritage, which is diverse from region to region. Every   state of it has got a different living style as compared to its neighbor, either on the basis of the clothes that we wear or the food that we eat. But somewhere there lays the unity in its diversity. We the Indians pay rich reverence to the food that we eat. Welcoming the harvest of the new paddy (rice) crop is celebrated as Onam in Kerala, in Andhra Pradesh they call it Pongal, in Assam it is Bihu. Likewise in Western Orissa we celebrate Nuakhai or Nabarna.


Nuakhai is the prominent out of all those festivals that are being celebrated in Koshal region comprising the districts of Sambalpur, Bargarh, Balangir, Sonepur, Jharsuguda, Sundargarh, Kalahandi and Nuapada of Orissa. The fundamental idea of the celebration can be traced back at least to the Vedic times when the rishis (sages) had talked of panchayajna. These are the five important activities in the annual calendar of an agrarian society. These five activities have been specified as Sita Yajna (the tilling of the land), Pravapana Yajna (the sowing of seeds), Pralambana Yajna (the initial cutting of crops), Khala Yajna (the harvesting of grains) and Prayayana Yajna (the preservation of the seeds). In view of this, Nuakhai may be seen as having evolved out of the third activity, namely Pralambana Yajna, which involves cutting the first crop. The essence of this festival is to express man's gratitude to nature. While in other parts of the country, festivals are celebrated only after the harvest of the crop, but in Koshal region Nuakhai is observed much before the harvest of the crop, as Sambalpuri people would like to worship the deities before the seeds are consumed by any creature on earth, let it be human beings, beasts or the bird.


Nuakhai is observed on the Panchami Tithi (fifth day) of the lunar fortnight of Bhadraba month of Hindu calendar year. In simple language it is the day following Ganesh Chaturthy, which generally falls either in the month of August or September of each year. There is no recorded history about its origin, but there is official reference of its celebration on the records of princely state of Balangir. Though it is a festival of the farmers, but gradually adopted by one and all of the society.
                                   
                     
An auspicious moment is set on this day called Muhurt or Lagna to perform the puja. “Nua” is prepared by extracting the new rice (in the raw state) from paddy and is mixed with milk, nadia-kura (coconut), rasi (til) and honey. Depending upon as many family members each home got, Nua is equally distributed and placed in that much number of Kurei leaf danas (handmade leaf-bowls), and offered for puja. In each home the women folk do the puja to their family istha-devata. When the puja is over, each family member holds his dana with the left-hand while lifting the Nua with all the five fingers of his right-hand to eat. This rule of using the five fingers is strictly observed, so that the person who eats Nua with five-fingers will have a wholesome and fulfilled life. On the day of Nuakhai farmers goes to the khet-khala or firm land to offer puja to the crops. They tie sacred thread or rakhi to the rice plants, while offering milk to the cultivated land. At the same time cows and bullocks are as well offered puja by tying rakhis on their horns and given jaggery or gud (in Oriya) to eat.

[ nua being placed in leaf bowls called kurei-pattar dana]

[scion of the family MLA Subal Sahu with the family members while holding nua]

When the puja is over, all the members of the family seat together to have Nuakhai feast. On this day special sweet dishes are being prepared in each home like Bubra, Kakra, Arisha, Feni, Mandapitha and Khiri.
                                   

Afterwards the youngers pay their unfathomable regards to the elders with Nuakhai Juhar by folding their both hands, while leaning down their heads. On the other end the women folk do mundia to the elders by leaning down their body with the support of knee while touching their head on the ground. I suggest you to do Nuakhai Juhar to one and all the elders, known or un-known on the street to get the blessings both in kind and in cash.
[ while children dancing in a jubilant mood on the day of Nuakhai]

While the day hours of Nuakhai are pre-occupied with the family celebration, the evening hours are contributed for social celebrations called Nuakhai Bhetghat. At this hour cultural programms are conducted at the city centers by organizing Ghumra, Sambalpuri folk-dance or kabi-sanmelani. While in the villages people gather at the corner of the street to listen the Bhagabat charcha.

The day following Nuakhai is called Basi. In Oriya Basi means old. While the Nuakhai is a day to observe satwik food, Basi is observed to have tamasic food or non-vegetarians. This day is celebrated with much fanfare. On the day of Basi neither you will find a porter at the railway station nor at bus stand, no rikshaws or taxis on the road. All the shops and establishments are closed. Life stands dead still. Finally a word of caution from the author of this article. If you happens to be in Koshal region on this day, I alert you not to venture-out of your home or hotel let wherever you are, as each and every street is deserted. If you comes out, you are most likely to encounter with the drunkards on the street.

It is the time to rejoice for one and all of a family. Let it be the children, parents or grand-parents. The kith and kin of each family returns home, let which corner of the earth they reside. Even if two brothers are separated, forgiving their animosity they re-unite on this day at their ancestral house to celebrate Nuakhai. While the elderly rejoice to see the children and grand-children at home, the growing-up go for shopping for the new dress-materials and the children enjoy buying pan, puduia and chocolates with the Nuakhai bakshis (tips) they get from the elders.

Shri Bailochan Dash a gahantia (landlord) of Ludkibeda village (Dist. Sonepur) shares about an ancient tradition of his region called “Nuakhai Khanja” which is being kept alive till date in this corner of the earth. In a Nuakhai Khanja or Adhia Bhar people sends rice, dal and vegetables to their mita-marsad (friends) to prepare the Nuakhai feast, who on the other end sends back the pitha n’ panna. This is how we the Koshali habitants pay rich tribute to the food that we eat, which in return strengthens our family and social bonds.

kiranbima@gmail.com
WhatsApp# +918249314972
E KIRAN MOHAN(The Writer)
C\o Dr.E.R.Rao (M.D)
Tahsil Chowk,
AT/PO: BARPALI - 768029
Dist.Bargarh, Odisha,India

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12:04 PM

HARVEST THE CROP ONLY WHEN IT MATURES



I often witness insurance agents open their sales talks to the unknown persons at the movie theatres, on railway platforms and in the restaurants. Sale of an insurance policy is a serious business and is not akin to selling any FMCG products. Before an agent makes a sales pitch, he needs to understand the client profile as also his life cycle needs. An individual is usually eager to take a plan from a known insurance agent, instead of an unknown agent. Reason being on the death of a policy holder, it is the agent who have to run pillar to post to settle the death claim.


In the past one decade, there are a host of technology tools that are available in the market, let it be mobile phones or internet to smoothen our life. They assists to reach the un-known persons. But in insurance sales one thing that will never change is direct marketing. Here we need to get acquainted with new range of people individually and personally to sell a plan. All it needs is intimacy and relationship management before you propose a plan to someone. Like any other trade here too we need to have patience and perseverance, but in a larger quantum. You never know how much time does it takes to close a sale successfully.



I would like to share with you an episode of my insurance career. It was the winter of 2007, I was on my annual sojourn to New Delhi. One day I went to Okhla Industrial Area. I got down at the bus stop and searched for a rickshaw to reach for the destination. All those daily office commuters were smart enough to bargain and pick the rickshaws. Finally only one rickshaw was left and I compromised to pay Rupees Ten. No sooner I got up, a young man, may be 25 years or so came hastily to request, “ Please Sir let me take this rickshaw, I got my interview sharp at 11.00 AM,whereas I got late”. I had to obey, as it was a question of his career. He agreed to my proposal to share the rickshaw instead. The rickshaw puller went to drop him first. When this Youngman got down at Luxor pens office, he took out the wallet to pay Rupees Five. But this fellow didn’t had the change, neither the rickshaw-puller had. I comforted the young man by saying, “I shall manage, you may leave as you are getting late. If you wish you can keep my number, and do let me know about the outcome of the interview”. As expected at evening the phone rang, “could I speak to Kiran Sir’. I said, “Yes you are speaking to”. The person on the other end started pouring thanks over the phone. I asked, “Have you qualified for the job?” He said, “No Sir, I couldn’t”. I tried to comfort him over the phone by saying, “life is like this, keep on trying, no defeat is final until you stop trying”.



Following day this fellow came to meet me. He is Ritesh Kumar from Brar, a small town near Ranchi, Jharkhand. A young man who migrated from a smaller town of India to a metro, with a dream to build a successful life. With much regard he opened his wallet to pay me Rupees Five. I said “NO. I can’t accept it, until you find a job and start earning”.

I came back to Odisha but kept a strict vigil on all the developments of his life by making regular STD calls. Days went by, sometimes I prayed for him, so as he will be blessed with a job. Finally four to six months later Ritesh called me to ask, “Sir, It’s time I should pay the due”. I congratulated him for getting the much awaited job. He started to make a meager earning and was able to meet his expenses, instead of getting the financial grant from his father. He purchased a new bike by taking a two-wheeler loan. In the mean while, he enrolled himself with some advanced computer course.




Finally two years later when I went to Delhi in Sept’09 he came to meet me with honor. He opened his wallet to take out Rupees Five. But I accepted Rupees Two instead, because I didn't want to make him debt-free at that moment. Though I was tempted to introduce my self as an insurance agent, but I did not propose any plans, because here timing is everything. I was knowing his life was still on the edge, as he had to pay two-wheeler loan EMIs beside the room-rent and upkeepment. This April he called me to inform that, he got a job with IBM as a SAP consultant for a yearly package of Rs.4.8 lacs at Noida. By any given Indian standards this figure is a handsome amount for a young Indian. Whenever next time I reach New Delhi, I am certain that he would conclude the insurance deal with me.
At times it takes this much time to close a insurance sale successfully. You may be smart enough to count the chicken before they hatch, but should never harvest the crop until they mature.

 This article was published by RNIS News Paper in its Sept'10 issue. It is owned by Ritu Nanda, India's top ranking Insurance Agent; daughter of actor Late Raj Kapur; wife of Rajan Nanda, the Chairman of Escorts Ltd; mother-in-law of Amitabh Bachchan 's daughter Sweta Bachhan.

Inspired by this article the creative team of  an advertising agency made a soothing  advertisement of  Jeevan Anand for LIC where two childhood friends fights for five rupees, Here one says  

"Radhika ko bus mei ghumane kelia  panch rupia meine diya tha"  while the other says, "wah beta tera sadhi mei ghodi mei bethega tu aur ghodiwalla ko panch rupia meine diya tha".


This advertisement is being telecasted by all major news and sports channels since January 2011. 

POST SCRIPT : This insurance agent (the author) able to sell a Jeevan Anand policy of Rs.10 lacs with an annualised premium  of  Rs.78,494 during January 2011 to Ritesh Kumar. So far it is the highest regular premium this author got from  any individuals.

kiranbima@gmail.com
Cell # +918249314972
E. KIRAN MOHAN(The writer) 
C\o.Dr.E.R.Rao (M.D.),
Tehsil Chowk, 
At\PO - BARPALI-768029,
Odisha, India

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Aug 14, 2011

7:47 PM

MY FIRST FLIGHT OF FANTASY


I was born and brought-up in the tribal-belt of Odisha. As a child, like any other kid I too had child-hood fantasies of cars, trains and aeroplanes. In my tender age, many nights in the sleep I dreamt of elevating from bed and flying in the sky as if a Superman. But it was the year 1983 on my 7th Standard in school, I had the first glimpse of a flight at Kolkata. Till recently journey by a flight was considered to be a way of luxury and out of reach for any common Indian.

In September ’10 I had been to New Delhi. On my return journey I opted to take a flight to Bhubaneswar instead of a superfast train on the pretext that I had never before travelled in a flight in this life of mine. More to it, it is highly affordable when you could plan it well in advance. As a ritual at New Delhi every day my younger brother Karun started giving me tips on how to take a flight journey, as he himself is a frequent air-traveller. I started getting impatient as the days neared by for my return journey. The night before schedule departure I was in a state of euphoria. As a result of which I was sleepless till one past midnight, whereas I had to wake-up by 4.30 AM to get prepared for my Bahuda Jatra (return journey).

I had my return journey by Indigo in Flight # 6E-257 on 15th September 2010 early morning from Indira Gandhi International Airport (IGIA). It was scheduled to be departed at 7.30 AM. I was instructed to report at the check-in counter two hours before the schedule departure. I reached the airport lobby on the wee hours at around 5.30 AM. The whole area was glittering with neon-lights as if day time. So much illumination made me even more nervous. I was instructed by my brother to reach the counter of the Indigo Air and the rest they will manage. As I reached the counter of Indigo the lady officer greeted me with a smile. She asked for the ticket and the ID proof. After weighing the luggage she asked me politely to deposit Rs.500 for the overweight. She handed over the boarding pass. I learnt the valuable lesion to travel light whenever you take a journey by a flight. Thank God my mother was not accompanied with me. Had she been there my luggage charges would have been more than the ticket cost.

I was directed to reach Terminal # 20 for which I had to take an escalator. I went to the gate and waited. Soon after other co-passengers gathered one after another. There were two European tourists as well. All those people were aristocratic and wearing blazers and boots, where as I was wearing a cotton shirt, denim trousers but with sleepers on my feet as a “gaon ka Govinda”. I recalled, this could be the reason why my mother was particularly asked me to buy a new pair of boots on this trip of mine to New Delhi.

By 7.00AM a transit bus picked us all to drop near the Indigo flight. In the bus I found a co-passenger in a low spirit and deeply engrossed in thoughts. In Oriya I greeted him “Namaskar Agyan” as it was a Bhubaneswar bound flight. He forcibly smiled, but kept quiet. I questioned if everything is fine. He said he is rushing to Bhubaneswar to stand by the side of his mother, as the previous day his father passed into comma. All I could do was to express my concern to him, just by placing my hand on his shoulder. In sharp contrast to the popular believe I realised that, these airline carriers are not just the luxury mode of transport, but they do deliver hope, aspirations, care and concern to the loved ones on time.

With the help of a ladder I stepped inside the flight. At the gate I was greeted by an air hostess. I was amazed to find her speaking in the regional Indian languages. It assured me, neither one need to know English nor need to wear a pair of boots to board a flight. She escorted me to the seat number 8D. I was disheartened to find it to be the centre chair far away from the window. I was dissatisfied with self for my maiden venture as I won’t be able to see the hemisphere and the earth below me when the flight takes off. I greeted my other two co-passengers with a smile to accommodate myself in the chair.

I just thought to be introduced to the Parthasarathi of my flight, as my safety is in his hands. I went to the cockpit. I expressed my good intension to the air-hostess. Without any suspicion she opened the doors of the cockpit. I greeted the pilots saying, you have to make me reach home safely as my mother would be waiting. The co-pilot said, just be assured all the life we are doing it un-failingly. I returned to my seat with a light-heart. Soon they announced the flight is about to take-off and to switch-off the cell phones, laptops and all other electronic gadgets. They announced to fasten the seat belts. By observing my side-seater though I able to pullout the belts, but could not lock it. For a while I was hanged in the jumble game. My puzzled state of affair soon caught the attention of a tall air-hostess, and she came to my rescue.

They announced that the flight is about to takeoff. By keeping alive my orthodox personal beliefs, I prayed to my lord while shutting my eyes and folding both the hands. Engine started and the flight moved ahead. In seconds it accelerated to a greater speed and took off the ground. I sensed everything went smoothly. After takeoff it made a sharp L-turn. Then they announced to unlock the seat belts.

Now it was time for me to start lobbying. I expressed my desire to the neighbour about my eagerness to sit near the window as it’s my first journey by a flight. He wanted to laugh at this thought of mine, but vacated his seat quietly to keep alive his self-dignity. Now I occupied the window seat just a row ahead of the right-wing of the aeroplane. I could see the powerful engine on its wing which was pulling us ahead. By now flight elevated above the clouds. Entire life I had seen the clouds above me in the sky, but now for the first time in life I saw clouds below me.

“aaj mei uppar asman niche ……….”

To my disbelieve I heard that I am flying at a pace of 850 kmph and at a height of 35,000 feet above the ground level, which is much higher than the summit of Mt.Everest.

Than there came another airhostess with a cart load of breakfast. I got a pack of sandwich with fruit drink. It was wrapped in an eco-friendly paper. While eating my breakfast I read the beautiful love-story of Sahjade Salim and his lover Anarkali printed on this packet. It reminded me of my yester years of love life, even while at that moment I was moving ahead of time.

By 9.30 AM my flight landed safely at Biju Pattnaik Airport in Bhubaneswar. Every passenger got up to lift their hand bags from the cup-board and moved towards the gate. But I was sitting there still near the window while the seatbelt was tied onto my waist. That tall air hostess came back to ask if I need any help to unlock the belt.

But I said, no let me be tied to this seat ……..

Post Script : This writer got the following memento from Indigo Airlines on sharing this article with them.


WhatsApp# +918249314972
kiranbima@gmail.com
E. KIRAN MOHAN(The Writer)
C\o. Dr.E.R.Rao (M.D),
Tahsil Chowk,
At\PO: BARPALI–768 029,
Dist. Bargarh, Orissa, India.
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7:32 PM

BASI PAKHAL "ବାସି ପଖାଳ" (Panta Bhat - পান্তা ভাত)


In rural Odisha people usually don’t take break-fast in the morning. Early morning when they wake-up, they eat basi-pakhal, before leaving for their farm lands. Basi pakhal is the staple food of the mass round the year, let it be summer, rain or winter. In the 70’s and ‘80s of the last century basi pakhal used to be a luxury for the poor of the Odisha. But now the scenario has been completely changed. With the mass literacy and the economic growth the per capita income has grown. As a consequence of which, the living standard of the common man has improved. But yet basi pakhal rules their palate. There is no need to trace back to its origin. This recipe likely to be as old as the mankind started consuming boiled rice.
                            
Now you would be eager to know how this recipe is made-of. Fresh rice is cooked and fermented in water for 12 to 24 hours to get it sour. The longer it is allowed to ferment the better it will taste. Basi pakhal if made with usna chawal, it tastes good as compared to arua chawal. You are suggested to ferment it in an earthen-pot instead of a metal container. Every kitchen in Odisha is stocked with an earthen vessel, locally called as  handi. The fermentation process is accelerated in an earthen vessel. If it is allowed to ferment for too long it turns rancid.
                                                      
A pinch of salt is added to basi pakhal and taken along with raw onion, green chilli and tomato.  Dry curries like allu-bhaja, baigan-bhaja, baddi-bhaja or kardi-bhaja (bamboo sprouts) are the best choice as green vegetables get scarce in the summer. A cup of curd when added to Basi pakhal it enhances the taste. Of-course there is always an addendum for the non-vegetarians too. Basi pakhal become sumptuous when taken along with either with jhuri(small fish) or  sukhua(dry fish) curry.

In West Bengal this recipe is called as panta bhat. 

Since it is in a semi-liquid state, it can only be served in an oval shaped bell-metal vessel called khuri. More to it, one need to seat on the floor to savour basi pakhal when served in a khuri.  Oriayas have got the habbit of slurping while eating  basi pakhal. They relish it by making loud noises which sounds like  “oooh oooh …….”.




The liquid content of bassi pakhal is called  thir or taruani. Strain out the  liquid into a tumbler, add a pinch of salt, few drops of lemon juice and some crushed mint leafs(pudina). In the hot summer noon if this organic liquid is consumed it will   quench your thirst. It is healthier while compared to the modern day’s aerated bottled soft drinks. But by every likely hood, when you quaff this thir  you would  feel drowsy and will take a afternoon siesta for couple of hours altogether under a mango tree. Don’t  blame this writer for such possibility!


kiranbima@gmail.com
Mobile # +918249314972
E.Kiran Mohan(The Writer)
C/o.Dr.E.R.Rao (M.D)
Main Road, Near SBI,
At/PO : Barpali-768029
Dist.Bargarh,Odisha, India

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