The Barpali Days

Mar 19, 2017

Tiranga fur, furh, furhhh……..

These days our patriotism is restricted only to sharing the image of the National Flag either in Facebook or Whatsapp. Most of us share it only on two schedule dates, either on Republic Day or Independence Day. The new breed of youngsters seldom read the history books to learn how our great Oriya hero’s sacrificed their lives to free India from the clutches of British raj. Seldom you might have ever heard the names of Oriya martyrs be it Madho Singh Bariha, Rindo Majhi, Jai Rajguru or be it Lakshmana Naik. But for many of us our national flag Tiranga is not just a piece of cloth, we adore it a lot by heart. When the National Anthem is telecasted in televisions, with a sense of admiration most of us stand on the floor. We have inculcated such values from the primary school, where we have been taught the basic alphabets of our own vernacular.

Now the present generation of kids has got ample stationery to play with. They spend enormous money to buy the colorful stickers, glowing tattoos, panoramic post cards and all the garbage. Whereas during the late 70’s of the last Century, I was virtually brought up in a black and white era. Indian economy was in the doldrums. Only on the week days I was getting 10 Paise as the pocket tips while going to school. That money was not enough either to buy an eraser, a pencil or to fill the ink in the fountain pen at the book store.

Since childhood I was fascinated by our National Flag “Tiranga” merely because of its tri color and for a blue wheel at the centre of it. One evening I was walking along with my mother to the market. On the way at a junction of the town there was a gathering of people. They were shouting as “जिंदाबाद जिंदाबाद” which means, hip hip hurray. I left the hand of my mother and stood there while saluting towards the gathering. My mother looked backward and asked “What this ridiculous thing you are doing ?”. I pointed my little finger towards a tricolor flag. She laughed at me saying “You stupid, every tricolor is not a Tiranga. Look there is a palm of a hand at the centre. And it’s not our Tiranga, rather the flag of the Indian National Congress (INC) party”. She said a tri color flag with a wheel at the centre is only our National Flag. I scratch my head and followed my mother. She is the first teacher in my life, who has invoked patriotism in me.

While I was attending the primary school at Khalikote, the Physical Education teacher was endowed with the responsibility to hang the National Flag either on 15^th August or 26^th January. A day before these two schedule dates he would collect the National Flag from the wooden cupboard of the Head Master’s office. Religiously he would undertake the job of washing it with a detergent cake and dripping it in the indigo blue so as the white portion of the flag would glow. Hours before the flag hoisting the PT teacher would stuff the flag with the petals of roses and a short of non-fragrance tropical white flowers called Tabernaemontana divaricata and a dozen chocolates.

On the eve of the celebrations we the students use to stand straight in a row. When the flag hoisted we would sing the National Anthem “Janagana mana adhinayaka jaya he, Bharata bhagya bidhata…………” while placing the right hand on the forehead by saluting. While singing the National Anthem the kids on the front row would use to look at the base of the iron pillar instead of looking at the National Flag. Why? Because along with the petals of the flowers, the flag has been stuffed with one or two dozen pieces of 5 Paise Parle’s orange candies and they as well use to drop on the ground. When the singing of the National Anthem would end with the last stanza “jaya he, jaya he, jaya he……jaya, jaya, jaya, jaya he” we all the kids would break the Code of Conduct and run towards the flag post to collect the orange candies that fell on the ground along with the flowers. My batch mate Motu use to grab a couple of candies as he was a hefty boy and use to overpower others.

I recalls yet another event of my childhood associated with the National Flag of India. It was during the early eighties of the last Century. Than I was a student of Class Five in a Oriya primary school at village Khalikote of Ganjam district of Odisha, India. This school was set up in the premises of royal palace of Khalikote. On this palace apart from the primary school, there exists a fine art college as well. Once somehow I accessed a paper Tiranga. With care I kept that in the school notebook. Next day I carried it to school and proudly showed my possession to my classmates. But Chaitu the hooligan boy of our class grabbed the flag from my hands. I caught hold of his shirt, so as he should not escape with my property. But in a retaliation he caught my hair on the head. He pulled my hair and I was in acute pain. I left his shirt and caught hold of his hair as well and grabbed it. We both were wrestling on the floor of the classroom holding the head of each other. While watching us the rest of the classmates were clapping and shouting as if they were watching a wrestling bout. In the meanwhile I got a bash on my buttocks. I was shocked and turned back to look. It was the Head Master of our school. He was standing there holding a stick in his hands, with a pair of red bull’s eyes. My half niker was wet as I urinated with fear. All the batch mates laughed at me. The head master turned his eyes around. All the class mates went to their respective place to occupy their space on the floor. The head master asked Chaitu to show what he is holding in the hand. Chaitu handed over the National Flag to him. He inspected the flag, it was tattered at the centre. The Head Master advised, you both are excused because you are fighting for our National Flag. But remember two sons of a mother should never fight in between themselves. After thirty five years now I realize how being Indians we are fighting in between ourselves, further to divide our existing States and Union Territories. Of course all these things are being invoked by the ever greedy political clouts to cheat the gullible civilians.

WhatsApp# +918249314972

kiranbima@gmail.com

E KIRAN MOHAN(The Writer)

C\o. Dr.E.R.Rao(MD)
Main Road, Barpali-768029
Dist-Bargarh, Odisha, India

E Kiran Mohan 13

Feb 9, 2017

personalities 8:46 PM

Budhadeb Meher : A Torch Bearer for his village children

In India CSR or the Community Social Responsibility is a trend that has gained momentum in the recent past only. But it is to be noted that, CSR is being vied by the corporate as an instrument either to evade the tax or to hallucinate the mass. Yet there are some good Samaritans who are working at the grass root of the nation to build a vibrant and strong nation called India. Here in Bargarh District we as well got few philanthropists, but their glory remained unsung. The irony is that we never acknowledge the contribution they made to the society either because of our ignorance or because we are much jealous of their good deeds.

Sh.Budhadeb Meher an octogenarian of Dahita village under Padampur Sub-Division of Bargarh Dist. is a social activist on his own accord. He wanted to provide the education to his village children as he himself has been deprived of this basic need during his childhood. He recalls there was no school or the classroom in his village Dangachancha which falls under Rajborasambar region of Bargarh District. Basically this area is an arid region, hence drought prone. Most of the people are either Schedule Caste or Schedule Tribe and lead life Below the Poverty Line(BPL). In that village one teacher used to teach Oriya alphabets for a couple of hours in a cow shed, called guhal path. During the pre-independence era note books, pens and pencils were not yet commercially available in rural India. Education was imparted only orally. In those decades the parents unable to afford to buy the black slates and the chalk pieces. So Budhadeb and his friends need to crush the red bricks and collect its dust. They use to spread the ochre brick dust on the floor and with fingers use to draw the Oriya alphabets and numeric. Whereas today’s children got every comfort be it the note books, pens or the pencils. But seldom they seat at home to study their text books. Instead day long they are engaged on playing electronic games in the tabs, cell phones, laptops or be it the computers.

During the prime years of his life he executed many welfare projects for the society, that too without any willful political motive. He erected the front gate of the Dahita High School so as no bovine be it cattles or cows should trespass to the school premises. On the other hand he donated a three decimal plot and INR 20,000 to build the DPEP school at Dahita. Then he realised when the school children pass out of 10^th Standard, where they would go to pursue further studies. There was not a single college in and around five Panchayats be it Dahita, Buden, Budamal, Dahigaon or Khaliapali. In the meanwhile the Govt. of Odisha issued a circular to build a college in that area.

Budhadeb along with the people of surrounding villages build a committee to set up a college. Budhadeb took the lead position by donating INR 1,10,000. On the other hand he donated his agricultural land to pave the road to reach the proposed sight of +2 Arts college. This college was inaugurated in the year 1996. Its 20 years since then. As on this date this college is employing seven lecturers to impart the education to around 280 students of either gender most of whom hails from Below Poverty Line(BPL). Mr.Susanta Mishra the English lecturer of this college says, over the two decades many of their students able to build a career for self and got well settled in life. Two of its students by the name Sobhagya Hota and Aditya Panigrahi qualified as bank Probationary Officers(PO) and got jobs with two Scheduled National Banks. Whereas Tapabanta Pandey got a job with Dept. of Posts.

It’s worth acknowledging how a virtual illiterate Oriya built a school and a college with his meager income to impart the education to his village children, while he himself has been deprived off it in life.

On 27th May 2017 Buddhadeb Meher has been felicitated as a Change Agent of Odisha by Bhubaneswar based civil society Yes We Can. His name was nominated by developer of this blog E Kiran Mohan

kiranbima@gmail.com

WhatsApp# +918249314972

E.Kiran Mohan(writer)

C/o.Dr.E.R.Rao(MD)

Tehsil Chowk,

At\PO: BARPALI – 768029

Dist.Bargarh, Odisha, India

E Kiran Mohan 6

Jan 5, 2017

Stories 11:34 PM

Ladoo Chor

[The charming story of how the school kids collects money on the street to conduct a Ganesh Puja. Read to know how the Ladus they collect for the Lord get stolen]

These days the movement of school kids is restricted narrowly within the four corners of their homes. All day long they are addicted to playing games either in the cell phones, tabs, laptops or computers. There is little physical movement of these boys. As a result they turn out to be lazy lumps. Whereas I belong to a generation who grew up virtually while playing on the street mud of Odisha, during 70’s and 80’ of the last Century. When school was over, our only playground was the street of Suth Para in Balangir.

One evening my friend Chakka(which literally means a Sixer in Cricket) asked me to accompany him to attend a preparatory meeting of Ganesh Puja that was going on at the street club. I refused to go as I wanted to play on the street. But he instigated me saying they would be distributing Singhadas(Samosa) along with the fried green chilies at the end of the meeting. Another friend seconded the opinion of Chakka saying, no harm to bag free snacks because that stuff belongs to Lord Ganesha himself. We might be around five kids who entered the club and set on the floor obediently without gossiping. This etiquette of ours was in sharp contrast to the usual behavior that we were displaying in the class room of the school. This meeting was conducted by the senior fellows most of whom were either school dropouts or college students.

The leader of the club greeted all the attendees in an informal way. Unlike today in those days things were not managed in a professional way. He told only five days left for the Ganesh Chaturthi celebration. Immediately he said “this year we shall compete with our neighbour street Radharani Pada. We are building an idol of Lord Ganesha that would be bulkier than theirs, apart from that we shall erect a tent that would be taller than theirs”. All of us rejoiced by clapping to the proposal. Another committee member stood and presented the budget of expenses that would involve for conducting the function. He said it’s an emergency situation. They talked how to raise the funds. Since every committee member is either a college student or an unemployed youth, they have to collect the money from outsource to conduct this celebration. They asked us (the kids of the colony) to give a helping hand while decorating the stage. Jubilantly while raising our hands, we the kids said “Yes we will, we will”. When the meeting was over they distributed to each attendee four Ampro biscuits along with the tea. In those decades for many of my friends even getting biscuits was a luxury since most of them hailed from poor Schedule Caste families. When the meeting was over, happily we dispersed from the club.

Early next evening we the kids gathered at the junction. A puja committee member asked us to take charge of the booty collection point while he wanted to go to the pond for an ablution. He handed over to us a money collection booklet carrying some vouchers. He asked us to collect Rs.2/- (Rupees Two) from every four wheeler vehicle that enters the town, whereas to forgo the two wheelers, be it the mopeds, scooters or the bikes. He showed where to put the vehicle number, name of the driver and the amount to be collected. He asked Lambu the betel shop owner at the square to keep a watch on us. We took the possession of the booth as if the Indian Army commando guards an outpost at the international border of the country.

For the first time in life we were delegated with such a huge responsibility. We were watching to catch a fish for almost ten minutes or so but no motor vehicles came, as unlike today those days vehicular traffic was scanty as the Indian economy and the society was in the doldrums. Then we spotted a bike coming towards us. We said lets catch at least a small fish, when there are no big victims in the pond. When the bike neared we waved our hands to stop. The rider halted his Royal Enfield Bullet and stood. He was a hefty man and asked “kaen hela bo” which literally means “What happened?”. I said “Ganesh puja Chanda dia” (give the money for Ganesh Puja). He was furious and asked me “Whose son are you?”. I was hesitant to reveal the name of my father as he seemed to be familiar with our town Bolangir. I kept quiet, fearing if he informs at my home I would get a thrash from my father. He asked us, do you know Rugdi Para? Mere mention of this street name of Balangir sent chill in our backbone, because in those days the people of that street were notorious killers. During the broad daylight they were stabbing and lacerating people on the streets. We lowered our heads. He kick started his bike and went towards the town saying in Oriya “ajikar janam chua mane hero banuchan”(todays’s new born kids are becoming heroes).

After a while a blue Mahindra jeep approached we stood on the road side and waved our hands to stop it, but it fled. With an irritation I said “hebo sala bhagla”. My friend Deba said Jeeps mostly belongs to Government Departments and they will not give money. Wearing our half trousers and half sleeve shirts we were sitting on the ground. We gathered the caps of cold drink bottles that were scattered around the pan dukaan. We picked pebbles and hit at these cold drink caps of Thums-up, Limca and Gold Spot while venting out our anger. Then a friend raised the alarm saying “hey there coming a bus”. While waving our hands we tried to stop it. But it too went away. As if monkeys, we were jumping and shouting “hebo sala bhagla, kukur bhagla”. While watching us Tingalu (which literally means a boaster) laughed loudly while pointing his finger towards us. Helplessly we looked towards the pan shop. Tingalu kept the empty cold drink bottle in a wooden crate and fled in his bicycle while taunting us. With a sense of remorse I rested my two hands on either side of my waist and took a long breath. The pan shop owner Lambu Behera raised both his hands. While showing his palms he tried to console us. In a while Lambu called us and asked “Did you learnt how difficult it is to earn money?” He opened the cap of one of the glass jar containing Parle candies. He gave each of us one red toffee of 5 Paisa and said when things do not work try it differently. Out of dejection my friend Marsad kicked a bamboo that was lying near the shop. As it was a cursive bamboo, the tip of the bamboo turned towards the main road. I went ahead and lifted one end of it and asked Marsad to hold the other end. I asked him to follow me. We took the long bamboo and placed it across the road.

In a while a truck approached the tool booth that we were guarding. When it neared us I asked Marsad to lift the bamboo. The truck lowered its speed and made a halt. I looked towards rest of our gang members who were watching us from the pan dukaan. All of them jubilantly shouted “Oyeeeee” and ran towards us. From the cabin the truck driver asked “ki hua puttar?” (What happen boys). We said common give us money, give us money. Calmly he asked “But for what ?”. We said Ganesh Puja chanda. He said “I travel across India, should I keep on giving money every village and town that I enter? He was adamant. A friend told me “This driver seems to be a Muslim. Their God is different than ours; hence he will not give money”. Instantly the driver opened the door and jumped from a height of around five feet. He was a tall man near about six feet and well built. We all the kids stepped backward. While embracing his moustache he said “I am a Sikh and very much an Hindu, tell me what you boys were saying”. While stammering I said “Cha…..Cha…..Chanda”. He asked “Yeh tumhara Baap ka rasta hey kya (Does this road belong to your father?” Marsad gathered the courage to say “We don’t know who built this road. But this is our road as it passed through our home”. The other friend seconded saying, “This stretch of road is ours as we grow while playing every evening on this street”. While listening to our answers instantly the anger of the driver evaporated. While folding the long sleeves of his Kurta (loose shirt) he said “I travelled extensively in the Chambal Ghat, but neither Phulan Devi nor her gang of dacoits ever dare to hedge my vehicle and whereas you boys did it”.

He asked “Ok tell me boys why at all you do Ganesh Puja” ? With an enthusiasm we said if we pray Lord Ganesha then we will pass the exams at one go without failing. With a sense of amusement of a true Sardar he said “abe gadhoon(you donkeys) if you want to pass exams than sit at home and study text books instead of collecting money on the street”. He looked towards the cabin of the truck and shouted “Oye Chote !”. From the left window of the truck his assistant a young boy with a bun of hair on his head peeped out saying “Ji Malik”. The driver said “piche ja, ek gola phek” (go to the back and throw a bomb). We were fear stricken, because with the assassination of Late Prime Minister of India Indira Gandhi, nationwide Sardars gathered ill repute. Very diligently in a fraction of a minute his assistant climbed to the back of the truck. From there he said “catch it Sir”. He threw a brown object. The driver caught the circular object and handed over to us saying “Tell your Ganesha this coconut has been gifted by Tony Singh”. We were relieved from the anguish that gripped us for a while due to scare of a bomb.

One of my friend Deba said “But our Lord Ganesha does not eat coconut. He likes only Laddus”. The driver asked “Laddu ? ahha! Where I could get the Laddus” ? We pointed our fingers towards a sweet stall across the road. He asked us to follow him. We all walked behind him jubilantly. We reached Puran Petu Sweet Stall. Trays of different sweets were displayed in a rack. At the center yellow laddus were displayed on a tray, layer by layer. On looking at them our mouth started watering. Tony Singh asked the shop keeper to pack half a kilogram of Laddus. Then he asked the sweet stall owner to distribute one Laddu to each of us. Smile transcended in our faces. All of us were given one Laddu each. We gulped our share of Laddus with greed. The driver paid cash to Puran Petu, the sweet stall owner. Tony collected laddus packed in a news paper bag. We followed him till the truck to bid the adieu. On reaching near the truck the driver handed over us the packet of Laddus and said these are for your lord Ganesha. He asked us to write a ticket for Rs.2/-. We felt ashamed. We said its OK, now you can go. But he was adamant. He forced us to accept Rs.2/- and collected a ticket in exchange of it.

We told Tony Singh we are the savior of this street and to inform us in case he ever face any trouble while travelling on this route. He stepped inside the bonnet and started the engine. He waved his hand and left. We carried the packet of Laddus and cheerfully went to our akhada (club). We delivered the packet of sweets to a member of the Puja Committee. With disbelieve, he opened the paper bag to check if at all we are speaking the truth. But his eyes sparkled when he saw the yellow laddus inside it. He counted 24 of those Laddus and said to keep the packet intact in the wooden rack. He said Ganesh Chaturthi is four more days to go and to be vigil, so as no one should steal even a single piece of it. Those days in India refrigerators were not commercially viable, so none of our homes used to have a fridge to store eatables.

Next evening after collecting money at the booth we went to the club and submitted around INR 12 to the cashier in charge. Out of curiosity we went to check the cupboard. The packet was there, but its paper was torn. The bundi (fragments) of the Laddus were strewn around. When we counted there were only 21 Laddus left, instead of 24. We looked at each other faces to know where rest of the three Laddus has gone and who the culprit was? We reported this serious matter to Karta, the head of the puja committee. Karta gave his final verdict. He said, whosoever the culprit if won’t confess, than he will fail in the upcoming Half Yearly Exams. He uttered the names of each boy and asked who has stolen them? But we kept quiet. On questioning Khoj he kept on gazing towards the rack instead of answering. The Karta asked to Khoj, “Was the culprit you? Because while answering you are looking towards the rack instead of making an eye contact”. Khoj said look at the hole on the paper bag. Why at all we will tear the paper bag, instead of opening it with our fingers to steal the Laddus. It might be a mischief of a rat. Karta said, it’s a point to be pondered. He reached to the conclusion saying rat is a pet of Lord Ganesha and its OK if the Laddus were ransacked by any rodent.

And we were virtually waiting for the results of half yearly exams. Fortunately none of us failed. I too passed the exams by securing a wholesome 36 (thirty-six) percent of marks in aggregate.

kiranbima@gmail.com

Cell +918249314972

E.Kiran Mohan(The Writer)

C/o.Dr.E.R.Rao (MD)

Tehsil Chowk,

At/PO. BARPALI – 768 029

Dist. Bargarh, Orissa, India

E Kiran Mohan 11

Oct 2, 2016

personalities 11:28 PM

Prabhudutta Pradhan : The making of Rangabati

Prabhudutta Pradhan is the music composer of the all time great Sambalpuri song “Rangabati”. He was born during the pre-independence era of India to a family who were converted to Christians three generations back. His father Late Pravas Chandra Pradhan was working as a head clerk in the Forest Department of Odisha. As early as at the age of three years Prabhudutta started learning music under the mentorship of his father. He was assigned by his father to sing bhajans or the Hindu religious songs at home. He is educated only up to Matriculation i.e. Class 10^th and never seen the entrance gate of any colleges. Later he went to Banaras in Uttar Pradesh to learn playing of Indian music instrument tabla from Padmashree Pandit Jadunath Supkar. In the year 1969 he joined All India Radio(AIR) at Sambalpur station as an instrumentalist at a monthly salary of Ra.216/- only. In the studio he was playing ethnic Indian music instruments like dhol, dholak, mandal, tabla, sanchar and mrudung. He was sincere towards his work as if music is a passion. His wife Arati Pradhan says, every night her husband use to play tabla seating near the bed till 1’O clock in the mid night. His riyaj (practice) of tabla in the dead of the night not only disturbed her sleep, but use to ward off any ghosts if roaming in the periphery.

[Rangabati original video]

But it was only in the year 1975 he got a breakthrough when he composed the music for Rangabati song. The script of this song was written by Mitrabhanu Gauntia. It was sung by Jitendra Haripal in the male voice, while the female voice was lent by Krishna Patel. In this chart buster song Prabhudatta directed pancha badya (five musical instruments i.e. dhol, nishan, tasha, muhuri and jhanj). During the year 2003 he retired from Akashbani or All India Radio.

Seventies and eighties of the last Century was the era when the consumer market was yet to be flooded with the tape recorders. Radio transmission was the sole succor for the music lovers. People were rejoicing when so ever Rangabati song was transmitted in the radio. Rangabati is unarguably the most popular folk song of Western Odisha for the past forty years. In the year 2007 Rangabati song was played in the tableau of Odisha as part of the Republic Day celebrations at Rajpath of New Delhi.

[Odisha Sangreet Natak Academy Award, 2002]

But copying the popular songs is not something new to the music industry. Over the past seven decades many big battles were fought in Bollywoood over the infringement of copyrights. Likewise in the recent past Oriya music industry erupted with the release of a new version of Sambalpuri song “Rangabati”. We have witnessed this chart buster was copied by the newly groomed genre of Oriya music industry of eastern Odisha. It is highly disgusting to watch the remake of "Rangabati". One who copy the things from other will never be able to progress in life. It marks the end of his/her career. A copy cat will be addicted to easy way out to gain the quick name and fame. And he/she will lose the creativity in their work. If you are an artist let whatever your discipline may it be, you need to keep alive your originality. Once you copy the work of others, than you would never be able to retrieve in your career.

[Felicitation by the Chief Minister of Odisha Mr.Naveen Pattnaik]

Even in Olympic Games they play an anthem along with the music so as to unite the whole world. But this new version of Rangabati divided our state Odisha. There was uproar in the entire length and breadth of Western parts of Odisha. The Rangabati song that was sang by Sona Mohapatra was a distortion of the original song. People of West Odisha condemned the copy version of Rangabati saying it’s a Kutkia song.

[Felicitation by the then Deputy Prime Minister L.K.Advani.
Could be seen Union Minister for External Affairs Sushma Swaraj on the right]

On showing the Mtv Coke Studio song of Rangabati to Deba Bariha a tribal person of Barpali he sharply reacts to the remix song saying “e Katkia mane kana bujhbe Sambalpuri, tankar buar dine kebe gana gaithile kaen”. He says the remix has been made with the word “he ranga, he ranga, ranga ranga re”. And it tantamount to calling a transgender in an unacceptable way. Seldom Ram Sampath is aware that in Koshali language the word “ranga” refers to a transgender. Pradyumna Tripathy a Congress leader of Barpali combat saying Rangabati is a folk song, but what was the need to remix it with the patriotic punch line of “bande Utkala jananai, bande Utkala jananai”.

On the other hand Biswajit Pradhan who works as a Team Leader with Mindtree at Bangalore sharply expresses his views. He says “The original song of Rangabati has got just 92,000 views, whereas the dubious version of Sona Mahapatra’s song garnered hundred times more at around 97,00,000+ page hits. But Youtube is not a yardstick to measure the success rate of Sona Mahapatra’s Rangabati song”.

On questioning Prabhudutta Pradhan the music composer of the original track, he says over the forty years things have drastically changed. The new generation tend to love the songs that are sang with a vulgar language (aslila bhasa). Softly he says, at the age of 73 whom should I fight with. He points out, in Sambalpuri language there is no pronunciation of the word “la”, where as Sona Mohapatra sang it as “laijauche matha go”. It should have been “naijauche matha”. He appeals to the new generation to work hard on innovating new skills in their own field of art, instead of copying from others. He appeals to every artist to create just one song at par with the standards that has been set while making Rangabati, so as to accomplish a fulfilled life.

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

E Kiran Mohan 5

The Barpali Days

Breaking

Mar 19, 2017

Tiranga fur, furh, furhhh……..

Feb 9, 2017

Budhadeb Meher : A Torch Bearer for his village children

Jan 5, 2017

Ladoo Chor

Oct 2, 2016

Prabhudutta Pradhan : The making of Rangabati

Search This Blog

Search This Blog

E.Kiran Mohan

Total Pageviews since July 2011

Translate to any Language

How to surf this blog

Pages

Contact this blog

Join this Site with Gmail Account

Recent

Popular

Comments

Search This Blog

Follow Us

Blog Archive

Categories

Contact Form