Where God Comes As Witness

I was elated when I was transferred to Satyabadi as Sub Treasury Officer in 1992.

Satyabadi that is Sakhigopal is a historically famous and religiously important place. It is believed that pilgrimage to Puri, the abode of Lord Jagannath is not complete without a visit to Sakhigopal. The name Sakhigopal is derived from a legend in which it is told Lord Gopal has come to be a sakhi (witness) for a poor Brahmin. The story runs like this:

Two Brahmins went on a pilgrimage. At Brundaban the old Brahmin fell seriously ill. The young Brahmin nursed him. The Brahmin recovered, and pleased with the service of the young Brahmin, promised to give his daughter in marriage with him on their return to village. After their return, the old Brahmin changed his mind as the young man was of a lower caste Brahmin. He denied to have made any promise. The young Brahmin went to Lord Gopal who obliged him and came from Brundaban to be a witness.

At Satyabadi, Utkalmani Gopabandhu had started his famous school in 1909. When the house of the school was burnt, the classes were run in the nearby grove of chhuriana and bakul. That is why the school was known as Satyabadi Bana Vidyalaya (Satyabadi Garden School). The school was set up with a noble intention of inculcating national spirit and humanitarianism in the students. The school was justifiably called a ‘man manufacturing factory’. The teachers of the school included Neelkanth Dash, MA in Philosophy, Krupasindhu Misra, MA in History and Godavarish Misra, M A in Economics. They had forsaken allurement of government or any kind of high salaried jobs for an ascetic life of teachers. All the teachers were dedicated and learned. Neelakanth along with Acharya Harihar, another teacher of the School had taken a vow with Gopabandhu on the bank of river Bhargavi that they would work to see a better world at the time of their death than what they had seen at the time of their birth. They were not only great teachers, but also social reformers, litterateurs and freedom fighters.

My euphoria gave way to disappointment soon after I joined.

I had a notion that the place would be nice; the people would be sophisticated and progressive in outlook. But contrary to my belief, I found the place just like any other place, nothing special or different, the people rather proud, orthodox, and caste conscious. On the first day in the office, three-four persons who came to give me curtsey call asked my caste. Disgusted, I replied to one, “How does my caste relate to my official functions?”

In the hotels you had to wash your own dishes if you took tiffin or meals. I could not find a hospitable house to take on rent to stay with my family. All of my predecessors were either commuting from Bhubaneswar or Puri or from Cuttack. (My successors till today, what I learn also do the same). But I decided to stay there. I managed to get a house; it was of mud wall and asbestos roofed. There was no piped water supply. We had to drag water from a well that was inside a small courtyard of the house I lived in. One had to be careful against mosquitoes and snakes. One day, within first week of my stay there, I found a snake, a king cobra, in the office under my table; another day my wife discovered a snake in the kitchen. The climate was humid, and added to it, there were frequent power cuts.

A Brahmin used to meet me in the office. He was normally clad in dhoti. He did not wear a shirt; he used a dhoti chadar to cover the upper part of the body. He would bless me by reciting a Sanskrit sloka, and take one rupee that I offered in return.
One day I was in the office just gossiping with my staff after our day’s work was over. The Brahmin came, blessed me and also took the one rupee I was in the habit of giving. One staff member said, “Why are you offering him money? I was about to tell …he is a retired Sanskrit teacher, taking pension.”
This information surprised me. I had mistaken him to be a poor temple priest, begging by way of reciting slokas. I said, “How could he accept? I was mistaken, but he should have declined, and told me his true identity.”
Another staff member who happened to be incidentally a Brahmin said, “Sir, if a jajaman offers something, a Brahmin cannot decline. If he declines, it would be harmful for the jajaman.”
I did not know about this sort of Brahmin-Jajaman relation. But next time when the Brahmin came and blessed me by reciting a sloka I did not offer him the one rupee. He waited for some moments, but did not ask for the rupee, which he never did, and went away. But after that day he had not come to bless me.

I wanted a transfer, but could not as I was, and still am shy of approaching anyone for anything personal. But as days passed by I got used to the conditions, the mosquitoes and snakes, the people and the place. And after some days I found I had started liking the place. I liked to sit on the veranda of the house where I lived and watched bullock carts carrying loads of coconut to the market. I waited for anla nabami, the day people thronged to have a darshan of Goddess Radha’s feet in the temple. I loved to watch the queue of the devotees snaking in front of my house for the darshan of the feet. I fell in love with the special dishes of dalema, besar or mohura, the way these dishes were prepared in the locality. The pandas (temple priests) loved me and my children. They never forgot to give us special prasad offered to the God on special occasions. I stayed in Sakhigopal for more than four years till August 1996. When I was transferred I was given a teary farewell by the pensioner-friends, and I left the place with a heavy heart.

I lovingly treasure the memory of Sakhigopal and watch avidly even today any news concerning Sakhigopal including Silpa Shetty getting kissed by a priest in the temple precincts.
####

PIPLI Live

Pipli’s gang rape case has shocked the people. The newspapers have front page headlines, TV channels have panel discussions. There are demonstrations by the opposition parties, road blockades, students’ agitations, protests by the journalists and intellectuals. The OIC, who allegedly did not act upon the FIR, has been suspended, judicial inquiry has been ordered, the Minister of Agriculture, who represents Pipli Assembly constituency, has resigned. The protestors demanded more. The OIC is dismissed, the SP is transferred. Still the opposition is not satisfied. They demand the case should be handed over to the CBI, and the Chief Minister himself should resign.

The state, it seems, has woken up from its deep slumber.

On 13th January 2008, two anti-socials of Arjungoda village of Pipli Assembly constituency molested two minor girls. FIR was lodged. The police did not take action. The accused got advance bail from the High Court. One of the two girls could not withstand humiliation. She committed suicide. The other was the only witness to the outrage.
The accused, after they had obtained bail, intimidated the girl and her father. They threatened them to withdraw the case or face the consequence. On 28th November 2011, the girl was found lying in a field complete naked and unconscious. The girl was raped and attempt had been made to murder her, to silence her for ever.
Her father went to the police station. The OIC did not accept the FIR as it was, but allegedly forced to change its contents. He did not take action. The victim was taken to hospital, but was not attended. Her father moved from pillar to post, but was not listened. Forty-two days passed - the victim, already in coma, rotted without medical attention- till 9th January 2012 the media highlighted and Human Rights’ Commission intervened, the victim was given neither medical attention nor any action taken against the culprits. The victim is speechless, she is still in coma.

Can we claim we do live in a civilised society?

Some say it is election time. The heat and dust generated now will die down after the voters cast their ballots in the panchayat elections. They may be cynics. Maybe the girl would recover and be able to speak again. Maybe the culprits would be punished.

But this is time one should ponder.

How could the people be so insensitive? Arjungoda is not a metropolitan city. Unlike in the city, there exists a bhaichara, a ‘we feeling’ among the villagers. The people in village have lived together for generations. Their fathers and grandfathers have also lived together, and living together creates a bond, a good neighbourly feeling, at least, there is caste affiliation. If some misfortune happens to a person, his neighbours, his caste people, his friends in the village come forward to his rescue, to his support at the time of need.

How could a person, a helpless father was left alone to fight his own battle for more than forty days until the media noticed it? Where is that bhaichara the village was so proud of?
xxxxxxxxx

KHATTI

There is no exact English word for Khatti. In Gopal Chandra Praharaj's Purnachandra Bhasakosh, Khatti is described as a den or rendezvous for drinkers and smokers i.e. those who take intoxicating drugs. Purnachandra Bhasakosh was compiled in the early thirties of the last century. The meaning of the word has changed over the years. The recent dictionary meaning of the word is adda, only a meeting place, a rendezvous. There is no reference to drinkers or smokers.

But Khatti is more than a meeting place. Khatti in Odia is equivalent to the word adda of Bengli language. Adda, as described in Wikipedia, is a form of intellectual exchange among members, who are originally of the same socio-economic strata. It is most popular among the youths belonging to the so-called ‘middle class intelligentsia’.

But this is also not wholly true. There is intellectual exchange provided the persons meeting in a khatti/adda belong to an intellectual group. The kind of discussion or exchange of views depends upon the persons meeting in a Khatti.

Khatti meets normally before a tea stall with paan/cigarette shop nearby, either in the morning or in the evening or both in the morning and evening. Discussion goes on over cups of tea and smoking/chewing paan by the participating members. Subject matter of the Khatti varies; of course, it depends on the kind of Khatti members. The subject may be music, literature, sports, politics, economy or anything, especially the event which is in news at the present or the members’ fond subject. The discussion in a khatti is not always intellectual, though there may be an intellectual tinge in the views expressed by a member. It ranges from the affair/elopement of a girl of the locality to the love affair of the French president, displacement problem of Kalinganagar to famines of Sudan/Ethiopia, gang war of Kendrapara to fall of dictators in Egypt or Libya or prospects of BJD candidates in the ensuing Panchayat elections to chances of Republican candidate in the next American presidential election.

The Khatti at Kisu paan shop, Buxi Bazaar, Cuttack has already found its due place in literature and memoirs of some great persons. It is the place where the legendary Akshaya Mohanty used to sit. The other members who attended the Khatti are lyricst-writer Debdas Chhotray, poet Haraprasad Dash, singer Prafulla Kar, etc. It is said Akshaya sang there the song he composed and others including Kisu listened. Everybody was free to give their opinion which Akshaya gave importance, and modified his composition if he found the suggestions worthwhile. He fine-tuned his composition on the basis of the inputs at the Khatti. Mostly singers, composers, lyricist, writers assembled in this Kisu paan shop . Most of the members of the then Khatti at KIsu’s are all great persons now in the field of music and literature.

I sincerely attended a Khatti after I had completed my M A and before I got a permanent job. All of my friends attending the Khatti were like me, educated unemployed youths. Our Khatti met at Gada paan shop, Rupali Chhak, Bhubaneswar. We were of different educational background. I had done my MA in History, Bimal was MA in English Literature, Goutam Jena, a published poet by that time was MA in Odia, Ashok and Brahmanand were M A in Psychology, Jadu was MA in Economics, Jayakrishna, J K in short, was M Sc in Zoology. After even twenty five years Gada still remembers us and our taste and habit. Whenever I go to Bhubaneswar and find time I try to meet him. He offers me paan, now free of cost, and tells me about other friends if he had happened to meet them or they had met him, and enquired about others from me, purposefully to pass on the news to other of the old Khatti.

I have been attending a Khatti since I came to Cuttack on transfer fourteen years back. Though the Khatti sits every day at Sarat’s tea stall near Jobra fish market, I cannot attend every day. But I make it a point to attend it on Sundays and other holidays. Accordingly, I schedule my programme. If I have any work, I try to schedule it in a way not to miss the Khatti in the morning. Other members also do likewise, especially for holidays. Some of the regular members of this Khatti are: Saroj Ranjan Mohanty, poet, and editor of Jhankar. Prafulla Mohanty, a retired Section officer, but an actor. Mr Mohanty has acted in more than three hundred dramas and has been appreciated for his performance. A recognised artiste of AIR, he gives voice in many radio plays. Ajay Barik is the president of Cuttack Bus Owners’ Association. He also dabbles in politics. Chagla is a Municipality Tax Collector. Cuttack, its geography and important persons of the City and the major events that take place in the City are on his fingertips. Mana sells fish in the nearby market, but he is a cricket buff. Sometimes other persons such as writers, professors, and poets come as many who know Saroj Ranjan know also at this time he is available in the Khatti. So also the friends of other regulars. Discussion in the Khatti goes on literature, language, sports, politics, economy, and what not?

Sarat serves tea and does not bother about payment. He enjoys the company and the discourse whether he understands it or not.
xxxxxx

Cruel December and Kind People

While waiting for Lal Quilla Express, which was running late by five hours, at Patna Railway Station in biting cold, it dawned on me that December had been unkind to me most of the times when I made a travel in the month.
On December 17, we checked out of the hotel, visited a few historical places in Patna and came to the airport to catch our flight at 12.20 PM. But after one and half hours waiting in the airport, it was declared our flights had been cancelled.
With much difficulty we were fortunate enough to arrange two tickets in the ordinary sleeper class. Santosh Sinha, the officer of Bihar Commercial Tax Department arranged the tickets using his connections. The scheduled time of arrival of the train at Patna was 7.35 PM, but it reached the station at 12.45 AM i.e. exactly by 5 hours and 10 minutes late. The temperature at Patna on that day was below 6 degree Celsius. That day and also the day before, there was thick fog and the sun was not visible. We were not mentally and physically prepared to travel by second class sleeper. To protect myself from cold I purchased a khadi chadar. I had telephoned a friend of Kolkata to book tickets in Coromandal Express to come from Howarha to Cuttack. He booked two wait-listed tickets, which could not be confirmed.
Three stations behind Kolkata we found the way the train was running late we could not reach on time at Howarha to catch Coromandal, scheduled to depart at 2.50 PM. We got down and rushed to Howarha by a taxi and just reached a few minutes earlier to catch Coromandal. We travelled six hours sitting, sharing the seats with our noble co-passengers by their mercy and goodness.
I have caught cold, glands of my neck have inflamed and I am still suffering, not fully recovered till the time of writing this blog.

********

In 1982, I was travelling in the month of December by Neelachal Express from Delhi to Bhubaneswar. I was a student. I had one blanket, one bed spread and, perhaps, the arrogance of youth to brave the winter.
My co-passengers were a Sikh family. They were eight, but they had six confirmed berths. They were going to Howarha to attend a marriage of a relation. The family included a grown up daughter, perhaps studying in a college. I had noticed her reading an English novel during the day sitting on the side seat.
In the evening they took their dinner they had brought with them, spread their bed on the floor of the compartment and two of them slept on the floor. Others slept on the berths. They prepared the bed in such a way as if they were at home, and in fact, they created a home like condition in the running train.
I slept on the side lower berth allotted to me.
In the night, at around 1 AM I woke up trembling. The train was running at its highest speed in Bihar region. The cold was unbearable, my teeth were clattering. The blanket and the bed spread were no help against the severe cold. Since I had the lower side berth, cold wind coming through the gap of the window was also hitting my body. I desperately wanted a cup of hot tea, but at that hour, it was just impossible to get. I thought I might collapse, die of cold.
The college going girl noticed my plight. She woke up an old man, perhaps her grandfather, travelling with them, and told something. The old sardarji lent me a quilt and told me to spread the blanket and the bed spread on the berth and sleep wrapping up the body with the quilt. I did as he instructed and could sleep a few hours in the night.

********.

In December, 2010, I had been to New Delhi for training on GST. Every day in the morning I used to take tea with Pradeep, who had also gone for the same training, in his room. The training was over on Friday. Our flight was on Saturday in the evening. We were in a relaxed mood. As usual on Saturday in the morning I took tea with him and stood up to come to my room. Suddenly I felt head reeling, everything looked black, and to save myself from falling down, I rested my right hand on the wall. But my hand hit the glass painting fixed to the wall. It broke, the glass pieces fell one by one on my hand. I had a deep cut on the back of my palm, which bled profusely. Pradeep took me immediately to Safdarjang Hospital and I had as many as thirteen stiches on my palm in that chilly December morning.
The wound took more than a month to heal, the scar remains.

********

In 2000, in the month of December I had been to Bangalore for training on VAT organised by NIPFP in collaboration with Karnatak Commercial Tax Department. I had booked tickets a fortnight in advance. I had confirmed tickets to go to Bangalore, but my tickets were wait-listed for my return journey from Chennai to Cuttack. I thought the tickets would be confirmed within twenty days by the time I would return after the training was over. I enjoyed the training with the officers of other states. In the afternoon every day we went for sight-seeing in a vehicle provided by the CTD, Karnatak.
My travails began when I started for my return journey. I sat on the seat allotted to me in Brundaban Express that came from Bangalore to Chennai. A person came and claimed that that seat was also allotted to him. He also produced the ticket issued to him bearing the same number of the seat . However, the Train Ticket Inspector (TTI) intervened and prevailed upon him not to insist for the seat I was occupying as it was a mistake committed by the Railway Authorities in allotting the same seat to two persons. He promised him that he would arrange another seat for him, but he failed as there was no vacancy. The other person was gentle enough not to demand the seat and travelled standing the whole six hours.
My wait-listed ticket booked from Chennai to Cuttack could not be confirmed. The journey from Chennai to Cuttack was more than thirty hours. I saw no way to get the ticket confirmed, and it was also too difficult to travel thirty hours in general compartment without a reserved berth. I got panicky. I approached a police officer sitting in a cabin in the platform with a board ‘May I help you?’ I said to him. “I am a government officer. Had come for a training. Have already stayed a week and my wallet is almost empty. I cannot stay a night at Chennai nor also do I have a certainty that I would get a confirmed ticket tomorrow. Could you help in any way?”
He looked at me, from my head to toes, thought for some moments, and indicating a person said, “Go and tell your problem to that person and say, I have sent you.”
I went to the person he indicated and told him what he had told me to tell. That person, indicating a compartment, said, “Go to that compartment, sit there and tell the TTI that I have sent you.”
I went to the compartment and sat on a seat. The train started and took speed. After about half an hour a TTI came. I told hm. He did not enquire, allotted me a berth. I heaved a sigh of relief.
I did not know their arrangement, how they passed on information . They also did not charge any extra fee (i.e. any bribe).

********.

I have similar experiences in the months of December of some other years. What is the moral? Should I avoid any travel in the month of December in future?
********.

Academy Award Farce

In the morning while having a glance at the newspaper I came across the news of Kalpana Kumari Devi getting this years’ academy award. I tried to dig my memory, but could not locate her. I have not read any of her books. I cannot remember to have come across also her name in any literary magazine during last fifteen-twenty years. I might have slipped. Since she has been awarded with the prestigious academy award, she must be a good writer; I concluded it was my ignorance not to know her.
When I logged in Facebook I came across Saroj Bal’s post: “Have you ever heard this name: Kalpana Kumari Devi???”
Then he adds, “She is eligible to get national Sahitya Academy Award for 2011 for her book ‘achinha baasbhumi’”

Saroj Bal is a writer, publisher and also an editor of a magazine. He is well informed about the writers/poets, and certainly better informed than me; but he had also not heard (or, it’s a sarcasm!) the name of Kalpana Kumari till she had been awarded and made news.

Let’s now see the reactions of some other eminent writers and persons associated with literature:
Rajendra Kishore Panda, Poet:I woke up with a surprise: Kalpanakumari Devi has been selected to receive this year's award of Sahitya Akademi (National Academy of Letters) for Odia. I confess, I have not read any of her books; it shows my ignorance. Of course, I had seen some of her short stories years back; they were lackluster; maybe, she grew in her dimensions later, about which I didn't know.

Ranjit Patnaik: Kalpanakumari is a less known name...award scenario is so faulty and corrupt that these Kalpanakumarees encroach very often and give shock to those who are disturbingly SADHANARATA !!!

Ratnabala Swain: I am surprised and shocked when I came to know that Kalpana Kumari Devi is awarded with Sahitya Akademi Award for Odia literature. As an editor of Odia literary magazine CHITRA, I know almost all Odia writers. But I don’t feel ashamed to confess here that I have not read any of her writings. Can anyone have an idea about the jury members? I feel it’s a great joke.

Soubhagyabanta Maharana, Poet: I was utterly surprised to hear such news. I have not yet gone through any of her book till now. I am totally in the dark about Kalpana Kumari Devi. Jaya Ho Sahitya Akademi.

Pradeep Biswal, Poet: Awards are seldom free from controversies. Sahitya Akademi is no exception. Not only the awards but also the activities of the Akademi in Odisha are far from satisfactory. It’s being used as the fiefdom of a few to appease their henchmen. It’s a sad spectacle. No right thinking person can appreciate it. Self- seeking in such a system is unfortunate.

Chittaranjan Misra: It was really a surprise. Of course I have not read any of her writings as yet.

Ajit Kumar Behera: Not only you sir, I am damn sure, 99% of literature lovers haven't heard this name

A reader normally tempts to buy a book, if the author of the book or the book itself gets an award. Sale of the books of the award winning author goes up. If a reader buys a book as the book is awarded or buys a book of an award winning author and finds the book is substandard, will it not be a fraud on innocent buyers?
There is a complaint that readership of literature in Odisha is decreasing. This is not true. Books written in English sell, but books of Odia literature do not. If a person, a book lover reads literature in English why shall not he read books of Odia literature? The reasons are many. I know some Odia readers who have learnt Hindi and Bengli to read literature in those languages. Because, the original lustre of a creation is lost in translation. One of the reasons is good Odia books, for some reason or other; do not reach the Odia readers. Parents now prefer English medium schools to send their children for study. All students of any medium school- English or Odia- cannot be book lovers. There are many book lovers who have studied in English medium school. But, somehow or other, an impression is created among them that good books are not being written in Odia. Our writers-selectors selecting unworthy books/ writers for awards contribute to this kind of impression and further distancing the readers from Odia literature.

No writer writing in Odia ever thinks of making a living on his writing. It is the appreciation/affection of the reading public that encourages the writers keep on writing. Any award is recognition of that appreciation. The ‘Jury’- the middleman between the recognition and the readers’ appreciation- selecting an unworthy person instead of a deserving one for an award certainly discourages a true writer and does a disservice to the literature at large like bad money driving out the good.

Academy Award winning novels/books are translated into other languages. When such a book is translated into other language and the people of the other language happen to read it, how will they rate Odia literature? This is for anyone to guess.

This is nothing short of a crime, though there is no provision under the law of the land for punishment of such crime. To conclude, I quote from the post of Sabir Ali in the Facebook, “It is the lack-of-integrity of the writers-selectors themselves that is the root-cause of all questionable decisions. It is pitiable when some of them stoop to the lowest level shamelessly. As I find from the comment-posts, most of the persons have not read even a single work of Ms Devi. How could she turn 'eminent and award-worthy' overnight? Obviously the writers-selectors have stooped to the lowest level shamelessly. Who are they? If the Sahitya Akademi doesn't --- on its own --- reveal the names of members of the 'Preliminary Panel' (with the names of the books each of them recommended) and the 'Jury', the data can be accessed through RTI Act. That may expose the nexus.”
********

PATNA Diary

December 15,11:The flight, despite fog and chilly weather, reached the Jayprakash Narayan Airport, Patna on time at 8.35 PM. S K Sinha, an officer of the Bihar Commercial Tax Department, had come to the airport to receive us. I noticed a red light fixed at the top of the vehicle that was to carry us to the hotel, and thought, perhaps, the officers of Bihar Commercial Tax Department used vehicle with red light. There are restrictions in use of red light. The Odisha High Court has a ruling to the effect who can use the red light and who cannot. A Parliamentary Committee has recommended that the MPs should use vehicle with red light. If they are allowed to use, their counterparts of the State Assemblies would also demand the same. To me, red light of the vehicle is a symbol of power and authority. I asked Mr Sinha, “Do your officers use vehicles with red light?”
He replied, “No, it’s for you. You are our guests… guests of the State.”
I felt flattered.

*******

December 16, 11: The workshop on e-Governance in VAT administration began half an hours later than the scheduled time as Sushil Modi, the Deputy Chief Minister who was to inaugurate the workshop reached late. Officers of Gujrat, Keral, Odisha and Maharastra gave their power point presentations on e-services they had implemented in their respective states. Each presentation followed a session of questions answered by the presenter. The discussions and sharing of experience were lively and enlightening. In summing up, the Deputy CM said, it was the most educative day for him in the last six years he was in office as a Minister.
The Deputy CM might have told it to please the organisers and the participants, but we believed he was honest in his remark. He sat all through the meeting from the beginning to the end. He asked questions, took notes and also clapped to appreciate a point made by a presenter. It was amazing considering his busy schedule being the Deputy CM. Bespectacled, dhoti-kurta clad, Mr Modi who is also the Chairman of the Empowered Committee of States’ Finance Ministers, gives the impression of a strict Head Master. He seems sincere and serious. As he is the Chairman of the Empowered Committee he is conscious of the onerous responsibility of implementing GST. He appears not only serious for implementing GST, but also for improving conditions in Bihar. He minced no words in his address for the officers of Bihar to work to a plan fixing deadlines for different e-services.

*******

December 17, 11: We had only 3-4 hours with us, provided if we could wake up early and get ready finishing our breakfast to see important sites of Patna as we had flight at 12.20 PM.
Patna’s ancient name was Pataliputra, the capital of Magadha. Ashoka, the emperor of Magadha had invaded and defeated Kilinga in the war at Dhauli in 261 BC. It is said, the war changed a Chandashoka to Dharmashoka and Ashoka not only renounced war but also any kind of violence by accepting Budhism after witnessing the horrors of Kalinga War. Later, Kharvela, the emperor of Kalinga had taken revenge by defeating the king of Magadha in the second century BC.
Historically, the relation between Magadha and Kalinga was not friendly, but the names Ashoka and Pataliputra evoke a soft feeling in the hearts. We wanted to see the places associated with Ashoka and other sites, whatever possible within the short period. Mr Sinha was willing to play host and a guide for us. He reached the hotel at 7.30 AM and by that time, we were ready. We checked out of the hotel as we decided to spend as much time as possible seeing the places without wasting our time coming back to the hotel for check out. We had decided to go straight to the airport.

We saw Kumrahar, the remains of ancient city of Pataliputra, now a beautiful park. People were seen doing morning walk braving the biting cold and thick fog. We saw the archaeological remains of Arogya Vihar, said to have been headed by Dhanvantari and a tank, believed to have existed during the days of Ashoka. From Kumrahar, we went to Agam Kuan or unfathomable well. The well is 105 feet deep, it’s circular and brick encased. It is believed, Ashoka had dug the well, used it for torturing the people; he had thrown the bodies of his ninety-nine brothers in the well after killing them. The well is in the precincts of Shitala Devi temple. People believe Maa shitala Devi cures smallpox and chickenpox. We visited Gurudwar Patna Sahib, the birth place of the tenth Guru Guru Govind Singh.

On our way from Agam Kuan to Gurudwar Patna sahib we went to the bank of river Ganga. Some constructions were going on. I saw a person sitting on a wooden cot reading a religious scripture in front of a statue of Mahavir and a Bull. It was 10 AM. He was immersed in his reading. Another person was doing some rituals in front of a human skull. A woman, perhaps his wife, was with him.
I asked Mr Sinha,“What is he doing?”
He said, “Perhaps some tantric practices.”

This kind of people always fascinates me. I become curious to know more about them. But I never get time or opportunity to fathom their beliefs and decode the mysticism.

*******

We said good bye to Santosh Sinha and entered into the airport at around 11.30 AM. It was displayed on the board that our flight was delayed by one hour. But some other flights were cancelled due to thick fog. The temperature in Patna was below 6 degree Celsius. We waited in the airport. But after one and half hours, the airport authority declared our flight cancelled because of thick fog and poor visibility.

We called Mr Sinha. He came immediately. He tried with his friends, connections and telephoned the commissioner to help arrange two tickets for us in any train to come to Howrha or Kolkatta. From Howrha / Kolkatta we could come to Bhubaneswar. He succeeded in arranging two confirmed tickets in Lal Quilla Express from Patna to Kolkatta. The train originating from Delhi was running late by two and half hours. The scheduled time of departure of the train at Patna was 7.35 PM.

At 8.30 PM we went to a hotel near to the railway station to eat something. My co-traveller Mr P K Patra, offering a hundred rupee note to the hotel boy, asked to bring a bottle of water. The boy, in a high-pitched voice, said, “Are you blind? Don’t you see I am baking bread?”
His manners were rough and insulting. At that time, I was attending to a call in my cell phone and speaking in Odia. A young man who was sitting on our side seat shouted back at the boy, and was about to beat him. He said to his employer, “They have come from outside. If your boys behaved in such a rude manner, what impression they would take on Bihar back to their states?”
His employer did not say anything, but the boy went himself to the nearby shop and brought one bottle of water. We paid the price of water along with the food bill after we had finished our eating.

In the morning we were discussing on the change in Bihar after Nitish Kumar had taken over the reins of power six years back.
*******

On the occasion of a book release…

My 10th book, a collection of twelve stories, ‘Gabhira Nidrare Iswar’ (God is in deep sleep) is released. All the stories of this book were published earlier in Odia literary magazines. Release of a new book always gives pleasure and I am happy.

No writer writing in Odia ever thinks even in his dreams to live on his writing. The person who publishes a literary magazine in Odia buys paper, pays to the printing press, hires one painter to design the cover and pays him. He gives a discount to the seller/hawker, pays for everything to publish and circulate the magazine. But he does not pay to the writer, though the magazine is sold only for the writings a magazine contains.

A publisher of Odia books behaves as if he would be showing a ‘favour’ to a writer to publish his book. His complaint is that Odia literature does not sell. They say they used to print one thousand copies of a book thirty years back. But now they print five hundred copies. If Government (Raja Ram Mohan Foundation) does not select the book to purchase, they do not know how many years it would take for the five hundred copies to be sold. Sometimes a writer feels humiliated to approach a publisher to publish his book.

Despite all these factors, the question arises, why I should write. Often this question is asked by an interviewer interviewing a writer for a magazine. Sometimes I also ask myself this question. In fact, I do not know exactly the answer to this question. But I know what happens to me if I do not write. If I cannot write for a fortnight or a month I feel restless and become irritable. Only writing calms me down and I become normal. I feel I may go mad if I cannot write.

Reaction over a story overwhelms me. I got a good many phone calls for a few months after the story Gabhira Nidrare Iswar was published in a magazine (Jhankar). The story was photocopied and distributed among the officers of the Department I worked for. My senior officer, when we met, asked me, “Whether your God is awake or He is still in sleep?” A woman after she had read my story ‘Pua’(Son) was so moved that she made phone calls to three-four persons to get my phone number, and telephoned me at about eleven in the night to say that the story had brought tears to her eyes. Many writers must have similar experiences. Perhaps, this is one of the factors that keep encouraging a writer to keep on his writing.

Twenty years back when I was working as a Treasury Office in a small town an engineer met me in my office and told that he had read one of my stories published in the literary page of a newspaper (Sambad). I had only published seven-eight stories by then. He said, “The story is good. I liked it. But it’s not great to write a good story, it’s great if one continues with writing good stories.” In course of discussion I came to know he read literature in four languages: Odia, English, Bengli and Hindi. He learnt Bengli and Hindi to enjoy reading books in those languages. He could be termed as a ‘voracious’ reader. To a budding writer like me he advised. “A writer should not take a reader for granted, should not write whatever he likes. A writer should remember a reader might have read Henry and Chekov, Maupassant and Maugham, Manoj Das and Surendra Mohanty. Why should he read you unless you write something new and different? Why a reader should buy your book and read wasting his money and time unless it interests him? Books of great authors are always available in the market and the reader has a choice. A writer should keep the reader in mind.”

I don’t know where the engineer is now. But I remember him before I despatch a story to a magazine for publication.
xxxxx