Annyatha Mullyaheena (ଅନ୍ୟଥା ମୂଲ୍ୟହୀନ),MEMOIR

Dt – 17 – 06 – 2014  ANNYATHA MULYAHEENA (ଅନ୍ୟଥା ମୂଲ୍ୟହୀନ)  MEMOIR……

This Odiya title means OTHERWISE WORTHLESS is my childhood memoir. I am deciphering newer meaning to ordinary events happens to every child anywhere in the world, I enjoy the wonderful days I revisit in my not so small village Tulati, in Korai block of Jajpur district in Odisha. Friends feel as nostalgic as me and encourage me; here no controversy comes unlike my writes on political and social issues. So I enjoy. This is not a chronological memoir, rather like Déjà vu of flashes of lightening happened anytime.

Yesterday I went to my village driving my sister in law`s family, first time they saw my village the geographical domain of Annyatha Mulyaheena as I introduced the place to them. They stay in Mumbai, Jhupa and Bithal the children were excited to see the majestic pond Kastura on its bank as we passed from east to reach the first house of the village where my parents became pleasantly surprised to see all of us visiting unnoticed as happened in 1970s and 1980s in the pre telephone era. My younger brother, his wife and two children and my mentally unsound aunty all became as happy as my parents in their 80s. The day before was father`s day I did not write anything on the old man who was once the most hard working man in the entire world, he is fit and fine with his controlled diabetes and hypertension under the care of my physician wife.

The majestic pond was calling me to jump inside which I do every mid June during the monsoon festival of Raja in Odisha when our mother earth becomes Rajaswala (menstruates) to conceive the crops for the season. Sorry my dear Kastura I cannot jump, not that you are as dirty as you were in last 20 years of middle class refusal to use you on health ground but that now I have no time. The legend says it was dug by Kasturi the eldest sister of the seven, each of whom did one pond in different villages nearby having a name.

Years back when I was too small a kid to learn swimming I was thrilled by seeing my elder brother late Sri Ashok Kumar Senapati (chandavai) and his friends swimming and playing in the water body, about twenty adolescents. My brother offered me to take inside and I jumped to his shoulder. He was strong enough to carry me right into the middle of the pond of hundred meter each side. But it was not as pleasant for me as I thought initially, I hided my feeling of fear. 

Not fearing anyone was our village culture.

 Chandavai probably got tired and wanted me to transfer to one Sri Tapan Kumar Mohanty (Tapandada) for a few minutes. I was trembling to remember the depth of water at that place is to be that of seven palm trees as elders tell stories on the water body. To add to it the soft clay below is of the depth of forteen palm trees. My condition was terrible which I did not reveal.

Tapandada was not that strong and a nervous I held him so tightly that he could not swim without throwing me apart. I was going down before my brother or anyone else could catch me safely.

 Believe me suddenly I became fearless, held my breath (holding your breath for a longer time was a usual competition amongst children) searched violently with my two arms and hands raised above like a Droupadi as the Mahavarat tells. I was going deeper do not know how many palm trees (read feet) deep and how much time left that I can keep my respiration in a halt. Sure all were searching me, some dipping down. Yes I am alive to write this means God sent my maternal cousin Babulavai`s one foot within my reach and I was no less than a Jhontey Rhodes to catch that, the most important catch of my whole life. Yeah I had not aspirated a drop of water and within moments I was on the surface to breath God given free air. Sooner I was taken to the bank. My house is the closest house to the pond and my parents got the news in the next moment.

Chandavai and all other adolescents were trembling now fearing the dearth of the villagers. My father took it very lightly; there was no scolding of my brother or cousin. My mother was with a momentary tear and the issue finished there.

He is my father he was non reactive, patient, strong, caring, brought us the best of food possible by a primary school teacher, and did small poultry, kept some goats and cows to feed us the best. He made provision of three personal ponds and several fruit trees to feed us fish and fruits. He never panicked when my eldest brother became the first in the village secretly joining Indian Army and Chandavai his second son also followed the pursuit. Many many more things he absorbed without giving the impression of being panicky. He allowed Chandavai to be a Sanyasi and later on when the monk accidentally died he told he was already His property year’s back. Many more personal things may bore my readers. That is my great father as great as your father. (Dedicated to my late father in law Sri Bidyadhar Behera who was as important a person to me and my wife

. Love you dads.)