A LITTLE OF MY STORY
Recollecting another memory from my 2024 India visit. The exhaustion of our whirlwind South India adventure clung to us like a second skin, yet Odisha called us home. A sanctuary where we could breathe again, a place to escape the frenzy and recharge. We pit-stopped in Bhubaneswar, the capital, for a much-needed two-night respite. The first night, we collapsed into the hotel like marathon runners stumbling across the finish line, deliriously eager for sleep, our new best friend. But by the second morning, something else tugged at our weary souls: the pursuit of life’s nectar, a simple, soul-soothing cup of tea.
As the morning light stretched across the city, a mustachioed security guard greeted us at the hotel gates with a nod, ushering us into the day. Slippers on, spirits high, we embarked on a comedic tea hunt. Bhubaneswar, still in its dawn slumber, was far from bustling, paan shops barely stretching their creaky shutters, street vendors lazily setting up, and the occasional rickshaw humming like bees. We were two weary travelers in search of treasure. Master Canteen Square, that iconic hub of promise, beckoned us onward.
Our inquiries led us to the famed Indira Gandhi Park, affectionately known as IG Park. With slippered feet scuffing across the pavement, we walked, amused by the city’s quiet. The tea we found, served in petite paper cups at a modest stall, was a far cry from the giant mugs we cherished back in the U.S. “Two sips and it’s gone!” I joked. My husband smiled, ordering another round.
Tea conquered and we crossed the street to enter the park. Despite our meandering intent, IG Park buzzed with life, a surprising contrast to the sleepy city. Neat pathways wove through the greenery like a maze, perfect for a morning stroll. The children’s play area lay mostly quiet but not the circle of metal exercise structures meant for fitness, though half of the users were more invested in their phones than their workouts.
As I watched a gardener carefully drench a bed of marigolds, I mused, “Wouldn’t sprinklers do the job?” My husband’s reply sliced through my casual remark, “And take away jobs from thousands?” Progress, I realized, was a double-edged sword. For every technological leap, a livelihood dangled in uncertainty. He shared stories from a recent secretariat meeting where funds for technological upgrades existed, but the real challenge was the human cost and how could a society move forward without leaving its people behind? His words hung in the air, making me reflect on the delicate balance between progress and the livelihoods tethered to manual labor.
As we continued walking, the park’s vibrancy clashed with the undercurrents of tension swirling around us. It was as if the serenity of nature was at odds with the lives of its visitors. In one corner, a group of women, having completed their walk, had settled in to discuss family woes, their voices rising and falling with the drama of unresolved grievances. Across the path, another set of ladies critiqued fashion choices with a tone so sharp it was hard to tell if they admired or condemned.
I couldn’t help but notice a common thread that no one allowed the other to finish their sentence. Every conversation seemed a contest of interruption, a melodramatic exchange that tested patience more than it fostered understanding. Most solo walkers weren’t even engaged with the park at all, their phones glued to their ears, voices raised in frustration, faces etched with worry. Wasn’t this supposed to be a place of peace?
One couple caught my attention, walking together but worlds apart. Lap one: a quiet couple strolling in unison. Lap two: the husband barked into his phone, his steps growing faster, his wife trailing behind like a shadow struggling to keep up. By lap three, the space between them wasn’t just physical, it was an emotional chasm. It was a scene that spoke volumes about the silent struggles woven into modern life.
Witnessing this parade of agitated souls, I began to wonder. Had the park, meant to be a sanctuary for reflection and exercise, become something else? What was intended as a space for mindfulness and connection with nature had somehow morphed into a therapy center, a stage for life’s frustrations to be aired. Every face, every furrowed brow, told the same story: no one was really there to enjoy the moment. Instead, they were all seeking an outlet for their discontent, missing the beauty of the present.
As we walked past this soap opera of stressed faces and anxious phone calls, I was struck by a deeper realization. Are we, in the frenzy of modern life, losing sight of the simple joy of being? The park’s lush greenery, the birds singing, the soft sway of the trees, these gifts were all around us, yet people seemed trapped in their own mental storms. We had transformed this haven of peace into a battleground for grievances.
In that moment, ancient wisdom resurfaced in my mind, reminding me that true fulfillment comes when our actions align with their purpose. The park was meant for rejuvenation, for breathing in the freshness of the morning, but its energy now felt hijacked by the complexities of modern life.
It started with tea. It ended with the truth.
One small step outside, and the world handed us more than just a cup of tea – it offered a steaming brew of insights, bubbling with the quirks and contradictions of modern existence.
Thank you for reading! Feel free to like, share, and explore more of my posts. Stay tuned!
Pradip Kumar Mohapatra
05/04/2025Beautifully written. Took me there . Great flow ,clarity , usage of words thought provoking
Manorama Choudhury
05/06/2025Thank you very much. Please explore my website and share with other literature enthusiasts to enjoy.
Gayatri Panigrahi
05/04/2025Simple quest for tea….
Very nicely you have explained the morning.
Manorama Choudhury
05/04/2025Nani, thank you for enjoying it.
Maneesh Srivastava
05/05/2025Good read, loved the detail.
Manorama Choudhury
05/05/2025Thank you for enjoying my musings. 💐
Dr. R. K. Das
05/05/2025Lucid language and lively description keep the reader totally engrossed. It’s hightime MANORAMA ventured into writing full- fledged novels on Odisha ‘s rural life or some mythological /historical legends. Best wishes in abundance.
Manorama Choudhury
05/05/2025Thank you very much for your confidence in me. Who knows what is there in future for me. Much regards!💐🙏
J Choudhury
05/05/2025Beautiful language that flows like a sweet spring. Only difference, it tells a story. A story which we see and forget, but the creativity of a writer polished them into sparkling gems. May the spring sing for ever.
Manorama Choudhury
05/05/2025So delighted to read your beautiful feedback. Regards!💐🙏