Took a taxi ride to see the Konarak Sun Temple, 40 km from Puri. Within a couple of kilometres we were out of city limits - and the slums.
Then, we passed some "residential localities" of the middle class - but no markets there, and poor inner roads. No space for the automobile. Or servants.
And then, the JUNGLE started. All jungle between Puri and Konarak. Forest Department warning signs about deer crossing. Casaurina trees, cashews too - but all jungle.
Finally, reached a sort of roadside town - quite a shambles - with a statue of Biju Patnaik pointing in the general direction of The Sea. But there is no promenade for tourists. A municipal functionary operating a roadblock took 10 rupees tax from me.
A few minutes later, we were near the famous temple - and a cop had to be bribed to drive inside. Another 10 bucks for a ticket - and I made the fortunate decision to hire the services of a guide.
The Sun Temple in Konarak is built on 24 "spoked wheels" - each with a massive "hub." That is, two hub-and-spoked wheels for every month, representing the phases of the moon. They worked as "sundials" too, my guide told me, and you could tell the time by them.
The temple is elaborately carved - but not too well maintained. Scaffolding all over the place, and many "new stones" that are out of place and ill-designed, obviously by our The State. What is interesting is the representation of the "stages of life" - with animals cavorting for the children, sexual enjoyment for the adults, and metaphysical speculation for the aged. Metaphysics has been the bane of Indian philosophy.
One interesting mural showed a day in the life of a noblewoman - she wakes up and stretches, bathes, helped by servants, and then rides out on a horse to hunt!
No hunting allowed any more in Orissa - a heavily forested State of the Federation. Why not deer ranching in the private sector? Barun Mitra is going gung-ho about tiger farming; but I think we should begin with deer. And ganja farming, of course.
I enjoyed a venison steak at the Ikea showroom in the outskirts of Frankfurt-am-Main. The photo accompanying this post is of deer hunters in the USSA.
I must mention what the noble-woman did after the hunt - well, she enjoyed her man. The Good Life! In three or four different positions.
My guide smoked ganja - and we shared a couple of chillums in the unkempt temple gardens. Some other chaps joined us - sellers of precious stones, which seems to be a big "street business" here. This is also "knowledge" not taught in school. The gemstone sellers commented how ganja was a "good nasha" - and how alcohol was killing the people. My guide scored some ganja for me - which did the trick this morning, somewhat.
But the Sun is not shining on this Tourist Destination. The crowd at the Sun Temple was immense! That too, on a Monday evening. All along the road, people have opened dhaba-type shacks. I even found a Cafe Coffee Day - and enjoyed a cappucino. I thought of Goa, where, all along the NH 17, you find establishments calling themselves "Bar & Rest" - the Goans are too susegaad to use the full word "Restaurant"! - but here on this jungle highway there are no bar & rest signs. No Freedom. No road. No wheels. Abundant Space.
I thought a Great Idea would be to rig up a private consortium that would build a sea-side train ride between Puri and Konarak - and develop commercial property all along. The crowd of Bengali tourists would love it. Maybe some would buy Property here for their retirement. This would be real "development" - coming from The Market, an Institution of Free Society that socialists like Biju Patnaik could never comprehend. And they never looked towards The Sea; they only looked towards Nude Elly - for "planned development funds": all the "funny money" of the RBI. Funny money that loses value even as I write.
You might as well burn your Macroeconomics textbook too.
It rained on the return journey - and all was cool. Not violent rain like the Goan monsoon, but a gentle drizzle, with blowing gusts of cool wind. It was nice driving through The Jungle, but when we reached The City all was a mess. Can't enjoy the weather in The City.
Saw a guy with a t-shirt saying "My idea of a Balanced Diet is a Beer in Each Hand" - but I find the beer here prohibitively priced. For the price of one beer I bought a 180ml bottle of Seagram's Royal Stag IMFL whisky. It costs much less in Nude Elly. It costs even less in Goa. So the poor drink chullu. Smoke bidis. And horrible ganja. And their savings are eroded by Inflationism.
What the fuck!
You might as well burn your Microeconomics textbook too.
It is the Science of Economics you need to know - as developed in the Tradition of the Austrian School.
So stay tuned to this blog, where I will elaborate key principles each day.
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