Bhaina on Vacation : The Puri Pandas Go Undercover
By Lokanath Mishra:
The three young pandas of Puri had reached a breaking point.
“Anavasar means vacation,” declared Raghunath, adjusting his sacred thread with the seriousness of a general planning a war. “No darshan, no pilgrims, no dakshina… only freedom!”
“Freedom,” echoed Bansidhar dramatically, “from bhoga schedules and bhaktas asking ‘Pandaji, shortcut darshan?’”
“And most importantly,” added Jagannath (ironically named), “freedom from being called Bhaina every three seconds.”
That sealed it.
Within an hour, the trio was speeding toward Gopalpur in Raghunath’s slightly rattling car, windows down, hair flying, and dignity—temporarily—left behind in Puri.
Their first stop: Berhampur.
They marched into a clothing store with a mission: no one must recognize them as priests.
“What’s the least priest-like thing you have?” asked Bansidhar.
The shopkeeper, sensing chaos, handed them:
- Neon orange shorts
- Shirts with flamingos wearing sunglasses
- Sandals that squeaked loudly
- Oversized sunglasses that could hide a small family
Jagannath looked at himself in the mirror. “If my ancestors could see me now…”
“They would ask for the shop address,” said Raghunath confidently.
They checked into a reputed hotel in Gopalpur, trying very hard to act like “seasoned tourists.”
At reception, Jagannath whispered, “Should we say ‘Jai Jagannath’?”
“No!” hissed Bansidhar. “Say something modern.”
Jagannath panicked and blurted, “Hello… Wi-Fi please.”
They nodded approvingly. Progress.
Next morning: beach time.
The three pandas lay on beach chairs, sipping coconut water like it was imported luxury juice. They were feeling proud.
“Look at us,” said Raghunath. “Completely unrecognizable.”
“Total heroes,” agreed Bansidhar.
Just then… she appeared.
A stunning hotel staff member walked gracefully toward them. The kind of entrance that makes background music play in your head.
The three froze.
She walked past… smiled… and said:
“Good morning, Bhaina… Good morning, Bhaina… Good morning, Bhaina.”
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Even the waves seemed to pause.
Raghunath slowly removed his sunglasses.
“How…” he whispered, “HOW?”
“Maybe she saw your sacred thread?” suggested Jagannath.
“It’s tucked inside!”
“Maybe your face?” said Bansidhar.
“What about my face looks like ‘full-time priest, part-time tourist’?!”
Next morning, emergency plan.
“Upgrade disguise,” said Raghunath.
Back to Berhampur.
This time, things escalated.
- Bright green shorts with pineapples
- Shirts so loud they could start arguments
- Caps worn backwards (very incorrectly)
- Flip-flops with LED lights
Jagannath looked at himself again. “Now even I don’t recognize myself.”
“Perfect,” said Bansidhar. “Even Lord Jagannath will need ID proof.”
Back to the beach.
They sat with renewed confidence.
“She won’t recognize us today,” said Raghunath.
“Impossible,” said Jagannath.
Right on cue… she appeared again.
Same graceful walk.
Same smile.
Same devastating words:
“Good morning, Bhaina… Good morning, Bhaina… Good morning, Bhaina.”
This time, Bansidhar snapped.
“Just a minute, young lady!”
She turned, calm and polite. “Yes, Bhaina?”
“HOW do you know we are priests from Puri?!” he demanded. “We changed everything! Clothes, style, even attitude!”
She blinked… then burst out laughing.
“Oh Bhaina,” she said, “in Puri only priests are called Bhaina…”
The three leaned forward.
“…but in Ganjam,” she continued, “we call all stylish young men Bhaina.”
They stared.
“Here,” she added with a grin, “Bhaina means hero.”
Silence again.
Then Raghunath slowly leaned back in his chair.
Bansidhar adjusted his flamingo shirt proudly.
Jagannath put his sunglasses back on with newfound confidence.
“Well,” he said, “finally… our true identity is revealed.”
“Yes,” said Raghunath.
“Not pandas…” added Bansidhar.
“Heroes,” all three said together.
From that moment on, they stopped worrying.
They walked the beach like celebrities, greeting everyone first:
“Good morning, Bhaina!”
And somewhere in Gopalpur, a rumor began spreading…
“Three very colorful heroes have arrived from Puri.”
And honestly, for once—it wasn’t entirely wrong.
