What's your song?

Human mind is marvelous at associative memories. I was going through my old iPod playlist recently, there were songs that left me awash with memories of people, places, and moments shared and lived like eons ago. 

Let me give you a sample of how back in time some of these songs go. I can still remember sitting in the junior school playground steps under the winter sun and the tall pine trees and listening to a schoolmate sing BoyZone song ‘Isn’t it a wonder..’ There was another schoolmate who would belt Kishore Kumar songs in a slight nasal tone and another who would sing the Hindi song ‘Chura Liya Hai Tumne Jo Dil Ko Nazar Nahin Churaana Sanam’ with all the feels that a 8th grader could emote.

Going even further back in time (when I have no real memory), I am told that my song was Kishore Kumar’s ‘Chingari koi bhadke..’ It was the song playing on the radio station when the doctor announced my birth. My uncle suggested naming me ‘Chingari’, thankfully, my parents did not oblige but I am a short-tempered ‘Chingari’ in some ways!

We have a song that we performed in school/college; it was ‘the IT song’ of that era.
We have a song that we prepared for our siblings wedding; it’s ‘our’ song.
I have a 1.5 yr old niece who does not speak but she dances enthusiastically to ‘bala bala’ song anytime it is on TV or her mom play for her. It’s ‘her’ song.
My 1-year-old son does the actions of a nursery song when he wants us to sing for him or better still play the song on the iPad. ‘Skidamarink a dink a dink’ is his song..

It is truly fascinating to see the associations that we start to build up with music and songs even as small babies, perhaps one of the first ways that we learn to communicate. The first musical experience always comes from family, the force is strong is some cases-Billie Eilish strong or else you will find your musical destiny in the outside world eventually.

I can clearly see my musical inheritance in my parents neatly stacked cassette tape. All the devotional songs stacked together, Hindi movie songs (Kishore & Hemant Kumar/Mukesh/Rafi/Lata Mangeshkar & Asha Bhosle) and a separate stack of eclectic ghazals . Slowly my sister and I added our collection of mixed tapes- swapping and recording cassette tapes from friends and neighbors. This trading went all the way to college with upgrades to CDs and then flash drives. Hello Bryan Adams, Atif Aslam I guess we never reconnected after college but you were part of the ‘best days of my life’!

Our music choices are partly temporal driven by popularity and availability at a certain point of time but they are also very personal- a reflection of our state of mind. There is a personal and social component to music discovery and appreciation. Some artists/music you appreciate of your own volition, other are like an acquired taste, an osmosis process. Technology has further aided the process of music discovery, I was a heavy Pandora user at a certain point of time, listening to different stations and discovering similar artists. Then trying to find free downloads of the song, for some reason I like to own my music in my iPod (I completely understand the hypocrisy of the statement). When it comes to books, I keep away from piracy as much as I can; I either pick up library books, get a personal physical copy or kindle e-book. However, when it comes to music I am a complete parasite.

After meandering a lot, I guess I should talk about the song that triggered this chain of thoughts. Last Sunday when bubs was sleeping, I turned on the speaker in the kitchen and after ages listened to ‘Aaj jaane ki zid na karo.’.-Farida Khanum. I stood still for a while just soaking in the song, as a parent you come to realize that time is truly fleeting. I guess what struck a chord somewhere deep down was the celebration of the moment, the now, the present. Especially now with the whole corona-virus fear gripping us, it was a good reminder to slow down and appreciate the ‘work from home’ time..

“Wakt kee kaid me jindagee hai magar
chand ghadiya yahee hain jo aajaad hain
inako khokar mere jaaneja, umrr bhar naa tarasate raho
aaj jaane kee jid naa karo..”

Heartbeats

To hear, to feel, to see-the rhythm of life..
So close to me yet revealing in only signs and feelings. Shrouded deep in mystery, making me both terrified and excited. Seeking reassurances in moments of silence.

I asked the outlines of the tall mountains against the dark sky,
The moon that later appeared in its daily rounds..

I asked the river as our bamboo raft made way,
And the birds that swooped to catch their prey..
I stood at the harbor asking the waves,
Even the wild ones that were busy in their play
I asked the swish of the water as I swam,
And the playful spray of the monsoon waterfall 

Did you hear the little heartbeats?

Sometimes I wonder if life is but a feeling. We feel most alive in the momentary flutters and the rush of emotions. Yet life is bigger than just being alive, it is about growing, learning and opening up to new experiences and feelings. To be honest the normal grind of human life follows the same rhythm (getting education, job, marriage, family) yet inevitably we embrace the flow of life because we develop attachments and feelings that we think we are incapable of. To feel vulnerability and great strength at the same time, to feel the little heartbeats in moments of silence..

Guilin Travels

In my mind the post's title has a faint word association with the book title 'Gulliver's travels'... I just skimmed a picture book as a child so the Lilliputian image stayed in my mind and as we toured the famous karst landscape of Guilin i couldn't help but feel like a Lilliput surrounded by magnificent peaks that rise from flat ground sudden and unprecedented. 

Every vista is breathtaking and immensely playful in some way, you can weave a thousand stories with the characters that begin to take shape if you look at these peaks for a quite moment. It is quite fun to hear the tour guide's version of the popular folklore passed down in ancient Chinese poems, stories and try to visualize it. 

A more tangible visualisation that has acquired popular currency is commemoration of a landmark site on the country's currency. The primary image on the reverse side of the new 20 Yuan note is a view of a fisherman on his bamboo raft floating down the Li River through the spectacular Karst mountains of Guilin, so when the tour guide made the announcement that we were nearing the scenic spot even the sleepy eyed jumped out of their reverie and whipped out their 20 Yuan notes to compare notes...(multiple pun intended).

We did a Easter weekend trip to Guilin and Yangshuo and came back with a completely different perception of China-Everything somehow works despite Everything...! With my HK bought sim we were navigating around with Google, people were incredibly helpful and our 'flag bearing' tour group guide found us or we found them somehow. Also Yangshuo being a very popular destination with foreign tourists, both language and finding vegetarian food is not much of a struggle.

We took a bullet train to Guilin from Shenzhen and after an overnight stay we took the early morning Li river cruise to Yangshuo. Its a 4hour cruise, a leisurely way to make your way downstream while admiring the abandon and playfulness of Nature. It is an experience that will stay in some quite recess of the soul forever-complete with the colors, shadows and reflections. 

To capture the sound as well, Yulong river bamboo rafting will do the magic. Sitting on makeshift chairs atop bamboo raft(poles tied together), it is the traditional way to experience the beauty of the river, the mountain, the quaint countryside and farms-all to the accompaniment of the swishing sound of the bamboo paddle(pole) and chirping birds.

For an aerial view(sum of the parts view) head to Xianggong Hill, just a 15min climb will reward you with the most breathtaking view of the entire trip(headline picture).

This area is a geological marvel and has some spectacular caves with breathtaking stalactite and stalagmite formation but the jazzy lighting was a major distraction in my opinion. We also went for the famous Liu San Jie Impression Light Show in Yangshuo(same guy who choreographed Beijing Olympics). The waters of the Li-river set the stage and a dozen beautifully lit karst formations form a natural backdrop, so it is quite awe-inspiring in that regard however you don't really follow the plot(no info for non-Mandarin speaker)and the imagery doesn't elevate to magical levels.

Longji rice terrace are better attempted from Guilin with a night halt so didn't work with our short itinerary. Hopefully there will be a next time to explore the area further in a more self reliant way without the tour groups.

So Long, misty mountains and shadows!

Notes from Down Under

This was our first trip to English speaking world in around 3 years, so there was less travel research involved. There was no detailed itinerary and no cheat sheet for common words and phrases especially for ordering vegetarian food. We just picked up our bags and with other Chinese New year tourists in tow headed to Sydney. The plan was to explore the city, spend a day at the beaches, a day tour to Blue Mountains, may be another tour to the vineyards in Hunter valley and call it a wrap.

Sydney is an easy city to naviate with a straighforward public transport system-train,buses & ferries and the city centre is best explored on foot. All the major city attractions are in close vicinity and we surveyed most of them in the course of an evening stroll on Day1(stepped out at 6pm after catching some sleep at the hotel). The next day we did the deep dive-guided inside tour of Sydney Opera house, leisurely walk in the botanical gardens with 20 pictures on the same spot.. Sydney bridge walk(with highway traffic on one side and wired mesh on the other side and sun shining overhead). Museums-contemporary Art was a good one and again lots of pictures of the city from different vantage points and lots of ice-cream in between.
And just as you start the day with a good long black, you end the city tour with a cup of cappuccino in any one of the cosy little cafes that catches your fancy.

Our beach day was hijacked into a walking tour as well, we did the 6km coastal trail from Bondi to Coogee while stopping periodically to play in the sand and waves and watch the surfers at their game. Beaches have their own character and culture, and i guess the Australian 'no-worries' mantra is quite palpable here. The waves are also quite fiesty here, almost kicking you out of the water.
There were lots of joggers giving us company on the trail. I would say that the joggers are spoilt for choice in Sydney- the botanical gardens, the sydney bridge, coastal trail, Hyde park(local will have their own favorites). We spend the evening at Manly beach and it was perfect to take the night ferry back-bedazzled city lights celebrating Lunar New Year. I guess what can really top an awesome day is an awesome dinner and it was quite easy to pick winners in Sydney.

Food is a big part of travel experience, sometimes you can remember a place just for a meal that you had. The dosa and filter coffee I had on one rainy day in Munnar is still my benchmark for authentic South Indian food and every-time i sit down in a south Indian restaurant i am hoping for those flavours that exist only in my memory. There is an intrinsic local knowledge, produce and traditions that makes food special from a place but the rest is a function of our memory and the associations that we build.
I cannot write about authentic Australian food, what we dined was Thai, Italian food in relaxed, cosy and approachable setting. What would qualify as authentic was the cafe culture with their strong coffee game. Cafes we visited had influences from all over the world-French, Japanese, American but i guess what made them authentic was how well they fitted with the daily life of the local people-breakfast coffee or acai bowl, lazy big brunch and close shop around 4pm-local Beer time.

Moving on to the group tours, both Blue Mountain and Hunter valley seemed predominately touristy. I didn’t get a feeling like a lot of locals hit these spots. At Blue Mountains, all the tourist buses first stop at the vista point of Three Sisters range, and then head up to Scenic world for the different rides. There is a zoo visit and a ferry ride back as part of most tour packages.

Since we signed up for a smaller group tour, we were able to shrug the crowds and explore some of the ‘hidden-spots’ in the smaller bus. From all vantage points what you see is a glimpse of the infinite expanse of the mountain. Our tour guide gave us good information regarding the history, flora, fauna and typical way of life of people leaving in the area starting with Blue Mountain 101-The Blue Mountains is densely populated by oil bearing Eucalyptus trees. The atmosphere is filled with finely dispersed droplets of oil, which, in combination with dust particles and water vapour, scatter short-wave length rays of light which are predominantly blue in colour. 

I had seen flaky tall Eucalyptus trees back home, but here they were humongous. Also saw tea-tree shrubs for the first time, it is good Aussie fun to rub the British tourists for having ancestors who used this shrub to make an infusion to drink in place of tea!

A group tour is a microcosm of the general profile of the tourists visiting a place and there was an interesting dynamics that I noticed in our group of fellow tourists. The demographics was slightly skewed towards the age group who reminiscence about World WarII, especially the American and British tourists in our group who were happy to engage in animated discussions with the guide about the history. The other spectrum of people were those who you were rooted in one place but lived in another part of the world. Japanese working in China, Chinese kid raised in Netherlands studying English in Australia, Taiwanese learning Queens English in Britain(while unlearning his Hollywood English). It was a diverse set of people curious about property prices as we drove from the city to the suburbs!

And here I am back in Hong Kong on my way to work, and I chuckle to myself when i overhear another conversations about Sydney property prices.. its a small world.

Reading Short stories

I first came to appreciate short stories back in class 10. Both English and Hindi literature course curriculum had the most eclectic collection of short stories encompassing the varied literary styles and voices.

I came to understand the mood of the story when they opened with a ‘gray cat walking a gray fence in a gray backyard’. I came to understand the ironic endings à la ‘sting in the tail’.  I came to see the generosity of our English teacher when she doled out dismal rock-bottom grades for our entire batch. She was this high priestess of literature and it was sheer joy to sit in her class and soak in all the metaphors and allegorical references. She is the only teacher who taught both me and my brother and after carefully comparing notes we conferred her with a title- take a bow 'Ninja warrior'!

Hindi literature was a different revelation- one could easily see the parallels between the plot/language/literary devices used by the writer and the people/society/times he was portraying. There is always a social context to writing and with Hindi writers there is a certain familiarity with the externalities of the story. You can really sit down and appreciate the details/perspectives that the writes chooses to bring to focus, the set pieces he picks.

Irrespective of the language, short stories have a technique. Poe’s golden dictum-a short story should be readable in a single sitting is a good starting point. The majority of stories that I read back in class 10 were tightly wound. O. Henry-‘The last leaf’, ‘The gift of the Magi’ instantaneously come to mind. They read like a fable, I can describe these stories during a dinner conversation in between tearing a piece of bread and using it to mop up the hearty soup.
There were other stories that left an indelible impression with their realism-the true life like portrayal of human nature and condition- Anton Chekhov, Premchand.
Some stories you remember for their characters, often the ones who stand out not for their virtues but for their all too understandable flaws. Stephen King stories/novellas are often tales of such twisted characters.

I am currently reading a collection of O. Henry Prize Stories 2013, and it is interesting to sample the work of different writers from a somewhat recent era. It’s a mixed bag so far, some to my taste and some that leave me cold. Also I have to confess that in most modern stories “nothing happens”, sometimes its just a mood or a dense psychological degustation palette. However I am keeping an open mind.

“The summer people” by Kelly Link was the one that I enjoyed reading the most. It’s the kind that you start reading and nothing else matters until you finish it- the mister waited for me to finish the story before we headed out for our morning hike. I guess I am a sucker for books with magic, (reliving my Harry Potter days) this one served a dollop and then some-magical realism.
George McCormick, “The Mexican” was short, had a beginning that I liked and an ending that I loved. Nalini Jones, “Tiger” felt endearing and realistic. “Where Do you Go” by Samar Fitzgerald had my rapt attention for a while. I thought I really understood the couple, especially the women she was writing about until a point.
I still have a couple more to read in this collection before I go a decade back in time and read another O. henry collection i picked from the library. Just the right way to spend a lazy December weekend!

Coincidentally while I'm stargazing the short story universe, little online birdie tells me that a short story just went viral(Cat person-The New Yorker). Its a slice of life which is eerily relatable(primarily women's perspective) and much like everything else in twitter-verse, its evoked sharp reactions..

Fading light

The setting sun can delineate outlines more clearly than the bright mid-day sun. When the dark shadows fills up the rest, one can clearly see the outer limits, the boundaries, and the personality without the distraction of the colors. It is a black silhouette laid bare against the fading orange of the day.

It was just a passing sight, the distant mountain peaks sharpened by the evening light. My eyes were transfixed at the outline for the little time that the moving bus afforded me the panorama. I pass by them every morning and evening on my way to work, but their lofty size and personality was a revelation to me. I was moved by the clarity of the view..

They call it ‘the last light’..
If you look closely, every beautiful sentiment is mirrored in arts, songs, poems, literature in some form already. The real joy is to experience it in its full force in a completely unsuspecting moment. It is a deeply personal experience, yet it qualifies as a shared experience not at a physical level but at a completely ‘ether level’-somewhere in your imagination.

This may be a good time to confess my love for the Readers Digest back in the 80’s. I can honestly say that it has been the reference point for a lot of ‘ether’ moments in my life. Back as a school kid I used to go to the town public library to pick up old Readers Digest editions and devour them under the winter sun. The warm anecdotes with gentle humor, personal stories of courage and fortitude particularly warmed my soul. But embarrassingly what stayed with me is a diary scribbled with quotes I found beautiful. Most of them expressed emotions that I had not personally experienced and wisdom which was much beyond my years but I felt a connection and the words stayed with me.

So once i reached home, i searched for my old tome and found these lines that i had once scribbled in my (once) shapely cursive slant and read them back again.

"By a departing light

We see acuter, quite,
Than by a wick that stays.
There's something in the flight
That clarifies the sight
And decks the rays"-Emily Dickinson.

Its a sense of the ending that makes the beginning and all that from there-so much more meaningful. Going along in the old routine, we get into a kind of acquiescent numbness. We need to be jolted out of our numbness. You must look at things not only as if you were seeing them for the first time but as if you were seeing them for the last time, as if you were never to see them again and had to take them all in and remember them for ever.

I find myself in this state of deep inertia where I hear myself talk about change but I am unable to move a muscle. And when i looked out of the bus window, i saw a metaphor for my own life- a wake up call before darkness. The darkness of my own disappointments.

I just hope to do better and see the light again.

Anecdotal blindside

When we judge ourselves using our anecdotal memory, it is a tricky business. It’s a biased jury looking at self-serving evidence, yet there are some moments of emotional honesty that can sneak past the defense.

I have character flaws that I quietly suspect and acknowledge, and I often hark back to seek validation or refutation from past memories. I am not sure that we are objectively capable of this endeavor-to summon untainted evidence from our repertoire and have a fair trial. At some level, I am aware that it is a futile business to psychoanalysis our actions and intentions in hindsight, perhaps even a risk of triggering a self-feeding loop which can effectively shield us from seeing the truth.

Yet I trust the ugly verdict with a healthy dose of distrust for the evidence.

May be it is just a coping mechanism, to move past the past while learning the ugly in me or it is just living in partial denial, I try not to go there.. We all have our blindside.

Triple J trip

Posting a quick note about the triple J trip: Jeju in June & July!
Historically, Jeju island(South Korea) has been called by many different names. I found this trinity reference interesting- Island of no three kinds, and many three kinds. It was the island of triple abundance-wind, stones & women... and over the years people created many different combinations.

WIND:
Truly free, truly fierce
Play-full, full of pride
Loud and lashing
Making twisters out of mist..
Flattening out the grasslands
Puffing up pink raincoats into balloon
Hey hey hold on a second you crazy wind, let me at-least fix my cap

Our attempt to summit Mt. Hallasan, was usurped by the grand theatre of rain, fog and wind. Caught flat-footed by the sudden change of weather, we waited almost one hour at the hike start point for the supplies store to open. Then decked in our flimsy pink and blue raincoats we made our way up. It was literally the most 'mistifying' experience-mist caught up between the tall trees threading all the spaces and boundaries. Needless to say, any attempts at photography was a moot point, so we diligently trudged along feeling the patter of the rain and the gusts of wind.

Slowly as the forested area cleared and we started the hike up the ridge, the wind truly came into form-pushing hard on one cheek, beating against the poor ear on the right. Holding the ropes along the wooden stairs for some reassurance-it was wild and a bit scary up there.

The terrain changed again, small trees, grasslands perfect habitat for the deers that live here. The mean misty curtain denied us any chance to see the summit or the views around. The Mountain spirit has many moods and it is at its most playful in the rains..The summit eluded us this time, but hopefully we will get another chance.
Route:Yeongsil trail on our way up and Eorimok trail on our way down.


STONES:

You get the picture.
Since the island was created by volcanic eruption, long long time ago, the black ash colored rocks are omnipresent taking different interesting art-forms. The coastal landscape is dotted with natural rock formations created by wind/water weathering over the years.
The island is dotted with figurines carved in porous Basalt(volcanic rock) called  Dol hareubangs. The statues' faces feature grinning expressions, bulging eyes without pupils, a long, broad nose, and slight smile.They are sold as tourist souvenirs everywhere, we got one as well

Along with the traditional, the quirky human vision is also at at play with the rocks and stones, creating montages for the selfie obsessed.

WOMEN: 

Haenyeo, the famed female free divers of this island earned their living and respect in the society with each dive into the depths of the waters. Diving 10-30 meters deep without oxygen mask(holding their breath for over three minutes), they gather shellfish and other species.

We frequently spotted bright yellow flippers and orange float bobbing in the dark waters. These women can be seen working and selling their fresh grilled catch in shacks by the beach. 

This economic self- reliance and social support system of the Haenyeo life is the foundation of a semi-matriarchal society in Jeju island.

The owner of the guesthouse where we stayed was another enterprising women. Single handedly she maintained the whole place and yet was fully attentive to the needs of the guests-exchanging pleasantries, arranging transport and recommending places to visit. Finding vegetarian food in Jeju was a difficult deal, so we cooked Maggi in her small pantry one day and the other time she offered us a bowl of puffed rice. She also introduced us to Makgeolli, a yummy alcoholic drink.

Overall the island is best enjoyed while driving around, stopping to admire the changing landscapes and taking in the fresh air. Seafood and contemporary museums(teddy bear, trick photography, love museums you name it that have it)are another big draw for families.

For us we had the Jeju mandarin oranges-the local hallabong variety and some halla chocolate(orange) to share with friends..

This beautiful place made a special place in my heart and became new home for my hat! (lost it somewhere after this picture)

The Vegetarian-book review

I finished reading Han Kang's ‘The Vegetarian’ in March, but I am still digesting it in May. It has been a confounding read, it indicates to be one thing and then morphs into something unexpected.

I picked up the book knowing well in advance that ‘vegetarianism’ is not the focus but rather a plot device to highlight the conflict between individual choice and the pressure of a conformist society. On surface food choices may seem innocuously personal but food is a shared experience. It has a strong social component, therefore the choice of a woman to embrace vegetarian lifestyle in a predominately meat-eating, conformist, patriarchal Korean society can set the stage for a conflict.

The precipitation is sudden, there is a dream, a gory dream and overnight our protagonist, Yeong-hye decides to quit eating meat. The book doesn’t give a real voice to the protagonist, there is no trajectory to follow her from point A to point B. The aftermath is narrated from the viewpoint of the husband who is confounded by the sudden change.

Hers is a silent rebellion against the idea of a good wife who cooks to please the husband. Hers is a silent rebellion against the idea of good daughter who fulfills her marital duties to honor her parents. I can fathom this angst but her rebellion goes beyond her social construct and morphs into grotesque violence on herself. She quits meat and spirals towards physical disorders and gets diagnosed with anorexia and schizophrenia. This makes you question her motivation. Her decision is not an act to emphasis her choice to live life on her terms. Hers is a different choice, she chooses to renounce "the very life that her body represented".

I didn’t see that coming..

The other thread of narration is from the viewpoint of Yeong-hye's elder sister. I see the role of the elder sister in the nature of ‘compare and contrast’, best summed up in her moment of reflection :“She was no longer able to cope with all that her sister reminded her of. She’d been unable to forgive her for soaring alone over a boundary she herself could never bring herself to cross, unable to forgive that magnificent irresponsibility that had enabled Yeong-hye to shuck off social constraints and leave her behind, still a prisoner. And before Yeong-hye had broken those bars, she’d never even known they were there…”

At this point, I wonder if ‘renunciation’ and ‘escapism’ in the face of oppressive norms and expectations is the theme we are building towards. But may be not, because in this ostensible bleak and defeatist setting there is one recurring theme-the pursuit of the protagonist to live more naturally and free. Her decision to become vegetarian was almost literal, she wants to 'become vegetation.'
She is repulsed by her human form associated with cruelty, it oppresses her soul. She feels natural ease and happiness at having leaves painted on her naked body. She wants to internalize that display. In the mental care facility she stands still like a tree hoping to transform into one.
She aspires for a different life and dies in pursuit of that freedom. To understand her psyche, one needs to feel from the heart and empathize with her.

Yet I am unsure about my own feelings for her..
We don't hear her narrative, we try to interpret her through her dreams, through her interactions with the people around her. However all her actions ultimately tie up to the one question she asks of us towards the end: Why, is it such a bad thing to die?” and a part of me is unable to reconcile the violence of her choice.

Minding my business

In recent news, Trump was suddenly enamored by the economic metaphor ‘Priming the pump’ so much so that he claimed that he invented the phrase. Meanwhile I try to mind my own business and not think about the craziness of the whole situation.

Yet on my way to work, I find myself reflecting on the phrase ‘Minding my business’ in a new light. I see the words ‘mind’ and ‘business’ with an angelic halo and the subtext saying ‘my mind, my business.’ I take this as a passive-aggressive way for my sub-conscious to question the affairs of my mind.

Recently I was on a binge overdrive consuming non-stop Dexter seasons only interrupted by late night comedy shows skewering Trump. Binge watching is essentially mental hibernation for me, complete thoughtless state with no priorities and no guilt. Top that with the incredulousness of news from Trumpland and your mind will scream for detox as well.

I have pulled many movie/ TV marathons, vegetating in front of the screen and wasting a good many hours of my life. Dexter (till season 4) is perhaps better than some of the other stuff I have consumed like a junkie, but this time around it feels like ‘I am too old for this s***.'

Oh the joy of finding the perfect phrase/metaphor/meme to express my thoughts!- Thank you Mr. Murtaugh, of course I didn’t invent it :)

Life's a beach

A week of vacation in the lovely beaches of Thailand and sure life's a beach! The following lines of the song really talk to you especially when you simplify 'Cause I'm young and in love' to say 'Cause I'm on vacation...

I get ready, I get all dressed up
To go nowhere in particular

It doesn't matter if I'm not enough
For the future or the things to come
'Cause I'm young and in love
I'm young and in love..-Lana Del Rey

(Meeting the conditions of the song is quite a stretch of imagination when you are on the other side of 30s..lets admit that.)

We were in Southern Thailand, exploring the beaches of Phuket & Krabi around Andaman sea. Island hopping tours are a popular activity to explore the distant island groups of Phi Phi and Hong island. There are hundreds of speed boats flocking to these gorgeous waters, with thousads of tourists in tow. The islands are incredibly beautiful, soft white sand and clear green waters reflecting the tall limestone rocks surrounding them. Sometimes the shade of the waters turned a darker shade of green & blue with the shadows of the corals beneath. It was ethereal and at the same time quite an impersonal way to experience the beauty around. Everyone was trying to escape the crowds to get a perfect Facebook worthy photo of themselves in the allotted time on the beach before we head to the next island destination.

The real opportunity to commune with the waters and the tall cliffs came our way when we took our sea kayak to navigate through Ao Thanane’s mangrove forests and sheltered lagoons. It was a delight to escape the spluttering sound of speed boat and long-tail boats in the quite of the kayak and just get mesmerised by the beauty and the quite sounds of the mangrove forest. It was perfect, except the husband and I were warring at each bend and every jutting mangrove root-right, right, right.....bam! We were the drunk bumbling bees of the kayak group. Only when we were out of the mangrove forest and the waters opened up, peace was restored in our part of the world. Despite what I described, would recommend to take the kayak and explore around.

Lastly we stayed put at Kata beach, for two days. Kata is the quieter cousin of the famous Patong beach in Phuket. This was really our true beach time, lazing around in the sand and waters for the greater part of the day. In between the dips and reading on my kindle, I really got to reflect that everyday is different on the beach. One day the sea can be perfectly still, the next full of waves. Merciful cloud cover one day and none the next. The breeze changes angle.The color of the sea changes all through the day and also between today and tomorrow. The only constant attribute is the saltiness of the sea water.

Moving on to matters of food, the thai green/red curry served everywhere was on the salty side ever. Papaya salad is the only way i like the papaya. There are way too many Indian restaurants in Krabi and the food is absolutely authentic. 'Vegetarian food' is not an alien concept, we were able to find decent food choices everytime. Coconut ice-cream with tender chucks of coconut is the best. Having a dinner of tropical fruits is totally legitimate, after trying some roadside pancakes. Dried fruits on the contrary is just unhealthy sugar disguised in attractive fruit-packaging-beware!

Keeping me company on this trip was a book on Genes by Siddhartha Mukherjee, it is an odd choice for a beach read. Yet the expansive scope of the book is well enjoyed over glances at the immense waters and the recurring waves. The gist of the book from a NY times review is quite spot on: "The gene is, and is not, the determiner of our identity. It behooves us to accept this paradox and understand it".
Ah! the complete delight of lying in a hammock in a quite private beach(in Krabi), gently rocking in the breeze and reading my book. The beauty of the moment was that it could make you feel 'young and in love'..

Where the mind is without fear

When do you hear your fears loudest?

I have experienced their creepy presence sometimes in the quiet when I am alone by myself and other times in loud cheerful social settings. Some fears live with us in the everyday, some bubble up in the rumble of new changes. May be deep down all our fears share the same DNA makeup but how they manifest and impact us varies greatly under different situations.

When one is alone in a physical space, the fear is more primal. We assess the unseen threats and try to make an escape strategy. When I hear squeaking sounds in the dark, I try to block out irrational fear of wandering spirits. When I am walking alone on a wooded trail, all the creaking nature sounds conjure up images of a sudden appearance by a wild animal; although I am still undecided about shining a torch in the direction of the noise or just making a quick dash.

Growing up in the hills back home, the troops of monkeys and langurs sitting by the roadside made you quicken your pace. In the cold winter months, sightings of big cats prowling in search of food were often reported. The visceral fear of encounter with the wild in urban spaces was quite real.
The other phantom lurking in the shadows of the hills was wide-spread alcoholism. The story of alcohol in the hills dates back to the British period. Under colonial auspices, consumption of liquor began to spread with the paraphernalia of the Raj: soldiers, bureaucrats and the establishment of "hill stations".It then quickly ensnared the under-employed male populace and in today’s context with the steady liquor license revenue for the government coming from tourism & hospitality industry, it has found firm ground. Often after dark (in short winter days) unsteady walking figures were a common sight. To ward off harassment from these inebriated souls, a feisty aunt once advised to give them a gentle push down the hilly road-quite an intrepid lesson in self defense.
Most of our primal fears can be traced to early childhood and they stay with us even when the physical environment has changed with adult life. Each one of us is blessed and cursed in our own way; we fear some things more than others and vice versa.

Next up are the fears that we face in social situations & interactions. Our social fears evolve out of our personal and professions aspirations. This temporal fear, shape shifts as we go through life, the nervous rush of forgetting the opening lines of a poem at an elocution competition later morphs into fear for academic or professional success.
Our moral compass hinges on fear of repercussions of our actions.The legal system as a deterrent to crime is borne out of our inherent fear to get caught and be punished.
The specter of fear also looms over innocuous daily social interactions like the constant fear of 'sounding dumb'. Special events like graduation, engagement make some people particularly anxious(wedding being the class topper here). In most part, our social fears follow the regular cadence of life, they come and go in waves.

Moving beyond the personal cocoon of fears, we realize that our social, economic and political background play a major part in our fear psyche. The internal & external is intertwined in a complex relationship, their cumulative impact affects us at an individual level and also as a social entity- race, religion, sex.
There is a dismal scenario, where the external loudness of fear completely blocks out the normal rhythm of life. There are people living in extreme existential threat with constant risk to their lives and the lives of their loved ones. They fear persecution for their social, religious and personal choices.
As a society, we need to develop social, economic and political institutions that protect and defend the most vulnerable against prejudice and oppressing forces. Our goal should be to strive for a world-

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments
By narrow domestic walls..
.-Rabindranath Tagore.

What happens when these ideals no more guide us as a global society?
Our political environment is undergoing big changes; a different strain of government institutions are gaining ground. The changing mood of the populace and the political noise gaining strength is challenging the current model of human progress. Public discourse has a completely different tone and the acceptable norms of proprietary are blatantly flouted by 120 character ‘tweets’.
We are living in a world more unpredictable, more confrontational. We had lulled ourselves into a false sense of security and equanimity. The existing structures need to be questioned, but I am not sure if the people making the most noise have anything but their own interests in mind.
Ostensibly we are talking about economic strife but what seems to be really guiding us is a xenophobic philosophy(the blueprint for Brexit & Trumpism).

I am definitely on the low side of optimism seeing the recent developments and genuinely afraid that things may take a turn for worse, before they get better. But i still hope for a world where the mind is without fear and the head is held high..

New Year-Old hike

I am not sure how often you need to repeat something for it to become a tradition; however we repeated our Plover Cove hike again this New year(2nd year in a row). Why Plover Cove hike-quite challenging, old school(rugged)17.5km hike which is quite scenic and confers immediate boasting rights!

This attempt we were definitely better equipped in supplies and morale. We started from home on time with a good breakfast. Also the Mister found me a zero-tech sturdy stick to negotiate the slippery slopes, since last time I took a nasty tumble on this hike.

Our hike coincided with the New Year N.E. Mountain Race 2017, so we had lots of determined soul with bruised legs from company(this hike really gets you if you are not careful with the loose stones, root or rocky outgrowth). They were tackling the hike from the opposite direction hence it was easy to read the struggle etched in the red faces, deep breaths and shaky legs.
Since the trail is really tricky and quite narrow at places, we were slowed down by the traffic coming from the opposite direction. This time the initial gruelling 6.5 km took us longer and naturally a heartfelt curse escapes your lips when the distance post reads 11 km remaining..(just as last time).

The last 5.5 km is a gentle walk across the reservoir, so effectively the 11km heartbreak point is not truly a moment of crisis, nevertheless we steadied our pace after this milestone. We were steadily covering ground(as the runners had also mostly thinned out), when we were stopped in our tracks by the angry growl of potentially a wild boar. We didn't see the animal but were scared enough by the growls to retrace our steps and wait for fellow hikers to catch up with us before proceeding further. Meanwhile the animal had also returned to the safety of the deep woods.
The remaining hike was smooth and it was almost sunset when we reached the bus stop. It was also time for the whole bunch of picnicking-BBQing crowd in the vicinity of the reservoir to head back home. It was a long wait at the bus stop and a long snaky route through Tai-Po before we finally reached the MTR station.
We were back home exactly 12 hrs after we embarked on our journey on the first day of 2017.. So yeah Happy New Year!!!

Old blog post from 2016 can be found here:Plover cove 2016

Telling Stories

Be careful of the stories that you tell yourself when you start the day..
Be careful of the stories that you tell in the day when others are watching..
Be careful of the stories that you tell in the tipsy evening when your guards down..
Be careful of the stories that you tell to lull yourself to sleep..

Be careful of the stories you invent,
lest you trick your own mind and find it hard to recall the truth anymore..
Be careful before you sell them as your own,
lest you rehearse each delivery and peddle wares that don't belong to you anymore..
Be careful before you fall in love with them,
lest you annoyingly hijack all conversations without being aware anymore..

Be careful of these stories because eventually you believe and become them..

Look out for the One you keep coming back to, all the time
The One you tell with a twinkle in your eyes and a tickle in your spine..
The One that gnaws your insides every mundane moment
The One that burns in the pit of your guts and asks you to put a fight..
Don't ignore the Story of your life-the One it ought to be..

PS: This is just a photo i like, not the story of my life... especially not this life!

Another hiking post-MacLehose section 7

He can climb up briskly without breaking much sweat, while she breaths deeply taking each measured step uphill. She can run down the hill as a mountain goat, while he awkwardly tries to align the eyes, the upper half of the body and the legs so that he correctly heeds the call of gravity.
In short life is a difficult struggle for every individual and as a couple we have well guarded the exclusivity of our individual misery circles!

Going Up.. the challenge ahead..

Looking back from the other side...

Pictured above:Needle hill(altitude 532 mts.) located within Shing Mun Country Park. Stage 7 of the MacLehose Trail.

The picture is also an allegorical reference to the year waning away in the abnormal December warmth here in HK and the new one slowly inching closer day by day..

Quick note for someone attempting MacLehose trail 7: Medium difficulty hike with Grassy hill(647mts.) & Needle hill(532 mtrs) climb with gorgeous panoramic views of the reservoir, Kowloon, NT and HK island far off.
Trail access: Tseun wan Mtr(B2 exit)->Minibus 82 to Shing mun reservoir(Pineapple dam). Walk semicircle of the reservoir to get to Jubilee dam for the trail start point.
Alternatively you can take a taxi to Shing mun reservoir(Jubilee dam)-more convenient as it took us some time to find the minibus stop and then the long queue took us another 30mins.

I quite liked the trail, the views are gorgeous and this trail has a different feel especially around the grassy hill. There is a lot of sky when you take pictures-there is an illusion of height even when the gradient is quite gentle. The rolling hills with diverse flora(reforestation efforts by government) and grazing cows instinctively made me remember a W.H. Davies poem from school days:

What is this life if, full of care,

We have no time to stand and stare.

No time to stand beneath the boughs

And stare as long as sheep or cows.

I was just happy to make the time to have this perfect ‘Leisure moment’!

Getting out: The trail 7 ends at lead Mine pass mostly in the middle of wilderness. Trail 8 which starts at the Lead mine pass challenges you to dare ahead but we preferred to save it for next time. The other 2 options you have: 5km walk to Tseun Wan Or take Wilson trail 7(3km) to Tai Po market. We followed the Wilson trail 7 through the wilderness until it joined the metaled road(hill path in Yuen Tun Ha to Wun Yiu) then took the minibus 23Kto Tai Po market.

Rewalk in the hills

Cities are deaf to real conversations, words get lost all the time. If you go searching for the light banter and relaxed moments you shared with a friend some years ago, you will mostly draw a blank. There are no safe deposits where you can commit a memory and revisit it again to find your gold.

The slow moving camera, the long gazes, the deep breaths and gentle blues music in the background, that is how memories are made in movie and somehow it is true in real life as well. The world slows down, folds inwards closing out the outer chatter and accentuates the presence of the small space around you- the eyes, the smiles, the carefree words, the spying sun and may be the flutter of the leaves or the crashing waves or the singing birds. In the quite of the woods and the rugged hills, the words and smile, the sweat and the short breathe, the apple and the taste of wind are all frozen in time.
The real magic reveals itself when you retrace your steps and find the little nuggets of forgotten gold from your last visit still shining under the clear blue sky!

Thinking, fast and Slow-Book review

The author starts with a confession of a modest goal (enrich talks at the office water coolers) and then proceeds to reveal his decades of research on human cognition -how we make decisions, choices and memories. There are two systems, he posited, one conscious and slow and involved, the other devoted to jumping to conclusions, mostly subconsciously. The book fleshes two characters(System 1 & System 2) who embody these systems and we get to understand their individual traits and the dynamics of their interaction.

This cognitive model also helps explain illusions such as anchoring, non regressive predictions and overconfidence. The operative model of our mind makes us susceptible to these biases and in most cases we are not even aware of it. 

This is an extremely smart book, quite balanced in building its case and discussing the implications of the result. It requires attentiveness to work through the various experiments illustrated in the book to explain the different theories and ideas. Also sometimes you need to summon personal experiences to evaluate if the theory explains your individual behavior.
In the course of reading the book, there were times when the book seemed to decode my motivation for action or inaction in my daily decision making. 

If you are trying to make sense of the 2016 US presidential election, the book provides very useful framework to interpret human rationality, gains & losses perception, biases and data interpretation.

Human existence is defined by our mortality, rationality and emotionality ; our societies are shaped by the sum total and in turn feedback to the individual. Don’t worry the book doesn’t indulge in such convoluted logic, this is just my random musing inspired by the book. 

This is a well researched and logically articulated book. I am in complete awe of Daniel Kahneman's work, with his focus on understanding individual decision making, he has developed a framework for institutional decision making and public policy discourse.

As I flipped the last page, the one thought that surfaced in my brain was what am I going to do about it, now that I know how ‘it’ works? 

I guess just stop and look closely whenever I press 'Submit'!(and  submit,,,)

The Grapes of Wrath-Book review

The book is essentially a looking glass into the largest migration in American history within a short period of time. Between 1930 and 1940, approximately 3.5 million people moved out of the Plains states due to drought conditions and migrated towards the West coast only to find that the Great depression had rendered economic conditions there little better than those they had left. The large scale worker movement created demand supply imbalance, depressed earnings and created conditions rife for exploitation of the displaced migrant workers.

The novel is a commentary of the period with poverty, migration, labor rights and public policy as the key themes of the narrative using the trials and tribulations of a fictional family-the Joads from Sallisaw Oklahoma, who drove in a Hudson Motor car company saloon converted to a truck along highway 66 to reach California. When they finally reach the Promised Land after personal tragedies and loss, what they witness is unwelcome social treatment, colluding business interests and hostile law enforcement.
To a great extent the world interprets human history in terms of the stories, poems and pictures. The brilliance of the book ‘The Grapes of Wrath’ is that it distilled the undeserved poverty and displacement of the self-respecting White American Joad family as representative of the collective history of the nameless multitudes that lived the era..

Although simplification of history comes with its own perils, what we get in the novel are unfaultable heroes (the insufferable Ma Joad and Tom Joad the son who breaks the law but has a heart of gold). The writer doesn’t veil his sympathy for migrants and workers' movement so we have a clear annotation of the good vs. evil clash.
When preparing to write the novel, Steinbeck wrote: "I want to put a tag of shame on the greedy bastards who are responsible for this [the Great Depression and its effects]." He famously said, "I've done my damnedest to rip a reader's nerves to rags."

I guess when I weigh the book against the stated objective of the author, I agree that the book has served its purpose.

Ho Chi Minh city-Impressions

The people here(in Vietnam) have a mind of their own, about their destiny, their identity, freedom and they fought a long war for their sovereignty.
‘Hearts of Atlantis’ was my prelude to our Vietnam trip- the book mirrors the 70’s disillusionment with the Vietnam War in US. The trip to HCMC provided a more vivid perspective of the naked American aggression and the psychological warfare tactics of the Viet Cong and the Guerillas in the Vietnam War.

For every conflict there are two sides to the truth; the truth vs. optics and the truth vs. propaganda. The line between the two is blurred in war times but the truth is universal and becomes apparent with the passage of time. It was an ugly war just as each one of the other fought by mankind; losses on both sides, deplorable acts of brutality, misguided motives, conceited rationalization and money for someone.
The War remnants Museum in HCMC and the Cu chi tunnels are powerful reminders of the mistakes of past and a looking glass for the current plight in Iraq and Syria. However it is easy to reduce the wars of yesterdays to tourist attraction in the present and the message gets lost..

The city has a quintessential East meets West charm which is evident in the architecture, culinary and café culture. Case in point, the locals took the essentially French import- Baguette and transformed it into the tongue tantalizing Banh-mi(sandwich) and made it its ‘own’.
When the entire world has essentially surrendered to the Starbucks dominion, the coffee here holds its ground- it is robust and mean. It has an authentic well roasted coffee bean flavor and not the bitter slightly acidic flavor that masquerades as black coffee.

There are always two ways to explore a new place-the convenient off-the-shelf approach and the more immersive DIY approach. Our HCMC trip was overall more the former and less the latter, we opted for group day trips with tour operators which was informative but less about self discovery. 

We did the Mekong river delta group tour and got a glimpse of rural life and cottage industries(bee keeping/coconut candies). It was a well-planned trip and provided a glimpse into the everyday life/livelihood & culture. Also it is a good concept to funnel tourist money to rural locations and reduce migration pressure to big cities.
This trip brought back memories of the eventful Nagarjuna Sagar and Krishna river trip with a bunch of Deloitte colleague back in Hyderabad some 5 years before. This was one of my first trips in Hyderabad and an introduction to some of my greatest friends in the city. The memories of last minute arrangement for a 7 seater vehicle, ‘Shutter island’ like experience and a surprise invitation from a local Hyderabadi friend for dinner at his home are just as fresh and so is the friendship..
It is quite natural for me to compare my travel experience in Asian countries with India given the geographical proximity and broad similarity in the social-economic parameters. My perception is that a lot of these small south asian countries have done a much better job than us at building the travel logistics and service mindset to capitalize on cultural tourism(agree my version of India may be slightly outdated).

Moving on to matters of the stomach, I will have to give a shout out to this Vietnamese restaurant-Com Chay Mani (Comchaymani) for an authentic local food experience. We went in looking for a hearty vegetarian meal and stepped out a happy bunch. We tried the Mani special noodles, dumpling and a hot pot dish and were bowled over by the distinctively vibrant flavors in each of the dishes.
We had a meal at Hum restaurant(good ambience, extensive menu with lots of choices and ok food) & were lucky to get our hands on some tofu banh-mi at Mybanhmi, the spicy garlic version was our absolute favorite- repeated the order and gobbled up the sandwich with some healthy veggie soup... yum!

The current day Vietnam has come a long way since the end of the war in 1975 to become one of the world’s fastest growing economies and has set its sights on becoming a modern and industrialized nation by 2020. Politics aside, there is definitely something steely and gritty about the gentle natured people here and I would like to see their vision come true..

Completing a circle

Two years later, I was back at the place where it all started. The same building, the same faces, and the same roads, essentially nothing much changed. Sure few people left and some new faces were added but it was the same old Memphis.

All through the week, I had the song ‘That’s how I got to Memphis..’ playing in my mind as I tried to place the fork in the road, in hazy mental maps. I felt warmth and appreciation for the days I spent there but there was no tug pulling me behind. I guess that is something you feel only for your ‘home’..

Yet in some ways it was fulfilling, like completing a circle. When I left 2 years before, I did not bid farewell to the people around, mostly I just disappeared in my own uncertainties.
To keep me company on this trip, I was reading ‘Hearts in Atlantis’ by Stephen King. The book is essentially a mood that is deftly crafted in the interrelated stories. This is a ‘looking back’ book and I couldn’t have picked anything better to keep me company in this journey..

Taking my flight back, I found myself musing over another of King’s quote…. ”It's a little place on the Pacific Ocean. You know what the Mexicans say about the Pacific? They say it has no memory. That's where I want to live the rest of my life. A warm place with no memory.”