Heavenly help

The fact that a baby will soon be joining us finally pushed us to getting fulltime help. We were lucky to be able to find someone we were already familiar with, whose quality of work we know. However, it’s still weird having a third person in the house with us.

It’s also kind of stressful thinking up stuff for her to do. Though she is pretty good at thinking up stuff herself.

I didn’t plan on her doing anything the evening she arrived except I asked her to make our bed and iron a couple of shirts. She is a genius bed-maker… the fitted sheet always comes out when we do it, but somehow she manages to get it to stay.

The next day, we had work and told her just to do basic cleaning and maybe clean the kitchen if she could. She did a thorough job of the kitchen, which included making a list of stuff we had that had expired.

She also cleaned out my cupboard and arranged even my underwear drawer in a scary organised fashion. She is now itching to start on V’s but he has piles of clothes that he claims he wants to sort through and discard. I have been trying to get him to do it for three months; hopefully pressure from the helper will move him along.

Update: it did! all his stuff has been fit into his cupboard and the window seat is, at least, a window seat and not a puddle of t-shirts.

*

Our house is now so clean that I am scared we will get used to it and never be able to go back to normal (=messy).

The helper has started cooking. Looks like she knows how to cook but was just playing safe. however, her cooking is more in the chinese style. but at least she’s willing.

Update: She made some Indian chicken from the Hawkin’s cooker recipe book and it was awesome. It involved grinding cashew nuts!

*

She is now in a routine of getting us our breakfast (she has mastered Indian-style egg burji yay! So it’s just me that cannot manage to make even egg properly), cleaning (I assume because we leave for work and the house is spotless when we return), grocery shopping (keeping an account of money spent) and cooking dinner. It’s a bit like having a mom because she asks me to eat fruit, tells us when we can get something cheaper somewhere else and the other day she reminded me that my library book was overdue!

I’m scared it’s all too good to be true.

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On Marriage

I have always thought of my mom as a fairly liberal minded person. But recently she has begun mouthing some quite traditional views.

For example, she has taken to asking me whether my single friends are “not thinking about getting married?” And of those who are married: “Don’t they want to have children?”

To which I generally point out with some exasperation that not everyone wants/needs to get married and have babies to be happy and that it is quite possible to live a perfectly fulfilling life without going down either route.

To which she unfailingly replies: “But you did. And now you’re having a baby.”

To which I patiently point out (again) that a) even if I did, does not mean this is the best route for everyone b) I did because it seemed the right thing to do at the time and not because it was some goal that I aspired to as necessary for happiness. Had I not been married, I could have lived with it (I think).

The last time this came up, I kind of lost it. I was disappointed that she was spouting the same schtuff as every other aunty on the block. I was afraid that she was saying this sort of thing to other people, becoming one of the tormentors of the unmarried and the unbabied.

She assured me that she was not and that whenever people told her they were worried about their daughters getting married, she would tell them not to fret and that she would never ask someone why they were not married or not having a baby. I believed her but I still worried about the disjunct between what she voiced to outsiders (blessedly sane) and what she actually thought (weird). While she might not be so insensitive as to ask the persons concerned directly, what she might discuss in her friends circle was different. And I felt that these views were perpetuating the same oppressive system of expectations for women.

But recently I have begun to examine my own belief system also.

It’s well and dandy to say “Ok I did it, but I don’t think it’s for everybody”. And I do believe that.

But what do I really think?

I am essentially following the traditional pathway to happiness. I got married – fairly early by modern (and my own) standards – and am having a baby after a decent interval. Admittedly, in my marriage I am pretty much non-traditional in that I refuse to conform to the niceties of wifely or daughter-in-law behaviour.

But I do enjoy marriage – in the warm cozy sense that movies make out marriage to be. I enjoy always having a guaranteed someone to come home to, to stand with at parties if all else fails, to talk to (also if all else fails), to hang out with, to go on holidays with, to stick to in bed, to be on the same team with (though this is not always the case). I wouldn’t say V is my best friend – he really needs to up his ante on the heart-to-hearts – but we do have fun together.

I know I was incredibly lucky to just stumble upon this person who was a good fit with me and that he continues to remain a good fit.

I have never been able to countenance the arranged route but I wonder, had I not “found anyone” when I was say 35, would I have caved?

When V was first sounding me out on how serious I was about our relationship, he asked me my thoughts on marriage. I rolled my eyes and said: “I used to think it was unnecessary. Now I think it is inevitable. Eventually.” I was 23 then.

So while I say it is perfectly possible not to get married and be happy, do I really believe it?

First, do I believe that it is possible for me to not to be married and be happy? One thing moving out of my parents home and marriage has taught me is that I do not do well living alone. I need another living breathing person in the house, and preferably I need that person to be V. So, despite everything I have since I was 7 years old, marriage is probably the best fit for me, and I will not do well as a widow.

But what of other people who are not such wimps?

The fact is that most single people I know do want to get married (or if not necessarily formally married, find a long-term partner). They do seem to be on the lookout and marriage is something that is factored into their long-term plans. It is generally me, ironically the happily married one, shouting from the rooftops that marriage is not the only way. Why am I encouraging people away from a path that has made me happy?

Let me qualify. Although I don’t know any Indians who seem perfectly happy to remain unmarried forever, I have met a couple of Chinese women who seem genuinely content in the unmarried state. They are not on the prowl at all. They are career-oriented, have plenty of friends, a host of extracurricular activities and a close family circle. They are both devoted aunts, so they get the baby fix too.

And of course, Hong Kong has plenty of single men. They live a life of the perma-20s: spending heady evenings in the pubs, moving from one relationship to another when things get complicated or simply eschewing relationships and just buying sex.

But it’s when it comes to old age that I falter. Although the trend is for people to save for their retirement and hopefully not be dependent on their children, having children does provide you with something of a cushion just as having a partner does. Not just financially but also in terms of care in case of deteriorating help.

Is it possible for siblings, nieces and nephews to really fill this gap? Will friends come through in the end? Is it possible to have enough money to buy professional care?

This is the real reason marriage is encouraged by society. I do believe it is possible, though incredibly hard, to raise happy children without two parents. But marriage and children also provides social security. Is this – the fear of being alone with noone to care for one in old age – a good enough reason to marry and stay married even if one’s prospective partner is far less than perfect?

Memo to Baby

Dear Baby,

If your behaviour while inside is any indication, you are going to be trouble with a capital T when you’re outside. I do love me a little nudge now and then but kicking someone for an hour or so is not on! I’m your mom… try to be gentle. I guess I’m going to have to say it a little earlier than anticipated – no football indoors! And all football to be played with your father. My role is to stand on the sidelines and smile indulgently. Or watch Desperate Housewives while cherishing the peace of having the two of you out of doors.

If you’re confused, your father is the one with the big warm hands. I am the one who moves around ocassionally.

Maybe you need more space. But I’m already as big as a whale, I’m told. What to do?

Love you,

Me

Watching tragedy

Yesterday evening, as I was struggling with what I can only hope was an overzealous case of Braxton Hicks, my contracting uterus was stunned into quietude by the announcement on the local evening news that all passengers on the bus that had been taken hostage in Manila were dead. Immediately I expressed incredulity at the irresponsibility of announcing something like this based on unconfirmed reports. With 21 Hong Kong people on the bus, practically everyone in Hong Kong was glued to their TV sets, and presumably so were the families of the hostages. How horrific for them!

Since we got home from work, we’d been watching the saga – a former policeman in Manila had taken a busfull of tourists from Hong Kong hostage in Manila, demanding his job back – with a sense of surreality. The Gulf War is said to have been the dawn of a new age of war reporting with the “theatre of war” beamed live into people’s living rooms. Now, when I watch the footage of bombs blazing down on a city, I am chilled. At the time, though, I don’t think it made much of an impact.

With the 26/11 attacks in Mumbai too we had a ringside seat as the horrific events unfolded but even then, because the real “action” unfolded inside the hotels, one didn’t know exactly what was going on except to hear gunshots and see smoke. This was the first time I had seen tragedy unfold in such an up close and personal way.

Suddenly, with the announcement of deaths, the police sprang into action. Stunned, we watched as the police raced to the bus and started trying to break the windows with a sledgehammer. Then, it all turned rather farcical. The windows wouldn’t break. There was only one sledgehammer. They turned their attention on the door… it wouldn’t give either. At one point the sledgehammer fell through the door and the policeman scrambled to haul it back out. All this while we were wondering – what if people, including the gunman, are still alive inside?

It took them over an hour to gain access to the bus. This, after much encircling and ineffectual sledgehammering. At one point, more cars and cops arrived. Some didn’t seem to have proper protective gear. Some seemed to be in the line of fire but unaware.

It all too sadly reminded me of India. Small comfort to know that other police forces are as inept, have as little thought to planning and risk the lives of the victims and their own men as a result.

Finally, a jeep managed to pull the emergency exit open. The cops climbed onto the jeep and peered into the bus. Some minutes later, two (fool)hardy souls decided to venture in. Immediately they flinched and came out in a hurry. Apparently, the gunman was still alive and he started firing. Who would’ve thunk?

The media were only 100 metres away and there were reports of a civilian being hit by a bullet.

One hour after the police encircled the bus, they managed to shoot dead the hostage-taker. His body was slumped out of the broken front door of the bus, oozing blood for all to see.

Almost immediately, a crowd of people surged forth, some with coloured umbrellas (it was pouring at the time, some kind of tropical storm). The police then entered the back of the bus and to our amazement and hope survivors emerged, three of them able to get out themselves. So much for the “all dead” announced earlier. Unfortunately, eight people of the 15 on the bus (the gunman had released some earlier) were dead.

In Hong Kong, people are angry. Unfortunately for the Philippine police, the whole drama played out in front of the media and their ineptitude was on full display. I wonder, when will our countries ever learn? If they are unsure what to do in crises like these, why not seek advice from professionals from other countries if need be who have dealt with situations like this before? Or at least call in the army. This is not the first or last hostake-taking that has or will happen. But after the hoopla has died down (as in the case of 26.11) will anything change?

The Wedding Planner

This is the year of weddings with THREE friends tying the knot, two of which I will not be able to attend because it is also the year of babies (I will be the fourth in my family to give birth this year; also the year of baby boys because three of the four are boys).

Anyhoo. Since I have less than fond memories of my own wedding day, I am super excited about other people’s wedding plans. And like the old married hag that I am, I’m posting my dos and don’ts of wedding planning for would-be brides (of men, because that’s where my experience lies):

Do not

• Wash your hands of planning your own wedding because the family drama, your disinterested partner, or other extraneous factors are stress you think you can do without. You get only one wedding and if you don’t at least try to get what you want out of it (so that what you get is at least halfway there) , you will regret it. Remember, a wedding is just the tip of the iceberg of married life so don’t be surprised if it’s a little like war. Go in with your guns blazing and stake your claim. Preferably while smiling sweetly.

• Plan your wedding in your partner’s city instead of your own. Men are not that into wedding planning and, rest assured, the gauntlet will be taken up by his mother and sisters, who you will find yourself spending 10 months coordinating and negotiating with.

• Assume that when your Sil says she is super efficient, she is (grateful as you are to her for offering to take over planning). It could just mean that she is one of those people who is enthusiastic and takes on more than she can chew, is uncontactable most of the time and then does everything at the last minute without consulting you. The result: a wedding that looks slightly different than you’d imagined.

• Let go of a colour you like as a theme simply because someone else chose that colour for a wedding planned a week before yours. It does not matter. Unless everything is exactly the same, noone will care. And you will be happy surrounded by a colour you like.

• Succumb to the idea of a formal wedding reception for boring guests and another “fun” party the next day. The one that came first, that was held on the day you got married, will be the one that you will remember as “the wedding” no matter how fun the next day’s event turned out to be. (This is not relevant to people where there are traditionally a whole week of wedding events. Then you are used to it.)

• Under any circumstances, omit alcohol from your wedding reception. This is with special reference to above separation of “boring” and “fun” days. It is really hard to smile for hours on end at people you don’t know if you are not slightly drunk (or stoned, which was my other option but I couldn’t risk giggling helplessly through the entire evening). Moreover, if you are a Goan, your entire family will decamp to the nearest bar and you will be left fake-smiling alone until someone slopes back to ask you if you want a drink and sneaks one to you before disappearing again.

• Choose younger cousins you are fond of as your bridesmaids instead of good friends (though there is the huge risk of causing drama in friends circle). Because younger cousins will tire of the smiling and sneak off to bar with the rest of your traitorous family.

• Have an arrangement whereby you are standing on a stage under blaring lights while your guests are lined up in seats in front of you staring. This is just odd. Very odd. (Again, this might be something common in your tradition, which makes it easier to bear. But believe me, table settings are so much better. People then have conversations among themselves instead of focussing on you expectantly).

• Have a videographer. You do not want evidence of yourself grimacing and rolling your eyes every now and then. If there was no alcohol or dancing at your wedding, it makes for a very boring video anyway.

• Assume that because the photographer took good pictures at your sister-in-laws wedding, he actually knows what to do. You will realize only later that your sister-in-law is wonderfully photogenic, and your traditions are different, and you have landed up with a hideous album, presented to you as a fait accompli, with your face and your huband’s face morphed into sunflowers etc. Also the photos of people you actually gave a hoot about will be omitted from said album, so that you will gift the album to your ecstatic mother-in-law and stash your own copies of your wedding photos in a plastic bag at the back of drawer.

• Let go of silly, cringe-worthy traditions like the “masala” and the “chicken dance” because they are not your husband’s traditions. These traditions are what you associate with weddings and unless you do them, however silly you look and feel, you will forever feel like your wedding was somewhat lacking. Besides, if you actually go with a videographer, these are the parts that are actually fun to watch.

• Have your wedding in a five-star hotel. It is a waste of money. Go to Paris instead.

• Let “friends” come to your hotel room and tease you after all the guests have left. You are tired. It is not amusing. Besides, chances are you are not a blushing virgin and you only want to sleep.

Do

• Stress to the priest your actual name. It is very frustrating (and somewhat embarrassing) to listen to your name being mangled for over an hour.

• Accepts gifts of gold jewellery. The price of gold has risen considerably. Besides, if you are married to a Malyalee you will need to wear this gold and it helps not having to buy it, even if you think it’s hideous. If you are not married to a Malyalee, you can sell the gold and go to Paris five years later.

• Do (maybe) agree to change into a sari halfway through your wedding. Sure, it’s a waste of a good dress worn for only half a night but if your wedding is as dull as mine was, you’ll be grateful for the intermission.

• Have friends who did not make it to your wedding. That way, you can call them and moan when everyone else has abandoned you for the bar and they will have to talk to you out of guilt for not being there at your wedding.

I was recently called a fatty!*

Ok, not directly…

But (more upsettingly) I was told by the nurse and doc at my antenatal appointment at the public hospital that I have put on too much weight.

I would love to dismiss them as inexperienced in the Indian shape but it appears that the recommended weight gain for pregnant women (worldwide) is 15 kg at the end of the pregnancy… and I am already there, but I have 3 months to go!

By the way, I am beyond (mostly) caring about my looks. I figure either breastfeeding will suck the fat out of me, or I’ll starve/excercise later or something. No, the problem with gaining too much weight is because the baby will become ginormous and not fit through the birth canal (thereby necessitating a c-section). Though my private doctor did an estimate of the baby’s weight some time ago and said that he was not worried because even 9 pound babies can be delivered naturally. Also, there are dangers of the baby developing obesity (though I have seen huge babies who are not obese as children) and gestational diabetes (which I don’t have fingers crossed).

Much as I would love to have a slim baby, I am sooo hungry… all the time. I try to limit my snacks to fruit and veggies (ie- one orange, and one cucumber, maybe a handful of cherries or a plum) but I generally have to have a bun in between too. I rarely eat chocolate but I do do the ocassional doughnut, milkshake or Coke (ie- maybe once a week). I NEED to eat rice or some carbs for the main meals.

I am not excercising much because in the first trimester I was spotting and then recently I was having some weird pains. But I do a certain amount (1/2 an hour) of walking as part of routine getting to office, going to lunch etc.

Anyway, to the odd mother who reads this, how fat did you get? Should I be super worried?

*This is a completely novel experience for me.

Shanghai Nights Cont.

Contrary to the advice of everyone and their mother, we decided to visit the Shanghai Expo. For those who haven’t heard already, the Shanghai Expo is a world fair in the tradition of the Great Exhibition of Industries of All Nations held in London in 1951. Countries from around the world put up pavilions to showcase their industrial strength, technological development and culture. 


World Expos are held every two years but this one is drawing record crowds. The organisers expect 70 million, making it the most visited Expo in history, and going by the current crowds it seems well on its way to achieving that. The Expo has seen millions of visitors (around half a million a day during the summer holidays), with people queuing up for up to six hours to visit the popular pavilions.  

When I visited Beijing I realised that in China you’re most likely to run into scores of local tourists, unlike other countries where tourist attractions are swamped by foreigners. This is because few Chinese have the opportunity (or the means) to travel abroad. Besides, there’s tonnes to see in their own country. So, the Expo has become another of those must-sees in China, with people from all over the country flocking to it. Again, since many of these people will not travel abroad, the Expo is a good chance for them to encounter foreign cultures.  All-in-all, despite complaints from foreigners about the crowds and the queues, the Expo serves its purpose by introducing the world to masses of Chinese people. 


I am allergic to queues (and I can probably travel to many of the countries instead) so I don’t know why I wanted to go.  I’m pregnant, it’s extremely hot in Shanghai, and with the massive crowds, it was probably wiser to give it a miss. .. but having missed the Beijing Olympics I felt it would be lame  to miss this one. 

My cunning plan was to go in the evening, thus skipping the heat and hopefully the crowds. On the advice of friends who had visited, I planned to enter through the gate near the least popular pavilions where most people choose to exit. The evening ticket is cheaper and I figured even if I didn’t enter a single pavilion, I’d just take pictures in front of them and get a sense of atmosphere. 

Unfortunately, V got enthusiastic on our last day… and since we didn’t have anything planned, decided we should try our luck in the morning itself. It turned out to be a blistering hot morning, again not promising. 

So, for any other crazy folks out there, here are my tips for visiting the Expo:

1. The Expo opens at 9 am but there are people queuing up to get in from 7.30 am. There is a rush to get reservations for the China pavilion, which are apparently snapped up within minutes. So we opted to enter at around 10.30 am when, according to some slide show that V checked, the crowd at the entrance drops off.

2. We entered through Gate 2 which is on the Bund side of the river (as opposed to the Pudong side where the main attractions are). This was a wise choice because at around 10.30 am, the queue to enter wasn’t too bad and we had only about 10 minutes in the blazing sun before entering the covered area. 

3. Mainlanders are not respectful of queues. They will push and wangle their way ahead of you if they can. Coming from India, this is nothing new. It is a habit that comes from being one among a billion people, and being schooled in the knowledge that if you don’t push to get ahead, you’ll get left behind. Like in India, people will stick to you in a queue, possibly so as not to let other line-cutters in, and keep bumping you with their bag/strolley. Having lived in HK for nearly five years now, my own pushing skills were a little rusty but soon I found myself (gently) elbowing midgets (read, children) out of the way. Mainland kids seem to have been taught that being pint-sized, it’s ok to push their way through even more roughly than adults, unlike Honky kids who are encouragingly (to anyone who is wary of kids) well-behaved. Much has been said of the Little Emperor syndrome among  Chinese kids and I saw it evident particularly among Mainland little boys, who were generally incredibly bratty while their parents and grandparents looked indulgently on. 

4. They say the measure of a country’s development lies in their public toilets. All the public loos in Expo, I used were extremely clean… spotless in fact, and flushed automatically. 

5. The most important tip of all: if you are not disabled (read, in a wheelchair), over 75 years old or accompanying a disabled person or senior, OR pregnant, DON’T GO. The queues are really that long. The sun is that hot. There is no pavilion without a queue and every queue is at least a one hour wait. The popular ones range from three to six hours. The government recently recommended that pregnant women not be given special disabled access (so as to discourage pregnant women from braving the heat and the crowds apparently) but not all pavilions are implementing this. Thus, I was very very lucky to stroll right past the queues and be able to visit a fair number of pavilions including some popular ones.  

So, thanks to my bump, V and I were able to visit these pavilions:

1. The first pavilion we visited was the CSSC pavilion. We decide to try our luck jumping the queue there and were rewarded. This pavilion showcases China’s shipbuilding history and is quite good (in comparison) I thought. There are models of ships already built as well as a vision for a floating city, a city on a ship. The highlight was a video on a semi-circular screen that showed the development of ship-building in China and the possibility of an underwater city. 

We then took a bus to the Pudong side. These shuttle buses are very frequent and comfortable. We never had to wait more than two minutes for one. Note that people will plonk their portable stools down wherever there is space and have no qualms about using your leg as a backrest.

2. Having landed up in the Asia section, we visited Iran. It was ok, with some interesting blue mosaic wall features and jewellery and traditional dress displayed. 

3. My favourite pavilion of the whole Expo was Morocco. It looks beautiful from the outside and displays the various traditional crafts of the country from stone work to pottery, beautiful jewellery and market scenes around a lovely central courtyard and fountain. Really made me want to visit the place. 

4. We also saw Jordan which was quite good because there was a guy demonstrating sand layering (and there were souvenirs for sale) as well as a henna artist. 

5. We were very lucky to get into the South Korea pavilion which has a loooong queue. The highlight of this pavilion is an movie screening, which combines animation with acting and a live performance by a dancer. The video was a bit childish but seemed to go down well with the audience. I think they divert queues into either the film or a live performance but basically you take what you get because it’s so hard to get anywhere. 

6. Another one we were lucky to get into was France. They did a good job of creating a sensual atmosphere (as that was the theme of their pavilion) and the car displays seemed to attract a lot of interest, as did inexplicable a corridor with Louis Vuitton logos. The highlight was the impressionist and post-impressionist art they brought down. From afar, I identified a Renoir, Cezanne and Gaugin… and a crowd had surrounded a sculpture I think was a Rodin.

7. The much sought after China pavilion requires reservation to enter. However, I was able to enter the China provinces pavilion, where each province in China has a mini-pavilion inside. Though many of these looked good from the outside, they were pretty mediocre from the inside.

8. Our final stop was Poland. They had a rather interesting corridor with cut-out depicting icicles but that was it. The highlight, I guess, was a 3D film on the history of Poland but they told me I had to queue up so I decided to call it quits.

A comment on the pavilions in general. Most of them had video screenings of the highlights of their country’s development and culture and some had models depicting the same. This is certainly not enough to satisfy anyone who has braved upwards of three hours in the heat. I think the pavilions in general needed to do more to make it an interactive experience. Having touchscreen games does not count.

The pavilions that I tried and that did not let me into the fast lane on grounds of pregnancy – Japan, UAE, and Germany. Boo! Ok but to be fair… these pavilions had people queuing up for around six hours so I’m not really complaining. Just really grateful to those that did let me in.

We ended our day eating at the restaurant attached to the German pavilion. Surprisingly, the servers were German. The food (obviously German fare) looked quite stylish. The Chinese, even the more rustic looking ones, seemed to be happy to taste the elegantly presented stuff as well as the different varieties of beer.

India and China – a short comparison

For some reason, India and China always seem to be mentioned in the same breath in the media today. I think this is optimistic.  Take this Expo as an example:

1. It is a huge event and China has managed to pull it off brilliantly, despite initial hiccups, similar to the Beijing Olympics. Having visited the Expo, it is far less chaotic than the media would have you believe, though the queues are insane.

2. The loos. They were pristine. And they are public loos being used by masses of people.

3. There was seating everywhere. Honkys look down their noses at Mainlanders because they tend to squat whenever they are tired. Because word of the queues got out, people brought along these brilliant portable stools (I got one too! ) but really, most often there was somewhere to sit without them. Much of the seating was shaded and there were even sprinklers to help cool people off. Public events in India never provide enough seating… so these stools would really come in handy.

4. Water fountains were provided here and there. People were not allowed to bring in water for security reasons but you could buy a bottle and then fill up. Despite the heat and the crowds, the water did not run out… either at the fountains or at the push-carts.

5. All the infrastructure worked well – from the buses to the escalators to the sprinklers to cool people down.

A few observations on social behaviour. I mentioned that there is much similarity between Indian and Chinese people in a crowd. There are differences too:

1. There is pushing and line-cutting but not on the scale that goes on in India. People still leave that one centimeter of space between your body and theirs.

2. Again, given the throngs, men do not take the opportunity to feel up women at will. Granted, I may have had a better experience being a foreigner. However, foreign women in India are felt up in crowds too. So Chinese men get kudos from me for keeping their hands to themselves.

Some Expo facts:
More than 190 countries and more than 50 international organizations have registered to participate in the Shanghai World Expo, the largest ever.

Haibao is the mascot of the Shanghai Expo 2010. It means treasure of the sea. It is based on the Chinese character for man or person, “人”.

In memory of someone I didn’t know

I was horrified to learn that IHM’s 19-year-old daughter Tejaswee passed away last week. Ever since IHM posted about her daughter’s illness I have been saying a little prayer for her during the day. I guess I didn’t really believe it possible for a young woman in a metro city with access to good medical care to die of dengue fever. But one thing I have learnt through hard experience is that when it is a person’s time to go, they go.

Anyway, the reason I’m posting this is to link to this incredible letter that Tejaswee wrote on her blog. It’s the kind of letter that one might hope to write to one’s own daughter, but to think that it was written by a teenager!

I guess this is my strange way of paying tribute to a young woman who I didn’t know.

Shanghai nights

Some women, when pregnant are extra careful about what they eat, where they go and every step they take. Others might choose to make a long train journey despite their bump. I am of the latter category.

Last week, V and I took the train from Hong Kong to Shanghai, a 16-18 hour ride. Granted, I didn’t embark on the journey easily. V has been wanting to do this trip for a while but I had my reservations even when I wasn’t pregnant. Like him, I used to love train travel as a kid but the two years I spent in Hyderabad and the frequent travel I did by rail as a single woman cured me of that. I had some weird experiences that robbed train travel of its charm for me.

However, the idea of travelling by train across China was tempting and having denied V last year in favour of Italy, I was loathe to do it again. In the first months of my pregnancy, it seemed impossible but as I got better, I began to give the idea more thought. I figured it was now-or-never because if travelling while pregnant was hard, it would be harder with a baby in tow. And it was clear that V really wanted to do this.

I did a fair bit of googling to ascertain other people’s experience of the train. Mainly I was concerned about the cleanliness of the loo (which I need to use more frequently these days) and the availability of food (a biggie for me!)

We bought the most expensive ticket – an AC two sleeper cabin. Much to my delight, it turned out to have its own toilet, which was clean and looked exactly like an airplane toilet (with that vacuum kind of flush). In addition to sleeper beds, the cabin also had plug points so we could connect a laptop or charge our mobiles, a safe and small TV screen (though they didn’t show anything on it).

It was really a very comfortable way to travel. I could pee as often as I wished and probably got more rest than if I had stayed put in HK. The rocking of the train lulled me to sleep easily. I was glad I had brought along plenty of food though – a huge pizza, sandwiches and fruit – because the dining car got super crowded and people were smoking there. A man came around selling meals but they didn’t look very appetizing, though V ate one. We had breakfast in the dining car the next morning though – bread, egg and coffee and it was decent. The only drawback was that the air-con stopped working properly but they fixed it somewhat after we alerted them. This is not the most scenic train route but it was still interesting to watch the villages and towns go by until darkness fell.

The stations on both sides were like airports, the HK one more than the Shanghai one. We knew we were in China proper when people started pushing their way ahead in the queue. Such is life when you’re one among a billion!

Hong Kong people tend to turn their noses up at the alleged crudeness of Mainlanders – that they push and shove, that they squat wherever they feel like sitting, that they talk loudly. These are traits that are common to Indians too, so I am more forgiving of them. I think they are a result of living in a populous country where if you don’t push to get ahead, you don’t get anywhere.

Despite the similarities in the people, in terms of development India and China are poles apart. Although the media often tends to mention them in the same breath these days, China is at least 10 years ahead of India.

Take the train we travelled in. Granted, we were in the highest class but the train itself was well maintained and clean. It left exactly on time and arrived on time. The processes at each end, which included immigration, were efficient.

Exiting the station, we joined the queue for taxis without incident. There was a uniformed guy with a whistle shouting “oi” at people or taxis that tried to cut the line who reminded me of India. But the taxi itself didn’t. It was clean and comfortable with a well-functioning meter and no grumbling or haggling on being told our destination.

The roads in Chinese cities are broad and bump-free. I thought only Beijing had broad roads but it turns out Shenzhen and Shanghai do too – generally four or five-lane roads. There are flyovers everywhere. The drivers are not as disciplined – they are happy to do abrupt u-turns – but traffic is less chaotic than in India. Beijing, Shanghai and Shenzhen have mass transit railways that are well planned, clean and efficient although they are crowded in peak hours.

Unlike Hong Kong and India, there are plenty of places for people to sit and stare on the streets. Maybe that’s why Mainlanders in Hong Kong find themselves squatting in the streets. There are public loos all over the place and I have used them in Beijing and they are better than Indian loos.

Unlike in India, even in the most crowded areas, a woman doesn’t have to worry every moment about being felt up. I have no doubt it happens, but just not in the ubiquitous way that women in India are accustomed to.

One of the things I was warned about the Mainland is that the air-con often doesn’t work as well as one is accustomed to in HK. Granted, they really blast the air-con here but the one in our hotel room was practically non-existent. The hotel itself was a bit of a downer… apart from the air-con problem which we really had to nag them to get sorted, the room wasn’t perfectly clean when we checked in. On a positive note, the complimentary breakfast was good – a proper one with egg, sausages, Chinese options and lots of fruit.

Anyway, I landed up doing a lot more roaming around than I had thought I would be up to so we were out of the room a lot. The first day we went to Xintiandi which is this very touristy area, of boutiques and restaurants in these old buildings. There is a traditional old house called a shikumen which I wanted to see but ended up seeing an exhibition of the founding of the CNPC. I expected it to be very governmenty but it turned out to be well curated and quite interesting. I find it fascinating how countries construct their own histories though it might have helped to know who some of the figures mentioned in this case were (I was only familiar with Mao Zedong and Sun Yatsen).

We had a fabulous lunch at a place called Ye Shanghai. They have an all-you-can eat menu for a fixed price. Turns out there are branches in HK too… hehe. But the meal was reasonably priced for the quality of food and the ambience. Not sure if that will be the case in Hong Kong.

I had also read about two spas in Shanghai that came well recommended with reasonable rates. Unfortunately, the one we tried – Green Massage – was on the expensive side and no walk-in appointments were available. However, I ended up having a blissful facial at another expensive spa next door called Lotospa.

In the evening, we headed to the Bund which is the riverside of the Huangpu river. It is famous for it’s row of historic buildings in different styles. I loved it! It’s like an architecture lesson, with buildings ranging from the gothic to art deco.

V and I decided to do the cheap version of the riverside cruise and caught a ferry across the river to Pudong. The ferry ride was hardly pleasant – hot and the seats were sweat-stained – but I was entertained by the frenzy when the gates opened and we were let into the ferry. For a good five minutes, people rushed around screaming as they tried to locate the best possible seats. I wish I had a video of it.

For dinner, we went to Yunnan Street where we sampled Muslim-Chinese cuisine. Some of the yummiest skewered kebabs ever and a delicious lamb leg but the worst spinach I had ever tasted. Corners in Shanghai are dotted with kebab shops selling skewers of meat… why don’t they have this in HK?

The next day we headed down early to the Fuyuan Antique Market. Unfortunately, the shops weren’t open yet… though in retrospect we saved ourselves from accumulating more trinkets. The area has shops housed in a faux-traditional Chinese structure and the highlight is the bridge of nine turnings (said to ward of evil spirits, as they cannot negotiate the corners) leading to a tea-house in the middle of a lake.

Our next stop was Tianzifang, another trendy area but more authentic than Xintiandi because although the shop fronts are upmarket boutiques and galleries, many local people still live there. I expected more art galleries and missed out on buying some cheap but really nice home décor stuff.

I also dragged V to the art district on Moganshan Road. Unfortunately, it turned out to be rather disappointing. Instead of a vibrant art district, there were a lot of sleepy looking, albeit huge, galleries. Many of them were closed. The quality of work also varied a lot – I felt there was more generic stuff being touted as fine art. From these two districts, I feel that Beijing definitely has more of an art scene.

We ended the day with stroll down Nanjing Road which is like Shanghai’s Causeway Bay. Much of the road has been blocked off as a pedestrian area and is thronged by tourists and shoppers. By then I was rather cross and keen on dinner. Luckily we chanced upon a great restaurant on the third floor of a mall where we had cheap but delicious meal of Sichuan-style mandarin fish.

Our final day in Shanghai was spent at the Shanghai Expo. More on that in the next post.

We headed to the airport on the fastest train in the world – the Maglev line. It goes at 430 km/hr. Again one of V’s ideas… it was pretty cool, and a little scary.

I am not a feminist

I am tired of hearing women say “I believe in equality but I’m not a feminist”.

I think statements like these stem from a misunderstanding of what feminism is. The definition of feminism is constantly being modified but broadly its concerns are about equality of opportunity and choice for women and men. (This is not to say that women and men are equal. They are not – socially, physically whatever.)

Obviously feminism is a subset of the broad category of equal opportunity and choice for all, which is why feminists often ally themselves with the causes of other marginalized groups.

But to say that I am pro-equality but not feminist is kind of disingenuous. IMO, if you are pro-equality, then you are by definition feminist. If you are one of those that refuses to see why a division should be made on the basis of gender, you are ignoring the fact that the division is there. Women are discriminated against in special ways on the basis of gender and so special strategies are needed to contest this – the first of which is to be aware that this exists, if not for you then for a large number of women.

For example, I believe that sexuality is fluid and there should be no need for divisions like gay and straight because everyone is a bit of both on a sliding scale. However, the fact remains that people on one end of the scale (the gay one) get a bad deal in society and so this has to be acknowledged and then work has to be done to redress it. And one would hope that those who can, especially those in that community, will take an active part in that work in whatever way they can instead of piously washing their hands of it.

Being a woman who believes in equality and denying that one is a feminist is like this male pop star in a book I read recently who’s having sex with a man and who goes: “I’m not gay, I’m just in love.” Very cute, but there’s some homophobia there. Quite simply, it is to deny the label because of image problems. It is to deny that being gay is an issue, maybe not for him but for men less privileged.

I feel that saying you believe in equality but not feminism is similar. You are denying the label because of a percieved (and misguided) image problem and in doing so, you are denying the valuable work that the movement has done and continues to do for women.

Yes, maybe there were women in your family who got the same opportunities as men and the F-word was never uttered. But it was there in spirit. Because the act of giving women the same opportunities as men is in essence a feminist act, and came about not in isolation but through the legacy of women who wanted more than the limited life subscribed for them and through the support of men who believed they should have it.

Remember when in The Devil Wears Prada, Miranda gives Andy a lecture on the colour blue she is wearing? Here (from imdb):

Miranda Priestly: [Miranda and some assistants are deciding between two similar belts for an outfit. Andy sniggers because she thinks they look exactly the same] Something funny?



Andy Sachs: No. No, no. Nothing’s… You know, it’s just that both those belts look exactly the same to me. You know, I’m still learning about all this stuff and, uh…


Miranda Priestly: ‘This… stuff’? Oh. Okay. I see. You think this has nothing to do with you. You go to your closet and you select… I don’t know… that lumpy blue sweater, for instance because you’re trying to tell the world that you take yourself too seriously to care about what you put on your back. But what you don’t know is that that sweater is not just blue, it’s not turquoise. It’s not lapis. It’s actually cerulean. And you’re also blithely unaware of the fact that in 2002, Oscar de la Renta did a collection of cerulean gowns. And then I think it was Yves Saint Laurent… wasn’t it who showed cerulean military jackets? I think we need a jacket here. And then cerulean quickly showed up in the collections of eight different designers. And then it, uh, filtered down through the department stores and then trickled on down into some tragic Casual Corner where you, no doubt, fished it out of some clearance bin. However, that blue represents millions of dollars and countless jobs and it’s sort of comical how you think that you’ve made a choice that exempts you from the fashion industry when, in fact, you’re wearing the sweater that was selected for you by the people in this room from a pile of stuff.

Just like Andy didn’t just “pick” her sweater, a grandfather in a village does not just wake up and decide it would be nice for his grand-daughetrs to go to school on a whim. The idea that seems to have occurred to him spontaneously, out of his own sense of justice and fairplay, is part of an intellectual current, a current in part is fed by feminists who he does not know and who he may never encounter. And although he shows great courage in allowing the girls to go to school, and his own initiative in this is not to be denied, neither is the iniative of those who made this very act possible or thinkable.

So, yes, there may be those of you who have strong women and strong men in your families, who do not think along gendered lines. Their strength and sense of fairness is not just some innate, inborn thing but it is also part of something larger. And remember, even if there are some people who can buck social conventions on their own steam, many many others need some help. Why deny the usefullness of those who are helping them, and helping them not just as people who are entitled to equality but as women who have faced very specific forms of discrimination since time immemorial?

Unfortunately, the image of a feminist remains the rather strident women who keeps arguing with everyone. But this also is rather braindead. If one took the trouble to read a little, one would realize that feminists are not a monolithic group. The only mono-belief, I’d says, is a belief in the need to equalise the playing field for women. What’s not to like about that?