View on History

Nehru's view on history:

"If history interests you, if you feel some of the fascination of history, you will find your way to many books which will help you unravel the threads of past ages. But reading books alone will not help. If you would know the past you must look upon it with sympathy and with understanding. To understand a person who lived long ago, you will have to understand his/her environment, the conditions under which he/she lived long ago, the ideas that filled his/her mind. It is absurd for us to judge of past people as if they lived now and thought as we do. There is no one to defend slavery today, and yet the great Plato held that slavery was essential. Within recent times scores of thousands of lives were given in an effort to retain slavery in the United States. We cannot judge the past from the standards of the present. Everyone will willingly admit this. But everyone will not admit the equally absurd habit of judging the present by the standards of the past. The various religions have especially helped in petrifying old beliefs and faiths and customs, which may have had some use in the age and the country of their birth, but which are singularly unsuitable in our present age.

If, then, you look upon past history with the eye of sympathy, the dry bones will fill up with flesh and blood, and you will see a mighty procession of living men and women and children in every age and every client, different from us and yet very like us, with much the same human virtues and human failings. History is not a magic show, but there is plenty of magic in it for those who have eyes to see."

Beijing or Delhi? -- froom book "Smoke and Mirrors: An Experience of China" By Pallavi Aiyar

This is by far the most accurate words that described my feelings being as a "Chindian". I am facing the same emotional struggles each every day when I think, and each every day when I am traveling back to India and China.

----

"Do you like living in Beijing? Or was it better in Delhi?" my Hutong neighbors inquired whenever they got the opportunity.

This last question in its various forms was one that I spent much thought grappling with and my answers were as variable as the day the question was posed. Following conversation with Lou Ya and other toilet cleaners in my neighborhood I would think back to the wretched jamadarnis back home and marvel at the relative dignity of labour that China's lowliest enjoyed.

In my hutong the refuse collectors wore gloves when picking up the garbages on their daily rounds. This single, simple article of protective clothing and the barrier it created between bacteria and skin lent them at least a modicum of self-respect. Their children almost always went to school. They may not have been well educated themselves but could usually read and write enough to avoid the worst kind of exploitation.

These were modest gains and not everyone in China could claim even such moderate progress. But were I one of the millions-strong legions of cleaners, sweepers, janitors or nightsoil workers in India, I would probably prefer by some twist of karma to have been born Chinese.

But on other days I felt differently. These were days when I spent hours hunting for a Chinese source amongst the country's think tanks, universities and research institutes for fresh insight or an alternative point of view on an issue for a story I'd be working on. It was always such dishearteningly hard work.

China's was a pragmatic society and over the years I met any number of people blessed with more than usual amounts of a canny, street smart, intelligence. As evidenced by the Zhejiang entrepreneurs, ordinary Chinese were masters of locating the loopholes, of finding escape routs, of greasing the right hands and bypassing stifling regulations. If need be they could sell contact lenses to a blind woman and chicken feet to a vegetarian.

But while it may have abounded with consummate salespeople and irrepressible entrepreneurs, Chinese society remained deeply anti-intellectual. More a product of a political and educational system that discouraged criticism and encourage group think than any primordial characteristic, this was the aspect of China I personally found most wearying.

It was the absence of passion for ides, the lack of delight in argument for its own sake, and the dearth of reasoned but brazen dissent that most often gave me cause for homesickness. When the foreign ministry interpreter Xiao Yan claimed in Tibet that China was different from other countries in that all Chinese must think the same thing, she was consciously overstating her case in the light of Jes' comments. Even so, a nub of truth in what she said remained.

In China, theses who disagreed with mainstream, have views outside of the parameters set by mainstream debate more often than not found themselves branded as dissidents-- suspect, hunted, under threat. 

Thus a professor who misspoke to a journalist could suddenly be demoted. An editor who pursued a corruption investigation too zealously might find herself fired. A lawyer who simply tried to help his client to there best of his ability could, were the client of the wrong sort, ironically land in jail himself.

In universities like BBI the idea was drilled into students' heads that there were right answers and wrong answers. While ambiguity and attitude scratched against the natural grain. There are thus occasion when despite all of India's painful shortcomings, I would assert with conviction that it was better to be an Indian than endure the stifling monotony of what tended to pass as an intellectual life in China.

But then I would return to Delhi for a few days and almost immediately long to be back in Beijing where a woman could ride a bus or even drive a bus without having to tune out the constant staring and whispering of the dozens of sex-starved youth that swarmed around the Indian capital's streets at almost any given time.

Later on the same day, however, I might switch on the TV and catch a session of the Indian parliament, not always the most inspirational of bodies but when looked at with China-habituated eyes, more alluring than usual.

回到中国，我时常被问及的问题又不大相同，并且是最直接，或许也是最难回答的问题。北京的出租车司机总是毫无例外地问我：“哪个更好？中国还是印度？”我在北京广播学院的学生经常问我：“你是更喜欢中国还是印度？”胡同里的街坊们只要逮住机会就会问：“你喜欢住在北京吗？还是更喜欢住在德里？”

最后一个问题以各种形式出现，对于这个问题我考虑了很久，每次碰到它，我的答案都不尽相同。与娄亚 （音译）和我家附近公厕的保洁员聊过之后，我想到了印度那些可怜的女佣；我对于中国最底层的人仍享有相对的尊严感到惊讶。

在我住的那条胡同里，垃圾工每天来收垃圾的时候都戴着手套。这样一个简单物件——起到保护作用的覆盖物、细菌和皮肤之间的阻碍物——至少让他们得到了一点点自尊。他们的子女基本都在学校接受教育。他们自己或许没有念过什么书，但一般说来，他们的读写能力足以避免最恶劣的盘剥。

这些都算不上是多大的益处，而且在中国并不是每个人都能享有这种不算大的进步。但如果我是印度那数百万保洁员、清扫工、门卫或者掏粪工中的一员，我恐怕更愿意通过命运的轮回投胎成为中国人。

但在其他的日子里，我又会有不同的感受。当我为了报道写作中所涉及的某个问题，而花费数小时的时间在这个国家的智库、大学以及研究机构中寻找中文出处的时候，就属于这样的日子。这永远是一项让人垂头丧气的艰苦工作。

中国是一个实用主义的社会，那些年里，我遇到的所有人都拥有异乎寻常的狡黠、市侩和聪明。正如浙江的企业家所证明的，普通中国人在钻空子、找退路、行贿赂、避开僵硬的规章制度方面，堪称大师。如果需要，他们可以把隐形眼镜卖给盲人妇女，把鸡爪子卖给素食主义者。

一方面这个国家可能拥有大量成功的推销员以及有闯劲的企业家，但另一方面，中国社会仍然存在着根深蒂固的反理性倾向。这并非本性，它更多的是反对批评、鼓励集体思维的政治和教育制度的产物，我个人认为这是中国最令人反感的一个方面。而缺乏对思想的热爱，缺乏争辩本身所带来的快乐，缺乏虽刺耳却不无理性的异议，这些都是最令我想家的原因。

在中国，那些不认同主流的、官方的观点的人，往往被打上了异议者的烙印，并因此受到怀疑、驱逐和威胁。

所以，一个在记者面前说错话的教授可能会突然遭到降级处分，一个太过热衷于腐败调查的编辑有可能会遭到解职。具有讽刺意味的是，一个只是想尽其所能帮助委托人的律师，如果接了不该接的案子，有可能会把自己送进监狱。

在大学里，比如中国传媒大学，“答案只有正确和错误之分”已经烙在学生的脑子里。尽管实践中你也会察觉到或者会利用那种模棱两可、不置可否的答案，但在纯粹的理性层面却并没有给它们留下多大的空间。

身为一个好辩的印度人（那是一个视异见为常态的国家），中国人这种被强加的、整齐划一的思想和态度，是违背我本性的。因此，尽管印度存在着种种不尽如人意之处，但在某些时候我会坚称自己宁愿做一个印度人，也不愿意忍受中国精神生活的压抑、单调。

然而，当我回到德里呆上几天，立刻又开始渴望回到北京，在那里，女人可以驾驶公共汽车，而且不会有一群性饥渴的年轻男人不停地盯着看、小声嘀咕，但在印度首都的马路上，这种场面几乎随时可以碰到。

但在同一天，稍后我打开电视，看见印度国会正在举行一次会议，尽管内容未必是最吸引人的，但在一双习惯了中国的眼睛看来，却比平日好看。

中国在过去三十多年里所取得的经济成就或许是史无前例的，但印度在政治上的成就同样如此。印度的民主政治在后殖民国家中之所以近乎独一无二，不仅仅是因为这种制度的存在，在一个因一种理念而非地理、语言或者民族结合在一起的国家里，这种制度得来不易。这种理念甚至赞美多重身份的可能性。在印度，你不仅可以，而且欢迎同时拥有多种或者一种身份。

因此，我是一个德里人，也是一个说英语的人，一半婆罗门人血统一半泰米尔人血统，受的是印度教的熏陶，一个后天选择的无神论者，一个天生的穆斯林。但把这些多样性串在一起的，是最强有力又最难以归类的一个身份：我是一个印度人。

所以说，印度政治成就的了不起之处就在于：它发展出调节机制，可以处理大范围的多样性以及频繁、活跃的争执必然导致的结果。构成这种机制之基础的指导性共识，或许也是唯一的共识，就是在一个民主社会，你并不需要一定得赞成——除了表达不赞成态度的程序以外。

对于“如果我能选择的话，我是愿意生来就当印度人还是中国人”这个问题，所有这些事实仍然无法帮我给出一个确切的答案。

与中国学生所受到的教育——使他们相信答案只有正确和错误两种——不同，我总是被鼓励去做完全相反的事情。当年我在德里念哲学的时候，穿着印度土布做的无领长袖衬衫、为人真诚的桑卡兰教授总在课堂上大声强调：“永远不要盲从。”

如果我必须给出一个简略的回答，那我会这么说：如果能出生在哪怕是一个中等富裕的家庭，我大概都会选择印度而不是中国。

在印度，尽管政府所提供的服务一直不佳，但只要你有钱，就能生活得很滋润。因此，大多数德里家庭，只要负担得起，都会购买家用发电机以及在花园里配备自用管井，以备停电、停水之需。警察工作不力，所以许多家庭都请了私人保安。通过必要的私人渠道弥补了公共产品的匮乏之后，在印度你就可以随意享受讨论“印度理想”的本质所带来的思想上的快乐，或者享受赢得一场精彩的辩论所带来的肾上腺素上升所带来的兴奋感。

印度存在着真正的乐趣和自由，更重要的是，享有这些乐趣和自由的并不仅仅是精英。论辩传统构成了印度世俗和民主政体的基础，涵盖社会所有阶层。

但在另一方面，如果出身贫寒，我就愿意在中国碰碰运气，那里虽然没有民主选举，但与印度相比我更有可能吃饱穿暖有房子住。最关键的是，中国给我向上跨越社会经济阶层的机会相对要大。换句话说，如果出身贫困，我悲惨死去的可能性在印度比在中国要大得多。

Queen

This movie makes me nostalgic. A bag-pack, a flight ticket to Europe, you will end up having the exact same experience as it shows throughout the movie.

I had my time. Danced until sunlight and forgot how did we end back in the apartment, sang in the street with a group of drunk buddies, at 3am shouted the young lecturer's name in the street where he lived, had a whole team of French police showed up at my door because of party noise complain, and I flirted with them by teaching them Chinese.

But the movie is not about loosing oneself, it's about finding oneself.

I was looking for myself, in that space in that time, with people I want to remember and want to forget.  I was finding myself.

Getting drunk and crazy is an expression of youth, an easy way out, but not necessarily the better way, or the only way.

The only way is to have no regret, live to the richest and fullest.

By finding myself, I explored everything possible, tried everything available. By finding myself, I discovered my inner strength which helped me through the struggle of pursuing a life with the love of my life. By finding myself, I tasted the flavor of freedom and independence, and could never let it go.

Yes I found myself in that space in that time, but life moves on.

I am entering a new phase of life, with a lot of self-sacrificing and care-giving. I might fortunately discover more of myself, might somehow lose a bit of myself. But it's all part of the exploration.

The important thing is, leave no regret, live to the richest and fullest, with compassion, with love.

Gender

Creation of life is a miracle, funny thing is, for a lot of people in this world, gender is more important than life.

"Did you ask your doctor the baby's sex?" "When can you tell the gender of the baby?" "Did you see the penis in ultrasound?" "Ahh, it's ok, you can have a lot of kids anyways. Hihi, then you will be a (worthless) housewife."

My mother started to ask such questions following the confirmation of my pregnancy, around three weeks after conception.

I was for some time feeling annoyed, didn't want to communicate with her, therefore didn't get to know what symptoms she had in her early pregnancy. Usually mother and daughter share the similar symptoms.

When I was young, my mother often cried in front of me, asserting that "it's too difficult to be a woman", next life she wanted to be born as a man, even this life, how much she wished she was a man.

When I made mistakes, she sometimes shouted at me, "girls are useless, how much I wished I had given birth to a boy".

Thus almost half of my childhood, I was praying that I would suddenly wake up in the morning to find my penis.

I was raised up like a boy indeed, never had long hair, never had a doll, seldom wore skirts, discouraged to act like a girl but encouraged to act like a boy, the way of walking, talking, eating, even cursing. I naturally felt that girls were dump and disgusting, just like how the other boys felt about their opposite sex.

So what do I want for myself? A boy or a girl?

This is the most frequent question I received for the past two months, within the first three questions during the conversation, definitely there is one concerning the gender.

To be honest, I want a boy.

I want the best for my kid, the easiest way out, being a boy.

As a boy, I wouldn't worry if he would be sexually assaulted by one of the "nice" uncles at home when he is nine years old, I wouldn't worry if he would be knocked up by his teenage first love, I wouldn't worry if he chooses to elope with his lover and settle in some far away foreign country.

As a man, he can easily dream about being a world leader, a powerful politician, a football superstar, a world-famous writer, a courageous journalist, a successful entrepreneur, a business tycoon. The doors are wide open for him, the other side of the doors are filled with 99% men, he just need to work hard to become one of them.

If I am having a daughter, I wouldn't want to impose high hopes to her, no world leader, no politician, no industrial tycoon, she can study whatever she feels like, she doesn't need to be outstanding because it will require a lot of sacrifice, most of the time, her rights to happiness.

I only want her to be honest, simple, humble, confident and compassionate, in that way she can receive the maximum amount of happiness. I also wish her has her father's facial features and my skin, because under normal circumstance, being pretty can make her life much easier.

What about being influential and helpful to the society? I think as a woman, as long as she finds her inner strength, she has high self-esteem, that is good enough to lead an example.

I will also secretly save up some money for her, if she wants to travel around the world, I want her to travel in comfort, booking decent hotels and transportation so to avoid harassment and trouble; if she unfortunately experiences severe sexual attack, I want to be able to fight for her, paying up legal fees, psychological consult etc; if her boss fires her because of pregnancy, I want her to have some backup.

If I really want a baby girl, maybe it means I am selfish, I want a child who can understand me, who is sweet and tender, who will cry with me, who knows how to love and care for me, who will always be there for me.

I made a deal with my husband, "in our next circle of life, you will be the wife who carries out the pregnancy."

I experienced almost all symptoms possible for early pregnancy:

• sever headache - due to sudden surge of multiple hormones, headache from the beginning 
• lost of appetite - bitterness in mouth, everything tastes differently, all food seem disgusting, can't even talk about it
• huge amount of gas and acid - burping every 30 seconds, also experience heartburn and bloating 
• nausea and vomiting - even a thought of food or smell can trigger it, anytime, anywhere
• hyper senses - sensitive to any smell especially cooking smell, phobia of odor is even developed
• hyper emotions - crying on dreams, songs, movies, even some imaginary thoughts 
• frequent urination - frequent stops in highway, always looking for toilet
• constipation - some mornings I find blood in stools
• fatigue - can't focus on doing one thing for more than an hour
• failing eyesight - sometimes my eyes feel blurry all of sudden 
• starving - every night 12am, every morning 5am, I wake up in unbearable hunger

It's only been two months, but felt like years. Everyday I am counting, wishing the symptoms could ease down. Most of the days, I couldn't even get up from bed, lying there, waiting to feel hungry, force myself to eat something, then go back to hibernation.

Getting out of room is the toughest thing, when the door opens, cooking smell trapped in corridor could knock me out badly, flip over my stomach so I throw up everything in there, even the last bit of bitter acid.

Having children of their own is usually a couple's decision, but only the woman knows how hard it is, physically and mentally.

Because I have experienced discrimination, sexual harassment, now pregnancy myself, I know being a woman is difficult and would want to avoid to be one. But if I am blessed with a baby girl, I couldn't be more happier.

That's why I am always wondering, those mothers and fathers who intentionally kill their female fetuses, this action is the result of their love to the free-from-suffering unborn girls, or the hatred to the entire gender?

And I think either it's cowardice or hatred,  because of it, our world for women is not getting better.

#save female fetuses

#stop female foeticide

Related post: Life

Life

This is a 38mm long, 10 weeks 4 days (8 weeks 4 days after conception) little embryo, temporally living in my belly.

The gender of the embryo is not yet defined, its sex organ not yet formed. So I call this little thing "it".

My belly is still flat, no weight gain yet. If three weeks later, the decision be made to kill this little thing, because it doesn't have a penis, nobody should be able to notice.

When we were in the hospital, watching the ultrasound image, it was jumping around, stretching arms and legs, flipping over, kicking. And we saw that, it was smiling the whole time, with its thick lips fully resemble its father's.

It is a life. Grows by second.

Two weeks ago we saw its heart beat for the first time, 150 times a minute. It didn't have a little bit human shape by then, looked like a frozen turkey in the supermarket, it didn't move at all.

Only two weeks after, we saw the fully functioning arms and legs, we saw its smile on the face.

Maybe it already started dreaming, and wondering where it is living right now. Soon it will have the urge to know the world, to know everything, to explore.

We didn't care to ask the doctor if she could tell the gender of the little thing.

Because it is our baby, the gift from gods, the reminder of our love. That, is all it matters.

It is a life. Grows by second.

#save female fetuses

#stop female foeticide

Related post: Gender

父亲

Reimagining India

The subcontinent was home to some of the most sophisticated early human civilizations. Critics of India's modern infrastructure would do well to recall that inhabitants of Mohenjo-Daro and Rakhigarhi built the world's first-known urban sanitation systems five thousand years ago and may have been the first to use wheeled transport. For centuries after Alexander's departure, India was governed by powerful Hindu dynasties who patronized the arts and took keen interest in religion, philosophy and practical science. Megasthenes, the first western historian to venture beyond the Punjab into the Gangetic plain, described a land so verdant and fertile that "famine has never visited India and there has never been a general scarcity in the supply of nourishing food." Venetian traveler Marco Polo, who claimed to have visited several ports in India during his 1292 voyage from China to Persia, declared Malabar (now Kerala) on India's southwest coast to be the "richest and most splendid province in the world".

....in Akbar's court in Fatehpur Sikri, notes British historian Alex von Tunzelmann, Akbar lived in "unmatched opulence... in rooms done out with marble, sandalwood and mother-of-pearl, cooled by the gentle fanning of peacock feathers." By comparison, Elizebeth was a "weak and feeble woman" who ruled over a "grubby, unsophisticated, cold, dismal little kingdom."

--Reimagining India, by Mckinsey & Company 2013