First it was DIM and then there was SUM

Last day of the year 2006. How momentous. Not really. Another year has come. Many things are on the anvil, while others are following their due or undue course.

The day started with Dim Sum at the Golden Tripod Attic, a huge 24-hour restaurant near the Yonghegong Lama temple. Perhaps not the best dim sum in town, especially if you believe my Cantonese roommate Hok-Kwan, but it is affordable, right off the subway, and has rather pleasing décor. From there some of us waddled over to Houhai, second day running that I was walking the hutongs, and found a nice little café. I opened up Orhan Pamuk’s Snow and spent a few pleasant hours reading up on things in the tiny town of Kars on the Turkish border.

In the evening, attended New Year’s revelry at Lauren’s. Was a relatively quiet way to usher in the New Year, and all the better for it.

Beijing Snow

The first snow of the winter is here. It was supposedly –11 degrees Celsius yesterday, so last night when it finally came down, it stuck. Fearing that it wouldn’t last, I spent much of the afternoon today in Houhai walking the hutongs, enjoying their snowflake-covered splendor. Moments like these accentuate just how lousy a place Wudaokou is. If I end up spending time doing research here in the coming years, I will be sure to avoid the blessed Wu, the scar (admittedly not the only one) that mars Beijing’s face.

Last night also happened to visit the “Beijing CD Jazz Club.” A nice little bar located just south of the agricultural exhibition ground in Chaoyang. They have live Jazz Thursday (or is it Wednesday) through Sunday. Lead by saxophonist Liu Yang, we heard a quartet of drums, cello, sax, and piano, all together three Chinese musicians, and one American. Was absolutely great. I am definitely hitting it up again sometime soon.

Staying on the military theme...

Last week I tried my hand at translating. I have applied to translate for the Tsinghua Journal Science of International Politics and this was a little test they gave. I am not too confident, especially since I couldn't translate a particular phrase/name. Oh well. The fuits of my recent labors are below.

Original:

攻防理论的一个基本预设是，军事技术攻防优势的变化将自动改变国家的军事战略，但这一预设几乎未得到充分的评估。对此，徐进的《军事技术变化与军事战略转型》要回答的问题是，当军事技术出现攻防优势变化时，军事战略如何进行转型？国家为什么不能及时进行战略转型？通过考察军事史，作者发现，军事战略与军事技术之间经常出现不相符的现象，即军事战略不会自动“跟上”军事技术攻防优势的变化。作者认为，国家不能及时进行战略转型的原因，在于其习惯按照上一场战争的模式来准备下一场战争，无视军事技术的攻防优势在两次战争间隔期可能发生的转换。论文工作得到的启示是，以信息技术为核心的军事高技术群具有进攻优势，在其他条件不变的情况下，世界武器技术的信息化发展趋势将增大中国卷入军事冲突的危险。中国军队在完成机械化和信息化双重历史任务的过程中，要特别注重进攻性武器装备的研制和进攻作战理论的研究。

新现实主义理论认为，国际无政府状态下，面对霸权威胁时，国家趋于制衡霸权，但国际关系中许多国家的行为与沃尔兹的理论预期发生了较大的偏离。韦宗友的《霸权阴影下的战略选择》对这一现象做出了解释。论文认为，面对霸权威胁时，体系内的其他国家可能有制衡、追随和不介入三种政策选择，制衡并非国家的主导战略。影响国家战略选择的因素包括五个，即无政府文化结构、体系格局、国家间的权力对比、地理位置以及决策者观念。通过对战国时期诸侯兼并战争的详细考察，作者指出，正是在上述五个因素的综合作用下，秦国最终才能够歼灭六国，建立起“大一统”的帝国。

Translation:

A fundamental assumption in Defense Theory[1] is that changes in defensive[2] military technology automatically bring about changes in a country’s military strategy. But this assumption still suffers from being inadequately assessed. How do we carry out a transformation in military strategy amid changes in defensive military technology? Why can a country not conduct such transformations in a timely manner? These are the questions Xu Jin addresses in his “Changes in Military Technology and the Transformation of Military Strategy.”[3] In his study of military history Xu discovered that military strategy and military technology often experience non-corresponding developments; military strategy does not of its own accord keep pace with changes in defensive military technology. According to him, the reason a country is unable to carry out a timely transformation in its military strategy stems from the practice of preparing for a future war by studying the patterns of an earlier war, and from the neglect of changes in military technology during the intervening period between the two wars. His principal message is that an information and technology centered military group[4] possesses superiority in attack, and that ceteris paribus, the worldwide spread of weapon’s technology increases the danger of China being drawn into military conflicts. Therefore, during the process of completing the dual historical tasks of mechanization and bringing about an information revolution[5], the Chinese army needs to especially focus on the manufacture of offensive weapons and research the theory of assault warfare.

Neo-realism maintains that in the absence of an international government nations seek to restrain and balance a hegemonic power. However, in international relations the actual behavior of many nations deviates a great deal from that anticipated by such a XXX[6] theory. In “Strategic Choice under Hegemony,” Wei Zongyou attempts an explanation of this phenomenon. Wei states that when faced with a hegemonic threat, restraining or balancing the hegemonic power is by no means the only available strategy. Nations can also choose to align with the hegemonic power, or to stay uninvolved. He proposes five factors that influence a nation’s strategic decision-making, namely, its non-governmental cultural structure[7], its systemic structure[8], its relative power vis-à-vis other nations, its geographic location, as well as the views of its policymakers. Using the Wars of Annexation of the Warring States period as an example, he notes it is precisely by employing a combination of the aforementioned five factors that the Qin were ultimately able to destroy[9] the six countries and establish a united empire.

Notes:
[1] Theory of Defense?
[2] The shortening of: defense superiority.
[3] Are there standard translations for the titles of cited books/essays?
[4] The original “information-centered high technology military group” is awkward.
[5] Is there a standard translation used for the Chinese “信息化”? I have translated it as: bringing about an information/communications revolution? I remain unsure of what might be a suitable one-word translation in the English language.
[6] How does this translate: 沃尔兹?
[7] Better translation? Culture?
[8] Better translation? Political [power] structure?
[9] Better word ‘overcome?’

A trip down military lane

Braving what is probably the coldest day in Beijing thus far, Hans and I rendezvous outside the 军事博物馆(junshi bowuguan) subway stop. The stop is aptly named since that is precisely what greets us as we step out into the open. The military museum of the People’s Republic is housed in a Soviet style building, imposing and ugly; perhaps a distant and rather stunted child of the main building of the University of Moscow (which from the pictures I have seen does look much more impressive).

But we don’t spend much time discussing whether ours is an apt comparison. We buy our tickets, resist the additional temptation to pay an extra 5 kuai to poke around a little torpedo boat outside, and rush into the relative warmth of the museum. The atrium is plastered with massive pictures of Mao, Deng, as well as the common man, addressing troops, riding in automobiles, storming buildings, and looking important, while doing important things. By now, I am more concerned at how far away the ceiling is and that it really isn’t all that much warmer inside. No matter, for soon even more immediate questions demand my attention. Right, left, or straight ahead? Straight. Perhaps because that’s the only direction we actually espy an exhibit.

Two limousines lie straight ahead. The one to the right, long, black, sleek in spite of its size, is Chairman Mao’s personal vehicle. It sits on a tiny platform, ringed off, so that we can barely touch it. We try peering in but cannot see much. I sense perhaps the inaccessibility is meant to add to the aura of the man. I am not awed, merely disappointed. The passage opens into a giant hall. Three mannequins dressed in the uniforms of the three services stand in attention. Around them are planes, tanks, self-propelled guns, armored personnel carriers, jeeps, and other military hardware. Among the exhibits I find the famous Mig-15 Fagot, which troubled the supposedly superior F-86 Sabre during the Korean War. Next to it is the Mig-19, codenamed Farmer, another famous plane and one that, last I know, was still being produced in China as late as the mid 1990s. Of course, they have Chinese names, and Chinese modifications. A little marvel called reverse engineering. Regardless of how much time I labor over them, my Chinese makes limited sense of the information boards. I retain an air of studied ignorance as I walk around.

To the right is a tiny door that opens into one of the internal courtyards. Outside are more military machines, but these are spoils of war, and include American tanks captured in the Korean War. It is interesting to see a big Sherman tank in China. I keep an eye out for things Indian, but find none.

We escape the cold again and head upstairs. The staircase is very wide, awfully grand, but also very dark. Hans suggests that the building might have been a gift from Stalin. He says there is a similar building in Poland, a gift from Stalin, which the Poles now try to hide as best as they can.

We walk into the exhibit on the War of Resistance against the Japanese. This is important stuff, and still fuels the distrust that many Chinese harbor towards the Japanese. Big maps explaining battle plans and troop movements, individual stories of heroes, exhibits containing clothes, weapons, personal effects, and other tools overwhelm us. The Guomindang or any discussion about them is conspicuously absent, or limited at best. My Chinese fails me again, as does my limited grasp of the detailed events of the 1930s.

Hans and I amble along, admiring collections of rifles and pistols. There are so many that they could probably outfit a full regiment. We explore halls focusing on Qing military affairs, the 19th century wars of humiliation, and the foundation of the PRC. We stop in front of wax figures of Mao, Zhou Enlai, Zhu De, Liu Shiaoqi, et al. They are all smiling, looking out at the visiting tourists, and beyond. Maybe Mao just made a joke. Or perhaps they are just happy to finally be in control of China’s destiny. I prefer the first possibility. The second has too much dark humor attached to it.

By now our spirits are flagging. They are temporarily raised by the amusement offered by the exhibit containing gifts presented by visiting military delegations, or those presented to touring Chinese delegations. I finally find something from India: a sword, rather a scimitar, the Indian Talwar, presented sometime in the 1950s. Not surprisingly, there is nothing since. But gifts from the former Soviet republics abound, as do the ones from former Warsaw pact countries and from African nations. We are amused and intrigued in turn by the gifts and the countries they are from.

I walk out with the impression, albeit circumscribed by my aforementioned studied ignorance, that this museum reinforces notions of Chinese victim-hood. Patriotic flag waving is the staple diet of any military museum, but in China it seems to be informed and, perhaps even overpowered, by an intense sense of victimization. It makes me reflect on how we in India construct our recent history. Oppression is very much a part of recent Indian history. But India’s history appears more contested. Both India and China since the late 1940s have fed on the notions of a glorious past, and the need to achieve it again. In China there appears to be a clearer understanding of what that means perhaps, as well as a sense of inevitability about it. Manifest destiny? Chinese style? As always I walk away with half-baked ideas and notions, but also more to research and ponder over.

Not every story ends well. I catch a cold, and probably something else too. End up sick, coughing, congested, and not a little worse for the week.

Sacrificing Cinematic Immortality at the altar of Linguistic Lunacy

They are shooting the Kite Runner in Hebei province some 300 kilometers away from Beijing. An ad seeking extras has been placed in thatsbj.com (bj being Beijing, for those of you whose thoughts are often raunchier than their deeds). But for the fact that the shooting is on Wednesday and Thursday, I would most certainly have been off to be a part of big budget cinema. Would I pass as Afghan? Probably not, though I do possess a nose that would not embarrass me. In any case, it is moot, since I don’t think I am going. Ah, the opportunities I squander in my quest to achieve the linguistic competency of a 10 year old.

On a related note, I find it interesting that they chose to film in China and not elsewhere. If Afghanistan is too dangerous, which it very well might be, then what about the other ‘stans? Indeed, what about Pakistan? More realistic terrain, definitely a lot easier to find extras, not to add that it would also probably be a lot cheaper. I am intrigued, and shall investigate.

A sense of the non-sense

These few days have been a bit of a rollercoaster of dullness as I struggle through flagging spirits, tangled emotions, loss of touch with my femine side (wherever she may be), a cough like a bad relationship that won't end, and a general sense of the non-sense.

On the occasions that I have managed to tear myself away from the riveting effects of the above, I have spent them desultorily reading about about the source, or at least one of them, of Chinese religious beliefs. I am still unpacking the metaphor laden discussion, but it has something to do with people in the Shang dynasty (thats people who allegedly lived in some part of today's China some 3500 years ago) comparing life and the mysteries of creation, change, and destruction with flowers and their constituent parts. Thus, I can now tell you what the pistil of a flower is called, in Chinese no less. I could also tell you what other parts are called, but I'd have to remember them in English first.

Last weekend I did happen to attend, with my budding journalist friends, Lauren and Soren, the Qinghua edition of 70th year celebrations of the Red Army. We marched into the indoor gym on campus, struggled to find the best seats (since so many were emtpy), and proceeded to hear a full orchestra and choir perform songs about the Long March, Mao Zhuxi (Chairman Mao to you), and how he k.o.'ed Jiang Jieshi (aka Chiang Kaishek). It was all very inspiring, except, none of us really understood the songs or the presenters. It was also sobering, it was, for those of us who aspire to some level of competency in this most enduring of languages, there lies a long road ahead.

Not so unencumbered after all...

After barring blogger for too long, China has reopened its doors. Which means I is back. No vengeance, but back all the same. And hopefully I shall ruminate as well in the near future.

In the meantime, am into the second module at IUP. Its painful, is intensive language. But we beat on...yada yada yada. Also trying to get my applications in on time. Which means generally busy. But managing to eat good food, most recent being Hakka, which is often an effective if short term substitute for all sorts of sins and misfortunes.

More shortly.

Clemency--for the right reasons

Trust The Hindu to come up with a trenchant analysis of the Afzal death penalty/clemency imbroglio. It quite successfully cuts through to what I agree is the heart of the matter. Rather than sum up the argruments, I am reproducing the entire editorial below. You can also find it at http://www.hindu.com/2006/10/09/stories/2006100901901000.htm


While I agree with the solution proposed in the final paragraph below, I remain skeptical regarding the possibility of such an outcome. Rather I hold true to what I wrote in an earlier post, that short term political expediency will in all likelyhood overwhelm all other concerns. This is tragic, but also what we might call the logic or illogic of Indian politics. Nevertheless, we should continue demanding, as The Hindu does, a nationwide debate on the death penalty. It is long overdue.

_______________________
Clemency — for the right reasons

The issue of exercising presidential clemency and commuting to life imprisonment the death sentence passed on Mohammad Afzal in the December 13, 2001 Parliament attack case — which took a toll of nine lives, not counting the five terrorists killed by the security forces — has proved to be extremely divisive. It has pitted those who favour a hard line on terrorism against those considered soft, and politicians and groups in Kashmir against much of the rest of the nation. Yet if Afzal deserves a life sentence rather than death by hanging, it is because the death penalty is abhorrent under any circumstances. To plead for clemency alleging a flawed trial or pointing to incensed Kashmiri sentiment is to miss the point. First, it is clear that he was convicted after a fair trial, with the judiciary from the trial court through the high court to the Supreme Court concurring on both his guilt and his sentence, even while two others were acquitted. Critics of the Afzal verdict have made it out that he did not have proper legal representation; that the evidence against him was not direct but only circumstantial; and that as he did not actually take part in the attack or mastermind it, he should have been given a lesser sentence. These issues were examined at length by the Supreme Court, which found that he was adequately represented. Even after disregarding his confession to the police, the apex court found enough circumstantial evidence of his being a key conspirator who played an active role in the attack. This role included the purchase of mobile phones for the terrorists; being in contact with them in the minutes before the attack; arranging accommodation for them and staying with them; and purchasing vehicles and explosive material for the attack. As for the nature of the offence, the court found it to be "a terrorist act of gravest severity" and "a spectacle of the rarest of rare cases," warranting the death sentence.
The argument rooted in Kashmiri sentiment also seems to be on shaky ground. It is a measure of the peculiar circumstances in Jammu & Kashmir that even mainstream political parties in the State think nothing of identifying themselves with a convicted terrorist and pleading his cause. Yet going by such considerations would be subversive of the fundamental principles of the rule of law and setting a dangerous precedent. For any group or region could use its collective voice and muscle to bale out anyone convicted by a court.
The Hindu has, for some decades now, been calling for the abolition of the death penalty — and this consistent editorial position will naturally be valid for Afzal's case as well. After surviving a constitutional challenge, the death penalty is now supposed to be applied only in "the rarest of rare cases," as laid down by the Supreme Court. Yet however grave or gruesome the crime, the taking of a human life by the state under the banner of justice dehumanises society as a whole. The judicial system is not immune to mistakes, and there is always the danger of extinguishing a life in error. That this is not hypothetical has been shown occasionally by DNA evidence clearing a convicted criminal on death row. In a 1930 case in Bihar, five persons were sentenced to death on a charge of murder but had to be released because it was discovered just in time that the case had been totally fabricated by a police officer.
The most common argument advanced in favour of capital punishment is that it is qualitatively different from imprisonment and, as all fear death, it is the most effective deterrent. Yet there is little evidence that the death penalty is any more deterrent than imprisonment for life. Indeed, the evidence, if any, supports the opposite conclusion: the period when the death penalty remained suspended in the United States, for instance, did not see any change in the number of `capital offences.' Very often, rather than deterrence, the unstated rationale is retribution and revenge — the taking of a life for a life. In the Afzal case, the Supreme Court comes close to echoing such sentiments when it says: "the collective conscience of the society will only be satisfied if capital punishment is awarded to the offender" and he "is a menace to the society and his life should become extinct." Over the past half century, proposals made on and off for the abolition of capital punishment fell through because of the argument that public opinion and the conditions in the country did not warrant such a radical change. Such a line was taken even by the Law Commission when it examined the issue in detail, but that was in 1967. Now, abolition is becoming more and more the international norm, with the whole of Europe doing without it — as India found when Portugal allowed the extradition of Abu Salem on condition that he would not be awarded the death penalty.
The Government needs to turn the issues thrown up by the latest case into a broader discussion on whether India can retain on its statute book something so abhorrent to human rights as the death penalty — and should move boldly towards its abolition. Meanwhile, in the specific case of Mohammad Afzal, the death sentence must be commuted to imprisonment for life. This is indeed a fit case for the use of presidential clemency — for the right reasons. The pleading by Afzal's wife and seven-year-old son and his background as a surrendered militant who cooperated with the authorities are reasons sound enough to exercise the executive power of clemency, which may be subject to broad judicial scrutiny but still retains a large measure of discretion.
____________________________

Commuting death—a plea, a call to morality, and a threat

Afzal’s hanging might be deferred, at least for the time being it appears that way. As is often the case in such politically and ideologically charged controversies, a variety of agendas have become intertwined. Perusing the papers I can sense three essentially disjointed elements that have crystallized over the course of these few days.

The first is legalistic. Afzal’s wife and family, with the help of his lawyers, have filed a mercy petition with the President. "He did not get justice, neither in lower courts nor in higher court. All he demands is fair trial," said his wife, adding that she hoped "justice will done by the President.” http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/2080356.cms
The family is quick to distance themselves from NGOs who they feel are using Afzal’s misfortune to forward their own anti-death penalty agenda. For the family this is a personal matter and they don’t seem too keen to use the NGOs in ways that the NGOs are using them.

The anti-death penalty agenda then is the second element to this controversy. It is primarily led by NGOs dedicated to eradicating it from the IPC. Their arguments are more universal and based in moral and ideological terms. Needless to say, this is a much larger debate. In India it has not been as vibrant as in other countries, though admittedly it is also not as dormant as in some, most notably China.

The third element is grounded in the logic or illogic of politics. From separatist leaders to the current CM of J&K, Ghulam Nabi Azad, all have voiced concerns regarding the political fallout of the execution. The separatists are using the specter of increased violence as a threat, whereas Azad is speaking in favor of maintaining the ‘peace.’ Added to this are voices from the BJP (as well as more right wing groups) who are looking for an opportunity to criticize the UPA government. And finally, there are the kin of those who died in the parliament attacks. So far, the media has shown little interest in reporting where they stand.

Political expediency is probably what will dominate the government’s decision in the end. But what is politically most expedient remains unclear, as the potential gains or losses in J&K will be weighed against the potential gains or losses across India as a whole. As far as Afzal’s family is concerned, the good news right now is that the entering of a plea automatically defers an execution. So until they hear back from the President, October 20 as such retains little significance.

Also see: http://www.hindu.com/2006/10/04/stories/2006100413910100.htm

Impressions in Stone--Part I

A few weekends back IUP organized a tour of the great wall for its students. At 8 am on a chilly Saturday morning, about 30-40 students and laoshis squeezed into a bus waiting outside Tsinghua’s East Gate. Our destination was not Badaling or any of the other more famous Great Wall sites that lie within an hours drive of Beijing, but instead a section of the wall from Jinshanling to Simatai renowned for its picturesque beauty and relatively untouched—that is, still authentic—masonry.

Sleepy, not a little bit tired after a strenuous first week, but also somewhat glad to be getting involved in some sort of activity, we set off. Heading in a generally northeast direction we threaded our way through Beijing’s suburbs and soon hit farmland and rolling hills. (On a clear day, a rarity given the city’s pollution, these hills are visible from my flat window in Wudaokou). From a distance most of the crops appeared to be wheat, though every now and then I thought I also spied some corn. Given my generally superior knowledge on this front, I would recommend readers go elsewhere to learn about land use surrounding Beijing.

While most students had opted to bring their study material with them, the initial part of the journey was spent celebrating one of our tongxue’s birthdays. After traveling for about 3 hours, which included a pit stop at a highway rest area, we stopped at a village for lunch. Instead of booking a regular restaurant, IUP had decided to expose us to Chinese countryside (nongcun) cuisine. We all gathered in a relatively large courtyard, about 6-7 to a table, as plates filled with nongcun fan were brought to us. Besides the fattened beef, things seemed decidedly less oily than in a standard Beijing restaurant. That said, it seemed like a lot of the food I’d had earlier, and not entirely distinctive.

Another 30 minutes on the bus brought us to Jinshanling. We had already caught glimpses of the wall from the road, but now we were finally at the wall.

The Jinshanling section of the great wall is located about 140 kilometers to the northeast of Beijing. It is so named as it straddles the Jinshan (shan=mountain) range. Work on the wall was begun with the establishment of the Ming in 1368 and lasted 21 years till 1389. It was subsequently rebuilt, in all likelihood primarily repair work, in the latter half of the 16th century. About eleven kilometers in all, it connects in the east with the Simatai section of the wall. Simatai owes its fame as the most beautiful section of the wall largely to neglect. While sites such as Badaling and Mutianyu have undergone extensive restoration, the Simatai site has lain untouched. It stretches for a total of about 20 kilometer on either of the Simatai reservoir. Simatai has an older history than Jinshanling, with some scholars dating wall construction in the area to as early as the Northern Qi (550-577 C.E.). It first surfaces in Ming dynasty sources in 1382. The section was periodically rebuilt or strengthened during the Ming and also helped repel Mongol raids in the second half of the 16th century.*

Our four-hour hike would take us from Jinshanliang to the reservoir at Simatai.


*The source for the history of Jinshanling and Simatai is the IUP information packet, and most notably the sections by great wall researcher David Spindler (IUP 1989-90).

Bomb blasts and death sentences

Latest news reports inform us that agencies have reached some major conclusions in their investigation into the July 11 Bombay bomb blasts. The biggest of these is that Pakistan’s intelligence agency, Inter-Services Intelligence (ISI), was the conceptual mastermind of the attacks. Lashkar-e-Taiba (LeT) and Jaish-e-Mohammad, in turn employing the now banned Students Islamic Movement of India (SIMI) and its modules, planned, coordinated, and executed the explosions.

Needless to say, the denials have come thick and fast from across the border. Baseless, fabricated, and intended to derail the peace process Singh and Musharraf have just managed to resurrect at the NAM summit, so goes the counter-claim. The bluster notwithstanding, it does provide a good first test for the recently formed joint anti-terrorism agency. Though, realistically speaking, little progress will be made. Whatever evidence will be shared will be summarily dismissed, and the war of words will continue. And in both countries the common man will continue to doubt the intentions of the other country’s government, while muttering platitudes that it is not the people but governments that have perpetuated this long impasse.

Other information unearthed included the routes taken by the alleged Pakistani militants to reach India: from Nepal in the north, Bangladesh in the east, and from across the Gujarat border. Interestingly, none came across the LoC in Kashmir. What does this mean, especially in the context of cross border terrorism writ large? In the past few years, the Indian government has, in general, accepted that the number of terrorists crossing over from PoK into India has declined. Indeed, that was fundamental to the ‘peace process’ moving forward. Evidently, that is not the only border to worry about, is it?

In other news, as the scheduled execution of Mohammad Afzal Guru, the purported mastermind behind the December 2001 attack on the Indian parliament, approaches, protests and strikes have been called across J&K state. The Prime Minister and the President have both been approached in the hope of clemency.

At issue is not merely the fundamental debate over capital punishment, but also the potential political fallout. It is these concerns that have prompted political leaders such as Ghulam Nabi Azad and Omar Abdullah to ask for clemency. They fear that the carrying out of the sentence would further alienate Kashmiris, and that the timing—we are in the midst of Ramadan—is also inopportune. NGOs claim, “The issue should not be seen from narrow political ends but from a larger perspective. The fact remains that the world over there is a general consensus against hanging." (http://www.hindu.com/2006/10/01/stories/2006100106071300.htm) But given ‘the where’ as well as ‘the who’ of this particular case, it is naive to expect a purely humanitarian solution.

Back in business

I have been back in Beijing a few weeks now. In certain ways the settling in has been harder the second time round. The reasons are not hard to find.

Break wound down. As is always the case, just about when I began feeling settled with life in Delhi again, it was time to move. While there I ate more than I ought have, food rich in spices and often richer in oil. I still feel sated and perhaps also a little bloated as I write this.

But I am back, and already in the thick of things. IUP is demanding, and getting into the right frame of mind for it has been the story of the forthnight. And it is very much a developing one...

Desh Satthiya gaya...

Today is India’s 59th independence day. Thus begins independent India's 60th year. Lets us hope the title above does not ring true.

Our flat in Delhi overlooks a little park, which has seen much bonhomie this morning. B-10’s young and old alike gathered to sing, perform, and generally raise some noise to mark the occasion. That much of the singing was off key, and that people were as tolerant of older folks trying to hog the stage as they were of little kids, was not of much importance.

On TV, prime minister Manmohan Singh announced from the ramparts of the Red Fort India’s resolve to fight terrorism, her hopes for future generations, and so on. He does not make much of an inspiring speaker.

I arrived in Delhi yesterday, early in the morning. My flight from Beijing stopped off at Shanghai, where we changed planes, before touching down about 30 minutes before time at IGI airport in Delhi. On the flight I bumped into a group of eight Chinese engineers who were headed to Rajkot in Gujarat to help in highway construction. They were delighted to learn that I could speak a little Chinese. I happened to sit next to one of them from Shanghai to Delhi and we attempted a reasonable conversation, almost entirely in Chinese, since his English could hardly pass muster. I have now been invited to drink baijiu when he is in Beijing next.

It feels great to be back home. Delhi’s skies are definitely bluer than Beijing’s. But Delhi is also much more of a grand mess than Beijing is.

Chance encounters

I am sitting in the Bookworm, Beijing’s trendy, primarily geared towards foreigners, library-lounge-restaurant on Sanlitun Nanjie. At a table nearby is a gentleman who seems awfully familiar but, for the life of me, I am unable to place him. Moments such as these are irritating. A couple of weeks ago I bumped into Robbie Barnett, who teaches modern Tibet at Columbia. I had just emerged from the Gulou Dajie subway station, heading towards Houhai for a meeting with my friend Jen, when I spotted Robbie. Our eyes met and there was perhaps a faint glint of recognition. As I walked past, the tumblers all fell in place, and the lock sprung open. I introduced myself and the following week a few of us Columbia folks in Beijing got together at the Drum and the Bell, in the shadows of the eponymous Drum and Bell Towers, for some drinks and chatter.

Robbie had some interesting things to tell about his summer in Tibet. He had arrived in China earlier in the summer, leading a group of Columbia graduate students who were to spend the summer in Lhasa learning Tibetan. Upon arriving in Chengdu they were informed that the university they had made arrangements with could no longer provide any training. As the tourism and foreign ministries tried to align their stories, the group was able to slip into Lhasa on tourist permits. In Lhasa, Robbie was able to convince some of the now barred teachers into lecturing, which, on technical grounds one could argue, is not teaching. But the local security bureau got wind of this pretty quickly, and after four or five days, the lectures too abruptly ended. In the end, some students traveled to Kathmandu for their lessons, and those that could not afford the trip, attempted self-study in Lhasa. During his stay in Tibet, Robbie also had public security men detailed to shadow him for a few hours everyday.

The group also stated that even though the Beijing-Lhasa rail is now operational, Lhasa is mostly unprepared for the huge influx of tourists that are now flooding the plateau. From sufficient hotel rooms, to water supply to waste management, Tibet’s administration is apparently already stretched thin. And this is just the beginning...

Sitting in Beijing one can be lulled into thinking that it is a microcosm of China. In addition to the many levels on which this is an obvious fallacy, Robbie and the Columbia crew’s experiences provide a more [politically] specific and geographically localized rebuttal (if one were indeed needed).

Apologizing, Liangliang style

In yesterday’, China Scene section, where The China Daily picks pieces from widely read local papers, The Qilu Evening News states:

“A high school student in Luxian County, Shandong Province, cut off part of a finger recently to show his regret for cheating his parents of money. Lianliang, 14, asked for extra 400 yuan (US$ 49, INR 2300) from his parents last week, saying that money would be used to pay next term’s tuition fees. However, Liangliang planned to spend the money on playing online games. Finding out the truth from other students, the parents were furious and scolded the boy for his dishonesty. To show how sorry he was, Liangliang grabbed a knife from the table and chopped a part of his little finger.

“The emergency surgery to reattach Liangliang’s finger cost his parents 6,000 yuan (US$740, INR 34,000).”

In any case, I think the boy is ready to be admitted to the Japanese Yakuza. Maybe he should have just asked for 3200 yuan to begin with, and used part of that money to bribe his friends. He might then have gotten entry into just about any mafia worldwide!

The Daily's main op-ed piece is by Mao Rubai, the vice-Chairman of the China Environmental Protection Union. Mao speaks of the dangers of blindly following the ‘extensive growth mode.’ More on that soon.

The Beijing of concrete, steel and glass

What used to be a low profile skyline dotted with the occasional skyscraper is fast metamorphing into one teeming with recently completed gleaming steel and glass towers as well as many more in various stages of completion. Metal piping has replaced the old-fashioned bamboo scaffolding, and it is just as well, given how high these new towers aspire to reach. New construction is visible everywhere, but nowhere more so than in Chaoyang, Beijing’s business district, which lies to the east of the Forbidden City (still very much the geographic center of Beijing) roughly beyond the third ring road. But even up by Wudaokou, the university part of town, gleaming new apartment buildings greet commuters as they get off the number 13 subway line.

As we drive past the Beijing world trade center, Eric, my French suitemate, cannot help but remark how impressive all this construction looks. Manfred, sitting in front, points to some of the older buildings, their design suggesting a different era and vastly different social and economic priorities or circumstances. Indeed, interspersed among these gleaming new paeans to China’s burgeoning economic growth, and still holding on for dear life it would appear, are the remnants of the older Beijing—the hutongs and the communist era office and apartment blocks.

Hutongs still hold sway in some parts of downtown Beijing such as Houhai, Gulou, Andingmen, and Qianmen Dajie. But for how much longer is unclear. Already billboards and hoardings panel the Qianmen Dajie leading from the Jianlou tower to the Temple of Heaven. They hide from our view hutongs that are scheduled for demolition, while carrying pictures and representations of what will replace them: a new Wangfujing like promenade/shopping street.

Development is always welcome, and especially in country like China, whose people have suffered much in their modern history. But Eric and Manfred’s observations do focus on a salient feature of Beijing’s transformation. For, after all, who is buying these new super expensive residences or office buildings? Rich folk. From what little I have heard and read, Beijing’s older residents are being compensated (relocated) with accommodations on the outskirts. So Beijing’s demography is probably changing not in a dynamic and organic way, but in a process that could be described more as transshipment—a new wealthy group replacing the cities original inhabitants. And as Manfred is quick to point, this process is being facilitated by another huge group of people, who are neither Beijing’s old nor new residents—migrant workers.

This does raise interesting urban policy questions. Is Beijing’s development unique, or part of a more discernable process experienced or being experienced by other mega-cities? I’d imagine, to some extent such changes in the demographic and economic character of a city or parts of a city are to be expected. I need to read more about urban development.

Polluting Heaven and Earth

The People’s Daily (online edition) carries an article today on China’s increasing soil pollution problem. Citing data gathered by the State Environmental Protection Administration (SEPA) and the Ministry of Land Resources, it states that every year about 12 million tons of grain are polluted by heavy metals, which equates to about 20 Billion yuan (about $2.5 Billion or Rs. 11,000 crore) in losses. Needless to say, public health is a major, and seemingly harder, cost to evaluate at this point. Per an ‘incomplete’ investigation, 10 million hectares of arable land in China is polluted. China’s total arable land is estimated at about 120 million hectares. Thus, almost 8.75% of China’s arable land is already poisoned. Given that in terms of arable land per capita, China is already well below the global average, this is a problem that needs to be addressed at the soonest.

The report goes on to inform us that SEPA and the Ministry of Land Resources are launching a three-year 1 billion yuan ($1.25 million, Rs. 550 crore) survey to ascertain the nature and extent of the problem. A good first step, no doubt.

Agriculture received much attention in the 20th century as people sought to understand China’s recent economic history and developmental challenges. A major contribution to was made by John Lossing Buck (Pearl S. Buck’s husband) in the 1930s. Buck’s meticulous survey provided the first insights into China’s historical agricultural practices, land use patterns, and the like. Another major study is that of Dwight Perkins whose work spanned the 600 years from the Ming (1368 CE) to the start of the Cultural Revolution (well actually 1968). Since then there have been several more localized and focused studies. And I have to admit I am a little ignorant on current agricultural practices and methods in China.

The soil pollution news serves to accentuate the environmental challenges China will increasingly have to face in the coming years. A recent NYT article spoke about the pollution in industrial and coal mining cities. And one look at Beijing’s constant grayscale sky is enough to frighten even the most stoic or nonchalant amongst us.

Stray thoughts

Warisha, who is in Srinagar, tells me that the 11/7 grenade attacks have prompted a tourist exodus of sorts. To that end I guess the attacks were a success. It is a pity, as whenever there are attempts at limping towards some semblance of recovery, there are setbacks. On the Bombay front, while there has been a lot of progress with the investigation, a resolution remains elusive. On July 12, PTI reported that Narendra Modi beseeched India and her leaders to find a common will against terrorism, which he said was no longer confined to a state or even a country. These are indeed fair points, but coming from Modi, three words keep ringing in my ears: pot, kettle, black.

On a larger level, the attacks do seem to put a damper on whatever bilateral peace process that had been in the works these past couple of years. While few doubt Pakistani complicity at some level in the attacks, the real worry is that Musharraf and his administration have increasingly lost control of the terrorist outfits and their activities. Furthermore, in recent years terrorism in J&K has come to be dominated by LeT and JeM, both of which consist primarily of people from outside J&K. Natives of the region have been increasingly marginalized. This merely serves to complicate negotiations.

The ‘big powers’ are convening in SPB for the G-8 summit. Hu Jintao is there, so is Manmohan Singh. Xinhua reports a trilateral meeting between Hu, Singh and Putin—the first of its kind. The beginning of the formation of new global economic alliances, however tentative and tenuous, it would appear.

Spirit of Mumbai

More reports are trickling in. Apparently many terror cells have been busted in cities such as Nagpur and Delhi, with several kilos of RDX and many AK-47s seized. Wonder how soon, if at all, definitive information will be available. There was a time when terrorists would jump to claim responsibility for their heinous crimes.

LeT and Jaish-e-Mohammad seem to be the prime suspects, though both have denied culpability. Given the similarity of MOs with Madrid and London, I cannot help but wonder to what extent there are wider links. Of course India has other sources of tension as well—most notably the Naxalite movement. Was just talking with a friend in Delhi who suspects the Shiv Sena instead. While I seriously doubt they have the logistical wherewithal, let alone the gall to gamble so heavily with their political future, her suspicions do highlight how much of a problem India’s Hindu right wing nut jobs are as well. (Matter of fact, in the larger scheme of things it might not be entirely bad if the Shiv Sena and Bal Thackeray were actually involved and fingered for it, because that would effectively end their involvement in Indian politics.)

At moments like this people’s latent xenophobia seems to emerge, often being manipulated and influenced by the more openly xenophobic amongst us. I refer not just to politicians or major public figures, but also to the discourse among common folk. Furthermore, this xenophobia is often at its strongest in Diaspora communities. One of the message boards I often lurk on has seen a hail of vitriol and diatribe directed at Muslims en masse and at our friendly neighbors to the NW. Of particular interest is the fact that most of these self-confessed patriots (read Hindi-Hindutva-Heartland Heroes) reside outside India.

At least in Bombay, and in India as a whole, it seems this divisiveness is not on people’s minds. Last time round, Bombay was wracked by riots (riding as it was on a fairly pivotal event in modern Indian history—the destruction of the Babari Masjid in Ayodhya). I do hope that that experience is not repeated. The memory of 1993 and of Gujarat more recently has left deep scars, and hopefully deeper lessons. Let us hope the ‘spirit of Mumbai,’ as news channels have coined it, prevails over sectarian idiocy.

Serial Blasts

Have spent much of last night and most of the morning reading about yesterday’s blasts in Bombay and Srinagar. While the explosions in each city were no doubt carefully orchestrated, it remains unclear at this point whether there was also intercity orchestration. The kinds of explosives used—sophisticated RDX in Bombay versus hand grenades in Srinagar—suggests differing MOs and consequently the possibility that different outfits carried them out. But even that is circumstantial and doesn’t preclude two terror groups planning the serial bombings to occur in tandem.

Reminiscent of the recent train bombings in London and Madrid, the carnage in Bombay also evokes memories of the 1993 serial bomb blasts, which left 250 dead and many injured. The death toll has risen through the night and raced past the 150 mark (last I checked, NDTV reported a figure of 172 as of Wednesday morning). Sadly, it will probably continue to rise. Of course, the number of injured and maimed is significantly higher (NDTV reports 439 as off Wednesday morning).

In 1993 Bombay and Mumbaikars showed remarkable fortitude in attempting a return to normalcy with schools, businesses and government all staying open in the immediate aftermath. It was heartening and inspiring. From what I read, the same spirit prevails now as well.

The Srinagar bombings have so far left 8 dead and many more wounded. In their intensity they don’t seem to match the Bombay blasts. The principal targets in Srinagar appear to be tourists. Newspapers state that this is the 6th attack in Kashmir since the tourist season began earlier in the spring/summer. On one level such attacks are indicative of the growing frustration perhaps with the increasing tourist presence in Srinagar.

The last 17 years have been punctuated by many terrorist activities, and in the odd case, by a total breakdown, in certain regions, of India’s civil society. Indeed, what happened in Godhra was probably the saddest indictment of India’s secular claims. For the government and the police to sit back and watch (even participate) in rioting was shameful. While India’s experiences with terrorism are not a recent phenomenon, the rise of a global terrorism anchored in Islamic fundamentalism has made the challenge all the more pressing.

More soon…

Diving queens, bull called Zidane, and football fan[atic]s

The world cup is over. The ‘diving queens’ won over the ‘lao (old) bleus’ and the best player of his generation saw red, leaving the field in disgrace. The 2006 final was a drab affair, perhaps even on par with 1994 in its ability to bore. Interestingly, Italy was present then as well. Aside from its surprises, this world cup has also seen some great goals and Bastian Schweinsteiger’s brace against Portugal provided a nice finishing flourish for the host nation and the team they support.

Zidane is not the only one to get riled up over the world cup. The China Daily (July 8-9) quoting the Fujian Daily notes: “A fight occurred between a father and son in Fujian Province when their favorite football teams clashed in the World Cup in Germany. The father was a big Argentina fan, while his son supported Germany. After Germany beat Argentina in the quarterfinals, the son commented that Argentine players performed badly during the match, which annoyed his father. The father beat his son on the bottom [emphasis mine], and his son then fought back. Local border guards were called because neighbors, hearing the commotion, thought burglars might have been in the house.” Apparently, both were let off with cautions, though their actions merited red cards.

If only I had the time to mine papers from other countries...

Paths silken but less trodden

Today, after a gap of 44 years, the Nathu La pass that connects Sikkim to Tibet has been reopened to traffic. There is much bonhomie on either side, reflective perhaps of the increasing degree to which India and China are approaching each other with civility and common sense. The pass had been closed to traffic since the 1962 Sino-Indian war.

My first encounter with Nathu La goes back to Xth grade geography where an overtly pedantic teacher would shave off points if we got the placement of a river or, as in this case, pass wrong by a millimeter. Given that we were both (mis)placing these geographical features on a blank map of India, suffice to say river towns were frequently flooded and mountains routinely brought to their knees.

But Xth grade geography aside, the People's Daily is quick to remind us that the Nathu La pass was one of the main arteries in that most famous of overland trade routes that snaked around much of Asia. And now, that trade can be renewed. While I am sure the opening will do a great deal for Sino-Indian trade, I am more excited at the possibilities this might offer for regional development—of both Sikkim and Tibet.

Most exciting, selfishly speaking, of course, is the prospect—now firmly within the realm of the possible—of actually returning to Delhi via road. Only a few days ago, Beijing officially flagged off the first train to Lhasa. Next summer looks more and more enticing...

Yeh Kya Hua?

“Yeh kya hua, kaise hua, kab hua, kyon hua, jab hua, tab hua…”

So goes the famous Kishore Kumar song from Amar Prem. Rather apt given Germany’s heartbreaking exit from the WC. Ah well. It was a cracker of a match, the Italians played out of their skins, the Germans managed to trade punch for punch for the most part, but were finally undone during the climactic closing minutes. There is much to look forward to for this German team. They are young (but for the two goalies), play attractive football, and if Klinsmann hangs around, can look forward to some very productive years. Moreover, most of these players will come back older and wiser in four years, and hopefully go all the way.

Lets hope the remaining three games are as entertaining as this one was. Alright, enough lamenting and talking football, for now.

I discovered a great dish the other day. Yu xiang qiezi. Fish flavored/smelling eggplant. I have always been partial to this most regal of vegetables, and this latest discovery only adds to the long list of preparations, each delicious.

And in other news India won a test series in the West Indies after a gap of 35 years. No small achievement that. Yet given the comparative assessments of the teams going into the series I am sure many would feel somewhat cheated by the 1-0 scoreline. But a win is a win is a win.

Don't Cry For Me Argentina...

Quite a weekend I had. Friday began with meeting up with friends—from Columbia and from Beijing—to celebrate Charlie McAeeter’s birthday. We ended up at a Xinjiang restaurant right across from the Workers Stadium (the Gongren Tiyu Chang). The food was excellent and alcohol flowed like the river Isen once it was un-dammed by the Ents. In particular, some of us decided to make the night a close encounter with local Chinese liquor, or Baijiu, as it is called. At 56% it is stronger than most hard liquor and burns your gullet on its way to damaging your kidneys. It comes in tiny 150 ml bottles and by the time we called an end to dinner, the four of us actually drinking the stuff must have shared a good 7 or 8 bottles of this most acerbic of beverages.

From the restaurant our large group, it had grown to almost 15 people, splintered. Some wanted to go dancing, others wanted to catch the Germany-Argentina QF.

Braving thunderstorms, and balancing all the food and alcohol in our bellies, Jonathan, Janet, Jen, Jeff and I (wow, I just realized I was with J-Crew for much of Friday evening) landed up at a bar in the Sanlitun area. We missed much of the first half but caught the rest of an absolutely absorbing game. Ayala scored a good goal from a well-delivered Riquelme corner. The Germans fought back superbly, and the equalizer, via a Ballack, Borowski and Klose combination, was really quite emphatic. Pekerman did make some odd substitutions in hindsight, and Lehmann was brilliant in goal to send the Argies back. Can’t say the Argentines did themselves any favors in the second half. Definitely wasn’t impressed with all the diving and time wasting the Albiceleste partook in. Still not entirely convinced with Abbondanzieri and his now I am injured and now I am not antics either. And then the melee at the end was really quite ridiculous. I am definitely not crying for Argentina.

What can one say about England? They finally played a match with some spunk and spirit, only to be destroyed by that most enduring of bugbears—a penalty shoot out. Ricardo was quite outstanding for the Portuguese, but to see Lampard and Gerrard hit such weak shots was really disappointing. If there is one lesson to be drawn from all this, it is that people should stop hyping the EPL and its players. As my Newcastle United supporting British friend Rob put it, the EPL might be amongst the most entertaining leagues around, but it is far from the best. And finally, can we please stop elevating Becks to the rarefied fields of soccer greatness—where not only does he not belong, he cannot even pretend to belong. Ironically, the one Pommy who was outstanding throughout the WC plays not in the EPL but in the Bundesliga.

Italy cruised past Ukraine, as expected. Their match-up with Germany now promises to be interesting, though I think the Germans should be able to send them home as well.

And finally, Brazil are on their way home. What an inspired 90 minutes from Zidane! Suddenly a team that looked old and beaten at the start of the tournament can almost taste a second WC win in 8 years! Fat bwoy (as I am now wont to call Ronaldo) looked lost for most the match, and grew increasingly petulant as the buzzer approached. His dives, and there were quite a few, were rather ridiculous. What was amazing about the French performance was how they shutout the Brazilian midfield. Maybe having Ronaldinho playing forward wasn’t the brightest of ideas to begin with. Oh well, cannot complain. I wanted Brazil sent home, and the Les Bleus obliged.

Four teams and a total of four matches left to play. Who will win this all European of tussles?

Coping with summer heat: Chinese ishtyle

Summer is here and some days it gets hot, humid, and really quite oppressive. Beijing’s gray skies only add to the general feeling of glumness. On such days one can find that many of Beijing’s men, most notably taxi drivers for they spend most of their time outdoors, when lolling about, tend to hike up their shirt to near their breasts, exposing their frequently pudgy bellies to the moisture and pollutants laden air. This does not always, matter of fact never, make for a pleasant sight, but is probably an effective way to cool down. I need to find out if they call this anything in particular in Chinese.

I know in India, and at least in Bengali, the phrase to ‘open’ your tummy and sleep exists. The Chinese variation on a universal theme perchance?

Before 'ze Germans' get here...

World Cup Fever! Everywhere I go, for dinner, drinks, or just wandering around, all you see is TV screens, small and large, all tuned into CCTV5. The channel seems to have WC coverage monopoly in China. The time between live matches and match highlights is filled by a game show cum variety show cum analysis show. The Chinese participants seem surprisingly becalmed, but that doesn’t stop the hosts—normally one serious looking fellow and two pretty twenty something women—from being a little over the top. I am sure, at least in part, my impression suffers from the lack of being able to comprehend most of what is going on. Nevertheless, it makes for an interesting contrast. Can’t imagine what it would have been like had the Chinese actually been in the WC.

While most restaurants have all their TVs tuned to CCTV5, some of the more ambitious ones have set up huge rear projection screens outdoors. Sanlitun, Beijing’s bar district, is lined with World Cup advertising and paraphernalia as each bar tries to outdo the other in attracting the thirsty and affluent lao wai (literally ‘old foreign,’ the common term for all us non-Chinese). Near the middle of Sanlitun is a recently constructed building which has a huge (I’d say at least 25 feet diagonal, most likely more) screen. In front of the building is a large courtyard type space, which is crowded with restaurant tables, as well as passersby standing or squatting. I caught two of Spain’s 4 goals against Ukraine on this big screen. On a nice balmy night this is really the place to be. I hope to visit again.

In the meantime, ze Germans seem to be doing well. Dismantled Sweden with a fair bit of panache and it was only the spectacular Isakkson who kept the scoreline respectable for the Swedes. Was particularly impressed with Miroslav Klose. He seems to have developed into a really fine player these past four years. Some of his creative work against the Swedes was top drawer. Looking forward to the Argentina-Germany match on Friday now. Needless to say, hope the chants of ‘wir fahren nach Berlin’ continue to ring through the weekend :)

Too bad the Dutch lost. England squeaked by, only as England know how. I hope they either raise their level of play or head home. This WC has seen the return to dominance of the traditional soccer powers. No surprises seem likely in the final 8. My predictions for the remaining four are: Brazil (duh), Ukraine, Spain (bye bye 'les old bleus') and Italy. Only one real surprise there with the Ukrainians. I wouldn’t be upset if there were a couple of others though (esp. the socceroos and the Ghanaians!).

Colossal emptiness

It rained recently and I took my first tumble in Beijing. Was leaping across large puddles in an effort to get back to my dorm. Inevitably chose a manhole cover to land on, slipped, and made a hash of things. Could’ve been a lot worse: I managed not only to stay dry but also keep my book-bag dry. On the debit side, my left knee is bruised and bleeding. Oh well!

Last weekend finally ventured out in into Beijing. Hopped on bus number 420 (n.b., people from India) and was off to Wang Fu Jing, Beijing’s Fifth Avenue. I have read much of China’s poverty and inequality. Here you definitely don’t witness any poverty, just one end of the extreme that makes things so unequal. Wang Fu Jing is a paved road that runs north south a couple of blocks east of the Forbidden City. On either side are a variety of stores with a variety of signs. No vehicles are allowed, everything is clean and sanitized, and there are only a handful of stalls on the road itself selling drinks and the like. This gives the street a very European feel. Matter of fact, but for the signs and the people, it could very well pass for a shopping area in a German or French city.

With me were Manfred (no, not the Ray Romano voiced wooly mammoth from Ice Age) and Becca. Manfred is also at Columbia, studying contemporary China, and Becca studies Buddhist art of the Song period at Michigan. Both live in my dorm and know way more Chinese than I do.

From Wang Fu Jing the three of us walked down to Tiananmen and the Forbidden City, or Gugong (Imperial Palace Museum) as it is known here. One has to be careful when entering the Forbidden City, not because of Mao’s wary eye, but in order to sidestep the throngs of people getting their photographs taken with the gates and Mao in the background. This has to be one of the most generic photographs taken around the world. We entered through vast doors, still probably of Qing vintage, and walked through a longish hallway and into one of the outer courtyards. Inside we found ticket stalls, some museums along the sides, as well as a small army barracks. I have to find out more about what purpose the outer courtyards served, whether they housed visiting dignitaries/embassies and the like. Walking through we entered another courtyard. At the end of this is the Gugong. The scale of the entrance and walls is quite impressive. The walls themselves are smooth and a shade of red, crowned with impressively carved buildings. The free ride ends at this point: you gots to pay if you wants to play. Given that it was already mid afternoon, we figured we’d play another time.

Several touts approached us while we were in the two courtyards. Trips to the Great Wall at Badaling, and all sorts of other touristy things on offer. I now have some sense of how tourists feel in India. It really can get a little much, all the harrying, that is.

Walking back out we ducked into a pedestrian subway and emerged onto Tiananmen. The largest public square in the world. Doesn’t seem all that much when standing on one corner, but make the effort and walk to the middle. Colossal emptiness. It truly is quite awe-inspiring. I wonder what students of architecture think about it. Everything seems far away, and there is no greenery in sight. Near the center is a huge granite pillar to the unknown/fallen soldier. While standing in front I am approached by a girl. Hello! She’d like to take a snap with me. So off I trot with her, strike a pose in front of the pillar, while her gentleman friend clicks away. Suddenly I am quite the spectacle.

Downs of the Touch- and Settling- kind

Its been a little over a week since I got here. A time that has been both interesting and daunting. To begin with, arriving on a Friday late in the evening, with a barren weekend to get through, was not the best of ideas. Fortunately, my China savvy friend Meha was already in town so I was able to hang out with her and a friend of hers, Erin, on Saturday for a bit. One of the places we visited was Panjiayuan, one of Beijings few remaining open-air markets, and probably the biggest. It is setup like a huge roofed pavilion with hundreds of little stalls selling Chinese antiques, paintings, scrolls, and the like. Meha wanted to pick up stuff for a wedding in Delhi she was attending later in the week. Erin and I merely made up the numbers; I was quite content to not be entirely lost.

I slept through much of the rest of the weekend. In part, I am sure, because of jet lag, but also in part, I think, because of general tiredness from the end of the semester and the frenetic running around of the past few weeks.

Then of course, Monday arrived, and classes began. The first few days definitely felt like hitting a brick wall. A huge number of new words, a textbook with minimal pinyin accompanying the character text, and the general sense of dislocation that accompanies any move, all combining quite potently to leave me feeling not a little wretched.

Things have eased up a little since, though the workload definitely has not.

One of the first things that struck me about Beijing was that the sky is never (ever) blue. Pollution combined with construction dust results in a constant greyscale, much much worse than anything Delhi has conjured up thus far. Last week’s rain has brought about a pleasant change and some clear blue skies but I wonder how long that will last. Other than that, it is amazing how much like Delhi it feels. Not in the details, but in the broader brush strokes: Wide roads, flyovers, huge urban sprawl, the similar mix of urbanization interspersed with bits of the rural, cars everywhere, and so on. I have to admit though that I have not encountered livestock of any kind anywhere. But that wouldn't be surprising in China. This is, after all, the capital and they are, after all, preparing for the Olympics. In terms of infrastructure development Delhi seems about 5 years behind.

I live in a two-person suite in a dorm right by the language institute. So it is convenient in that sense. The institute itself is in Chaoyang, the business and diplomatic district of Beijing: probably the more uppity part of town (for Delhites: akin perhaps more to Malcha Marg than to Mayapuri). My suitemate, Stephen, is a French guy who works for the French Embassy. He is fluent in Chinese, but speaks in English to me most of the time. Not sure whether that is for the best. My room itself is large, has two beds, and most importantly, central AC that I can control. We’ve also split the Y150/month fee for broadband Internet. No small matter, that.

Right now am waiting for Columbia people to arrive midmonth. Will be some welcome bonhomie. Doing individual classes while great for language pedagogy, I am sure, is rather hard socially. Language study still feels like hitting a brick wall. I have four hour long classes a day, with four different teachers. They are all quite good and friendly. It is just the quantum of work that is daunting in the extreme. I already have about 200 new words to learn (and that means not only their meanings but also how to write them). What is that Hindi saying? Aa bail mujhe maar!

Anticipate this

Took a trip down to the batting cages at Chelsea Piers last week. Was the first time I was facing a bowling machine. Well, not exactly. It was the second time. The first time had been during a cricket nets session at the HC way back in the darkness that serves for the past. But this time round had baseball bat in hand, and a machine spitting yellow balls at 65 mph from a distance of about 30 feet, with no windup whatsoever to prepare you. Needless to say, my first couple of at-bats, a string of 10 pitches, I swung mightily and missed mightily. Humiliated, and suitably humbled, I set about trying to anticipate the pitch a little more. I changed my stance to imitate Johnny Damon, using my left leg to step into the pitch. A cricket hangover, no doubt, but it helped tremendously. Over time things got better, and I was able to crunch quite a few.

My hands are blistered now. Next time will make sure to wear a glove, and perhaps also not face upwards of 70 pitches.

Now, I want to play cricket.

Does there exist a universal truth outside of human experience, or can truth only be realized through that experience?

Build up

End of semester woes. Another week and change to go.

Then perhaps a couple of days of respite, before shutting shop in Manhattan and making the move 12 hours east to the northern capital of the middle country. Beijing. China.

Much to look forward to, and yet much to do before.