COVID19 DIARY

 COVID19  DIARY

 

The one hour daily walk followed by 40mins of yoga has occupied a slot in my life like my favourite afternoon tea  which I can't do without.

 What I enjoy most while walking is catching on to the tail-end of co-walkers' conversations , how they rave about "being cheated on the fish by the monger", "daughter getting 2 marks less than her friend" and of course my antennas are upped with the cooing of love-birds.

 Every evening I brush these stories with subtle French spices (a la cannelle / le poivre) and dunk them in Duglere sauce to entertain Bee, my hubby, while he's nursing his drink. He loves my anecdotes!!!

 On the 5th October, after my customary walk, I had a shower and remained quiet. "Did a black cat cross your path? Why so glum? " hubby asked 

“Becoming old, feeling tired.", I said. With a poker face, Bee decided to open a Black Label to celebrate not my health but my "glumness and dullness." and the electrifying excitement of possessing me 100%. That night, he gave me an extra "baiser" with loving certainty....

6^th Oct: Next day, it was a repeat performance. I not only complained of tiredness but also joint pains. Change of weather maybe....the nip in the air has struck my "fragile wife." He poured a drink for himself and gave me a stiff brandy....the answer to all maladies, he said...

 7th Oct: In the morning as we lay in bed, he said my body was warm and that we'll go for a Covid test, as a matter of fact statement.....

He swung into action like a commander on the battlefield and after shooting the necessary phone calls we got ourselves tested at 11am at the NHM Centre in Dispur, Guwahati. Within half an hour ,the doctor looking like a being from outer space (with his PPE et el) handed me my report card reminding me of my childhood days in school....FAILED...ARUNDHATI KAKATI (that’s my name): POSITIVE.

 I couldn't take it....my head spun like those sharp edged speeding asteroids before hitting earth. I passed away for a few minutes and on opening my black eyes ( I always wanted light brown  eyes) found cold water running down my neck like a dried up water stream  Blood pressure checked, temperature etc....parameters were ok. We were given an oxymetre, 6 different medicines and got a ct scan done. At 4pm...Lungs were 95% clear, a little ground glassing. Whatever that means, it didn’t sound too bad.

 Bee decided on home isolation.

 Once the news was out on the family groups the Rafael bombardment from the children, their spouses, and their friends started on what is right and wrong, one knowing more than the other.

I was treated like a kid; son wanted to fly down and take control. I definitely don't want him around cause I'll become the most indulged prisoner going to seed. Granddaughter wrote a letter that made me misty eyed. Sister advising, directing do's and don’ts, brother offering cash.......And not to forget in-laws, friends and the administration...A salute to them!!!We were amazed and thankful...That's when I decided not to take calls for 2 weeks

Today cough persists, lethargic, slight body pain.....

Our house has been stamped and posted, reminding me of the Jewish badge of the Nazi era.

Today I had my last tippler for 2 weeks not with Bee but in the august virtual company of Trump and Boris who discussed the DNA in our bodies that could trample Eleven Ping's corona/crown of club-shaped spikes once and for all....That's life.

 8th Oct

 Today was a tad worse than the 2 previous days. . Cough had disappeared but fever ranged  99 to 102. My taste buds were jaded and I needed the extra pinch of salt which was not good for my blood pressure. To add sparkle to my food I munched on green chillies. Six medicines were making me drowsy and I could barely lift myself.

But fighting all odds I did my stretch exercises which put me on an even mental plane. Words of encouragement from friends and relatives kept me going.....My appetite was down .Couldn’t  concentrate....slept  most of the time but I decided to fight the Chinese demon by putting on music and dance walk...and scream "I can overcome”. The telephonic counselling sessions by the governm

 9th Oct

 The Chinese demon ,Mogwai, must have drilled a ton of iron ingots into my skull  during the night . I could barely lift my head in the morning and remained unsteady for a while.

 As the day progressed I started feeling better, did a bit of dance-walk, stretch exercises and screamed and SCREAMED "I can do it" that would have terrified a pack of howling hyenas and the demon itself.

10th Oct

 No cough, fever- 99 but drowsiness persisted. The 2 doctors in the family (sister and hubby's brother) said I'm doing well and made interesting comments. My sister said she’s always known me as a happy pup with 2 tails wagging. Brother-in-law commented that he's never seen an unsmiling me and wanted me to remain so. Simple words making a difference.

 At the home-front, I was being treated like a leper in the Ashram. Hubby, twice Covid negative miraculously, wears his badge with pride. The man who loved me for 41 years and kept me like a queen (literally) talks to me through the crack in the door and leaves the food outside my room on a table. My value today was equivalent to the 10paisa aluminium coin dropping from the solid 1 rupee gold coin.

I am sad, seething and baying for his blood, eagerly waiting my turn at the Totem Pole.

 11th Oct

 The Pits!!!! Didn't get a wink of sleep last night. Murky and dismal thoughts wove through the grey matter of my brain leaving me thirsty and exhausted till the break of dawn (5am) when I managed 4 hours of sleep.

  At 10am, I sat down to breakfast with leaden eyes and a clouded head, feeling like a domino pin that would fall at any moment.  In a daze, I banged myself and got s blue patch on the forehead...

12th Oct

All my symptoms (fever, cough etc) have done the vanishing act BUT.......and let me tell you Frenemy Covid19 has a bundle of IFs and BUTs hidden in his crown of club-shaped spikes ....BUT ....I had Diarrhoea.

 Remember your taste buds are jaded, benumbed. Food served is bland, insipid, bitter killing your appetite.  Don't try to spike your meal with a bowl full of tandoori chutney, salsa sauce or guacamole or even the irresistible Mutton Dum Pukht. Stick to simple home-cooked grandmother’s meals which you grew up with.

My beloved Bee, after using 8 ingredients, soiling an equal number of utensils and leaving the kitchen pretty messed up I'm sure, dished up a Brazilian Fish stew-- MOQUECA....which my rice-potato constitution couldn't stomach. I made as many trips to the BIG THRONE as I had bottles of ORS.

I am not the daughter of the Senior Dennis the Menace (u know who) to blame the Chinese for robbing my sleep or for my diarrhoea.  There's a lot of good we can learn from them Chinamen. Discipline for one....

13th Oct

I must state that the Counselling Wing of the National Health Mission (NHM) is doing a commendable job in Assam (India). They have rung me thrice enquiring after my health and making relevant suggestions. The NHM makes 7 calls in 15 days to every C patient PROVIDED you have tested in one of their centres NOT in a private facility.  Medicines and oxymetre on the house. You may not like the tone, tenor, diction of the caller. In that case, put down the phone politely.  I plan to join as a volunteer on recovery.

Over the years I have always looked at the positive side of the Govt., no matter which political party has straddled the horse and have emerged satisfied and happier.

 Sorry for the sermon at the end!!!! No I'm not a Modi fan. I'm a patriot....an Indian first.

 14th Oct

 One sedative, as tiny as a grain of sand. It was enough to put me into deep, dreamless slumber from 10.30 pm to 9am. I woke up not as fresh as a daisy, but good enough to go about my work. I didn't feel guilty swallowing the pill especially when I knew that the beautiful, treacherous and sexy Catherine of Russia was on it for long.

And so were Nelson and Chopin...among others.

15thOct

 I have no symptoms today but I'm extremely weak. I need to fill my body with adequate nutrition. 

  Covid19 is not a linear disease. You cannot predict the graph for tomorrow.  Your joviality may be high today after so many days of sunken  depression,  but tomorrow the Corona spokes may needle you again , reigniting the fires, as it happened to me last night.(fever 100) So you may feel happy for 4 days but the headache may come knocking again. It may occur even after 3 months, as it did with a friend.  

For most sicknesses, the patient is kept on the loop. You are consulted. You are on the driver's seat. But not in Covid19 because nobody really knows what new feature will emerge tomorrow. It mutates.....scary????

Drink warm water. Avoid red meats and coffee.

When Covid strikes, don’t try to be a half doctor (Google based) Follow doctors instructions, someone you have utmost trust. I know 5 doctors I have full faith in them.

Having said this, it’s every individual unto himself. You are unique. A cheerful disposition helps.

Bee is doing what he's best at.....cooking fish tenga with an extra twist of lemon. (He's still talking to me through the crack on the door......its okay....I understand...).... And then I fall asleep and dream of gorgeous things.

16th Oct

 When I said I'm almost perfect my best-friend stated that he wanted to see me absolutely well, happy and healthy and not "almost perfect".

 To get myself to that elusive stage my Covid19 group has suggested that I start walking in my compound.

So when all the good, healthy and angelic shut themselves inside their warm homes ,  we, the Covid- sick very cautiously sneak out for fresh air....the naughty infected night owls and nobody complains !!

Except Bee who still wears his "Negative Covid" badge more proudly than all the medals that he had been awarded during his service.

 So today's my 13th day.

When I do my lung exercises I do get an occasional cough if I hold my breath for too long .I have to go slow on that.

My next test will be on the 17th day.

 Logically, my next test is tomorrow but State counsellors  had advised not to go for a test tomorrow as a lot of people test positive even after 10-14days..

 So the will test be on the 17th day...allowing the tender stick with soft bristles to be inserted into my nasal openings to be twirled around for a few seconds leaving tears in my eyes along with an uncomfortable sensation and open with the inevitable question "WHY ME ?" .

I hope the world is well (well meaning VERY WELL) double dosed vaccinated, insured with mediclaim, or covered by the Govt or Corporate.....Death doesn't come cheap these days!!!!!!! I don't want to sound morbid. I'm being practical... Stay safe, stay healthy.

 

 

 

 

ASSAM : FLOODS

Police Reserve Dibrugarh

"Floods are the acts of God, but flood losses are largely acts of man."

Having spent seventeen years in the midst of verdant hills I knew little about the temperamental fury of water. Yes, I had read headlines and heard breaking news on the disasters wrought by floods, but this was an unknown quantity and I could little fathom the pain and anxiety that Nature could bring to the lives of men.

My battle with the element began way back in 1985 when we were in the district of Cachar, Assam. That year, the river Barak went berserk like the Norse warriors of old…total naked fury. 

The river was unruly, ran amok and the town of Silchar saw floods that were unprecedented. The entire town was submerged; it was almost Biblical. The roads turned into rivers and the water ran as swiftly as our thoughts. 

Gushing, it swept everything that obstructed its way, including heavy motor –cycles. My husband discarded his car and rowed to office on a wooden boat creating waves as the oars splashed. How my six year old son envied him!! And I looked helplessly as the murky liquid engulfed our compound. It was a new, inexplicable situation. Where did I land myself, I thought!!I had to beat my brains out to get the hang of things.

The hungry and tousled refugees from nearby villages flocked into the urban spaces or made homes on the elevated railway tracks. The town was plunged into different shades of darkness for five days, since the supply of electricity had to be severed what with the wires touching the waters at certain points. So nights were as black as a coal-hole. During the day it was raining not cats and dogs, but mischievious monkeys snatching homes and property. The waters around were a turd-pool to say the least.

The floods receded leaving in its wake pestilence, epidemics and stench that could turn your stomach inside out. Relief efforts were always inadequate but human resilience saw everybody through.

The floods of 1987 were as bad as failing an exam and having to repeat it. It was not a skirmish or brush with this chancy aspect of the environment but a Battle Royale. We were in Dibrugarh, a town in Upper Assam where the water of the river Brahmaputra was almost always at a higher level than the town. 

Our residence was spacious with a large compound, well located in downtown Dibrugarh and just 150 meters from the Son of Brahma, the mighty river.  In idyllic conditions nothing could have been better than taking a walk along the river, reading a book under a tree or casting a fishing net. But that was never to be.

That night it was not raining but pouring. Time:11 pm. Hubby, like an expert at his field, measured the level of water in our compound and assured me a good night’s sleep. Thinking him to be infallible we turned in. Whether it was my sixth sense or an unknown Force at work I don't know but I woke up two hours later to find that the water had rolled in not only into the veranda but had covered every inch of the house. Within minutes we dumped whatever was necessary into a suitcase and raised other precious belongings onto higher ground.

I was not expecting a hover-craft or a steam-boat but can you imagine my astonishment when an iffy-looking country boat was summoned to the doorstep. With a one-year old daughter in one hand, curling up to the warmth of my arms, and an umbrella in the other, I stepped on to the rocking boat. It was like living in the far past, a family of hunter-gatherers. Thank God our son was not around to add to the confusion. He was spending his summer vacation with his grandma!!

It was pitch dark. The chauffeur, hubby and the security tugged at the boat and away we sailed across the compound and through half of the highway in the torrential rain to a Willis jeep that was waiting to take us to a drier shelter. The sequence of events was so bizarre that it jaded my senses for a while. I lost my faith of Man’s mastery over Nature. The sun seemed to have sighed its last breadth. Dark clouds edged the ball of fire out of the solar system for days.

I was adamant not to return to our quarters and bravely offered the idea of renting a house.  

My steely resolve dissipated when I saw my other half plunge into rescue operations with a fervour of a mystic. He reminded me that there were two hundred families living in the same campus that faced the situation every year. It was no use tut-tutting. Yes, I thought, it would be like Moses deserting his flock.

So back we went to our humble home. Filth and dirt was all I could discern in my once well-manicured lawn. My flower pots were scattered all over the place. The least said about the interior the better. The stench that emitted spoke for the rest.

But God showed Mercy. My hubby was transferred within three months.

Then again in 1992…..but that is another story for another time.

"The single raindrop never feels responsible for the flood"

ASSAM: A Tea Garden Story

tea-bunglow ....Cinnamara T.E.

"There is something in the nature of tea gardens that lead us into a world of quiet contemplation of life .

It’s been over 25 years since my father passed away. Belonging to an era where there were no Jacksons blaring over the Mike and no Bills knocking at our Gates, he lived a life of splendid, serene isolation in the tea-gardens of Assam. Coming by a job was not a herculean task those days. Three good references and a solid pedigree were sufficient to fetch one a position in a sterling company.

So it was on a fine May morning in 1947, when the Company’s Morris Minor rolled into the ancestral home to take my father to his first place of posting as a tea planter. He left behind old values and set mores and geared himself for a society with a different ethos. It was a turning point in his life which was to determine all the events to come.

Weekdays meant hard work, temperamental labourers, snakes, leeches and sometimes leopards. Weekends were for unwinding. At the end of the day he would wash down his tiredness with a bottle of cold beer and call his life “gustatory heaven.”The local tea club was the hub of social activities. Gossiping, guffawing and sometimes even rubbing shoulders with the “Gora Memsahib’s” were a part of the drill. Father would delight himself looking at the young “Mems” through the corner of his squinted eyes.

Life was a perpetual kindergarten, for he learnt by the day. The finer nuances of better living, the essentials of wining and dining and the graceful steps of the fox-trot were imparted to him by his boss’s wife, Mrs Holmston.

Yet amidst the oomph, opulence and the frills that edged the job, what gnawed at the heart of the young recruits was the loneliness. Enveloped by acres of green plantations, bereft of the latest electronic gizmos that we enjoy today and the nearest town being thirty-five miles away, loneliness was a malaise which spread like forest fire among the new comers especially with the young British assistants.  Some took to reading books, others took to “Shikar” and yet there were a lot who hit the bottle.

And so it was the bottle that got hold of Mr. Smith of Yorkshire.

Living in a sprawling bungalow, Mr Smith’s life had all the ingredients to make a cocktail of isolation---parents and friends were far away, letters and newspapers took weeks to reach those days and the language barrier made matters worse. A drought, a sip, a gulp a swig ---anything would do to keep him company. He would drink himself to the ground.  His incorrect habits were noted by the boss. Fatherly advice was administered, but nothing deterred young Smith, and he continued drinking a drop too much.

Matters came to a head when the Yorkshire lad took to consuming the local brew. (Fotika) .The boss was not only perturbed but also embarrassed by the English-man’s commonness. Mr Smith opened a Pandora’s Box. The European planters met and secret confabulations continued. Plans were envisaged but nothing worked. “Shame,” they whispered. “Poison “they screamed. A few more weeks of trial, failing which he would be shipped home!

As Fate would have it, one afternoon ,they were returning on their bicycles from “kamjari” of the tea-sections when the sozzled Smith was seized by the need to respond to nature’s call. Like men of old who were bold he decided to water Mother Nature along the roadside.  Immediately, the shame-plant “Mimosa pudica” (touch-me-nots) which edged the dirt-track closed, folded inward and drooped as he emptied his bladder on them. Horrified, he told my father about it with stark fear in his eyes.
 Without batting an eyelid, my Dad explained it was the local poison which he drank that was killing the bounties of nature. Soon he too would be facing the same fate and making his way to the Land Beyond!!Only hope in hell could save him or alternatively give up "mahua."Period.

Mr Smith stayed on for thirty years in India. He remained a teetotaller forever and found a good friend for always.

                                    "Tea is the elixir of Life."  

       

Karbi Anglong--A Doggy Story

" A dog is the only thing on earth that loves you more than you love yourself"(Josh Billings)

I must admit I’ve had a love-hate relationship with dogs. This does not mean that our home has been bereft of the canine species. They have come in all shapes and colours. Their names have varied from Toffee to Brandy, Jui (fire) to Candy. The other members of the household go overboard showering love and affection on their four-legged friends.

This doggy story began in 1983. Our car broke down near a nondescript village called Reckmaro Rong Pling Plang. An exotic name this. It is tucked away in a remote part of Karbi Anglong district. Our driver was literally a driver and new little about the mechanism of a vehicle. So while he fidgeted and fiddled with every part of the car save for the precise section, I whiled away one hour of my life collecting wild flowers and dried leaves. As my two and a half year old son wandered around, he chanced upon a litter of healthy pups belonging to the villagers. He insisted on taking one home. No amount of cajoling, cuddling and reprimanding could deter him. He would have nothing else but the pup.

We called him Junior, for he was subaltern to our Sultan of the German-snout in both size and pedigree. My son, who had difficulty in pronouncing the “J”, called him Dunior. So he was “Dunior” for one and all….. “Dunior co-mee hair”was the refrain.

With time I realised the value of having Dunior in the house. The hours of story-telling and demand for toys was cut short. My little boy spent the day training, teaching, scrubbing and feeding his pet much to the envy of Sultan of the German-snout. I took to teaching the Karbi children in the nearby convent. It was a neat arrangement.

The thrill and ecstasy of looking after the pooch was shared by another member of the household. He was our gardener S. Rengma. A proficient gardener and a perfect gentleman; his green fingers turned out vegetables and blooms that won me tributes and trophies. Devoted to his work and loyal to his master, we could not have asked for more. Moreover, he indulged my fancy of having a Chinese gardener, so what if he was not from China, he definitely looked like one. So it was a three-pronged team: Rengma, Dunior and my son.

Rengma’s eyes would glisten at the sight of Dunior. He joined in the fun of washing and feeding him with inexplicable glee. The pup grew up healthy and strong.

Life was hunky-dory in the small, beautiful town of Diphu, where our bungalow was perched on a hill, till it was time for us to leave for another district. We were sad and so was Rengma. With tearful eyes he asked for Dunior as a parting gift …a token of remembrance! 

Our son, though heart-broken, was told that it was impossible to take both the dogs from one end of the state to another. Dunior would definitely be in safe hands, we said.

We left Diphu taking Sultan of the German-snout. Our son was soon admitted to his first school and I took up another job to teach another set of children. The ebb and flow of life’s tides continued. Dunior settled into the recesses of our minds.

One fine day, an old friend from Diphu dropped in. In the course of his conversation he unfolded the fate of Dunior. A month after our departure, Rengma held a grand feast. Dunior was slaughtered for the occasion and “kukur pitha” was served to his kith and kin. We were aghast! We decided never to tell our son.

As for Rengma, we have given him a place in the gallery of Rogues.

"The dog is a gentleman; I hope to go to his heaven, not man's."(Mark Twain)

Doggy sketch courtesy Sanghamitra Das 

The New Normal

“No permanence is ours: we are a wave that flows to fit whatever form it finds.”(Hermann Hesse)

During these desperate yet necessary lock-down (LD) days, Tim is seven-year old Polly’s best friend. Timmy Critch.

Now-now where did he come from! I wondered.
 I had heard about Glen, her next door neighbour, who called her “Princess Polly” if he won a game and “Potty Polly” if playtime ended in a brawl. There was Ravi who told her the story of “Uri" detailing the assault rifles and carbines.

 But Timmy Critch. He sounded like a dude, dead from the neck up. He liked to snack often and avoid major meals. One hour of her day was spent with him, unravelling her innocent secrets to a good listener.

“Where does he live?” I asked.  She looked aghast. “Aita,(grandma) where can a fish live except in his fish bowl?”

The jig-saw puzzle fell into place. Polly was adapting to the immediate changes in her life, replacing her friends with her pet-fish, waving at her pal on the 13^th floor of the opposite building from her 12^th floor living-room and following it up with a mobile-call.

 From 8am to 12.30 pm her school teacher was on-line streaming enlightenment into the little head, leaving grandma out-of-sync and feeling ancient. In the afternoon, Polly pushed the mop-stick cleaning the house, helping her mother not because she wanted to but because “the country is going through difficult times and P.M Modi is doing his best,"she stated. Pearls of wisdom! Is an accelerated maturity a fallout of the LD?

The father has turned out to be the best dish-washer in town in addition to his work and her mother multi-tasks between office-schedules, baking Cinnamon rolls and doing the laundry. The day ends with the trio doing the zumba workout, leaving Polly elated, smiling and ready for bed.

Will this be the New Normal post-lockdown?

 A new quietude has come into our lives. The need to blow-dry our hair, thread eyebrows, contemplate what to wear are non-issues. The realisation that we can subsist with little, that, maybe, we were becoming greedy and living unnecessary king-size lives has somewhat settled in. Many will disagree on this but most will agree that the world is weathering a fierce tornado in the wake of which things will not be the same.   

To break the boring sameness of living during this period of lock-up and lockdown, (where it’s possible to lose your marbles,) the virtual world is playing an amazing role. A poetry session on Skype with my three friends was refreshing and revitalising. While she read out lines from “Jejuri” by the bilingual poet (Marathi-English) Arun Kolatkar I was happy reciting Neruda’s love poems.

Organising a weekend Google-meet party with the family scattered across the globe was easy as a pie.  The effort was Lilliputian!! The need to cook elaborate dishes, starch the linen , spruce up the living-room and over-see that the right towels were on the right rack  became superfluous. Yet the joy of laughter and good cheer left my adrenaline pumping and energy level soaring.

The unique experience of attending a funeral Pray Meeting on Zoom Apps was poignant to say the least. Friends and relatives from California to Cambodia were there, lighting a candle and sharing the grief, leaving me misty-eyed. We were with the family and yet not there.

These were new episodes and vicarious pleasures got through the digital world which was beyond comprehension a few months ago.”Staying Alive”, without going bananas, was possible.

 This historic experience of 2020,(a date easy to remember) has brought out the best in some….. Lessons learnt, skills acquired, discipline et el and also the worst in others…gorging on food, sending fake news, black-marketing …endless. Social norms will change. We’ll think twice before visiting the “Puchka Walla” or even a posh mall. Washing hands with soap for 20 seconds and sanitizing our mobiles ….will they become our second nature?

 Is a New Order in the offing? Am I happy?

I am seething with anger with whatever, whoever!! I am sad and worried that the C-Virus may go round the globe twice-over in 24 months. I am worried that millions will fill the ranks of the unemployed and go hungry. I am worried that the tentacles of Death will snatch away my near and dear ones. I am worried…….

"What will be left of all the fearing.........? A dash ,one or two inches long , between the date of birth and date of death on your gravestone. "(Eckhart Tolle)             

Chinese Food Habits

“The way you cut your meat reflects the way you live.”(Confucius)

 Travelling to China exposed us to the local populace, culture and the flavours …. Yes, flavours which brings me to Chinese food habits.

   We covered Yunnan, Shaanxi, Tianjin provinces, Shanghai and Beijing by train, uncovering the basics of Chinese food and the Yin and Yang of it all,

Every province has its own flavours and ingredients,  rice / noodles and the chopsticks being constant!  China produces 45 billion pairs of chopsticks a year!! Their food is dominated by 5 key flavours…sweet, salty, sour, bitter and spicy. For e.g. Sichuan province opt for spicy whereas the south prefer sour and soupy.

Being adventurous on unknown cuisine and our insatiable curiosity took us to the wet market in Beijing followed by dinner at Wangfujing Food Street at a restaurant, its name when translated read “Wicked Wok”leaving us gleefully guessing why it was so called.

Google translator helped to make sense of the Mandarin menu card, the monikers having nothing to do with the actual dish. For e.g. “Ants climb trees “is vermicelli with spicy minced pork. A “field chicken” is a frog. They were like clues to a crossword puzzle. Our foodie experience made us accept the fact that the “Chinese eat everything”. But why do they?

Despite being a great civilization of the ancient world, China has had its share of famines, diseases and hardships like no other nation. The vastness of the country, its huge population, historical factors (Great Leap, Long March, etc) have compounded the problem. This has made them reach out and eat whatever is available to supplement their protein, vitamin and other dietary in-take. Flexibility and adaptability has seen them through hard times.

 Even today, the present generation has ample knowledge of wild edible plants.

”Famine plants”, as they are called, has been handed down through generations as a part of their survival culture.

 If you think their choice of wild-life is strange, their insane display of vegetables is often off-beat and weird. A yard long yam, bitter melon, untranslatable weeds, and tree fungi looking suspiciously poisonous,  are bought with zest and devoured with gusto.
 Preservation of food for a rainy day has led to smoking, salting, sugaring, pickling, drying etc of goodies which often turn out to be delectable and irresistible.

Myths and superstitions have determined food habits. The belief that the body part of the animal that you eat enhances that same part of the human body explains devouring of the brain and the genitals. Deer antlers, caterpillar fungus, maidenhair tree (Ginkgo Bilbao) are aphrodisiacs. Another popular vegetable is the geoduck which resembles the phallus.

 Meat near the bones is supposed to be the best. Therefore bones are chopped and crushed to release the marrow when cooked. The rhino horn supposedly has medicinal value and drive .It’s considered an esteemed gift. 

Virility is an important issue with many men. A middle-aged individual explained that impotency is a genuine problem and there were many reasons for this some of which were unique to China. Trauma from famine, political violence, seedy business culture etc  explained the consumption of unusual plants and animals. (Read E.Y.Zhang’s “The Impotence Epidemic: Men’s medicine and Sexual desire in Contemporary China.”)Today, sex is no longer a negative word and lust is everywhere; so has the demand for stimulating foods and love-potions.

 Wastage of food was a taboo in Buddhism and Shintoism. Scarcity and poverty often validated this. Thus every part of the animal is eaten .The claws of the chicken are chewed with relish and the soft nose of the pig is eaten with glee often downed with a pint of “Baijui”or Chinese beer. Shark’s fin soup is a delicacy and is served at lavish dinners. Along with the Pangolin they are expensive items and only the rich can afford. The rural poor make do with dormouse and frogs.

Food and health are governed by the Yin and Yang principles. Eating more of one kind may harm the body: a balance is essential. Yin charts include soya, duck etc and yang covers fat, eggs. Desserts are absent in a typical Chinese meal. If at all, it’s served at the beginning. After an exotic meal, stomach ache and diahorrea are common often jokingly referred to as” Mao’s curse.” Hot water or tea is the rule during meal

Contrary to our belief, there is a large segment of Buddhists who are vegetarians serving dishes which are equally delicious.  Earlier, most Chinese were petite with narrow waists. The reason being food was always shared, small plates were used where you tend to eat less, there were no refillable drinks and no desserts. Things have changed in modern China. While incomes have grown so have the waistline and stature.

While we would smack our lips after a meal of chicken curry and rice, many Chinese mix their meats. It is believed the Zero patient of SARS in Guangdong province in 2003 had a hotpot of chicken, frog and bat. How authentic this is we are not sure. And there’s nothing wrong in it per se.  Everybody has a right to their taste-buds except that this incident broke loose an epidemic which obliterated a part of the world’s population.

In the markets, wild animals are not segregated. You will find bats lying along with baby crocodiles or even on top of one another. Therein lay the problem. As we have seen the Novel C-virus was transmitted from a bat to a pangolin to the human body. Stricter rules and better hygiene should help.

All said and done, no other civilization has shown greater inventiveness in food than China. The popularity of Chinese cuisine is unquestionable as is evident by the “Golden Dragons”, “China Towns,””Ming “restaurants dotting the length and breadth of Mother Earth.

There’s no one way to live life…. life must be lived on your own terms. Eat what you want to eat without harming others!

 Let me end with the following quote….

 “Anything that walks, swims, crawls or flies with its back to heaven is edible.”(A Cantonese saying)

C-Virus in Taiwan

                                          
As we stepped into Taoyuan International Airport on the 6^th of January 2020, what caught my eye was a decorative wall hanging of an electronic circuit board and a digital micro chip, show-casing Taiwan to visitors as the third largest semi-conductor chip maker in the world.

What I didn’t give much importance to was the screening of in-coming passengers for fever. Yes, I also went through the scanner, missing the gravity of the procedure! I recall now that each and every person working at the airport wore a mask.

 Today, reading through articles, blogs etc I gathered that Taiwan ,which is separated from mainland China by a 180km wide strait , got wind of the virus sweeping through China in December. They informed WHO but in vain. Taiwan has no place in the UNO /WHO due to irrational objections from Mainland China. Taiwan was denied observer status in the World Health Assembly. As a result ,the virus was poorly understood by the world.

 As early as the first week of December , health workers in Taipei boarded flights coming in from Wuhan with temperature guns to check if any passenger had the ‘Wuhan pneumonia”, as they called it then, before allowing them to disembark.    

The C-virus which is taking a toll on the political infra-structure, economy, and the social fabric of every country, has been better handled by Taiwan than its neighbouring countries with 215 cases (as I write) and 2 deaths. A combination of advanced technology, preparedness, transparency and great discipline (no nonsense attitude) of the work-force has helped to check the disease. The 2003 SARS epidemic saw 71 deaths in a population of 23million. Soon after, the Government set up the CECC (Central Epidemic Command Centre) which monitors the health system and collates information from health insurance agencies, Customs and Immigration.

In the present crisis the Health Minister addresses the nation everyday on the measures to be taken. Hotlines provide information. The neighbourhood “warden system” enforces quarantine and delivers meals to the weak and the aged.

Taiwan is preparing for the second wave. They believe that the C-virus having made a full run through Europe and USA will make a complete circuit and reach Taiwan through imported cases, returning citizens. They have set guidelines for a very educated, disciplined nation who follow rules, who don’t blame others, organise “quarantine hotels “and handle the undocumented workers who live there.

Taiwan‘s success is comparable to Singapore. In fact Roy Ngereng of “The News Lens” has said “Taiwan is handling even better than Singapore.”

The bottom line is that Taiwan had upped their antennas much ahead of the other Asian countries. What awaits them is unsure for the strength of the unknown cannot be fathomed. However, the beautiful island nation does deserve a round of applause.