I dedicate this week’s column to all the rice farmers of Indonesia who help feed the nation.

Introduction: This is about the staple food of nearly two thirds of the world’s population – rice. In the aftermath of the Green Revolution of the 20th century many Asian countries had been able to feed their starving millions. It brought about a prosperity that unleashed a massive surge of industrial development thereby being directly instrumental in the creation of mega cities that today boast of ultra modern facilities. In spite of the technological advancements and the rise of prosperity in the Middle Class, ‘subsistence living’ and hunger have remained the common denominator in the Asian Diasporas. According to some experts, one of the reasons has been the constant rise in food prices due to the increase in energy costs. So the poor are left with one basic essential to keep them alive – a bowl of rice. Unfortunately, the price of this bowl of rice has just gone up, again.

Where does one begin; in the underground tunnels with the Viet Cong in the 60s, with Gandhi on the Dandi March in the first half of the last century or on the streets of Paris in 1789 with rioters demanding bread.

You may ask - what do these three have in common? The first won the Vietnam War with a handful of rice; the second brought down the British rule in India with a handful of salt and the third changed France forever with food riots that ended in a bloodbath. There are people out there who would disagree with this hypothesis for it attempts to simplify complex issues relating to race, culture, political affiliations and religious beliefs. In essence it was food that decided the outcome of the Vietnam War, the non-violent movement in India and the French Revolution.

Food will always determine the political health and future of a country for it is the catalyst of life.

In Asia the staple food is rice. Here in Indonesia and in particular in Bali it is part of the jigsaw puzzle that completes the picture perfect of a people who have toiled the good earth to sustain their lives and honour their Gods. The result has been the continuance of a vibrant religious culture.

A month ago while sampling Cajun chicken and Cajun dirty rice at Devilicious, a small warung on Jalan Gootama, Ubud, I bumped into Dan Kennedy an American who has done his Masters in Agriculture from an Ivy League College. He is an expert in the field of agriculture and has been working in Africa and Asia for the last two decades. We confabulated into the wee hours of the morning about the importance of rice in the daily life of an Asian. Since then we have become good friends.

A few days after the encounter with Dan, I spoke to Made who is a rice farmer. This is what he had to say:

“I have been a farmer for the last 15 years. This land which you see me planting rice saplings on is 25 are. It belonged to me a long time ago. I had to sell it, as the rice production could not sustain my family of six. Now I cultivate this land for the new owner. We share the cost of production (seedlings/fertilisers) and the harvest 50-50. However, at the time of harvesting we get people from Java to help us. In return I pay them in rice from my share of the 50%. The rice I carry home after every crop is just enough to feed the family so there is no surplus to sell. We get two crops a year. In the interim time between harvests I do odd jobs to pay the bills for my school going children and my aged parents. My wife works as a Pembantu when she’s not sick or looking after my parents and our children. If I owned land today I would sell it to a Bule for his villa. A number of my friends have done the same as in the long run one earns much more money and it’s so easy. We don’t have to work so hard just for a bowl of rice.”

I met Dan over a Po’boy sandwich at Devilicious prior to writing this column so I could pick his brain and seek his views on the continuing conversion of rich fertile rice lands into commercial properties for Malls, Villas etc.; And what could be done to increase rice production on the dwindling farmlands in Bali thereby ensuring the prosperity of the farmers in question.

“Mark there is no perfect solution to this vexing problem. However, some of the following suggestions are already being implemented on the isle…”

I have paraphrased his response for the sake of brevity.

—————-From Ubud down to the south are the fertile lands of rice fields. However, it is these lands that are fast being converted for commercial use. The reality is that one cannot halt development. The commercial establishments that come up employ many people. This creates personal wealth and lifts the overall standard of living.

However, food is the basic ingredient for sustaining life and more importantly keeping a culture alive. Therefore, the price of basic food items must be within the reach of the poor but at the same time being profitable enough for the farmer to carry on his trade. This is a dilemma for most governments – the balancing act between haves and have-nots.

The increase in energy costs worldwide has affected the prices of all commodities. In developed countries like USA, Japan and Australia the average household expenditure on food has risen from 8% to 12% approx. In the case of Developing Countries in Asia it has shot up from 60% to 80%; The impact being felt on the poorer sections of society.

Here in Bali prices have been rising and the people are spending a lot more money on food. (See The Bali Times, Paradox in Paradise, Silence of the Lambs, issue dated May 2-8, 200 Coupled with this is the reality that the dwindling area under cultivation only decreases food production thereby fuelling increase in prices.

As they say, necessity is the mother of invention. So in short there are programs that have been launched on the isle to introduce intensive farming. You may ask what is intensive farming? Here’s a brief explanation.

01. Transplanting rice seedlings when they are 7 to 10 days old instead of the normal 20/30 days.

02. Planting one seedling in a hole. Presently 3 to 4 seedlings are planted together.

03.The distance between plants is normally 15 cm. With the new system it is up to 50cm apart.

04.Alternate flooding and draining of the field to conserve water and increase plant growth. It is a fallacy that the rice fields need to be flooded at all times.

Results of intensive farming techniques:
Lot more root growth, more oxygen to the rice plant, more nutrients resulting in more panicles (rice stems). Only 50% of water used for irrigation. Crop output increases from the usual 2-3 tonnes per hectare to about 12-15 tonnes per hectare.

George Monbiot writes in The Guardian; “the Nobel Economist, Amartya Sen discovered that there is an inverse relationship between the size of farms and the amount of crops they produce per hectare. The smaller they are, the greater the yield. Sen’s observation has been tested in India, Pakistan, Brazil, Colombia and Paraguay.” He goes on to refer to a recent study of farming in Turkey that revealed that farms with less than a hectare are 20 times as productive as farms of more than 10 hectares! ——————————————-

To sum it up in lay man’s terms - we can use more land for commercial use but we need to ensure that intensive farming is implemented across the isle because this method of cultivation uses less land, less water, less fertilisers and gives a much higher yield per hectare.

But there exists one unresolved issue and that is the price of rice. Suppressing the purchase price from the farmer to make it affordable for all consumers creates a piquant situation – why should a farmer sell his produce below the ‘actual’ value and what incentive is there for him to continue to be a farmer? But then again how will those living on the edge of humanity survive and feed their offspring?

My friend Augustian, a painter who hails from Sumatra, told me that on Zakat Fitrah (30th day of Ramadan) a form of tax for the 30 day period is paid (as an offering to Allah) in the form of two and a half percent of the month’s earnings in cash or the equivalent in rice to the Masjid, which in turn distributes the same to the poor people so that they can celebrate Id-ul-Fitri.

In Bali rice is eaten and served to the Gods in all offerings. According to Made the farmer, “Brother, a handful of rice is a handful of life”.

Rice is much more than food; it embodies the universe. By sustaining its cultivation and making it affordable for all we are in truth preserving life and honouring our Maker.

I shall end here with a prayer that the rights of the less privileged (read as poor people) across the planet be enshrined in the Constitutions of all countries under the heading – The Right to Eat.

Note: The assumptions arrived at in this column have been inspired by the following books: Stuffed and Starved by Raj Patel: Guns, Germs and Steel by Jared Diamond: A Bright Shining Lie by Neil Sheehan: A History of India by Romila Thapar: And conversations with Balinese farmers, a villa owner and Dan Kennedy.

Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om

Somewhere in Bali, nestling in the cracks and crevices of society are the karma mechanics, aspiring avatars of the likes of Osho, Maharishi Yogi and their kind. They carry the weight of mankind’s troubles on their shoulders. And this is odd because no one has asked them to do so. Nor, in my opinion, are they qualified in even the remotest sense of the word.

The karma mechanics are people lost in a brave new world, clutching at straws in the wind. The straws being the bits and pieces of eastern religious instruction they have collected on their brief journey from sideshows in their own countries to the daunting Asian Diasporas that have art, culture and religion compressed over the ages into layers like sedimentary rock formations.

They are akin to the untrained motor mechanics that miraculously appear on an Indian road when a car breaks down. Knowledge of the workings of the engine is irrelevant. Fiddling till the engine regains life is all that is needed. Money changes hands and every one is happy. Life goes on oblivious to the density of the mental capacity that has just been displayed!

I have had the honour of meeting a few of these karma mechanics who can fix anything from a leaking aura to the more complex problem of the ‘re-alignment’ of someone’s spiritual engine that has been derailed and needs to get back onto the magnetic lines of the Universe.

Many of us may recall that inspiring book by Robert M. Pirsig – Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance; the travels of a motorcyclist and the philosophical discussions that transpired along the way. The karma mechanics have not read this book and when confronted with the reality of their lack of knowledge they respond by calling it a cult book and therefore not worthy of any mention.

And when I spoke recently to Joe, a mechanic, of Carlos Castaneda, the silence-hung heavy in the air and the only sound that could be heard was one of ignorance. Fortunately for him it was broken by an elderly expat from New York who winked at me and whispered in my ear ‘magic mushrooms’.

We shall not delve into the Yaqui way of life. Not now, for we still need to cruise through the world of the mechanics to understand the tools of their trade.

Joe told me that the tools he uses are tarot cards, ‘mind readings’, silent sittings, synchronising one’s chakras with the help of yoga and more importantly teaching one the ways of the Buddha. Apparently Buddha is in fashion not Cat Stevens who converted to Islam. Often one encounters mechanics massaging drinks at restaurants some aptly called Buddha something or the other, loudly beginning a sentence with ‘the Buddha says’ while sinking their teeth into a rack of succulent ribs.

But don’t let these visual impressions dissuade you from using their services. I have it from reliable sources that Joe has fixed the leaking aura of a friend of mine. It so happened that she heard it dripping in the night like droplets of water hitting the base of an empty bucket. Not a good sound when one is lost to the world. And how did he do this, no one is saying.

And then another buddy of mine, Dave told me that he had been guilty of many past sins before he arrived on the isle. After he met Joe, the bad karma that he had carried with him in his hold all had been dispensed with through a series of give and take. He gave money to Joe and Joe took it, besides of course counselling him to commit good acts in the present continuous.

“Herman Kuhn quoting from Tattvarthasutra describes karma as – a mechanism that makes us thoroughly experience the themes of our life until we gained optimal knowledge from them and until our emotional attachment to these themes falls off.”

Now where is Joe when I need him to explain Kuhn’s observations? Last I heard he was on a visa run.

There are other mechanics some who have gained much respectability through a pragmatic approach to karma problem solving. Janice is a fine lady from a European country who has settled comfortably in Bali providing ‘karmic advice’ to lost souls who approach her out of guilt – the result of their unseemly past. She has given them crystals to wear, specially blessed stones and advice on the specific colours of clothes to don for designated days of the week, the Full Moon and some phases of the moon being an exception. She is a one-woman service station that appears to be consistently effective in the overhauling of run down spiritual engines of weary travellers. Word on the street has it that she offers a money back guarantee for unsatisfied customers. This is a good business practice however what if one returns as a dog in another life how will one collect the refund?

Karma mechanics have mastered the art of trivial pursuit through acts that obfuscate the real issues at hand. They fiddle with the soul engines of hapless people who arrive at their doorstep seeking reconciliation with the universe for a misspent life. But as we all know everything is relative and so is our religious make up. For example, if one is a Hindu, Sikh, Buddhist or Jain the Law of Karma will apply.

But in the case of a Christian what does one do? Does the Law of Karma apply to him or her? Didn’t Christ die on the cross for the sins committed by humanity? And what about Heaven and Hell? Where do these two fit in, in the grand scheme of the Universe?

And there are those among us who have still to study the Koran to know what is said about all this in the world of Islam.

The truth is plain to see. The karma mechanics are not really trained mechanics in every sense of the word. They are, like many of us, lost in a contradictory world that defies definition.

So to confuse you further, dear readers, here is a quote from the net –

“Buddhism relates Karma directly to motives behind an action. Motivation usually makes the difference between “good” and “bad”, but included in the motivation is also the aspect of ignorance; so a well-intended action from a deluded mind can easily be “bad” in the sense that it creates unpleasant results for the “actor”.”

Next time you need a tune up of your aura or re-alignment of your wheels of fortune walk into the friendly neighbourhood karma mechanic’s workshop but ensure that the money back guarantee is in cashable in this lifetime.

Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om

This week’s column is dedicated to Rabu, a kitten that was rescued from a gutter in March when he was just a few weeks old. His mistress Désirée who worked in the café that I had walked into at Padangbai sometime ago introduced me to him. The small furry creature with warm watery eyes jumped onto my lap and as if on cue went to sleep. Some months later he was dead, crushed under the wheels of a speeding sepeda motor.

He was named Rabu because he was found on Hari Rabu (Wednesday). Rabu came into the life of his mistress at a time when she was confronted with the ever-changing vagaries of life fraught with fragmented relationships coupled with living in a foreign country. He was a true friend that never judged Désirée but accepted her human frailties just as he ate whatever was put on his plate at mealtime.

Désirée was with me in Ubud sampling the Nasi Campur at Indus when she got a telephone call informing her of his death. The tears came thick and fast.

This may sound inappropriate at this juncture but I am not a cat person. I find their nocturnal wanderings and piercing stare disconcerting. It is as if they are able to travel back and forth between the worlds of the living and dead. So when I encountered Rabu and Désirée’s grief I began to wonder whether cats, like dogs also went to heaven.

Jeroo, a Balinese woman who often does my laundry, was appalled when she heard about Rabu’s death. She promptly instructed me to find out about the fate of his remains as Balinese consider the cat as a creature that signifies wealth. Therefore if a cat dies at anyone’s hands the offender must seek forgiveness by burying the cat under a tree in a small ceremony with offerings placed on the grave. It is believed that the tree would bear succulent fruit.

On making the call I was told that the motorcyclist had carried away Rabu’s body to perform the compulsory ceremony. This is as per the standing orders of the Desa Adat.

The cat is called Kucing in Indonesian and Meong in Balinese. Jeroo told me that at feeding time the cat is summoned in Balinese with the words Pis Meong. Pis means money. So in essence the death of a cat in Bali denotes bad luck – impending loss of wealth.

Many years ago archaeologists discovered a cat cemetery in Beni-Hassan, Egypt, with 300,000 cat mummies. The Egyptian Goddess of love, Bastet, had the head of a cat. In the time of the Pharaohs, to be convicted of killing a cat usually meant a death sentence for the culprit.

In the medieval ages cats were seen as a personification of Lucifer and therefore were burnt alive. Their screams were purported to be that of the Devil. It is said that Devil worshippers revered the cat and usually kissed it under the tail i.e. on the anus. They also used them in animal sacrifices. Black cats in particular were associated with witches. Some historians claim that the persecution of the cat drastically brought down its numbers thereby increasing the population of rats; the result being the onset of the plague that decimated the population in Europe.

The mark of ‘M’ on the Tabby cat’s forehead is believed by some to be the initial of Mother Mary who blessed it for comforting her baby son Jesus Christ. According to some followers of Islam the ‘M’ stands for Mohammed, the Prophet, who had a deep affection for cats. To substantiate the claim of some of his devout followers for his fondness for cats I quote from the net – “Prophet Mohammed apparently loved cats and rather than disturb his sleeping cat, Muezza, he once cut off a sleeve of his robe which she was sleeping on when the call to prayer sounded. It is also said that the reason he loved cats was that one saved his life from a snake that had crawled into his sleeve. Legend says that Prophet Mohammed blessed cats with the ability to land on their feet. One of his writings tells that he had a vision of a woman punished in Hell for starving her cat to death.”

And then we have the legend of the sacred cat of Burma.

Centuries ago, in a valley nestled the temple of Lao-Tsun. 100 yellow-eyed white cats with long silken coats guarded it. This was the abode of the golden goddess with sapphire blue eyes who watched over the transformation of souls. Whenever the head monk Mun-ha knelt in prayer his faithful companion, Sinh the beautiful temple cat sat by his side. The legend has it that on a fateful moonlit night when Mun-ha was in deep meditation the temple was attacked by marauders. Mun-ha was killed. At the time of his death Sinh placed his paws on the master’s robes and looked towards the golden goddess. Instantly his face, ears, legs and tail became a velvety brown colour of rich earth, but his four paws that rested on his master remained perfect white, a symbol of purity. The colour of Sinh’s eyes became that of the golden goddess – sapphire blue. The following day the temple glowed with the transformation of the 99 white cats. Sinh, the 100th cat, never moved from his place and stared at the spot where his master was slain. Exactly seven days later Sinh died. And on his death carried his master’s soul to heaven.

Cats and their association with humans can be traced back thousands of years. For example, the Cahokians’ god of the earth was depicted as a cat-headed snake.

The many legends, myths and religious connections with cats makes me wonder whether I have been wrong all along about these felines who always behave like they are bestowing a favour on humankind by accompanying us through the journey of our mortal life. Have they been sent by the Gods to keep tabs on us?

All I can conclude at this stage is the fact that Rabu brought me closer to understanding another living and loving creature on this isle. And for this I am thankful to that furry little feline who now lies buried under some tree in Padangbai.

Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om

The author  wishes to thank the police personnel of the Bali Tourist Police, Kuta and in particular: AIPTU I Wayan Wira, BRIPKA Yuni Rahayu, AIPDA I Nyoman Sudata and AIPTU Ayu Mulyati for their kind assistance.

We’re all going on a summer holiday
No more working for a week or two
Fun and laughter on a summer holiday
No more worries for me and you
For a week or two

We’re going where the sun shines brightly
We’re going where the sea is blue
We’ve seen it in the movies
Now let’s see if it’s true

Everybody has a summer holiday
Doing things they always wanted to
So we’re going on a summer holiday
To make our dreams come true
For me and you

-Cliff Richard, Summer Holiday

Holidays can be a life changing experience especially if one is either raped or had money/belongings stolen. The Bali Times has often carried reports of tourists losing their belongings to tricksters prowling the streets of Kuta.

Tourists are flocking to Bali like never before. The good times are rolling once again. And with these good times come a number of undesirables who prey on the unsuspecting holidaymakers.

Just the other day while lounging with a few Kuta Cowboys on Kuta beach discussing the pros and cons of whether marriage is an acceptable option if a single woman became  pregnant we were interrupted by a uniformed policeman who sat down next to us. He was an officer of the Bali Tourist Police. I struck up a conversation with him and before I knew it we were on our way to the Post to meet the officer in charge.

The Police Post is a short walk from Macdonald’s towards the Legian beach hotel. Arriving at the office I was offered a Bali Kopi and introduced to AIPTU I Wayan Wira. The unassuming chap was most helpful when I enquired about the work that he and his staff are doing. He told me that their job covered the following:

01.    Giving information to tourists about legal, medical and other services.
02.    To guard tourist areas.
03.    To track down and arrest any criminals masquerading as tourists.
04.    To cooperate with tourists and help them in the event of an accident/theft/murder/problem with hotels etc.

Not convinced that this list covered everything I requested Wayan Wira to give me a more detailed dos and don’ts for all tourists and expats living on the island. This is what he had to say.

01.    There have been instances where persons hiring out scooters/motorcycles/cars to tourists have asked for their passport as security. This should not be done. Instead a photocopy of the same would suffice.
02.    Anyone hiring a vehicle must have an international driving license.
03.    When transacting business at a Money Changer one must check the amount received. There are cases where people have been cheated because the Rupiah 10,000 note and the Rupiah 100,000 look quite similar. Once the victim has left the premises there is little the police can do.
04.    When using a taxi please write down the taxi number and the driver’s name. This would help in the event any belongings have been left behind in the car or if the driver has overcharged you.
05.    When using an ATM ensure no one else is in the booth. Don’t forget to take your ATM card out of the machine. Tourists have been known to sometimes leave their card behind in the machine. The result being a forgone conclusion – theft.
06.    In the past pickpockets operated with impunity on the beach. Nowadays with the arrest of the ringleaders crime in this area has come down drastically. In spite of this Wayan suggests one should not leave one’s belongings unattended for even a minute.
07.     Drunkenness is a common feature with over indulgent tourists. Prostitutes operating in various places single out these people and befriend them. It is only the following morning that the person realizes that his wallet/passport and other precious belongings have been pilfered.
08.    Any persons trying to sell drugs to you should be reported to the police immediately. Please don’t be afraid of reporting such instances.  The police have special squads to quickly act on such information and to apprehend the dealers. You will be protected by the police.
09.    Do not accept cigarettes, food or drink from strangers. In a restaurant don’t leave an unattended drink on the table while going to the toilet. Unscrupulous people are known to put substances in your drink to drug you and then rob you.
10.    Get a local cell phone number so that it is easier and cheaper to communicate with the police.
11.    Please keep the following telephone numbers of the Bali Tourist Police with you while traveling in Bali:

Kuta Tourist Police Post
Jalan Pantai Kuta
(0361) 7845988

Sanur Tourist Police Post
BK3S Post, Jalan Danau Tamblingan
(next to Bali Hyatt Hotel, Sanur)
(0361) 8531960

Nusa Dua Tourist Police Post
Bundaran Tugu Mandala Kawasan BTDC Nusa Dua
(0361) 7442622

Ngurah Rai Airport Tourist Police
Airport Police Sector Ngurah Rai
(0361) 751 023

Tourist Assistance Centre
Bali Regional Police
(0361) 224111

The tourist police who speak English have been known to help tourists who have had problems with hotels, tour operators and transport agents.

Jason (name changed), a first time tourist, spoke to me on Kuta Beach about how he was grossly overcharged by a nearby hotel despite the fact that the room rate was confirmed via email to him prior to his arrival in Bali. The hotel went so far as to seize his luggage. Jason reported the matter to the Tourist Police who acted promptly in releasing his luggage and ensuring that the hotel abided by the rate agreed by email.

So whether you are on Kuta beach, at the airport or sunbathing anywhere in Bali you’re rights as a tourist are protected. All you have to do in the event of an unforeseen problem arising is to call The Bali Tourist Police and they will sort things out for you.

In the words of Wayan Wira, “People are known to take short cuts by attempting to bribe officials or police personnel. This is very dangerous. It could lead to more complications. If anyone has a problem while traveling in Bali please call us we will help and guide you. We are with you, for you, always – as our motto is Safety First for All Tourists – domestic or foreign”.

Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om

To Dewi and Laxmi and all the other innocent children living in Bali and around the world, sorry we didn’t get it right. When you become the custodians of this paradise, don’t do what we have done. Forgive us for squandering a part of your inheritance.

Well I think its fine, building, jumbo planes
Or taking a ride on a cosmic train
Switch on summer from a slot machine
You can get what you want if you want
You can get almost anything

I know we’ve come a long way
We’re changing from day to day
But tell me where do the children play?

Well you roll on roads, over fresh green grass
For your lorry loads, pumping petrol gas
And you make them long, and you make them tough
But they just go on and on till you can’t get off.

-Cat Stevens, Where do the children play?

The world is changing ever so quickly. What was is not now and what is, is soon losing out to what will be – a concrete jungle mushrooming and growing at an alarming pace across the planet. Forests, species, natural resources are all being squandered by a spendthrift generation.

So where will this all end?

Today we have a United Nations Conference on global warming in Bali. People from all over the world will congregate to discuss ways and means to halt the rape of the planet. This is nice, comforting and a bit ludicrous considering the pollution that will be caused by the private planes, automobiles etc. We don’t need these people to decide the future of our planet. Or do we?

Many years ago when TV was absent from our lives and the ubiquitous mobile phone had not been invented, the main attraction in the village where I lived was the Bore Tide. It resembled a large wave that ran along the riverbank once a month. It carried away the boats, destroyed the small wooden jetties and created a lot of excitement among the people who lived on the banks of the river Hooghly. I remember my brothers building a machan (wooden platform) on the branches of the mammoth banyan tree that grew on the bund. Its branches hung over the brown swirling waters of the river like a dancer in tantric trance.

We used the machan as a safe post from where we could observe the Bore Tide and also to do a lot of fishing. The catfish, Betki and Rohu were in abundance. The bait used were earthworms that we dug up from our garden much to the annoyance of the maali (gardner). I still recall the time when I caught my first Betki(fish), it weighed about a kilo and my scrawny 7-year-old frame was no match for a fish fighting for its life. I fell into the water and was carried away by the treacherous tide. The muddy water that entered my lungs had a calming effect on me. I thought I had died. Fortunately further down the river a fisherman dived in and rescued me. He carried my lifeless body out of the water and laid it on the Jute plants drying on the riverbank. Sensing that I may have drowned, he kicked me in the chest and out came all the water. He left abruptly before my brothers could thank him. We never got to ask him his name. My humbling experience has remained as a constant reminder of the power of Nature.

My village embraced the river like a child suckling its mother. It gave us sustenance. Transported us to many other places. This elixir of life that fed our village also carried away our dead to the nether world. The river Hooghly was the fulcrum on which our cycle of life rotated albeit in fits and starts.

It was from this village that we would travel on dinghies down the river to the Sunderbans, the Gangetic Delta that was home to tiger, deer, crocodile and many other creatures that had flourished in the mangroves. It had some of the best fishing spots outside Calcutta. We would boat down the delta along the mangrove forests where fish was in plentiful. At times it became a farce, as we didn’t have to wait hours for a “bite”. We would catch quite a few fish in minutes. The bait was earthworms that we dug up from the muddy banks of the river. At night we anchored in midstream for fear of tigers. We had heard stories of man-eating tigers swimming out, capsizing the boats and carrying away the hapless villagers. I admired them (villagers) because they ventured unarmed deep into the tiger infested mangrove forest to collect honey even though many of them ended up on the dinner table of the resident tigers. But their reverence for life and acceptance of their kismet (karma) kept them from carrying arms. For me, this was frightening.

Many years later I returned to my village but couldn’t recognise it. The banyan had been cut down to make way for construction of an anchorage for boats. Most of the villages on the embankment had disappeared and in their place were sad little cement buildings that resembled grotty little public conveniences. The smell of fresh earth after the first monsoon rains was replaced by diesel fumes from motorised boats and the cacophony of the numerous herons that had nested in the surrounding trees was gone. In fact the trees were all gone. The only sound that I could hear was the clamour of civilisation gone mad. I never could sum up the courage to visit my old childhood haunts in the Sunderbans for fear of being confronted with the reality of Man’s greed. I wanted to preserve the memories of lush green forests teeming with birds and beasts and the tiny crabs leaving their footprints on the muddy banks of the river.

Fortunately destruction like this did not happen in areas where the urgent need for preservation was paramount. In fact some decades ago in the foothills of northern India unscrupulous logging companies decided to extend their business sometimes illegally by carrying out their activities in nearby forests in the foothills of the Himalayas. A man by the name of Sunderlal Bahuguna decided to stop this. He spoke to villagers in the area and convinced them that the forest was a living-breathing organism that sustained all life.

Hence the Chipko movement started with the simple action by the villagers who would venture out everyday to hug the trees in open defiance to authority, criminals and bulldozers, thus preventing them from destroying the forest. Their action aroused a whole nation and the forest was saved. Sunderlal Bahuguna, who won the Magsaysay Award, is only one of the many people across the planet fighting a losing battle against large industries and governmental apathy towards the preservation of the environment. I guess no amount of international conferences or agreements can change the state of man’s mind and perception of his or her view of a sustainable world. It must come from within – an intrinsic desire to preserve the planet’s natural resources. And who should know this better than children, inheritors of the land.

There is still time to halt the growing destruction of Nature.
Hindsight is not an option because by then it would be too late.

At the rate we are decimating our lands it is conceivable that one day we will awake to a world without forests, the roar of wildlife subdued to a whisper and the blue yonder devoid of the geometric patterns of migratory birds flying to another part of the planet.

And then only one question would remain to be answered –

Where do the children play?

Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om

This is the first in a series on expats who are quietly helping to raise the standard of living for the less fortunate on the isle. These expats belong to international clubs; are successful business folk putting back part of their earnings into non-profit social development programs; and individuals living in Bali for a long time who feel that they must contribute to the welfare of the islanders.

Sometime ago I heard it on the grapevine that Ibu Sarita Kaul of Rotary Club Seminyak had started a program for clean drinking water in a village in Sibang. As there is no piped water, the villagers collect water from the nearby river; boil it before using it for cooking and drinking. Some of the villagers are too poor and hence can’t afford the high cost of fuel so they don’t boil the water prior to using it. The result being that many women and children suffer from stomach ailments.

Curious to know more about the project I met Sarita and requested her to accompany me to the village so that I could speak to the villagers to understand more about what was going on and how it was benefiting the rural folk. She told me that the project involved the production and free distribution of cement biosand filters for drinking water to all the homes in the village, which is close to a 100.

The cement biosand water filter works on the principle of filtration of contaminated water through sand and gravel without the use of any electricity or burning of fuels. The process is proven to remove about 90% of pathogens in the water. It has been tested by governments, research and health institutions in laboratory and field trials. The filter has no moving parts; can be used with any available water source; it is small and takes up little space; and is a household level technology that allows end users to independently maintain and operate the filter.

On the last day of May we drove to the village so that I could meet Bapak Astra in whose home the filters are being manufactured. In fact, as his contribution to the community he has allowed the free use of his Bale for this purpose. Astra is an elderly subsistence farmer with great dignity and an acute understanding of survival.

He showed me a water filter in operation and the metal dies that are used in the manufacture of the cement contraptions. Apparently, the Pilot Project of 11 such filters has been successfully carried out; 10 pieces are in an equal number of homes and the 11th has been installed at the Banjar office. Astra understands the concept of clean drinking water, as he is involved in organic farming.

The head of the Klian Banjar, I Wayan Dharmika and the village schoolmaster I Wayan Tantra were instrumental in convincing the 44 heads of the families in the area to adopt the scheme. Astra told me that Tantra with his large black rimmed spectacles and who is affectionately called professor by one and all is the self appointed accountant for the project. He keeps a cash ledger that records an excruciating blow-by-blow account of all expenditure even if it involves such sums as rupiah 200!

Sarita told me that a grant had been received from Rotary International, Chicago, USA for the further manufacture of over 250 biosand water filters. On successful completion of the project that is due to commence in a week other villages would be brought into the scheme.

On being questioned by me about the production of the filter Astra said that two farmers were sent to Lombok for training. Lombok is the place where Sarita saw the filters in operation, the design being that of Cawst (Centre for Affordable Water and Sanitation Technology, Canada).

The two farmers dispatched for training had never been on an airplane nor travelled outside Bali so the experience left them in a suspended state of exhilaration that lasted for a few days. Even now there is a glow on the face of Ketut Arianta, one of the farmers who was introduced to me with much fanfare by Astra.

Marian Hjelm, a homeopath from Seminyak and the person who brought the plight of the villagers to the notice of Sarita, and who had accompanied us to Sibang, told me that the two said farmers had visited her home immediately on their return from Lombok to narrate the experience of flying near Mount Agung and to share their feeling which was like traversing an astral plain! She added that they returned to the village to a heroes welcome.

This water filter project is not about personalities or publicity. It is a humane response to the need of the usually ‘overlooked’ less fortunate people on the isle who honestly, diligently and in a community spirit eke out a living with dignity and pride.

Bali is like an oasis in the desert of a world fast losing itself due to the continuing erosion of social structures. It helps keep a lid on insanity in community values. This island is probably one of the last refuges for many of us expats. So let us continue to protect it and to alleviate any human suffering that occurs ever so often.

I will sign off now with the haunting words of Bapak Astra - “This is my home, my family, my land. Without it I am nobody and I will cease to exist.”

Note: at the time of going to press the villagers have informed me that pests have destroyed their rice crop. They will now need to buy rice from the market. The price of rice has risen sharply due to the fuel price hike.

Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om

The peak tourist season in Bali is July-August. But this year according to friends in the travel trade the season is expected to commence in June! This is heartening news for those who depend on tourism for their livelihood. However, along with the hordes of tourists lurks the spectre of adventurous and sometimes foolhardy people who wilfully disregard the warning signs put up by lifeguards thus ending in watery graves off the sun soaked beaches.

Padangbai – Some days ago a man drowned in full view of onlookers and family members but no one could save the poor soul as he was caught in treacherous currents. Apparently there are no signboards in place warning swimmers of the currents in the lagoon. No red flags or Lifeguards.

Kuta beach – On hearing the tragic news in Padangbai I thought it necessary to speak to Lifeguards on Kuta beach to try and understand how such mishaps occur and what should be done to prevent reoccurrences.

My trusted cold drinks vendor Nyoman took me to a few Lifeguards on watch not far from his stand that is opposite Macdonald’s. I met Ketut Arthayasa and Made Ernawan two strapping young lads dressed in yellow and red gear.

When I spoke about the drowning in Blue Lagoon they apologised for the tragedy and assured me that if they had been present it would not have occurred. Ketut told me that a fortnight ago he and his colleagues rescued 6 men and one woman from drowning. Though he was happy that precious lives were saved, Ketut was angry that the people who he rescued had paid scant regard to the red flag that signals rip tides, warning people not to swim in the waters around.

For those of you who are unfamiliar with the flags here’s what they represent:
- The red flag signifies dangerous currents and warns swimmers to keep away from that area. But surfers are allowed to surf in these waters.
- The area between the red and yellow flags is safe for swimmers. No surfer is supposed to be surfing here for obvious reasons.

While we sat chatting we could see swimmers and surfers doing exactly what they are not supposed to be doing. Ketut shrugged his shoulders and said that the guards could not possibly handle so many people as they are not law enforcement personnel but Lifeguards. Sadly whenever a drowning occurs they are blamed for not preventing it. The two things he carries around are his walky-talky and whistle. The first item is used to keep in contact with the control room and the other to call in errant swimmers and surfers, who very often never heed the calls.

After a brief exchange of words with Made and Ketut I visited the office/control room of the Lifeguard and met Made Suparka, Chief instructor, Baliwista Badung. He was most helpful and over a cup of Bali kofi he told me all about his team and the equipment that was urgently needed.

01. The total number of Lifeguards for Canngu/Kuta/Uluwatu/Nusa Dua is 110. Whereas the required number is 200.
02. Once a year Australian Lifeguard instructors conduct a 15-day course for them. Made would prefer this is done twice a year.
03. There are 6 posts spread across Kuta to 66 road. Some do not have look out towers. Look out towers must be installed at all posts.
04. Binoculars should be provided to all posts.
05. Of the two jet skis that they possess, one needs urgent repairs. In fact, they require one Jet ski for every post.
06. The Lifeguard ambulance is 7 years old and often breaks down. It is the sole medical emergency vehicle for Canngu/Kuta/Uluwatu/Nusa Dua! They urgently need at least four such vehicles – one for each area.
07. Surfers should be fined for straying into areas designated for swimmers as people have been injured in the past. Also surfers should be fined and/or their surfboards confiscated if they did not return to shore by 7 pm. when the Lifeguards remove the flags and go off duty for the day.
08. The Lifeguards should be taught a smattering of Japanese/Korean/French/Spanish etc. Words like - danger, don’t swim in this area etc. This is necessary as in the past tragedies could have been prevented if the guards had made themselves understood to the foreign tourists.
09. Swimmers and Surfers should enter the water only between 7 am and 7pm. as the Lifeguards are on duty during this period.
10. The solitary rubber boat or dinghy is woefully inadequate. There should be a minimum of four such boats: One for each area - Canggu, Kuta, Uluwatu and Nusa Dua.

Made’s 10 point program is reflective of the need of the hour. It must be viewed as a constructive suggestion that will help in creating a world-class tourist island destination. The safety of all tourists visiting the isle is of paramount importance in this very important year of – Visit Indonesia. Therefore, these suggestions could also be applied across Bali in consultation with tour operators/government officials etc.

In the past, I have witnessed tourists arguing with hapless Lifeguards about swimming in a particular area. On more than one occasion the people who rent out the surfboards encourage the tourists who are usually novice surfers to surf in dangerous waters disregarding the flags. These people must be educated in safety measures and then if they do not heed the lessons, they should be penalised and if need be their licence should be cancelled.

It has been suggested by my drinks vendor, Nyoman, that every tourist on the beach be given a multi-lingual pamphlet of the dos and donts of swimming and surfing. And more importantly the telephone number to call in the event of an emergency - +62-361-755660.

To the above suggestions I would like to add that all surfers should pay Rph 5000/- to the control room prior to surfing. This would help in raising much-needed funds for equipment.

We must never forget that the Lifeguards are on the beach to save lives. We should give them all the equipment and support to make them 100% effective.

At the end of the day when all have returned home to roost and the restless dark waters brush against the shore let us remember all who have drowned and pray for their souls – whether they are tourists or Balinese.

In the words of Made Supraka, “We want you safe. So let us do our job”.

Note: According to Made the best months for surfing are July/August and for swimming March/April.

Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om

Road kill is an animal killed by a motor vehicle.

Here in Bali road kill is the ever-growing numbers of youngsters on motorcycles mowed down by other vehicles. In a previous issue of The Bali Times, Managing Editor William Furney, wrote passionately about the rising death toll on the roads – the unfortunate victims being motorcyclists who were and are and will continue to be (albeit tragically) the primary cause of most fatal traffic accidents unless some drastic positive action is taken not only by government but more importantly by us, the people.

The question that immediately comes to mind on reading the disturbing statistics is – if all life is sacred on the isle how come we disregard the dangers of reckless and underage driving?

I suppose it is easy to comment on the prevailing situation mindless of the predicament the Balinese have to face:

01. There is no credible mass transport system (MTS).

02. The homes of many are scattered in the rural areas and access is usually narrow roads. Therefore, even a mass transport system may not be the answer.

03. Absence of a comprehensive transportation system (school buses) for children.

So the only alternative the Balinese have:

01. Hire/purchase of motorcycles with an average price tag of rph 13 million + bank charges/interest.

02. Invariably, more than one vehicle is acquired by each family thus putting a financial burden on them.

03. School children are forced to drive themselves to school.

Some months ago, Kadek a 27-year-old married woman living in Padangbai narrated the grisly incident of a teenager who had died in a road accident at the turn off to Padangbai on the coastal road. The young girl on a motorcycle drove across the turn off oblivious to an oncoming truck. Her head came under the wheels of the vehicle. Her mother who rushed to the spot on hearing the news had to remove her remains from the asphalt – remains being the operative word here.

Kadek told me that the crossing is very dangerous as there are no traffic lights or proper street lighting, added to this the speeding vehicles and reckless driving by motorcyclists makes it a death trap.

I met a traffic cop and asked him about the reason for frequent recurring road accidents. He spoke to me on condition of anonymity, which I have to honour. This is what he had to say.

“Bapak we polisi are under constant pressure to maintain discipline on the roads. But this is not easy. How can we stop a family of four riding on a vehicle and going to the temple for ceremony? You tell me? Most of the time even my 13-year-old son drives himself to school, as there is neither school bus nor a proper bus service. The sepeda motor is the only transport. I know as a polisi it’s my duty to penalise these offenders. Children as young as 11 are driving to school and to the market - How can we stop this? My answer to this would be to instil road sense into our youngsters to teach them in school and colleges about road signs, road safety, obeying traffic rules and more. We could have a policewoman visit schools and colleges to lecture on this matter. I believe that such education will surely prevent future accidents on the road. I have witnessed a few bloody accidents myself and as a parent it makes me very worried about my own family. Not all of us can afford cars. I have this message to give to the readers of The Bali Times – we must together work to vigorously teach our children about road safety. After all we polisi are also human beings with families and we should not be made to look bad just because of these accidents. The government is trying to solve the problem of transport but this takes time. So in the meantime at least let’s start teaching our children about road safety.”

There has been many a voice raised at the errant motorcyclist who weaves through the traffic without a helmet; carries materials in one hand while holding the handle with the other; carrying a baby in one hand; talking on a hand phone; lighting a cigarette:and other heart stopping actions. So what makes these docile and smiling folk drive around like headless chickens doing death-defying manoeuvres and/or like boxers without the Marquee of Queensbury’s Rules?

I asked a friend Wayan about this curious behaviour and this was his reply.

“Mark Useless, most of us live in large extended families together in ancestral compounds. We share our responsibilities, wealth etc. Our lives are not private. Everyone in the family knows everything about each other. Our young generation wants time away from prying eyes and some feel their lives are very confined. Therefore the sepeda motor for them represents unbridled freedom. When they are driving they feel free as the wind and are very happy the faster they drive.”

It has been observed and experienced by some visitors and long time residents on the isle that if one got involved in an accident the blame would always fall rightly or wrongly on them. This is so as some locals believe that if the foreigners were not on the isle the accident/s would not have happened.

We have heard many views on the subject of road safety. And the one that strikes a note of truth is that of the policeman’s whose candid opinion reflects reality: the blood on the roads of Bali caused by ignorance and a frightening apathy towards the fact that our children are being permitted to ride the road of death without first learning the basic rules of survival.

Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om

This week’s column is about a burning issue that is perpetually in the limelight of the local and Australian media – drugs and drug busts. Many less intelligible folk voice misplaced apprehensions that are usually fed by Chinese whispers doing the rounds of the island. Here in paradise such unfounded assumptions have a way becoming fact thereby obfuscating the truth and creating schisms between peoples and cultures.

The Bali Times carries regular reports of youngsters being arrested for buying banned substances in spite of the deadly warning – welcome to my paradise, we have the death penalty here for drug pushers and users.

Recently I had the opportunity to talk to an Australian couple from Perth holidaying in east Bali – Cheryl Smith a social worker and her husband John, an engineer.

Cheryl appeared distinctly agitated when I brought up the topic of young Australians incarcerated in jails in Bali for the mindless act of buying and or using drugs.

“We all stand accused of not forcefully inculcating a sense of proportion in our children, of not teaching them that with democracy - its freedom of speech and action - comes responsibility. Do you know when every Aussie is issued a passport we are given a booklet titled Hints for Australian Travellers produced by our Foreign Affairs and Trade Department. It is helpful as it contains all the dos and don’ts for Aussies travelling in foreign countries such as obeying the laws of the land, observing local customs, illegal drugs, child sex, wildlife etc.” she said.

“And are there any Indonesia specific guidelines?” I asked hesitantly.

“Yes, we have a website that clearly mentions the punishment of death for trafficking, buying and consuming drugs in Indonesia”.

She told me that Aussies are often lulled into a false sense of dolce vita when they encounter Bali with its captivating beaches and titillating lifestyle. The laid back atmosphere, low prices and non existent dress code in most areas except religious places make them feel they can dance with death as no one is watching them.

A visibly upset Aussie sitting at an adjacent table in the warung, who had obviously been eavesdropping walked up to our table and introduced himself as a regular visitor to the island. He informed us that on every occasion that he had visited Kuta he was offered drugs by people standing on the pavement. When he shouted at them he was abused and threatened. Cheryl confirmed this allegation saying that she and her husband had had similar experiences. Sadly, youngsters don’t always act the same way and get carried away with false bravado and the excitement of treading the hairline of deception.

Cheryl told me that in Australia, there is an ongoing program conducted by the State called ‘Constable Care’. Policemen regularly visit primary and secondary schools to educate pupils on the Law and in particular the perils of drugs and under age drinking.

Was she proposing a similar program in Bali? If so, the idea does have relevance for the impressionable islanders whose view of the world is probably through the media and tourists from around the globe flocking to the island. These are not always the best representations of other cultures.

Unfortunately every time an Aussie is busted for drugs in Bali the ‘Shock Jocks’ (as they are popularly known) on Sydney radio stations vitiate the atmosphere with their raucous verbosity that sullies relations between two great countries – Indonesia and Australia. Current affairs programs aired on television could be blamed for adding a curious blend of hysteria to these events. This doesn’t help the situation either for those busted for drugs or for the two governments trying hard to resolve this prickly problem.

It has been said in the past that Australian police have alerted their counterparts in this country on drugs being smuggled into Indonesia. If this is true then it is a heartening development and we hope this connection between the two law enforcement agencies continues to keep a check on illegal activities that are tragically destroying families and lives in paradise and in Oz.

As an experienced social worker counselling juvenile delinquents with drug and alcohol addictions, Cheryl feels that small time offenders incarcerated in Indonesian jails could be repatriated to serve their jail term back home under strict State supervision as this would – keep them away from hardcore criminal elements, rehabilitate them, save the Indonesian State a lot of money and foster closer people to people and government to government relations.

This suggestion of repatriation of small time drug offenders is a noble idea. However, one must take cognizance of the fact that Indonesia is a sovereign democratic republic and therefore this should not be construed in some circles as a capitulation of its sovereignty. It should be handled with great care and sensitivity away from the glare of the media that has invariably made a Hollywood drama of even the slightest hint of anything out of the ordinary that happens in Bali.

It is well known in diplomatic circles that the two countries are forging closer ties in many fields and so an irresponsible media response could jeopardise these positive developments.

Sense and insensibility are the paradoxes in paradise where death lurks in the palm of a drug peddler and Life in the words – just say no to drugs.

As a parent I appeal to all other parents in Indonesia, Australia and elsewhere please let us stop this madness.

Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om

Sunday May 4th: Tonight is the night of the dark moon, the night of no shadows when it is believed that evil awakens from its deep slumber to rise from the bowels of the earth to grasp at the souls of the living for nourishment and everlasting life.

It is nearing midnight when I drive past the Sacred Monkey Forest in Ubud and the crowds of faithful returning from the temple after praying to the gods to protect them from harm. On reaching my room next to the river I light an incense stick and place it outside my door hoping to ward off evil. Then I sit down to write the story of wayang, a young Balinese woman who I met at Blue Lagoon, Padangbai, on the last full moon night.

What better time than now, the night of no shadows, to talk of all the goodness that resides in humanity.

Sometime ago when the rains played truant and the atmosphere became stifling in the hills I drove down to Blue lagoon to spend a night on the beach hoping to bathe in the Luna rays and recharge my spent soul.

At sunset when I arrived at the small warung next to the shore I was greeted by Made the owner who promptly led me to a deck bed and offered me a welcome drink. Sipping the orange juice I lay back and watched the sky turn many hues of pink and purple before fading into deep ink blue. Then the stars peered through the darkness like shy children from behind a curtain. Over the horizon came the moon glowing like a mother who had just given birth to life. My reverie was interrupted by a genteel voice that seemed to mingle with the sound of the waves. “Excuse me would you like to order to eat?” I looked up at the serene face and the long black tresses and quickly sat up and took the menu from her hand. She held an oil lamp close so that I could read the menu that was dog-eared and spotted with grease stains.

“I’ll have a chicken cap cay and a small bintang, thank you.”

“You come alone, no friend?” she asked

“No, no I just want to spend time alone. What’s you’re name?”

“Wayan”, she replied and walked away.

I lay back and dozed off only to be awakened later by the twanging of an electric guitar and a dull voice uttering the words check, check, check.

Thankfully wayan reappeared carrying my dinner and wearing a large grin on her face. She placed the food down on the bed and sat opposite me.

“Why are you smiling”, I asked.

“The guitarist is my brother but he no good, still learning, he crazy,” she replied.

The dinner was a culinary disaster. I left most of it and turned to wayan who was gazing out at the moonlit waters and asked her what she was thinking. Wayan told me that it was on a moonlit night one year ago when her husband had died from drinking spurious arak leaving her to fend for herself and their infant daughter. After his death she returned to her family home and since then had been unable to remarry because she couldn’t find a suitable boy.

I got up and walked down to the shore and sat on the rocks. Wayan followed me and stood behind resting her hands on my shoulders.

“Want massage?” she laughed.

“No!”

She removed her hands and sat beside me grinning like a Cheshire cat. The feeling was mutual as I too felt at peace being with this young widow. She accepted her life and was ready to move on to another, if only she could grasp and hold onto fleeting reality draped in a cloak of uncertainty in the form of men from far off lands that she encountered everyday on the job.

Even when she spoke of her fatherless child there was no hurt, anger or sadness. Wayan had accepted the hand that fate had dealt her and was willing to play blind man’s bluff with it in the hope of coming up trumps. She was a petite twenty-eight year old, slim with a disarming smile and a very basic education. Wayan was willing to learn, that is, if I could find time to teach her to read ‘good’ books and write in English – shades of Professor Higgins and Eliza Dolittle?

The conversation abruptly ended when the band started playing a mangled version of No Woman No Cry. The shaky voices, the moonbeams on our faces and the orange juice that appeared violet in the night made up a montage of flickering images that burned themselves on my brain. I wished the moment be engraved on my unconsciousness mind forever.

“Are you married?” asked wayan.

“Yes”, I lied as I had divorced some years earlier.

“You love your wife?”

“Yes”, I lied again.

Unable to bear the interrogation I briskly walked back to the deck bed as if it was a refuge from the frailties of manhood.

The night wore on as the moon glided over the sky and gently fell behind the hills. The chill in the air added to my growing hunger pangs forcing me to beckon wayan who was sitting alone on the far side of the warung. I ordered fried eggs and toast. The result – the eggs were runny and smelly and the toast soggy. Reluctantly I ate the toast that stuck to my palate and washed it down with cold aqua. Wayan gazed at me nonchalantly and then suddenly laughed loudly.

“You lost boy, you should have brought wife with you”

I kept quiet, as I was too tired to lie anymore.

“You wait I just come” she said.

She returned with a child in her arms. She put the child in my lap and sat down.

The child was fast asleep probably dreaming of a past life oblivious to the horrors of this one.

The live band had retired early so the ensuing rhythms were only that of the child’s breathing and the sound of breakers in the distance.

An hour later dawn crept over the horizon subtly lighting up the sky. And when the wind began to pick up I handed the bundle of joy back to its mother.

“If you were not married would you marry me?” she asked gazing at me intently.

“No”, I lied.

“Why?”

“Because you’re too young for me”, I lied, again.

We both laughed, relieved in a strange sort of way. We were two souls on different journeys, yet we found something in common. Love.

Om Shanti Shanti Shanti Om