Travel – Thinking of Zubin

Lucky Numbers

Posted on July 19, 2018August 8, 2018 by Mridu Vashist

July 18, 2018

This past weekend we found ourselves in Beijing battling thousands of people for space in the Forbidden City on Saturday and on the Great Wall the next day. I can now say on personal authority that if that arm’s length of personal space – also called the personal bubble in the US – is important to you then Beijing in summer is not for you. It will be better in the Nordic lands or maybe in the Scottish highlands. Beijing is a teeming mass of people packed (very) tightly together. More than 20 million people live permanently in Beijing. According to the Beijinger, a local online magazine, in 2016 an average of 40,000 tourists visited forbidden city daily. And I felt as if there were twice that number on my day there. We were mere tiny freckles on the pulsing sweaty body of humanity. Forbidden City is massive – 7.75 million square feet in total. It is the largest imperial palace in the world, theoretically enough space for the surging masses around it. But everyone converges to the same “must see” locations and I found myself pressed among throngs of tourists again and again.

There are 8,700 rooms scattered among 980 buildings in the vast palace complex. So if the royal children wanted to play hide and seek, there were plenty of opportunities to hide out for a very long time. The halls have ambitious sounding, wishful thinking names – Hall of Supreme Harmony, Hall of Central Harmony, Hall of Preserved Harmony, Palace of Earthly Tranquility and so on. Probably the emperors named them for qualities they desired but sometimes didn’t have – harmony, tranquility and so forth. It is said that the palace, especially the Hall of Supreme Harmony, was created to signify the emperor’s position as the one closest to the gods. No other building around it was supposed to be higher. Of course that mandate fell by the wayside a long time ago. Most of Beijing is comprised of high rises, as are all the mid to big cities in China. Standing outside the Hall of Supreme Harmony one can guess as to how that name might apply. The north-south axis of Beijing slices the hall in two equal halves through its center. The hall faces south. As I stood there looking to my east and west, the two sides looked completely symmetrical. They seemed mirror images of each other.

Many doors used by the Emperor in the Imperial Palace are painted with the lucky color red and have a 9×9 pattern of golden nails. It is said in the Chinese culture that number 9 symbolizes everlasting and longevity. The month and day numbers of Zubin’s birth date add up to nine. I couldn’t help being leery of these beliefs. Dynasties rise and fall on their own time and there is nothing that a number or color is going to do to save anyone.

After the heat and immensity of the Forbidden City, this cool little cafe on the north end of the complex was a welcome respite. The food was good and the little padded stools gave our weary bodies a much needed rest.

Great Wall is so impressive in both its scale and its many steep climbs and drops. In the Badaling section, it snakes slowly along the ridges of the Jundu mountains. More than 13000 miles long, it is one of the few structures visible from space. What got me was how it just went on and on into the horizon. Like a resting serpent it has been there for centuries – imposing, sometimes hidden and endless. In its solemn, wild beauty it felt like a fitting requiem for the 1 million workers who died during its construction and are buried here. In the midst of thousands of fellow tourists I felt thoughtful and a little sad. Nothing escapes the ravages of time. Death is as commonplace as life. Both seem random and out of control. Since centuries, through structures such as The Great Wall and The Forbidden City powerful individuals have strived to maximize their chances of survival, sometimes to the detriment of many. In the end, death is the most democratic state of all.

———-

Sites I read on Imperial Palace:

Grief, Travel

Being Present

Posted on July 12, 2018August 8, 2018 by Mridu Vashist

July 13, 2018

What is the point of this world anyway? I know I am not the first person to consider this question. My eleven year old child is no more. But I am still here. There are people who are a hundred years old who are still here. But there are so many children who come and go from this world within months and years of being born. Were they just unlucky? Are the nonagenarians and centenarians among us particularly lucky? Who is to say that what we do with our lives and time on earth is even meaningful in any way? When there are two buds on a stem and only one of them blossoms into a flower, is the one that didn’t unlucky? Is the sapling that didn’t develop into a tree unlucky?

In order to survive a great loss, we get back to the basics. We hunker down our psyche and just focus on existing. If we set aside the race after transient symbols of power and security – wealth, beauty, ‘success’, all that we are left with is the difference between being and not-being. Whether we are taking a breath or not. Practice of meditation is central to the concept of Zen Buddhism, which is said to have originated in China during the Tang Dynasty. The other day, our guide was describing Tao and Zen. And it reminded me that friends and family have been asking me to try and meditate to improve my state of mind. I have been struggling to look out from the darkness that envelopes me, so that I can truly behold this world, such as it is with all its disappointments, losses and trials.

In recent months, I had tried to jump into meditation by sitting still to quiet my mind. No success at all there. My mind is screaming too much in pain. And it won’t stop screaming. All those thoughts that I am just supposed to observe and then let flit away stay and make me cry. So I had given up on meditation. Then I read a little about Zen and its practice of observing the mind and breath. So I started by just asking myself “What am I feeling?” And I have been doing this three to four times a day. When I am writing, my mind says “Interested.” When I am walking around or doing something else, it says “Sad.” Last night I went for dinner with a friend who brought her ten year old son with her. Zubin had just turned eleven when we lost him. This kid reminded me so much of Zubin – not in looks but in how he still had a little boy voice, how he spoke to her in an affectionate, slightly bossy and dominant way. I missed Zubin so much. When I asked my mind what it was feeling, the answer came back as “Super Sad.” I didn’t need my mind to tell me that. I could physically feel the sadness spilling out of my pores. During these times, I just try to watch my shallow breath. In-out-in-out.. for as long as I have to before I resurface.

Some structure a successful, rich, lucky guy might have taken a great pride in building, once upon a time.

Grief, Travel

Faces

Posted on July 11, 2018August 8, 2018 by Mridu Vashist

July 11, 2018

We live in a time when it is common, even expected, to be in the public eye all the time. On a recent trip to Shanghai, I noticed how many people were taking their selfies. I understand the need to capture a moment in an interesting place. However what I noticed particularly was the amount of care taken in capturing those moments. People, mostly women, spent several seconds, sometimes up to even ten seconds, arranging their faces before clicking that button. The lips pouted just so, the eyes opened wide, faces slightly lifted or turned to the side or lowered depending on what they thought their best viewing angle was, and a bright smile to show how happy they were to be there. Followed by a quick bounce back to the same expression that was on their face before they started arranging it for the selfie. In observing them, I felt myself to be intruding their private moments. It was a glimpse of who they were, how important it was for them to look good, to show where they were and what they wanted people who saw their pictures to think. Yet here they were, comfortably and publicly packaging themselves to advertise their fascinating lives to their ‘followers.’ There was not much separation between private and public faces in those moments.

There is however a big separation between professional and public faces when there is no selfie at stake. On this trip I have seen the work faces of people around me. They are pleasant, friendly and hardworking. They hold the door open for you. They say hello and “No thank you” when you say Thank you. It is nice and almost endearing. Yesterday I saw the public or out-of-the-office faces of people. We took the ferry and went to the island of Gulangyu near Xiamen. It was the mad Olympics at the ferry terminal – the running, the pushing, the shoving, the cutting the line. People were running to get on the ferry (ok I buy that.. you want a good seat) and to get off the ferry (why? The island is not going anywhere. And neither is the boat until everyone who wants to get off is gone.) Then I caught the expression on the face of the guy who made it out first. It was a victorious expression. He wanted to be the first to do what everyone else was still trying to do.

Vanity and ego are luxuries we afford ourselves when times are good. When we are steeped in sadness it is hard to get excited about a selfie or being first. It is hard to even get a picture taken. I hate to take pictures of myself without Zubin. I am afraid that his pictures will get buried lower and lower under all these new pictures. So everyday I go back and take screenshots of his old pictures so that he would continue to show up in my Photo feed. Will I resort to photoshop-ing him in my pictures one day? I don’t know. All I know is that his face is no longer in the photos I have been taking, and I couldn’t care less if mine looks good in them.

Grief, Travel

Thinking of Zubin

Posted on July 4, 2018August 8, 2018 by Mridu Vashist

July 5, 2018

I have decided to change the name of the blog from Grieving in China to Thinking of Zubin. I haven’t been looking forward to writing for it. And I think it might help if I changed the name. Even Zubin would have said “That is a terrible name, mom! It is so…. sad.” Zubin was all about looking for fun even in the darkest moments. And I would rather be thinking of my Zubin everywhere than be grieving in the midst of all these nice new people that I am meeting. What is the difference, in this situation, between thinking and grieving? A lot. In grieving I am steeped in myself. I am only thinking about my loss – which is immense and indescribable. I have lost a massive piece of my soul. In grief I constantly feel his absence. But when I think of Zubin, it also brings joy to my heart that I got to be his mom for eleven beautiful years that were filled with so much love and laughter. Yes I feel pain, but I also smile. Because I am still his mom. So I carry him with me everywhere I go. I keep him close to me, no matter where I am in this world. I have to continue to be the mom that he would be proud of.

We spent this past weekend in the impressive city of Shanghai. The more I see of this country, the more impressed I am with the speed of development that is going on here. Shanghai was grand on its own scale. I have attached some pictures below. But even in small to mid size cities, the infrastructure is clean, modern and new. Roads are multi-lane, there is no trash almost anywhere and most people smile when they see you. If we set aside the political considerations of China, it is the ordinary hard working people, who are ultimately making it possible. I have not had a reason, so far, to be much interested in politics, so I won’t compare here the merits of one economic system versus another. However I do see that ultimately, at a basic level, we are all in a perpetual struggle to survive. Perhaps it is my own struggle to survive in the midst of my grief that colors my perspective so. But I feel that we have to rely on each other to live. And kindness and a smile or even a nod could help one deal with a crummy day a little bit better.

On the topic of my memoir, I was able to complete one really rough first draft. 45000 words done! But they are words that read more like my diary and less like something someone could read to the end. I have the Mount Everest of a task in front of me. And I don’t know yet which way to start climbing. In fact I am still sharpening my little ice axe and looking around for the rest of my mountaineering gear. And I am not even a climber. But somehow, I don’t know yet how, I hope to get there.

<- From the foot of Shanghai tower

Grief, Travel

Friends without words

Posted on June 26, 2018August 8, 2018 by Mridu Vashist

June 26, 2018

It has been four days since my last post. I did not write for three days – Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I put down about 500 words yesterday, and am thoroughly at my wits’ end on how to increase my daily word count. Everything I write feels inadequate and not at all how I want to describe Zubin, how he was. I feel myself slipping from Rachael’s advice to keep writing and not look back. I feel that I am repeating myself and not being able to show as much as I want to. My word count goal for today is a 1000 words. So far I am 50% of the way there. But it is weighing heavily on my mind. And I will write some more after dinner tonight.

I was invited by a friend to go shopping and sightseeing on Friday. I do not enjoy shopping at all but I did relish the opportunity to spend some time with her. It turned out to be a comically frustrating day. We drove 40 minutes to get to Zhongshan road. There, I tried to withdraw some money at an ATM. However the machine swallowed my card and kept displaying “processing…” on the screen. I tried canceling the transaction but it wouldn’t let me cancel either. A bank official told me that they would have to see my passport before they would return the card. So we drove back another 40 minutes to the hotel, got the passport, drove back another three quarters of an hour and finally got my card back. At that point I was fed up and just wanted to be done. So we clicked some pictures, drank red bean chai tea and headed back. But before that we made one stop at the shop shown in the picture below. Evidently it is a very old and famous snack shop in Xiamen. My friend insisted we try some seafood soup, peanut soup and a spring roll with mangoes and pineapple. It was as good a day as any, still I was thankful for my friend’s company. She remembered Zubin from when she had visited us in June 2017. It is always nice to hear when someone brings up Zubin and says that they remember him as a sweet kid. It is no use telling me not to think about him (which some people have done.) That is simply not possible. He is all I think about most of the time.

Over the weekend, we went to Wuyi mountain with another friend and hiked for a long time. We were joined for lunch by a family with two small kids. I remembered how Zubin loved kids. I am sure that if he were here he would have found a way to communicate with them in spite of the language barrier, and they would all have become best friends by the time lunch was over.

We all felt his absence acutely throughout the trip.

Picture of Zubin with his little cousin. Notice his tender expression!

A popular snack bar on Zhongshan road:

Travel

Struggling Along

Posted on June 21, 2018August 8, 2018 by Mridu Vashist

June 21, 2018

I did not meet my goal for yesterday. It was to write 500 words and I did not get to it. I got lost in re-reading all my diary entries and lost track of the time. Also it was hard to break out of my inertia, even though I really want to write. My brain was not thinking in writing mode yesterday. The guilt kept me up though. I do not want to fail Zubin again. There is already a lot of guilt associated with not being able to save him and give him a better chance at life. His cancer was aggressive and we did not have a way to fight it. But I still feel that I let him down. I understand that medical treatment is not in my hands, but I did bring him into this world. And I feel responsible for everything that he endured.

So today I came in ready to write. So far I have written 2600 words. I am beginning to understand that I will have to do many revisions. But I think that every time I look at it, the story that I want to tell will get more focused.

It is so hot and humid in Xiamen these days. Yesterday evening it rained hard with lighting and thunder. I went for a mid-day walk today and came back with beads of sweat trickling down my forehead and my shirt stuck to me. In a way, it is good because it keeps me indoors and focused on my objective.

Yesterday I spoke with a girl who had graduated from college last year. She works really long hours, averaging 13 hour work days. And she is not the only one. People that I have come across in China work extremely hard. 12 to 18 hour work days are normal. At my friend’s manufacturing company, everyone has a foldout cot and, except for those working on the assembly lines, takes a nap after lunch. Lunch hour (including eating and napping) is one and a half hour. I love this idea of mid-day naps. We all know the recharge benefits of little catnaps. Can’t see a way without them if one has to work such long hours. But it also seems most people are pumped to be working hard. Explains how China has become a manufacturing juggernaut. There is no other way to success except hard work. I should think about that as I work on my goal.

Grief, Travel

Time and Lies

Posted on June 20, 2018August 8, 2018 by Mridu Vashist

June 19, 2018

It is my second day in China. I finished Rachael’s book (so yesterday’s goal met!) The book is a fast but extremely good read and chock full of information. I love her humorous and gently insistent style. I might take her class in the Fall. Now my writing project starts from today. My goal for today is to start by planning my memoir. I have to create an outline with chapters and scenes for my project. And then, dip my first toe in by writing 500 words today. I am taking Rachael’s suggestion about writing bad first drafts very seriously and am planning to just get the words on paper. I think that doing the outline is somewhat easy, especially because it is like starting by drawing a line in the sand. I can always change it later. Important thing is to start building with the first block.

While having breakfast today, I noticed a little girl, about 7-8 years old, sitting with her mom at another table. The girl was happily chattering away. I remembered how my little Zubin loved to talk. He could talk non-stop about the most interesting stuff (to him) for a long time. And once he said “I love talking. I love the sound of words coming out of my mouth.” I used to sit next to my Zubin, just like that little girl’s mom, looking out distractedly and probably thinking of all the things she needed or wanted to do besides being a mom – have a career, do shopping, sightseeing, and just to be free. Except I am free now and I don’t want this freedom. I want nothing more than to take care of my Zubin and to laugh with him at his little boy jokes and the silly faces that he made.

At lunch I met another woman who admired my green earrings and said that her favorite color is green. I liked her instantly and shared that my son’s favorite color is green too. Then I showed her Zubin’s picture. She assumed that he was not with me at present (true in a way) and remarked “What a cute boy!” and then moved to the next topic. I didn’t say anything further because I didn’t want to share too much in case I made her uncomfortable and also because she thought Zubin was alive. I liked that and wanted him to keep on living in her mind.

Here is the view from the room where I have been writing:

Grief, Travel

Dragons

Posted on June 20, 2018August 8, 2018 by Mridu Vashist

June 18, 2018

So June 17 was already over (effect of traveling east) by the time we reached Xiamen, China. Today is my first day here. I thought of Zubin all of last evening and night. I couldn’t believe that I am traveling without him. That he will never again go anywhere with me – ever. My brain shuts itself when I think like that. So mostly I try to stay numb. I headed down to breakfast at Sheraton where I will be staying for the trip (lavish! I know. Benefits of being a corporate widow. Plus they give good discounts for frequent business travelers – thanks to my husband.) Zubin loved big breakfast buffets. You wouldn’t have been able to tell because he wasn’t a big eater. But give him some chicken nuggets, a petit chocolate chip muffin and cereal, and he was a happy camper. He mostly loved the pomp and show of these expansive spreads. Today is also Dragon festival in China. Zubin loved dragons. Not hard to imagine since they are the stuff that many little boys’ dreams are made of. He loved the legend and lore of it. He couldn’t get enough of dragon stories. Just for Zubin’s sake, I asked our concierge about the legend behind Dragon festival.

Legend goes (in a very condensed version) that there was a patriot and poet who lived around 300 BC in the state of Chu. His name was Qu Yuan. He was a major advisor to the King in the war among the seven states of Chu, Han, Qi, Qin, Wei, Yan and Zhao. However his political opponents slandered him and got him exiled. The Kingdom of Chu subsequently lost to the state of Qin. Qu Yuan was so depressed by this defeat that he drowned himself in a river. The local people were very sad at his death and they rowed into the river and threw lumps of rice to feed the fish so that they would not eat his body. Resulting local traditions include dragon boat racing and eating sticky rice dumplings called zongzi. I think Zubin would have enjoyed this story – particularly the part about feeding the fish. In the evening we got invited to a friend’s home for dinner and got to eat some zongzi.

Between the jet lag due to the 15 hour time difference and the dinner with our friend’s family, I set myself a modest goal for today. I am working on finishing Rachael’s book and leaving the writing for tomorrow. I love you Zubin. I am thinking of you baby.

Grief, Travel

Running Away

Posted on June 19, 2018August 8, 2018 by Mridu Vashist

June 16, 2018

I am sitting on a plane ready to takeoff for China. I am supposed to be feeling excited. But I am just sad. I remember flying with Zubin by my side. He was such a pro-traveler. Even at 3 he had the routine down. Within minutes of the plane taking off, he would be reaching for his headphones and cranking up the kids’ entertainment channel. He loved watching movies on flights. And he was a fan of animated movies – you know the kind they show on kids’ channels – Incredibles, Moana, Coraline , Kubo and the Two Strings and such. I loved watching these movies with him. They were my guilty excursions into a child’s world of fantasy and magic. The last time I watched one of these movies was with Zubin. I haven’t been able to bring myself to reenter his world without him. On this flight though, I thought I would try to watch a kids’ animated movie. I scrolled through the titles, many of which I had already watched with Zubin. I could not pick any of the familiar ones. So I selected Tad the Lost Explorer And the Secret of King Midas, a Spanish animated film translated to English. I watched it with a constant ache in my heart thinking of the numerous times when I had watched similar movies in the hospital room with Zubin. I remembered when colorful animated graphics and bright music of these movies had blended with fluorescent lights in sterile rooms of our pediatrics cancer hospital, and my kid’s innocence and fate had danced a complicated macabre tango of life and death.

On the rest of the flight I decided to read a book that was recommended by my friend. It is called Fast Draft your Memoir: Write your Life Story in 45 hours by Rachael Herron. I am going to follow her approach and see if I can complete the first draft of my Zubin’s story during this trip. It will be excruciatingly hard, but I am determined to do it.