Yangon

The world is my home

Speaking ChicApril 4, 2018April 5, 2018Leave a comment

Another day, another pointless visit to the market. I’m like a lamb trying to find its way through the forest where it does not belong.

So I’m lost. Emotionally.

As I make my home through the busy market, sellers scream out their wares and prices. A young man is selling a cartful of fruits, a young lady is selling flowers, a quiet woman sells bananas.

But even though I pass through this market every day, I don’t know I am doing here. It’s a strange place, this city of Yangon, earlier called Rangoon. Yes, I had committed a year of my life to be here as a trailing spouse, companion to my husband for his year-long stint.

But this place isn’t home. How can it be home?

It doesn’t have the spirit that my city Mumbai has. In Yangon, their stilted tongue is so different from the hard consonants in Marathi. They don’t speak English either. There isn’t any vada pav hawker on the streets. The people look different here. They dress different. Their food is different.

All this means that my life in Yangon is a constant struggle.

Urgh, just eleven more months. And then I’ll be out of here. Till then, I just have to survive.

And how do I survive?

Barely. I have insomnia, and when I sleep, I have nightmares.

I wake up late, spend yet another day in front of the TV, go out to shop a bit, cook instant noodles or toss a salad, and then brace myself for the next day.

This isn’t what life should be.

After a long and restless night in early June, I fall asleep at dawn. I wake up in the around noon, expecting the sun to be beating down harshly on me through the curtains. But it’s cold and cloudy instead. Gloomy overcast sky.

My eyes flicker and it takes me a few seconds to register where I am. This hint of rain, this impending downpour, am I not in Mumbai?

Of course I’m not. I’m in Yangon, the place where I’m a stranger, an outsider. A mere passer-by.

But as the clouds open up and the raindrops splatter against my bedroom window, it hits me. This.. this rain, it’s just like home. Just like Mumbai.

The monsoon, the evening crowds, the commuter-stuffed local buses, the busy markets, the concrete buildings cramped together. The sea, not visible, but too far away either. I even joke that Yangon’s Hledan area resembles Mumbai’s Dadar.

So wait, if Yangon is home, there would be other similarities too, right?

I switch from survival mode to exploration mode. I scour my neighbourhood market and find things I hadn’t spotted before. A sprig of curry leaves, just what I need for my morning poha. A coconut seller who will grate it for my curry. A lady who sells mangoes that beat the alphonsos out of the ballpark.

I become bolder and begin to think of myself as a world traveller. I need to be more open-minded.

I head to downtown Yangon. The staid and elegant colonial-era buildings could be anywhere in South Mumbai. The erstwhile telegraph office and the old High Court could easily be mistaken for Mumbai structures. The stock market building was earlier the RBI office in the pre-independence era, and resembles Mumbai’s RBI headquarters on Mint Road. Even the floor tiles in the old part of the Indian embassy remind me of old buildings in Fort.

There’s a shared history between Mumbai and Yangon. A shared culture too.

The people love street food, especially in the evenings. My favourite snack quickly becomes the local tea leaf salad, tossed with steamed corn and sliced garlic.

Buddhist pagodas in every major street replaces Mumbai’s iconic temples. I pray to Buddha along with everyone else at under the golden dome of the sacred Shwedagon pagoda.

I learn the local language. As a result, I make friends with my fruit seller, my vegetable vendor, my landlord’s family. I learn the Burmese words for potatoes is aloo, pronounced exactly like the Hindi word.

Then I immerse myself even more. I bargain with taxi drivers. I cook with Burmese jaggery, and I learn to tell the difference between the various Burmese accents too.

Finally, a day comes when I buy some fabric from the textile market. I go to a tailor on my street to get the green swathe of cloth stitched into the local sarong-like skirt (called the longyi). When I wear it, I’m mistaken for a local. My neighbours compliment me.

Somewhere along the line, I stop missing Mumbai. Yangon is home.

Now that I’m back in Mumbai, I know what I did in that beautiful country of Myanmar. Just having that little bit of acceptance turned me into a new person.

But mostly, I said yes to Yangon. I said yes to the world. And now the world is my home.

In Travel, travel

A boat ride on Inle Lake, Myanmar

Speaking ChicJanuary 19, 2017January 18, 2017Leave a comment

A lone fisherman in a conical hat flings his net into the freshwater lake. As the mist clears, I see miniature gardens of brightly-coloured flowers gently floating in the water. For miles, there’s nothing to see except water, a fisherman or two, the Shan hills in the distance, and the unfamiliar flowers and leaves beautifully meshed into the lake’s surface. The only sound is the dull throb of the boat’s diesel motor.

We are sailing through Myanmar’s Inle Lake in Shan State. And the lake is nothing like any other I’ve seen before. It is the lifeline of villages and towns that live by the shore. It’s the means of income and the means of transport both rolled into one. And it’s a unique ecosystem (also a biosphere reserve) with distinct flora and fauna scattered throughout the 116-square-kilometres lake.

Pockets of civilization appear in the distance. Local Burmese men and women line up for a “shared boat taxi” for their daily commute to the market or places of work. We stop by a market on the lakeside to buy souvenirs. Bargaining is hard in Myanmar, most of the times both you and the seller know that the price is exorbitant, but it’s a question of who is more stubborn. So you win some, you lose some.

Further down the lake, houses made entirely of wood appear like islands. Some of these structures have artisan workshops, where local craftsmen weave fabrics from lotus stems (exquisitely soft silk!) and make silver jewellery.

At one souvenir shop on the lake, I see some women making small souvenirs. They are like any other woman, except their long necks are stacked with brass rings. They are Kayan Lahwi or Padaung women, seated here to fascinate tourists with their exotic neck jewellery and peculiar anatomy. Of course pictures are welcome.

Later, we head to a pagoda just off the lake. It’s like any other pagoda in Myanmar, filled with throngs of Myanmar people praying to Buddha.

After a refreshing drink of fresh coconut water just outside the pagoda, we head back to our boat. The gentle morning breeze has made way for the afternoon sun. The lake is busy, as boats stuffed with tourists slice through the water to explore life on Inle Lake.

But we head back to the hotel on the boat and relish the quiet moments of solitude. As I step off the boat, I suddenly have a wish. One only. That the lake is preserved, its animals and birds and plants kept intact for centuries. That we humans don’t destroy the lake’s understated beauty with our ever-present destructive tendencies. I wish. I pray.

Reaching Inle Lake: To visit Inle Lake, take a flight from Yangon or Mandalay to Heho. The airport is 35 kilometres from the lake. The nearest town is Nyaungshwe in Taunggyi District of Shan State, Myanmar.

In Travel, travel

Sunday Street Stories: Rangoon War Cemetery

Speaking ChicJanuary 15, 2017January 14, 2017Leave a comment

In a quiet lane off Yangon’s Pyay Road is a square of lush green grass dotted with trees and flowers that belie the crazy traffic just a few metres away. Few people go there. Taxi drivers wonder why you would want to get off at that strange place.

That strange, quiet, manicured place is Rangoon War Cemetery, with graves of hundreds of soldiers who died in action in Burma during the Second World War. Maintained by the Commonwealth War Graves Commission, the cemetery is a space where race and nationality don’t matter. Indian and African soldiers lie next to their colleagues from Britain, bound together by war.

This piece of history is not on any tourist map of Yangon. But this place is important. Because it reminds me of the damage that war has caused over the centuries. And the consequences of war affect all of us, no matter where or when we are born.

Location: Rangoon War Cemetery, Yangon (Myanmar)

Date: December 16, 2016

Device: Xiaomi Mi 5

In Travel

Sunday Street Stories: Yangon’s Living Restoration

Speaking ChicJuly 31, 2016July 30, 2016Leave a comment

Almost every colonial-era building in downtown Yangon has a spellbinding story to tell, though interest in aesthetic restoration is still fledgling. An unassuming building in Merchant Street now serves as a demonstration of how a facelift can be done while keeping the original architecture intact.

Taking into account the views of the residents and tenants, Turquoise Mountain set about renovating the building. They trained local workers, used quality materials and did it all on a tight budget. It’s a job well-done, and now there’s some hope that people living in historical spaces in Yangon will make an effort to preserve their inherent beauty. Fingers crossed.

PS- The project managers even restored the little altars outside!

Pictures taken on: July 19, 2016
Location: Merchant Street, downtown Yangon, Myanmar
Device: Nexus 5

In Beauty, Travel

Sunday Street Stories: It’s all about great hair

Speaking ChicJune 26, 2016June 25, 2016Leave a comment

In Yangon (and most of Myanmar) women young and old have gorgeous, poker-straight hair. Their secret? Not their genes or diet or combing techniques… But regular trips to the beauty salon.

So how are Myanmar women different from women worldwide? After all, almost every country has a vibrant and thriving beauty industry. Well, for one, it’s the number of visits women make to the salon (to straighten their hair, to colour their hair, to wash their hair, to massage their head, to blow dry their hair, and of course, paint their nails). So salons do brisk business. And then, the sheer number of salons in business. Within just a 60-metre radius around my building, I’ve counted seven beauty salons. (Maybe there are more). If anyone did a worldwide survey of beauty salons per capita or beauty salons per square kilometre, Myanmar might just win hands down. The salons here often work till late night, staying open even after restaurants shut down!

Location: Hledan Street, Yangon, Myanmar
Date: June 25, 2016
Device: Google Nexus 5

In Travel, travel

Sunday Street Stories: Yangon Stock Exchange

Speaking ChicMay 22, 2016May 21, 2016Leave a comment

Tall columns, a neatly-designed façade, delicately ornate with a smooth finish, this beautiful colonial-era building in downtown Yangon is a stunner. Obscured from view by a cluster of trees, I barely noticed it though I’ve passed it several times while in a taxi.

But last week, I finally saw it up close. It’s just one of a handful of well-preserved Yangon buildings, and reminds me of Mumbai’s RBI building on Mint Road. Turns out this one is the Yangon Stock Exchange.

The stock exchange began operations only last December and the first company listed this March. With all the rapid changes happening in Myanmar, there’s so much interest in investing here and hopefully the stock exchange paves the way for a robust financial sector.

While potential investors are looking for business opportunities, I’m trying to figure out if I can go inside.

Device: Google Nexus 5

Date: May 15, 2016

Location: Downtown Yangon, Myanmar

In Food

An ode to Myanmar’s magnificent mangoes

Speaking ChicMay 21, 2016Leave a comment

There’s nothing better than a burst of sweetness in your mouth. Sweetness that’s like fresh breeze on a hot summer day, a taste so wonderful that it enthralls your taste buds and fills your heart with joy. It’s a treat that you wish will linger forever.

Such divine sweetness does exist, and I bet you’re thinking Alphonso, Alphonso, Alphonso.

I grew up eating dozens of Alphonso mangoes every week in summer. My maternal grandmother bought (no, hoarded) several boxes and force-fed the mangoes to everyone at home or anyone who dropped by. On a typical summer day, we had Alphonso mangoes at breakfast with mango milkshake, chopped Alphonso mangoes after almost every meal, then Alphonso with ice cream or whipped cream, or mango yoghurt-based cheesecake for dessert.

And outside the home, there were more mangoes to be had. Restaurants, ice cream parlours and mithai shops across Mumbai would be flooded with seasonal mango delicacies like the Gujarati-style aamras with deep-fried puris (mango pulp with deep-fried Indian bread) or mango shrikhand (strained yoghurt dessert). Oh, and the super sweet mango mishti doi (fermented sweet yoghurt). Or the subtly-flavoured mango sandesh (cheese-based confectionery).

So yes, I’d had hundreds, perhaps thousands, of Alphonso mangoes in the first two-odd decades of my existence. After my grandmother passed away a few years ago, our memories of her fondness for mangoes stayed on. But the sweet essence of Alphonso mangoes seemed to rescind into the past as well. The flavour has changed from sweet to weirdly-sweet-and-bit-sour, and they got more juice and less pulp. I lost interest in Alphonso mangoes.

It was with a heavy heart that I privately acknowledged a shocking fact about myself a couple years ago: I just didn’t like Alphonso mangoes anymore. And mangoes in general didn’t beckon to me anymore.

Last June, S and I discovered Sein Ta Lone mangoes in a Yangon fruit market. I wasn’t too keen on trying them. I mean, how can any mango beat an Alphonso?

But I tried it anyway. Turns out Myanmar’s gorgeous Sein Ta Lone mango is at least a gazillion times better than the Ratnagiri Alphonso.

I fell in love at first bite. Sein Ta Lone mangoes are a perfect hue of orange and gold, they’re juicy and pulpy, wonderfully aromatic, with a smooth non-fibrous texture, and, of course, richly, delightfully, gloriously sweet. Each bite is pure heaven.

Grown around Myanmar, these mangoes are fleeting visitors in local fruit markets—they’re available for only two months a year (April to June). The name is just as beautiful – sein means diamond and ta lone means one piece. So Sein Ta Lone is the precious diamond solitaire of fruits.

What an apt name.

These mangoes don’t cost as much as a diamond of course, but are still fairly expensive (by Myanmar standards). A high-quality Sein Ta Lone mango weighing 300 to 400 grams will cost around 400-600 kyats per piece. (That’s between 35 and 55 cents for a mango). But they’re totally worth the indulgence if you have the means.

The Sein Ta Lones are so sweet that I made mango chutney at home, bottled it all up, gave some to friends, and sold some as well. The best thing: the chutney is sweet, but I didn’t need to put any sugar in it. 😀

Besides the Sein Ta Lone, Myanmar has several other delicious varieties of mangoes as well, and many fall off trees on to the streets of Yangon. I’ve seen people around Yangon picking them up and taking them home to eat. What a delight!

After decades of being cut off from rest of the world, Myanmar has thousands of secrets unknown to the world and these divine fruits are one of them. I can’t imagine summers without Sein Ta Lone mangoes anymore.

In Beauty, Travel

Myanmar’s beauty secret

Speaking ChicMarch 18, 2016March 17, 2016Leave a comment

Walking through the streets of Yangon, I see painted faces. Not the kind smiling down from giant signboards advertising vitamin supplements, but real people faces. Painted. Women young and old, little boys and girls and (some) men sport the paint like it’s part of them, as natural as wearing clothes or applying moisturiser. In the sundrenched streets, in the bustling wet market, at the airconditioned supermarket, in packed buses, I see cheeks and foreheads sporting circles and streaks of ochre, like a sort of war paint.

This “war paint” is thanaka or thanakha (pronounced tuh-naa-kaa), and it functions as a potent weapon to protect Myanmar people from the harsh sun.

Myanmar folk believe thanaka is a wonderful antidote to the harmful effects of too much sun. It keeps their skin de-tanned, safe and non-greasy.

Made from the bark of the wood apple tree that grows across Myanmar, thanaka paste has a gentle fragrance that vaguely reminds me of Indian sandalwood. Market vendors sell chopped pieces of thanaka bark at different prices, based on size. You choose your bark, take it home, and pound it into a paste with some water in a special grinder called kyout pin (pronounced chow-pi-ye).

Here’s the bark I spotted in my neighbourhood wet market (Hledan Zei):

And this is the grinder (kyout pin, picture courtesy Myat Su San)

If you don’t own the grinder (like me) or don’t know how to make the paste, you buy ready thanaka paste from the supermarket (like me). It’s less effective than home-made thanaka but still works, according to this experiential feature in Myanmar Times.

Take some paste with a spatula or fingers, apply on your cheeks and voila! You’re ready to soak up the sun. You can also apply thanaka on your forehead, arms or any body part exposed to the sun. Some artistic Myanmar moms paint flowers on their daughters’ cheeks with thanaka. So cute!

Thanaka can stay on all day, but I’ve only used it for short periods of time, and my skin feels radiant, soft, bright and fresh after washing it off. Most importantly, I don’t get a post-sun headache and my skin feels cool when I’m in the sun. So yes, I believe it works. And the nearly blemish-free, bright skin I’ve seen on most Myanmar people is proof enough for me.

When people ask me what thanaka is, I say it’s sunblock, sunscreen, gentle exfoliator, face pack, cream, all rolled into one. You only need to try it to feel its magic!

In Travel

Sunday Street Stories: Yangon’s skaters

Speaking ChicJanuary 24, 2016January 23, 2016Leave a comment

In my first weekend in Yangon last June, I was on my way to the mall supermarket for groceries when we passed the Hledan bridge (more like an overpass). Under the bridge were a bunch of young men on roller skates and skate boards. I was fascinated, having seen skateboarding only in some Hollywood movies.

A few months ago, the skaters were campaigning for a dedicated skate park. With crowdsourced funding, the park will soon be built in Yangon. Till then, skaters and skateboarders come to the overpass to practise and learn. A fun way to spend an evening.

Picture taken on: December 4, 2015
Location: Yangon, Myanmar
Device: Nexus 5

In Travel

Sunday Street Stories: Thadingyut in Yangon

Speaking ChicNovember 1, 2015October 31, 2015Leave a comment

This week was Thadingyut, the Myanmar festival of light. That evening, as fireworks and lanterns lit up the streets and kids played with sparklers, noisy crackers resounded across Yangon. And then the city plunged into darkness. Thanks to a power cut that went on for a good three hours.

Street vendors marked the festival with small candles around their wares, even as several took the day off to spend at home or seeking divine blessing at pagodas.

The season of festivities across Asia has begun, as Thailand celebrates Loy Krathong and India celebrates Diwali aka Deepawali, both different versions of the festival of lights.

Picture taken on: October 28, 2015
Location: Hledan Market, Yangon (Myanmar)
Device: Google Nexus 5