Sorry and Singapore

Oooooooh.

I slap my own wrist.

Reading Gandhi - in his time and ours, that feeling when I read something that is true and good surged through me. (Since I've become aware that I am sometimes not like most people, I will explain. This feeling is like joy, but with a gleam in my eye that best relates to the word subversive. Things that are good and true generally require that something changes in the world, and since I am not happy with the way things are, the idea of hange excites me.) This feeling was particularly strong when the book described Gandhi's dialogic approach to truth. He did not believe in dogma, or in truth statements isolated from context. He looked for truth in what he 'knew', but also for the truth that Others posses. With this attitude, he drew Others to himself instead of pushing them away. He'd genuinely listen to even his extreme political opponents, allowing that they might be able to teach him something. (However, Gandhi was a patriarch, and would not listen to his 'small-minded' wife or children.) It also meant he had to change his stance on various issues throughout his life (generally for the better), but so did his adversaries. In doing truth and argument this way, Gandhi built bridges.

In doing truth and argument this way, I burn them down. Sorry, Emergent No. Have a permanent link to improve your blog rating: emergentno.blogspot.com.

On a totally unrelated note, I have arrived in dream land: Singapore. What a city. It's hard to explain how this feels without dragging you through the dirty, congested, cheap, sprawling, noisy, crowded but beautiful free-for-all that is India, and then taking you by the hand to the city of order, clealiness, neatness, expense, technology, peace and a genuinely chilled-out vibe that is Singapore. Seriously, as I got the metro from the airport it did not feel real. The masses of people, all of whom were dressed impeccably, moved like robots in almost total silence between platforms. The silence was only broken by quiet laughter, the gentle patter of feet, and the ludicrously friendly announcements beamed out to remind people not to smoke, eat, drink or do anything that might remotely disturb their fellow Singaporeans. The spotless walls are occasioned by sweet smiling people, reminding us that "Graciousness is...to give up your seat for someone that needs it more than you." There are heavy penalties for disturbing the all-pervasive peace (e.g. £2,500 for miss-use of the emergency alarm or smoking on the metro), and so peace prevails. The traffic lights tell you how many seconds you have less to finish crossing. I keep looking-out for Truman Burbank.

Hot shower. The first proper one in a month.

There is no pollution because everyone goes on the insanely efficient public transport system. The roads are marked with pristine care (markings ?!), and those that do use them within the lines (?!!), have shiny new cars (?!!!) and do not use their horns whenever their eyelids meet to blink (?!!!!). The buildings are amazing and go up instead of across. i can walk down the street without being stared at, or hussled into "my family's shop for eight generations." And it is hot. It was 26 degrees when I arrived, at 4am. And I found this beach:

Which is so unlike anywhere I have ever been that I am convinced I will wake-up in a Kolkata hospital from a coma that has lasted as many days as I stay in this magical city.

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