Reenita's Wisdom

When it comes to the first day of the new year, I don’t favour sitting around a large family-style brunch table. Not that I am against food or family gatherings, but in many ways the idea serves only to extend the excess of eating and drinking from the holidays into what should be a new take on healthy family living.

“Let’s wake up bright and early and go on a family hike!” I suggest. “Dragon’s Back – that way we can end up at Big Wave bay to watch the surfers do their thing while we dig into quality Thai food.”

My suggestion is greeted by groans and other utterances depicting a lifetime of torment.

“Do we have to be that active on the first day of the year?” Ilya, my 13-year-old daughter, asks.

But what better time to put into action one’s New Year resolutions? Regardless of what my resolution is, whether to burn 500 calories a day or write 500 words a day, I figure if I do it on January 1 then there’s a better chance I will maintain the practice throughout the year.

Alas, the others do not agree.

Arya, my 10-year-old son, does the maths. “There is a higher chance that you will stick to your resolution if you start on say the second day of the second week of the second month….of the year, after you are done with false hope of trying to carry out your New Year’s resolutions in the first month of the year.”

Ilya pipes up: “I was going to start my superbrain yoga exercises on January 1,” she says, referring to a series of squats that purportedly stimulate your brain to operate at peak performance. “But not if you are going to force us to climb mountains, anyway.”

“What’s wrong with doing both?”

“If I conquer all peaks on January 1 then what will I aspire to the rest of the year?”

Understanding Ilya’s brand of logic is not my strong point but when it comes to achieving her resolutions, she remains resolute.

Dumbledore, our dog, barks in apparent agreement.

I turn to my husband, who, as usual, ignores our conversation in favour of his BlackBerry.

“What are you planning to do on the first day of the year?”

“What am I planning to do on the first day of the year?” he repeats back to me slowly and cautiously. It is a tactic he has used for years to prove that he is actually participating in the conversation (when, in fact, he has only picked up the audio and will take another few seconds to process the content).

“My resolution is simple, I am going to control my anger.”

No subtlety there. This is clearly not about him.

“Is that a resolution for you? Or for you for me?” I ask, annoyed.

Dumbledore barks again. My husband cocks his head to the side, imitating the dog.

“Well I was thinking about the kids but you are right. Perhaps I should be less angry at you, too.”

That’s when I realise it isn’t about him at all. While I had assumed he was referring to my quick temper, he was in fact talking about controlling his own.

His resolution could definitely work in the family’s favour regardless of which day of the year but the nagging psychologist in me asks, “And how is this therapeutically sound?”

If my husband tried to control his anger, he would simply revert to his old tendency of sweeping things under the rug, pretending that problems simply do not exist. It’s the opposite of my own emotional training, a system in which you react instantly, typically at other family members over dinner, but then relinquish your woes rather than letting them accumulate as emotional toxins.

My method comes with its own slew of problems, so I resolve to control my quick temper as the number one on my resolutions list. Then back to the husband.

He considers himself, well, considerate. By sweeping things under the rug, he has developed a mechanism for not addressing whatever it is that makes him angry. But what will happen if the rug is finally lifted? Visions of toxic dust ghosts rising up from the floor begin to dance before my eyes.

“No way, Jose! You had better unleash your anger on all of us!”

He looks up from his BlackBerry and then does it again. Slowly and cautiously, “I had better unleash my anger on all of you?”

“How about a resolution that you will actually listen to what we say rather than simply repeating the last words we just uttered? Starting January 1?”

Reenita Malhotra Hora is the author of Ayurveda: The Ancient Medicine of India and producer/presenter of Money For Nothing, RTHK’s morning business/finance show.

As a young child, the Indian festival of Karva Chauth was something like a competitive sport. After the guilt of watching my mother go without food all day, it became a race against hunger to help her find the moon right after the official moonrise so she could finally break her fast. But on Karva Chauth, the moon had a nasty habit of getting stuck behind a cloud or building.

Karva Chauth is a north Indian festival during which married women fast for the well-being of their husbands. Observed during the month of Kartik, on the fourth day of the waning moon (which generally falls in October), the festival was based on camaraderie between married women in the community at a time when most of that society lived in villages. Today it is a ritual of north Indian women all over the world and a bonding experience for mothers- and daughters-in-law.

By the time I was a teenager, the ritual had struck my feminist chord. There was no way I could condone – much less take part in – any tradition that catered to a male-dominated society.

So when, shortly after my wedding, my mother-in-law sent a series of faxed instructions for the fasting ritual, I thought: “She’s got to be kidding!” The last thing I needed was a battle with my mother-in-law about my feminist ideals.

She wasn’t kidding, but she was empathetic. “P.S. I understand times have changed so please do not be obliged to follow this ritual if you do not feel like it.” What a thoroughly reasonable woman. I was delighted to put an end to it.

Until my own not-so-reasonable mother interjected.

“I have had enough of your rebellious ways,” she grunted down the phone line from Mumbai to Tokyo, where we were living. “As a married lady, you had better toe the line. That means you will do as your mother-in-law has requested and you will fast for your husband.”

I had to defend my cause. “But she sent a postscript!”

“Postscripts are nothing but after-thoughts. Was your decision to marry your husband the main plan or a postscript?”

No prizes for guessing who calls the shots in our family.

I was not sure whether my husband would be thrilled I had decided to renounce my feminist ideals to fast for his long life or whether he would be disgusted that my mother convinced me to do it. It was best not to reveal the truth.

His response was unexpected. “Well if you are going to fast for my long life, then I sure as hell will keep you company and fast for your long life, too.”

I was touched. Wow, this is what they mean by an ideal husband. I will never forget how we spent the day with no food or water, then played hide-and-seek with the moon that evening while trying to contain our hunger-spurred crabbiness.

But how long would it last?

Alas, the next year, when I suggested the idea of Karva Chauth once again, my dearest had already decided that he was done with the ritual. “You should abstain from this old-fashioned nonsense. Let’s celebrate life by going out for a French meal instead.”

“Oh, yeah, and face the wrath of your mother?” I replied, knowing the wrath I feared was that of my own mother.

“My mother is a progressive lady,” he retorted. He was right.

No worries.

This year Karva Chauth fell on October 15. So it was the 16th year I performed the Karva Chauth fast. A few days before the festival, we talked about it.

“Awesome! Do we get to eat mooncakes?” asked my nine-year-old son, obviously caught in a cross-cultural culinary dream.

My 13-year-old daughter perked up at what I thought was the mention of mooncakes. “Can I fast with you, too?”

“How could you say such a thing?” I yelled. “You are only a child and you are buying into this stuff?”

There she was … my latent feminism had decided to come out of the closet.

My daughter looked at me as though I were a mare that had lost control. “Whoa, Mum, take a chill pill already. I was just thinking it would be good discipline to sacrifice food for a day.”

“If you want discipline, focus on getting your homework in on time!”

“Mum, are you saying that performing Karva Chauth has taken away your identity?” she asked with a new level of intrigue in her voice.

Not at all! How could I explain to her that each decision you make in life is a step towards shaping and defining your identity, but that it must be made at the right time?

Relationships are challenging enough without complicating things further with tradition and ideals. How was I to explain my views on life, feminism and Karva Chauth to my darling daughter? I wanted her to have the right dose of feminism, yet be traditional enough to consider doing Karva Chauth at the appropriate time. I wanted her to learn this as I had, but then, learning is a different experience for each of us – even mother and daughter.

An extremely rare and unique Queen Victoria 96c. olive-bistre block of four sold for HK$6.4 million at Spink’s two-day auction series of rare stamps, coins, banknotes, bonds and shares which took place at The Landmark Mandarin Oriental Hotel in Hong Kong. This highly sought-after block of four stamps sold to an anonymous buyer and became the most expensive Hong Kong stamp ever sold at auction in Hong Kong.

Read the full story in the Wall Street Journal Asia

It’s the time of the year when many folks are busy preparing treatments to alleviate the dry and damaging effects of the vata dosha.

If you are looking for specific vata balancing recipes to prepare at home then you might want to check out my Inner Beauty book or video for specific tips and ideas. Some of you have been doing this already and have sent in questions relating to the recipes themselves. As always, I am happy to answer your queries. [...]

This story was written for the Wall Street Journal Asia.

Fifteen years ago, Malawan Patamapongs, an interior designer whose clients have included members of the Thai royal family and a former U.S. Ambassador to Thailand, bought a 1,200-square-meter lot in the heart of Bangkok’s central business district.

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