Monkey Business

Superstition, in fact, is the guiding force of the fortnight-long celebrations. On New Year’s Day (January 22 this year), the Wong Tai Sin temple is an early-morning must-stop. After a late night, getting out of bed is an effort, but the prospect of getting my fortune told is strong temptation.

A bus ride later, we discover a quaint example of traditional Chinese architecture in a terribly modern neighbourhood of intimidating highrises. The pillars are red, the friezes blue, the latticework is yellow, the roof golden and the ambience not unlike Mumbai’s Siddhivinayak temple, but I’m totally taken by the sight of disciplined worshippers on their knees, saying their prayers and then planting joss sticks into pots.

The aroma grows thick in the morning air, voices cry out ‘‘Kung Hei Fat Choy’’ (happiness is too pedestrian, these are wishes for a prosperous new year). And I kneel before a wizened soothsayer, wondering if the parrot that plucked out a card for me 10 years ago on a Kolkata street was about to be proved wrong. But the numbered sticks in my penstand-like dabba are stubborn and when one finally falls out, the prediction is too general to upstage the parrot.

Not to worry, my guide assures me, there will be many more opportunities to check out my future. The Che Kung temple, the Sha Tin racecourse, the Wishing Tree… whoa! What was that again… A real, live wishing tree? Like something out of Enid Blyton? The mysterious Mr Poon, my guide, smiles and gives nothing away.

But the anticipation is worth it, even if I’m sure Blyton would have balked at the ancient tree at Lam Tsuen: A gnarled old banyan tree hung with bright tangerines on the lower branches! It’s like this: You buy envelopes containing folded sheets of printed paper, scribble down your heart’s desire, weigh it down with the fruits and fling it up, hoping it will snag on one of the branches. If it holds up, a cheer goes around: Your wishes have been heard. If not, well, try again. The Chinese gods are pretty accommodating that way…

Three days into the new year and sundry parades and fireworks shows later, the crowds split up between the Sha Tin racecourse and the Che Kung temple. The festival of Che Kung is actually the previous day, but people prefer to defer their visit to avoid the quarrels associated with the actual day. The true believers, though, head for the racecourse where, it is said, one’s fortunes foreshadow the rest of the year. Car numberplates with the figure ‘8’ abound here; it resembles the Chinese symbol for prosperity and is in high demand among the superstitious—and obviously, all gamblers are.

If you can tear yourself away from the tantalising affair of glimpsing the future, it’s compulsory to dig into the Poon Tsoi. Comprising layers of individually cooked ingredients—red and white meats, pig skin, sharkfin, sea cucumber, abalone, mushroom, bean curd, radish—it is served in a big bowl and it’s quite the done thing to poke your chopsticks deep down to pick out the choicest morsels.

Officially, the new year holidays last three days, but to prolong the pickings, celebrations continue for a fortnight, culminating with the Spring Lantern Festival, a sort of Valentine’s Day. Colourful lanterns spring up in every home, restaurant and park and matchmaking games with the lanterns decide on future partners.

For all the preoccupation with the future, though, the New Year is very much rooted in the here-and-now business of making money. Fitting, because the festival’s other theme is prosperity. Wonder why no one’s thought of packaging Ganpati yet…