As I landed in the city that is the poster child of the modern world, I held my breath until I could espy the snaking highways and the splendid buildings. I recalled seeing a row of symmetric buildings read: boring) from the plane, and a few dilapidated structures whilst being stuck in the traffic on the highway… and the tension gnawed at my insides. All along, this place, this city, is what I had been waiting for, with an innate knowledge that it would be simply outstanding. They all told me it would. I couldn't be so sorely let down?

Secretly though, I wasn't sure if I was happy or sorry to be unfazed by this city. It didn't look like much - and I had given it all of 15 minutes! I refused to believe that any city held together by socialist-communism could offer a better way of life than a democratic one. My views were challenged every minute that I spent in unarguably the most modern city of the world. As I held onto my possibly jaded view, I saw the New World Order.

The city sneaked up on me. Slowly but surely it began to grow, like hunger or a snake uncoiling itself. It began to get bigger, bigger than I had ever imagined, and better, better than I had ever seen before. I tried to run away from it, afraid it would engulf me, but it towered over me at every opportunity. Even standing atop the tallest Asian TV Tower (Orient Pearl), looking down upon the city didn't make it any less overpowering....

As my father raved about the city at every opportune moment, I would respond with a diatribe - the highways were excellent, but the traffic was still too much; the people were hardworking and intelligent, but they couldn't piece a word of English together and the locals were a rowdy and uncultured lot. The government wants the city to grow, the country to prosper and the people to be well cared for, but it's communist!

And suddenly it just didn't seem so bad to me. Could all of this be so miserable? I recall the hungry eyes of the children on the streets of my hometown, and I compare it to the satisfied gleam on the faces of the youth of China. What had my so-called democracy done that was better than this? Our freedom of speech was not feeding the poor and making them happier! As the per capita income rose, the people in Shanghai grew wealthier. They were well provided and cared for.

Our hotel was plush and luxurious, and it was one amongst the many luxury hotels that vied for attention. It reeked of comfort and wealth, as did the fabulous multi-cuisine restaurants that you could choose from. From Italian wine and Mexican margaritas to Spanish tapas, Japanese sushi and French main courses, Indian dessert and Chinese tea, you could pick a cuisine from a myriad places on the globe. If the tastes were simpler and more local, you could just walk down on one of the smaller streets and pick up some dumplings or skewers.

Finishing a long drawn out meal at Giovanni's, on the 27th floor of the Sheraton Grand, my father wistfully pointed out the glittering lights below. "Doesn't that remind you of the Queen's necklace?" Instinctively, I reacted with a, Yeah, right! It seemed like a role reversal. I was, in barely a few days, intensely cynical of the town that brought me up, and in awe of this city of lights.

Somehow, celebrating Diwali on the Shanghai-by-night river cruise, alive with sparkle, flavour and culture, didn't seem out of place. This was a city totally livable - by anyone. As if to prove a point, little boats chugged by all day, on Shanghai's Huangpu River, with enormous TV screens flashing a new lifestyle.